Say You Still Love Me(24)

Unlike my girlish shrill, his voice remains calm. “I’m not going to risk losing him for the sake of your ego, Piper. Calloway Group is not a one-man show. You need guys like him and David in your corner, whether you like them or not.”

I take a deep, calming breath and try to match his tone, all while inside I’m screaming. “I’m waiting on a call from Tripp to update me on the meeting with the city planners, and I expect things to move forward smoothly after today—”

“Nothing ever moves smoothly in this industry.”

“If I have to get more involved, I will.”

The responding sigh is one that breeds tension in my shoulders. It means I’m about to get a lecture. Wandering back to my desk, he perches himself on the edge. “You lead them. You guide them. You motivate them. And you rely on them. You don’t do their jobs for them, Piper.”

“You can’t motivate someone who doesn’t respect you.”

“Then earn Tripp’s respect.”

“How? The guy calls me a spoiled tart to anyone who will listen!”

He squeezes the bridge of his nose with his index finger, as if pained from a headache. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No, you will not, Dad!” I tack on a sigh and a calmer “Please don’t,” because my voice is bordering on hysterical.

He pauses, as if searching for another angle in this conversation. “Well, are you a spoiled tart?”

“What? No!”

“Good. I’m glad you know your worth. And I know that you are a brilliant young woman with the passion and the potential to continue leading the Calloway legacy like no one else. That’s why I promoted you.” He offers me a rare, encouraging smile before it falls off. “Now prove it to the rest of them.” There’s an edge creeping into his brusque voice. “I have no plans on going anywhere anytime soon, but as we learned two years ago, nothing is guaranteed. I want you at the head of the Calloway table now, with your feet in the fire, so everyone can start getting used to the idea of you running CG one day. But you still have a lot to learn, from me and from this executive team. That includes Tripp.”

“Yes, sir,” I manage to get out through gritted teeth. “I just don’t understand what value you see in him.”

“I will admit that Tripp has let his false aspirations cloud his judgment lately. But he has been by my side for almost thirty years. That kind of loyalty counts for something in this business.” Dad’s gaze wanders toward the skyline once again. “How is everything with the Waterway project?”

I push aside my dour mood as I pat the stack of papers next to me. “Final design approvals have come in. Seagrum and Whilcroft have signed the loan papers.”

“How short are we on financing?”

“We need another three hundred million to close the construction loan.”

“How are talks with Deutsche Bank coming along?”

“Long and excruciating, but I think we’re making headway. Jim is getting more numbers to them.” Jim, our director of investments, is a tall, slender man with a perpetual five o’clock shadow and a keen financial sense, especially when it comes to negotiations involving that kind of money.

“And the unveiling ceremony?”

“At the art gallery on Fifth. Everything’s underway for that.”

“Keep me informed,” Dad murmurs, reaching for the gift that arrived from my brother last week—made from recycled silver spoons, which I don’t think was a coincidence given he always jokes that we came out of my mother’s womb suckling on them—to study it with an incredulous look. “That’s what this thing is for? To hold my phone?”

I let out a soft sigh, relieved at the sudden switch in topic, even if it’s to a more personal one. “I take it Rhett sent you one, too.”

“Yes, and I told Greta to toss it, but the damn woman never listens to me.”

I smirk. Greta’s been my father’s executive assistant for almost twenty-five years. She’s set to retire next year and he’s already talking about doubling her salary to get her to stay. The truth is, I’m not sure my father can survive without “that damn woman.”

“I have no use for tchotchkes,” he mutters, fiddling with my iPhone perched within the cradle, shifting it this way and that.

“Works pretty well. And it’s clever.” In a kitschy sort of way.

Dad lets out a sound that might be approval—if he could approve of anything my brother does—before standing with a stretch. His hard gaze drifts to the office across the way. “You know . . . David really loves you.”

I roll my eyes. “David really loves David.” And I’ll never be stupid enough to divulge anything to him ever again.

“Confidence is important in a man—”

“Dad.”

His hands go up in the air. “You’re going to be running a multibillion-dollar company one day. You need to be with a man like David. Not like that last waste of space.”

“Who?” I frown, confused for a moment. “Wait, are you talking about Ryan?” My ex from four years ago?

Dad grunts at the name.

Waste of space . . . “He was a published author!”

“Who couldn’t pay his own rent, if I recall correctly,” he throws back.