My Secret Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 1) Page 2

  I worked two jobs through law school and managed to graduate top of my class. All that discipline paid off when I was offered a job at the top family law firm in the country. I had been one of the youngest in the history of the firm to make associate.

  Everything I had dreamed of as a lower middle-class kid in Idaho had come true. Everything my rich classmates at Yale had that I didn’t, I now owned. The country home, the ski trips, the Rolex watches. All of it.

  So how could I be bored?

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my bespoke suit. I wasn’t even going to think the dreaded term “mid-life crisis”.

  This was just a patch of ennui. It would fade the next time I bedded a beautiful woman. Or the next time I took a vacation. Maybe I would travel to the wilds of Alaska next. Or I could go back to Chile. I hadn’t been to Australia in years.

  I was pulled from my thoughts by the gentle knock of my secretary.

  Deborah Watson was the most competent employee I had. She never missed deadlines, she rarely took a day off, and she was ruthless when it came to tracking down the more evasive of my clients.

  “Just got a call from Spencer Ryan,” Deborah said.

  My ears pricked up at the name.

  “The movie star?” I asked. “The one married to the pop star?”

  “Kate Burns, yeah,” Deborah said. “It’s a big one.”

  “The divorce is for sure?” I asked.

  “Hasn’t hit the news yet, but according to his assistant they’re planning to release a statement any day now,” Deborah said.

  I let out a low whistle. Most of my clients were wealthy but not famous. Every now and then, I got a starlet from Hollywood. They were always messy cases, and one party had usually signed a prenup which made things much more complicated, but I had to admit I enjoyed them. Or rather, I enjoyed revealing the toxic personalities that lay behind the closed doors of fame.

  “He’ll be calling around all the top attorneys,” Deborah said. “But we’re probably a frontrunner.”

  I felt myself falling out of my ennui and into my attorney mode. I could practically hear my teeth sharpening, and I could almost smell the blood.

  I had not pursued law just for the money. I really did love my job. I enjoyed everything from reading long briefs until I was armed with more knowledge as ammunition than anyone could think possible. I enjoyed decimating whatever poor attorney I faced off against. And, as sick as it was, I enjoyed tearing apart the facade of marriage.

  People weren’t meant to make eternal vows. Humans weren’t good enough to be loyal and faithful in all things to one person for a lifetime. Just because I was good at revealing this truth didn’t mean I was a bad person.

  “What do you think?” I asked Deborah. “Should we take Spencer or try and pursue Kate?”

  The minute I met with Spencer Ryan, even if he didn’t hire me as his attorney, I would put myself out of the running to represent Kate. If I met with her husband, she couldn’t hire me.

  I didn’t like to be forced to pick a side. I liked to choose my own side. I prided myself on representing the client who had the ever-so-slightly superior moral ground.

  It didn’t matter in the end. Whatever side I was on always won. (They say no one wins in divorce, but I can assure you, that is untrue.)

  “Well, personally, I’m a Kate Burns fan,” Deborah said. “Loved her last album, and I’ve no doubt she’ll be dropping some amazing revenge break-up tracks after this.”

  I smiled. I did love a good comeback narrative.

  “What about Spencer Ryan?” I asked. “He almost won an Oscar last year.”

  Deborah shrugged.

  “I say he’s a bit washed up,” she said. “Plus he was on location for a shoot for eight months of last year, and I’m pretty sure Kate had the kid on tour with her during that time. So there’s no way he was acting as a primary caretaker.” Deborah shrugged and adjusted her spectacles. “I follow Kate’s Instagram,” she admitted.

  I nodded and sat back down at my desk.

  “That settles it,” I said. “Keep Spencer on the line for a potential meeting, but reach out to Kate’s people.”

  “Great,” Deborah said.

  She turned and tossed me a saucy grin at the door.

  “I wonder if she’ll sign a poster for me,” Deborah said.

  Then she ducked out of the room.

  I smiled, only because I knew Deborah would never be so crass as to ask a famous client for a signature. She was the very model of professionalism.

  I glanced over my computer and emails before grabbing my briefcase.

  A new Hollywood client might keep things interesting for a while, but I doubted it would fully banish my sense of boredom.

  I knew the answer. My whole life I had needed something to pursue. That was what made me happy, the relentless chase of something just beyond my reach.

  I had captured most of the things I was chasing.

  Now I just needed to find something new to pursue.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  I had flown through my meetings with the restaurants. It usually took Bridget all day to meet with her contacts when she came down to the city, but I wasn’t surprised I had finished fast.

  Bridget was a talker and could spend an extra hour just chatting with a restaurant owner.

  I wasn’t one for small talk. I got to the point and arranged the next few orders, including the sweetcorn, and then got out of there.

  I made sure to speed through the meeting with Danny from Giovanni’s in particular. Bridget’s hints only made me more determined to not lead him on.

  He was too young anyway. Sure, he was a few years older than me, but he still seemed baby-faced and irresponsible, always talking about staying out late partying and barely being able to pay his rent.

  I wasn’t into that type of guy at all. I wanted someone responsible. Someone who had their life together and worked hard for what they wanted and wasn’t flying by the seat of their pants. I didn’t need a billionaire or anything, but I craved a man who had established himself.

  I was probably asking for too much. And I knew a lot of my friends would tell me I was only coming up with excuses because I was scared of real intimacy. Grace would certainly say that. I sighed and checked my watch, then glanced around.

  I was standing on the corner of Madison and 81st, and I felt like a total outsider. Everyone was always moving so fast in the city, to stand still seemed like a felony.

  I checked my watch again. It was only four in the afternoon, and Grace wouldn’t be off work for another hour or so. I was meeting her at her place so I could crash on her couch.

  I already knew she was going to break out a bottle of wine and want to sit up all night talking about our lives, but since I had nothing juicy to contribute, it would just be her describing her various romantic conquests via dating apps.

  So I had a few hours to kill, preferably doing something that didn’t exhaust me. I figured I could go to a library or coffeeshop.

  And maybe I would text William, just on the off-chance he was free.

  I looked around and tried to orient myself. I had spent one summer in the city, interning at William’s law firm. I was in college at the time, and I had been playing with the idea of becoming a lawyer.

  Richard had supported the plan. He said that law was a reliable profession. The look of disgust on his face when I told him I had decided that law wasn’t for me so I was accepting a job at the Fairweather Farm had almost been comical.

  He had set me up with the internship because he knew William through a friend from college. He hadn’t even asked me. If he had, I would have told Richard that family law was not my area of interest; I had been more passionate about environmental law or immigration.

  But I couldn’t turn the internship down. Since I was a kid, even after my parents divorced, my mom had encouraged me to foster a relationship with my half-brother.

  I let her think that Richard was
a perfectly adequate stand-in for a father, even though I often felt like he didn’t really know me at all.

  The internship turned out to be alright, mostly because of William.

  He was a big deal, I had known that from my very first day. The way he stalked around the firm barking out orders had made it clear that he was at the top of his game. I figured he wouldn’t even so much as glance my way.

  I was wrong. William Hart, the lawyer who made most people quake in their boots, took the time to get to know me. He invited me to his office to discuss my internship and how things were going.

  The first time I chatted with him, I nearly threw up, I was so nervous. Everything about him, from his gleaming Oxford shoes to his impeccably-parted dark hair, radiated power.

  Somehow, he put me at ease. There was something about him that made me relax. I thought it was the way he stared right into my eyes when I spoke. As if he was really listening.

  When I had told him I was really more interested in other areas of law, he had helped to set up a meeting with an environmental lawyer he knew, and he even took me out to a few New York restaurants since he knew that I was overwhelmed by the city.

  On one Sunday afternoon, he had invited me to the Frick Collection Museum. He said he couldn’t let me spend time in New York without seeing what the museums had to offer. I strolled through the galleries, and he never rushed me or acted like it was a burden to spend a day with his friend’s little sister.

  I started to walk toward a coffee shop down the block, just so I could sit down for a few minutes.

  I chastised myself for mooning over my brief conversations with William Hart as I waited to order an iced coffee. It was silly to think he ever thought of me. He was just nice, that was all. I had seen the women he dated, and they were sophisticated amazons, all of them. Sometimes he even ended up on Page Six of the New York Post, an elegant model on his arm.

  William dated women who had impeccable bone structure, were born to wear Versace and could walk in sky-high heels no problem. He would never look twice at someone like me, with my round cheeks, baby-doll sundresses and ballet flats with little bows on the top. That was about as fancy as I got for a day in the city.

  Iced drink in hand, I flopped into a chair in the corner and savored the feel of the AC on my damp skin. It was a hot day, and I had been walking from restaurant to restaurant. I could have hailed a cab, but I preferred to walk when possible. I liked the city most when I found quiet blocks lined with big trees and old brownstones.

  I pulled out a book from my bag, but I couldn’t focus.

  I was right around the corner from his office. It would be rude to not text him. Although a text was probably too casual. He had given me his cell number, but I had never used it after the internship ended. We weren’t that close, and I knew how busy he was.

  I would send an email. That was appropriate. I would just say I was in the city and wanted to say hi.

  No, that was weird. I couldn’t expect him to drop everything to grab coffee with me. But it would be rude to not reach out, I decided.

  I fiddled with my phone for five minutes before I had an email I was satisfied with:

  Hello William,

  I’m in the city for work today, and I’m actually at a coffee shop near your office, which is making me think fondly of my summer internship. I would love to catch up on the off-chance that you have time, but I understand this is last minute.

  Best,

  Olivia

  I frowned at my draft. It felt stiff to say “Hello,” but I had once read an article about how you should never say “Hi” or “Hey” in a professional email. Not that William Hart and I were fellow professionals. But he also wasn’t my friend. He was an acquaintance. A mentor. Or an ex-mentor.

  Who even used the phrase “think fondly” anymore?

  I almost erased the whole thing, but then I told myself I was being ridiculous. I had to stop acting like a middle-schooler with a crush on the popular kid at school. I hovered my finger over the Send button, closed my eyes, and hit it.

  There. It was done with, and he would probably respond that he had a meeting or was in court, but then he would make sure to ask how I was doing, and he would probably even remember the name of the farm, just because he was that thoughtful.

  I settled back into my chair and tugged my book back toward me.

  I had read half a page when my phone buzzed.

  My stomach erupted in butterflies when I saw it was an email from William. A silly grin spread across my face as I read it:

  Which coffee shop? Just got out of a meeting, I can head over now.

  I typed my response and then hit Send.

  I chewed on my lip. I hoped it wasn’t an inconvenience for him. William was the type to do things just as favors to other people. He probably figured he owed it to Richard to catch up with me.

  I glanced at my watch and wondered how long I had before he showed up. It was probably a ten-minute walk, but he might have been coming from somewhere else. I almost got up and ran to the bathroom to fix my hair or apply some lip gloss.

  But that was ridiculous. William wouldn’t notice if I did.

  I did feel a little ashamed of how I got about him. I knew nothing would ever happen, but that was probably why I had such a crush. William was safe. There was no chance of getting hurt or making any mistakes.

  I had always been this way. My senior year of high school, I had dated a guy. I liked him. He was nice. We were study partners for a Chemistry class.

  And he was totally safe. I knew I was in no danger of falling head over heels with him. We kissed a little, but never did anything else, and we ended up breaking up before graduation.

  I only had one boyfriend after that. It lasted six months, and he was nice for a while. His name was James, and he was tall and handsome. He was fun too. He was loud and jovial and the life of every party. So everything I wasn’t. We had a good time until he finally got it into his head that I wasn’t kidding about not being ready for sex. I had told him it wasn’t about faith or anything, it was just that I really wanted to trust someone before I did it. After months, I still didn’t trust him.

  So we broke up, and that was my last serious relationship.

  I spent all my time on a farm; after all, who was I going to meet?

  Grace would call it self-sabotage. She thought that it wasn’t a lack of options, but a lack of effort on my part. She had told me back in college that I didn’t trust James because I didn’t want to trust him, not because he was flawed.

  Maybe she was right.

  In any case, I avoided thinking about guys who I actually stood a chance of dating. Instead, I wasted all my energy on William Hart, an older man who would never touch me.

  It wasn’t a sustainable plan, especially since I did really want kids and a family at some point. I knew it wasn’t exactly fashionable to dream of motherhood at my age. Most of my friends from college were determined to live it up and date around in their twenties, and then think about starting a family in ten years or so.

  But I didn’t see the point. I didn’t want to go through phases. I just wanted to be myself. And that was a person who liked to sit at home and do craft projects over going out to the club. I didn’t think children would be a burden. I thought kids would be fun. And if I continued to work in the organic food arena, the hours would be flexible enough that it could work.

  As long as I had a reliable partner.

  That was the tricky bit. I could never start a family with someone who wasn’t there for the long haul. I had seen how hard it was for my mother after my dad left. She did her best, but parenting should be a partnership.

  I could never raise kids without a partner I could count on. So I was probably going to end up as a spinster with a very nice garden.

  There were worse things, I supposed.

  I shifted in my seat and glanced out the window. I knew I would spot William in the sea of anxious-looking people. He always seemed to float a f
ew inches above the crowd. It was too soon to expect him though.

  I picked up my book again. I didn’t want to just stare at the door. He would think that was weird.

  I was about to open the book, when I saw him. Just outside the window, walking up to the door in a pristine suit and looking like he was completely unbothered by the summer heat.

  My breath caught as William Hart stepped into the coffee shop and clocked me.

  Chapter Four

  William

  Olivia Francis, as usual, looked too gorgeous to be good. In fact, everything about her was like a personal drug for me, from her raven black hair to her blue cotton dress to her smooth tan legs.

  I could never understand how a girl who dressed like she was going to Sunday school could look so sinful.

  Or maybe I was the sinful one. After all, I was the one who couldn’t help but have sinful thoughts whenever I was in close proximity to her.

  I had pushed aside two phone calls and a meeting as soon as I got her email. I didn’t often postpone or cancel commitments, but I could afford to do it when I wanted. And for Olivia, I really wanted to.

  Not that anything could ever happen between us. She was off-limits. Not only was she the younger (much younger) sister of an old acquaintance, she wasn’t my type.

  I steered clear from girls like Olivia. She was too innocent, too wide-eyed and sweet.

  “Hi!” she said.

  She stood up and reached out to shake my hand, and I noted the way her dress skimmed over her curves. I grasped her hand and focused my eyes on her face. Olivia could never know how much I coveted her body. She needed to know that I respected her as a person.

  “How are you?” I asked. “How are things at the farm?”

  “They’re good,” Olivia said. “We’ve had a really great summer.”

  I quirked my lips as I sat down across from her.