The Love Hater: Chapter 7

“We’re already on it. Fabienne won’t know what hit them.”

“Mm.” I grunt, pacing back and forth behind my desk as Jones, the guy who heads Beaufort Diamonds legal team reels off a list of infractions he’s going to hit them with over the desk phone speaker.

I stop and brace both hands on top of my desk just as Molly giggles at something Tate says to her. Tate’s laughing too as she glances up and sees me watching her. Her smile falters and she looks away, her attention returning to Molly as I continue staring at her.

“Just a small glitch, don’t worry,” Jones continues as I lean over my desk like if I only move an inch closer I’ll be able to hear whatever it is that’s so funny it has my daughter gripping her sides in stitches as she laughs.

I love that laugh. I live for that laugh.

“This is the last time they pull this shit. I want their company ruined,” I hiss, curling my hands into fists against the cool glass. “Find out what it’ll take to buy them. Then once we have them, we can tear them apart and sell the pieces.”

Jones chuckles, because when it comes to business, he loves nothing more than an opportunity to do what he does best. Be vicious, like a shark after blood. Be the type of moral-free lawyer that I pay him millions per year to be. I’ve learned money can erase most people’s morals.

Tate joins Molly, laughing about whatever it is they’re finding so funny, and my attention drops to the ID badge, flapping around against her shirt with each vibration from her chest. That ridiculous pink shirt that’s barely keeping her ample breasts contained. The ID swung against them as we walked from reception earlier, with an irritating pat pat sound that’s still ringing in my ears.

“Consider it done,” Jones declares. “I’ll call you when I have an update.”

“Appreciate it,” I reply.

My cell rings on the desk as I hit end call on the desk phone.

“Dad?” I answer, swiping it up.

“Hello, Son. Everything okay? How’s Molly?”

One side of my mouth curls up as her dark curls bend low over the desk and she concentrates on the picture she’s coloring in. She’s always the first thing on my father’s mind whenever we speak.

“She’s good. She’s coloring.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t watch her today.”

The regret in my father’s voice brings a lump to my throat. I know how much he means that. He’s always helped as much as he can with Molly. So has Sinclair. But since the arson attack at his club that put Halliday in hospital, and Sinclair’s car being vandalized, and her receiving threats, they’ve both been pre-occupied.

We’re the Beauforts. We’re family. And family always comes first. But I’m Molly’s father, so ultimately I’m the one who needs to care for her. I don’t regret my decision to keep her out of daycare until pre-k. But with recent developments, and now losing Arabella for the foreseeable future, it does pose a new challenge. Beaufort Diamonds won’t run itself, and I have a responsibility to everyone that the family’s legacy is upheld. This will all belong to our next generation one day.

“It’s not a problem,” I tell my father as I walk to the glass wall of my office, pushing a hand into my pants pocket as I watch Molly.

“Hallie’s excited to have her tomorrow,” my father says.

“Molly’s excited too.”

“We’ll pick her up early. Hallie asked if you could pack her bathing suit. She was going to take her for a swim.”

“She’ll love that.”

Molly’s looking at Tate, who’s admiring her picture and saying something that makes Molly giggle. I roll my lips, pissed at myself that I kept the sound system off while I was on the call with Jones. If I hadn’t, I’d be able to hear every word of what’s making my little girl so carefree and happy.

“And Thursday evening, I need to move some things around a little, but⁠—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in.

Molly was meant to be spending the night with Sinclair this week so that I could have my regular Thursday evening off. But I’m not comfortable with Molly being there overnight until we know more about the threats Sinclair’s received.

Sighing, I stare through the glass. Part of me feared this day would come.

“I’ve been thinking about hiring someone,” I confess. The words feel alien and wrong as they form.

“At least while Arabella is with her mom. And only for the occasions when one of us can’t have Molly. And I’d base them here, where I could keep an eye on them,” I add.

“I see. Do you want me to ask Killian to look into agencies?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

I don’t want one of our family’s security team going to some faceless agency and sifting through their on-paper credentials. Arabella has been working for our family business for over twenty years. I trust her judgment. And I also trust our company’s vetting procedure of anyone who does any work for us. Even if that’s just some waitressing at a PR event.

My eyes fall on red hair, catching the light in the opposite room. Arabella has known Tate since Tate was a child. And she’s a kindergarten teacher. Molly’s going to start pre-K once she turns four. It’s a little over a year away. This is just… moving up the timeline a little.

“You’re sure about this?” my father asks.

I curse internally. No, I’m not fucking sure. I don’t want anyone who isn’t family, or a close friend near my little girl, if I can help it. But what choice do I have?

“It’s fine,” I grit, pinching my brow.

We talk about a few business things before I end the call and march across the hallway.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

Molly’s cooing about something being ‘pretty’. But the sight of her is blocked by Tate’s back. She’s sitting back on her heels on the floor. The position makes the back zipper of her pencil skirt stretch over her ass.

Tate turns at the sound of the door opening and catches my eyes on her.

“Is it cocoa? Do I have more on me?” Her eyes widen, and she brushes her ass, twisting her head over her shoulder to try and see.

“I have a business proposition for you.”

She halts her self-examination and gapes at me. “What?”

“Pardon,” I correct. Jesus, I want my daughter to have manners. Perhaps I need to have a conversation with Miss Miller about the language I deem unsuitable for use while she’s in my daughter’s company.

“It will be short term,” I say, knowing the moment Arabella is back, I’ll be happy to return to prior arrangements. “A few hours on occasion while I work, and my daughter isn’t with family. And I’ll pay you extra for a level of flexibility.”

Her blue eyes remain wide, and I stop myself from telling her to close her mouth.

“You’ll be looking after Molly,” I confirm, partly because I need to spell it out from the puzzled look on her face, and partly because I’m playing dirty, knowing that if my daughter enters negotiations with me, then Tate will be less inclined to turn down my offer.

“Yay!” Molly squeals.

Tate glances at her, and the way her eyes soften upon contact with my daughter, fills me with equal parts protectiveness and tenderness.

“Um…” Tate’s brow creases as Molly looks at her with pleading eyes. “Just a sec, Molly.” She smiles at her.

She gets up from the floor and walks over to me, lowering her voice. “I thought you said Molly wasn’t good with new people.”

“When did I say that?”

She blinks, her brow scrunching up. “Earlier. To that woman in the workout gear who wanted to have lunch with you.”

I place my hands on my hips and breathe in slowly through my nose to hold back a flare of temper. “My daughter has already demonstrated that she likes you.”

Tate’s gaze wanders back to Molly. “I like her too, but⁠—”

“And listening to my personal conversations will not be a part of your job description.”

Her gaze snaps back to mine.

“Therefore”—I arch a brow—“upon hiring you, I’d expect no questions about my dating life.”

“Of c-course,” she splutters.

“Good.” I attempt a smile, but the way she looks more flustered makes me think it’s coming out as a grimace. “Then, you’re hired. You can start tomorrow evening.”

Her brows shoot up, and for a couple of seconds, she just stares at me.

“I need to think about it,” she says after a pause.

My boardroom face comes into play as I successfully hide my shock and irritation. I don’t have time to wait for other people to think about things.

“Of course,” I reply smoothly. I pluck a business card from my inner jacket pocket and hold it out to her. “Call me when you’ve decided, and assuming the position is still available, then it’s yours.”

“If it’s still available?”

“Precisely. Now, allow Molly and I to walk you out. It’s been nineteen minutes.”

“Right, yes, of course.” Her attention drops to the card as she takes it from me. “I need to get back to my shift,” she mumbles with a frown.

“Gentlemen,” my father booms as he walks ahead of me into the meeting room.

I step in behind him, followed by Uncle Mal as three voices chime back, “Boss,” in unison.

Denver, and two of his team, Killian and Jenson, are sitting at the long meeting table as we enter.

“Everyone all right?” Mal asks as he pulls out a seat and slumps into it with a low sigh, like the movement alone has taken it out of him. He pushes a hand back through his thinning hair, the bags beneath his eyes as dark as always. Losing my mother meant him losing his only sibling. And the mere mention of my brother’s name brings pain to his eyes. He took losing them both hard. We all did.

There’s a knock at the door and I answer it to Cara.

“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Beaufort, but you have an urgent call.”

“Miss Miller?” I enquire.

It’s about time she called back to accept my obscenely generous offer. I’ll overlook the fact she’s taken overnight to think about it, because as much as I loathe to admit it; I need her. Molly needs her.

“The coffee girl?” Cara’s face contorts before quickly smoothing out as I arch a brow at her. “No. It’s the CEO of Fabienne. He says it’s a matter of life or death.”

“I see.” My lips twitch. Life or death for him, maybe. For me it’s simply another business deal that I have the upper hand in. But it’s pleasing to know that he’s now aware of Beaufort Diamonds’ plans to buy his little company. It’s just a shame for him that he’s too late to do a thing about it. If you play with the sharks, you should prepare to get bitten.

“Tell him I’ll call him back.” I tilt my head in consideration. “… eventually.”

Cara smirks. “Very well, Mr. Beaufort.”

“Let’s get to it, shall we?” I say as I return to the table and take a seat with the other men.

“Problem?” my father asks.

“No. Just someone calling for me. I’ll call them back.”

I’ll fill my father in on acquiring Fabienne once the deal is finalized. Ever since Halliday arrived he’s been a new man. And now that she’s pregnant and they’re getting married, the lightness in him is hard to miss. He deserves time to enjoy it and not be burdened with business that’s already being taken care of.

I lean back in my seat and listen as a discussion about my mother’s lover whom she was having an affair with behind my father’s back before she died builds momentum. The guy, Neil, is back in the city for reasons unknown. The timing of it coincided with when Sinclair’s car was trashed. Coincidence? Maybe. But my father won’t take any chances.

“—she seems to be taking it well,” my father says to Denver, talking about Sinclair and his assignment as her bodyguard.

I smirk internally at the taut expression on Denver’s face. He’s never gotten along with my sister. She rolls her eyes whenever she has to be in the same room as him.

“She giving you hell?” I ask.

Denver pauses like he’s considering how to deliver a tactful response. His huge shoulders stiffen in his black suit jacket. “She’s⁠—”

“That’s a yes,” I say as he holds my eyes. “You know my sister. The harder she is on you, the closer you’re getting to her.”

If the guy wasn’t ex special forces, I might be inclined to feel sorry for him. But if anyone can withstand my sister’s defiant behavior when she’s told to do something she doesn’t want to, then it’s Denver. Still, I reckon we’ll owe the guy a vacation and a big fat bonus once Sinclair’s done with him.

Jenson pipes up with something I don’t catch as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Just look after her,” I toss out, frowning at the unknown number on the screen. I hit end call and watch the screen for a few seconds, but no voicemail notification pops up.

The men are chuckling as I tune back in to my father talking about his and Halliday’s wedding in Cape Town—and how the whole team’s invited. Denver offers to arrange security through his contacts, and my father stands, announcing he needs to get back to Halliday and Molly.

“And I’ve got a call to make,” I say, rising from my chair as I fire off a quick text to Jones to let him know to be ready to go on the call with me in case Fabienne’s CEO tries anything.

I clap my uncle on the shoulder, and he nods at me as I pass him and follow my father out of the room.

“I’ll come by as soon as I’m done here and collect Molly,” I tell him.

“It’s fine, Son. We’ll drop her home later. We can keep her for the night if you like? You’ve been working hard. Maybe you need a night to yourself?”

I shake my head. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

My father studies me, waiting to see if I’ll say anything else. It’s not a Thursday. Not the one night of the week that he or Sinclair have always looked after Molly for me ever since she came into our lives. The one night of the week where I leave my parental responsibilities outside the door of my suite at The Lanceford hotel, before fucking away all thoughts of lost family members, cardboard boxes found after midnight, and ex fiancées.

Thursday nights I tuck it all away and let loose. I’ve lost count of the women who’ve aided in the soul numbing process that I need to function. Lost count of the number of condoms I’ve come inside, then tossed out with the trash, hoping it’ll help.

And it does… for a while. Because after each release, I’m granted another six nights of just about keeping my head together.

For Molly.

My father has always known where I go those nights. He gets it. My sister doesn’t. She despises any mention of The Lanceford. To her, love is the one thing that can keep us going after what happened. The love of family. The love of a new partner. Hence her insistence of hiring Halliday to be my father’s dating coach.

But she’ll have to accept that my love for Molly is all I need. Because I hate every thought of romantic love. Romantic love tells you they can’t cope with the daughter who’s appeared in your life. Romantic love leaves at sunrise. Romantic love is conditional.

A father’s love isn’t.

I walk my father to the elevator, saying goodbye, then return to my office to call Fabienne.

“Cara?” I ask, doubling back as an after-thought and stopping at the front reception desk. She should work from Arabella’s office next to mine while she’s filling in. But since one of the front desk staff has been sick, she’s been positioned here to assist.

“Yes, Mr. Beaufort.”

She bats her lashes at me in a way that tells me she’d have no problems performing any task I ask of her while she’s working here. It hasn’t escaped my notice that her shirt is getting unbuttoned more each day. Slowly revealing a glimpse of perfectly smooth, tanned skin, and the hint of a pert cleavage and athletic figure. Exactly the type I go for. Elegant, slender, polished.

“Did you arrange the delivery like I asked?”

“Yes, sir.” She taps something into her computer and reads the screen. “Delivery was made at six this morning.”

“Six?” I echo. A burst of annoyance flares inside me, and I purse my lips. “Very well.”

“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Beaufort?” Cara asks.

“No,” I bark. “Just make sure you tell me the moment Miss Miller calls, please,” I say, striding away.