Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Christ, I can't fucking lose them.
Chapter Five
Mina
"Good morning, Ms. Cordova," Marcus, my father's graying assistant says, meeting me as soon as I step from the elevator, his usual stoic mask firmly in place.
"McGregor," I say wearily…the same damn thing I've said every day since I got off the plane. And yet, he insists on calling me Ms. Cordova like I'm still fourteen. I'm sure my father put him up to it. But this isn't my father's company anymore. Apparently, it's mine.
I stop walking and spin to face the older man.
"How long did you work for my father, Marcus?"
"Nineteen years, ma'am."
"I thought so," I say, nodding. "Do you enjoy working for the company?"
"Of course, ma'am," he says, wariness filtering through his hazel eyes as he stares down at me.
"Good." I bat my lashes at him, a bite in my smile. "Then, if you want to keep working here, I suggest you stop ignoring me when I tell you that my name isn't Ms. Cordova. It hasn't been Ms. Cordova in six years. My name is Mina McGregor, which you know because you worked here when I got married. And you worked here when my husband… Well, that doesn't matter. The point is, call me Mina or call me Ms. Gregor. Are we clear?"
"Ah, yes, ma'am," he says, his eyes wide.
"Good. Then I'll be in my father's office." I sail down the hall, leaving him standing beside the elevator. I'm too damn tired to do the same song and dance with him every morning, especially this morning. I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Grayson on that stage. I felt him wrapping his arms around me. I felt his lips against mine. His words replayed in my mind over and over again.
Not even half a bottle of wine silenced them. All it did was give me a headache. Crying didn't help either. All that did was leave my eyes gritty and raw. I feel like my world stopped spinning again last night. I keep waiting for it to jolt back into orbit, but it isn't.
Grayson is alive. He's been alive this whole damn time. And…what? He lost his memories like he claims? He didn't want to come back like I fear? Something else? I don't know. I thought I wanted answers. But now that the possibility of them is in front of me…well, now I'm not so sure I want them at all.
"Ah, Ms. McGregor, there's a—"
"Not now," I growl, throwing my hand up to silence Marcus. "Whatever it is, it can wait five damn minutes for me to have a cup of coffee."
"But there's a—"
"I said not now!" I cry, hurrying my steps until I'm practically racing away from him. I can't do any of this right now. I can't weed through my dad's documents and try to pretend I know what any of it means. Can't sit in on meetings and pretend I know a damn thing about what's happening. I just freaking can't.
I burst into the office, shoving the door closed behind me, and plaster my back up against it, breathing hard. I feel…unhinged. Like I'm spiraling out of control. I had to keep it together in front of Brinley this morning, but I barely accomplished that. Every time I looked at her, I thought about the fact that I have to find a way to tell her that her dad is alive.
And before I can do that, I have to talk to him again. I have to hear him out, see what he has to say. I actually have to decide if the man I love is a threat to my daughter. How messed up is that? Can I trust him to be her father? Or do I need to throw every lawyer in this law firm at him?
Because no matter how I feel, no matter if my heart is fracturing all over again, I won't let him break hers. I will protect her…the same damn way my dad tried to protect me.
I've been so angry at him for so long. But maybe he was right all along. Maybe Grayson was exactly the guy he thought he was. Did I throw away my relationship with him, spend years not talking to him, for nothing?
"You look like I feel, baby."
"Ahh!" I scream, flinging my bag across the room as Grayson's voice sounds from the shadows. It lands at his feet as he steps into the light on the far side of my dad's corner office. And either he didn't sleep any more than I did last night, or his morning has been worse than mine. He looks wrecked. His hair is wild where he's been running his hands through it. His eyes are shadowed beneath. He hasn't shaved. His clothes—the same ones he was wearing last night—are wrinkled.