The Fling (18+)

Chapter 8

The Magnolia Hotel in downtown Omaha is a midwestern mimic of a Florentine palace – opulent elegance designed to dazzle the eye and evoke the old world in the new.

As we pulled up to the front door, I sighed, wishing that different circumstances had brought me here tonight.

Up in the driver's seat, Dad shifted into park, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping down from the massive luxury SUV.

Following suit, I unbuckled and picked up my purse, only to tug on the door handle and find I was stuck.

"-for fuck's sake..."

Dad's door opened again as his assistant, David, climbed in.

Glancing back, he had confusion written all over his face.

"Nora?"

Looking up into the rear-view mirror, I rolled my eyes. "He's got the child locks on."

His eyebrows shot up, "Oh, sorry! Let me help."

There was an electronic clicking sound and he scrambled out, opening my door and giving me a hand to hold as I stepped down to the ground.

"Thanks." I shot him a lopsided grin as I gripped a fistful of my skirt, picking it up as I began to hurry after Dad and Jessica.

"Anytime, kiddo!" David waved as he climbed back into the car, doubtless taking it somewhere to park.

I caught up just as they entered the hotel's classically beautiful lobby, following the distant strains of music.

Dad tugged at his cufflinks, seeming on-edge and distracted.

Jessica, on the other hand, looked bored and beautiful – much as I hated to admit it. I couldn't deny that her red off-the-shoulder dress perfectly suited her. From the tips of her designer shoes to the top of her artfully ombréd coif, she looked every bit the CEO's wife.

The CEO's trophy wife.

The snide thought arrowed through my thoughts, leaving behind a sickly trail of self-disgust.

You're better than this.

It had taken many hours of therapy and soul searching, but I had finally managed to stop seeing Jessica as the homewrecking harlot that had caused my parents' divorce.

Mostly...

Taking a breath, I assumed my best 'daughter of the CEO' smile and fell in line behind the man who'd actually destroyed my parents' marriage.

My father.

Inside the ballroom, dim wattage lights revealed the scene. The source of the music, a string quartet, played on a dais in the center of the room. Crisply dressed waiters circulated around the bedecked tables and the chatting guests, dispensing canapes and drinks.

As we walked toward our seats, I waylaid a server to take a flute of champagne from their tray.

Sipping at the sweet bubbles, I reached our table, scanning the tented nameplates, looking for mine.

As I glanced at the name next to my father's I frowned, "'Adam Baker'? You didn't tell me your old business partner was coming."

Dad looked over at me, "Didn't I? Oh. Well, he wanted to be out here for the milestone anniversary. I mean, if it weren't for him and Katherine, we never would have gotten off the ground."

So, I finally get to meet Baker...

He was a man who had only ever been a name to me – the mythic 'Baker' – my father's former best friend. They'd had some kind of falling out years ago, shortly after I was born, so I had no memory of meeting him.