Even now, her heart hurt and her knees were trembling. Music played on as the elevator silently streamed skyward. She should have thought this through more before coming to the office, Erica told herself. Figured out what she was going to say before coming here. But her feelings had pushed her here. That wild rush of anger and confusion and hurt was simmering inside her and waiting wouldn’t have made a difference. She wouldn’t have calmed down. If anything, the tension riding her would have only increased with a wait.
Besides, she thought as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open to reveal the rarefied air of the penthouse suite of offices, it was too late to back out now. She was here and it was past time for answers.
Thick, cream-colored carpet stretched on forever. Her father didn’t want to be bothered by the clipping sound of shoes on tile. And what Walter Prentice wanted, he got. So the carpet was thick and the music soft. It was like stepping into a cloud, she thought. The view out the glass walls was impressive, the city stretched out all around them and the bay just beyond.
Taking a deep breath, Erica walked down the long hall to the desk of her father’s assistant. Jewel Franks was fiftyish, no-nonsense and had her fingers on the pulse of the entire company. She had iron-gray hair neatly coiffed, cool blue eyes and the patience of a saint. She had to, to be able to work with Walter on a daily basis as she had for the last thirty years.
“Erica!” Jewel smiled at her. “What a lovely surprise. Your father isn’t expecting you, is he? I don’t have you on my list for the day….”
Erica felt a reluctant smile curve her mouth. Jewel’s lists were legendary. If it wasn’t written on her legal pad, it didn’t exist.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “This is a spur-of-the-moment thing, Jewel. Does he have a few minutes?”
The older woman gave her a wink. “You just managed to catch him between calls, honey. Why don’t you go on in?”
“Thanks.” Erica’s stomach spun and dipped, as if her insides were dizzy and looking for a way to sit down. Another deep breath to fortify already flagging nerves and she was walking to the double-door entrance to her father’s office. A soft knock, then she turned the brass knob and entered.
“What is it, Jewel?” Walter didn’t even look up from the sheaf of papers on his desk.
Erica took a second to study him as he sat there. All of her life, she’d looked up to this man, tried to please him and wondered why she continually failed. His hair was thick and cut short, white mingling with the black now, and his navy blue suit fit him like a uniform. Which it was, she supposed, since she had rarely seen her father in anything but a suit and tie. That tie was power-red today and as he lifted his gaze to look at her, she saw his eyes narrow in question.
“Erica? What are you doing here?”
Not exactly a warm greeting, but Walter never had cared for being interrupted at the office. “Hello, Father.”
Openly frowning now, he asked, “Is there something wrong? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
She watched his face, searching for some sign of warmth or pleasure, but there was nothing. So she walked across the floor, never taking her eyes from his. When she was standing opposite his desk, she said, “I had a visitor today. A lawyer from Colorado.”
Walter jerked as if he’d been shot. Then he stiffened in his chair and set his sterling silver pen onto the desk top. His features went deliberately blank.
“Colorado?” He repeated the word without the slightest inflection in his voice.
“Don’t,” Erica said, staring into those distant green eyes of his as she had her whole life, hoping to see love shining back at her. But again, she was disappointed. “Don’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about.”
His eyes narrowed as he sat back in his chair and gave an impatient tug to his suit vest. “Young lady, don’t take that tone with me.”
Erica almost laughed and would have if her heart wasn’t aching in her chest. She hadn’t heard that particular phrase from him since she was seventeen, and telling her father she was going to a concert with her friends. Of course, she hadn’t gone to the concert, since he’d refused permission and sent her to her room. She wasn’t a rebellious girl anymore though, fighting her own nerves and her father for the right to spread her wings. And she no longer needed his permission to do what she felt she had to do. She was all grown-up and she deserved some answers.
“Father,” she said quietly, “the attorney told me some things. Things I need to talk to you about.”
“I can imagine he did. But I’m not going to discuss this with you.” His jaw jutted out, his eyes narrowed and he silently dared her to continue.
“I need to know, Father,” she said, doing just that. “I have the right to hear it from you. I have to know if everything he said was true.”
“You want to talk about rights? What about my rights to not have this distasteful matter resurrected?” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the desk in a nervous tattoo. “You’re Erica Prentice. My daughter, and by heaven, that should be enough for you.”
God, she wished it were. She wanted it to be enough. But just looking at Walter’s face told her that there was so much more she needed to know. All her life, she’d loved this man. Wanted him to be proud of her. Had strived to be the best—at everything—just to win his approval.
Now, she wanted him to tell her this was all a mistake. Some cruel trick. Yet even before she’d come here, she’d known it wasn’t. “Father, please. Talk to me. I don’t even know what to think about all of this.”
He ground his teeth together, his jaw working furiously before he said, “That bastard Jarrod. This is all his fault. Even from the grave he tries to steal from me.”
“What?” That was not the opening she’d been expecting.
Walter pushed back from his desk and stood up. “He left orders in his will to contact you, didn’t he?” He shoved one hand through his hair, startling Erica. It was the first time she’d ever seen him actually rattled.
“I knew he would,” Walter was muttering. “It was the one sure way he could get around me. Should have known he wouldn’t keep his word.”
This was getting more confusing by the moment. “Don Jarrod left me an equal share in his estate.”
Walter snorted derisively. “Of course he did. He knew I couldn’t stop him and this was the only way he had left to stick it to me.”
“To you?” Erica shook her head and felt the sting of tears she wouldn’t allow burning in her eyes again. “This isn’t about you, Father, this is about me.”
“Don’t you fool yourself.” Walter stabbed his index finger at her. “This was always about Don Jarrod and what he could take from me. No better than a damn thief, that man.”
Heart sinking in her chest, Erica watched as Walter’s features went florid with the rush of temper. Even knowing it was foolish, she’d been harboring one small flicker of doubt inside her. The hope that this was all wrong. That Don Jarrod had made a mistake. That Walter was her father and really did love her. So much for hope.
“So he really was my father?”
“Yes.” Walter bit the word off as if it had tasted foul. “The bastard.” He glanced at her, then looked away again and stalked across the room to stare out at the gloomy view of gray sky and sea. “Your mother and I were having … problems. No point in getting into them now, it’s over and done years ago.