Home > Royal Cocktail(9)

Royal Cocktail(9)
Author: J. Kenner

“I don’t disagree with your assessment, sweetheart,” he said, as waves of relief flooded through her. “But I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”

The relief turned to ice, and she froze. “Am I?”

“You wrote an incredible paper on agnatic primogeniture, and its role in the international community, particularly with regard to countries working to amend their constitutions to change that particular mode of succession.”

“I know what I wrote.” She stiffened as she spoke. It had been an odd topic for her law review article her final year of law school, but under the circumstances she’d been extremely interested in the subject. Now, of course, she regretted it.

First, Leo had broken her heart, and writing the article hadn’t been the balm she’d hoped. Worse, she’d been reminded of him every day that she was researching and writing. And those were a lot of days.

Now, she had a second basis for regret. Because apparently that paper was the lever her father needed to put her front and center so that she could—according to his plan anyway—just get over it.

Considering all that, she should’ve slapped Leo’s face even harder last night.

Her father remained silent, and she squirmed. She knew this was a mind game, forcing her to speak, and though she didn’t want to give in, the words came anyway. “Daddy, I don’t … practice that. It was … just for law … review.”

“And that law review article was extensively published and received numerous awards and accolades.”

“But it’s not what we do.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“Oh.” She sat down, then drew a breath. “Well, it’s not … what I do. Appellate law, remember? You can … share the article, but I … don’t need to speak.” Dial it in, Skye. She was having trouble controlling her breathing. Just the thought of standing on that stage—of speaking to all those people—it was both mortifying and terrifying.

She straightened her shoulders and put all her effort into slowing down and breathing properly. “Even if … the firm expands the international group, I … won’t be involved. So … why speak? It’s not … like that … article will rake in … clients.”

“One day, you will very likely be a partner in this firm, and you will be involved even if it’s not your practice area. On top of that, you’re wrong.”

She shook her head, confused. “Wrong?”

“I know you thought that it was ridiculous to add you to the symposium agenda, but we actually do have a potential new client because of that article and the promise of your participation in the symposium.”

“Oh.” She sat back, thrown off about that revelation.

“Come meet him.” He tapped a few keys on his computer, then turned his attention back to her.

“What? Now?”

“He’s just arrived. Douglas is with him,” he added, referring to one of the other partners.

“Well, then you hardly need me.” How could her father be so dense? She was not an asset where bringing in clients was concerned. Not by a long shot.

“Skye, the man specifically referenced your article. There is no way that Douglas and I are going to conduct this meeting without having you present. I’m not asking you as my daughter, I’m telling you as your boss.”

“Right. Fine. Whatever.”

She watched as his face softened. “Sweetheart, you wrote an excellent article. You are expected at the meeting. And you will do fine.”

She stood, looking down at the floor. “If you say so,” she said, but she didn’t believe it at all.

 

 

Skye followed her father to the elevator, then up the two stories to the twenty-second floor, which the firm had devoted to conference space and the firm’s law library. Eight conference rooms dotted the perimeter, offering multiple views of the Austin area. The library and a small refreshment area took up the middle, and as they passed an open doorway, she waved to a few associates who were highlighting briefs and reading case law at the long, wooden library tables.

Since they were meeting only one client, she expected her father would lead her to one of the smaller rooms. Instead, he headed toward the corner conference room with stunning views of both downtown and the river.

The floor’s conference rooms were set up so that the only windows were on the exterior walls, providing complete privacy for what was happening within, and Skye assumed that the client had come with an entourage. What other reason could justify using the largest venue?

As she followed her father, Skye’s nerves started to flutter as they always did before she talked to a stranger. Honestly, maybe she’d made the wrong career decision, after all. Maybe she needed to get an IT job where she could sit behind a computer and not have to talk to a human at all.

Or maybe she should try her hand at writing a legal thriller. Only if it took off, she’d end up doing book signings and book tours where she’d be expected to speak to fans. That sounded terrifying.

Honestly, the truth was that she already had the perfect job, and one that she loved when it worked the way it was supposed to. What she needed was a different father, who didn’t shove her through doors and expect her to become Eliza Doolittle, suddenly polished and proper and speaking beautifully.

She half smiled at the thought. She knew her father loved her and wanted the best career for her. The trouble was that their ideas of best were so disparate. And though he loved her, he didn’t hesitate to push her into situations where she was required to speak.

He thought she would undergo some magical transformation that would let him shed his guilt. She knew that nothing would change, and the clients and colleagues would struggle to understand her slurred and slow speech until, finally, they became accustomed to the cadence and flow and no longer looked at her with pity in their eyes.

That, of course, was the worst. The pity. Or, even more mortifying, that glint that suggested she wasn’t intelligent. That somehow her stumbling speech reflected a stumbling mind as well. She knew it wasn’t true. Her friends knew it wasn’t true, so why the hell did she care what strangers thought? She shouldn’t. But she did.

It was slightly better now. Her pedigree as a lawyer granted her some modicum of respect and the benefit of the doubt. But when she’d been in school...

She shuddered. Those had been hard times.

Her father paused outside the conference room door. “This is an important client,” he said, his voice low, even though they both knew that sound did not travel through those walls. “I’m not telling you that to make you nervous, but to understand that your paper has drawn interest from unusual and important places.”

“Okay.”

Skye wondered who the client could possibly be. It wasn’t as if there were that many people interested in the line of royal succession in countries across the globe. Then again, the paper covered the process of amending a country’s constitution or legislative process, and those concepts could be applied more broadly. So perhaps it made sense that potential international clients wanted to learn more.

Still, though, it seemed odd that her paper was the catalyst.

Her father pushed open the door, and she fell in step behind him, making sure she had a smile on her face and an interested and engaged gleam in her eye.

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