Chapter 2: Oh Fuck Blair!

~BLAIR~

When I heard those words come out of my father’s mouth, I promise y’all, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

Arghhh! Jesus Christ, Blair, calm the fuck down! Don’t smile. Don’t you dare fucking smile because this man is supposed to be punishing you, remember? You’re supposed to be upset, devastated even, so give him something convincing. Maybe cry a little? No, you’ve already tried that, and Papa Bear has clearly developed immunity to your tears.

Just look miserable, Blair. Act like he’s sending you to a maximum-security prison instead of the private island resort owned by the very man you’ve been secretly obsessing over.

“Oh no, Papa Bear!” I gasped, pressing a hand against my chest. “Really? You’re sending me to work for Alpha Tristian?”

My father folded his arms across his chest and gave me that look he usually reserved for employees who had disappointed him.

“Yes, Blair, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“But Daddy!” I whined, desperately trying to keep the stupid grin threatening to spread across my face under control. “You can’t just send me away for three whole months! What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You’ll work, Blair. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Oh, I’ll work, all right. I’ll work so fucking hard that Tristian Harrington might have to personally escort me out of his office, although whether that would be because I’d impressed him or driven him completely insane was something we’d have to discover together.

Jesus Christ, Blair, could you please stop thinking like that while your biological father is standing right in front of you?

“Are you even listening to me?” Daddy demanded.

“Of course I am!”

“Then why the hell are you smiling?”

SHIT! I WAS SMILING?

“Oh my God, Daddy, I’m not smiling!” I protested, immediately pulling my lips into what I hoped was a convincing expression of heartbreak. “I’m just trying to be strong because my own father doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Blair, you’re going to a resort, not an orphanage.”

“It’s practically the same thing when you’re sending me away against my will!”

“Good. Then perhaps you’ll finally learn what it means to earn your own money.”

I lowered my head and pretended to sniffle because I needed him to believe I was absolutely devastated by his decision. Meanwhile, the only thing running through my mind was that I was going to be breathing the same air as Tristian Harrington for three entire months.

Three months! Ninety fucking days! Well, approximately ninety days, depending on the calendar, but who the fuck was counting? Me. I was counting, and if my father hadn’t been standing there looking like he was two seconds away from disowning me, I probably would have started planning my outfits already.

“And before you start thinking this is going to be some kind of vacation, there’s something else you need to know,” Daddy continued.

I looked up at him. “What?”

“Your credit cards have been frozen.”

I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“All of them, Blair. Every single card connected to my accounts has been suspended, and you won’t be getting access to them until you’ve completed your three months of work.”

“Daddy, when you say all of them, you don’t actually mean all of them, right?”

“I mean exactly what I said.”

I laughed nervously. “Okay, but obviously you’re excluding my American Express Centurion card because that’s not just a credit card, Daddy. That’s practically a family member.”

“It’s frozen.”

My mouth fell open. “PAPA BEAR!”

“And your other American Express cards, your Visa Infinite, and every additional card I gave you are frozen too.”

Oh, the betrayal! This man had just looked me in the eyes and announced the financial death of my entire lifestyle without even offering me a moment of silence.

“Daddy, you cannot freeze my black card! Do you know how embarrassing it’s going to be if I walk into Chanel and my card declines? Those sales assistants know me!”

“Then don’t go to Chanel.”

I stared at him because there was absolutely no way he’d just told me not to go to Chanel like he’d told me not to touch a hot stove.

“But what if there’s a new collection?”

“You’ll survive without it.”

“What if something I’ve been waiting for finally becomes available at Hermès?”

“Blair.”

“What if Dior releases something exclusive and I miss it because my own father has decided to financially assassinate me?”

“BLAIR WILLOW!”

I immediately shut my mouth because, judging by the look on his face, we weren’t discussing Dior anymore.

“Listen carefully, Blair. While you’re working for Tristian, you’ll receive a salary just like every other employee. That salary is what you’ll use for your personal expenses. No extra allowance, no emergency shopping money, and absolutely no calling me because you saw a handbag you couldn’t afford.”

My smile disappeared for real this time. “Wait, Daddy, you’re not giving me an allowance either?”

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

“No.”

“But what if I need something important?”

“Then you’ll budget for it.”

Budget? As in calculate how much money I had before spending it? Oh, this was getting fucking ridiculous because I’d agreed to work, not participate in some financial survival experiment.

“Papa Bear, are you trying to turn me into a poor person?”

My father looked at me for several seconds before letting out a tired laugh.

“You know what? I’m beginning to think three months won’t be enough.”

“NO!” I shouted before I could stop myself, and the moment his eyebrows rose, I realized I’d reacted a little too quickly.

“I mean, no, Daddy, because three months away from my loving father is already such a terrible punishment, and I don’t think my heart could survive anything longer.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“You’ll leave on Monday,” he said. “Tristian has already agreed to take you on, and I’ve made it clear that he should treat you like every other employee. There will be no special privileges because you’re my daughter.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my expression miserable. “Does he know I’m coming?”

“Yes, Blair. I just told you we’ve discussed it.”

“And he agreed?”

“He did.”

Oh, Tristian Harrington, you gorgeous, gorgeous man. You had absolutely no idea what was coming your way.

“Now, I expect you to take this seriously,” Daddy continued. “Tristian is a very busy man, and I won’t have you embarrassing me by treating his business like another playground. If he gives you instructions, you follow them. And if I hear that you’ve been causing problems, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I murmured.

“And stop calling me Papa Bear whenever you think it’ll get you out of trouble.”

I gasped. “Daddy, I’ve been calling you Papa Bear since I was little! You can’t just cancel twenty-two years of emotional history because you’re angry with me!”

For the first time since he’d arrived at my bedroom door, his mouth twitched, and I almost smiled because there was my Papa Bear. Unfortunately, the smile disappeared almost immediately.

“Monday morning, Blair. Be ready.”

He turned and walked away before I could argue any further, and I waited until I was absolutely certain he couldn’t see me anymore before quietly shutting my bedroom door and locking it.

OH MY FUCKING GOD! I WAS GOING TO WORK FOR TRISTIAN HARRINGTON!

Forget Chanel. Forget Dior. Forget the black card that had just been brutally murdered in the prime of its life. For three whole months, I was going to be working at Tristian Harrington’s private island resort, and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first time in my life that losing access to my father’s money had ever sounded like a fucking blessing.

~~

By Monday morning, I had packed six suitcases, and before you start judging me, please understand that I was relocating to an island for three months, not spending the weekend at somebody’s grandmother’s house.

Unfortunately, Papa Bear didn’t seem to understand that.

“Blair, why the hell do you have six suitcases?”

I looked at him across the back seat of the car. “Because I have clothes, Daddy.”

“For three months?”

“Yes.”

“Are you planning to change your clothes fifteen times a day?”

“Depends. Is there a dress code?”

Our flight had landed earlier that morning, and a driver from the resort was taking us to the private marina, where a boat would carry us to the island. Daddy had spent most of the journey answering business calls while I pretended to be interested in the scenery.

“Blair, I need you to promise me something,” Daddy said as the car slowed near the marina.

“Anything, Papa Bear.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

I reached across the seat and squeezed his hand. “Daddy, I promise I’ll behave.”

~~

Anyway, we arrived at the resort a little after eleven.

“Alpha Harrington is by the pool, sir,” the manager informed Daddy. “He asked that I bring you straight to him.”

Oh, really? By the pool? Interesting.

We walked through a set of glass doors and came out onto a terrace overlooking an enormous swimming pool. There were several loungers arranged around it, and I immediately spotted a man swimming toward the far end.

Daddy waved at him. “Tristian!”

The man lifted his head, looked in our direction, and raised a hand before swimming toward the steps.

Oh, honey, that was an entirely different fucking experience.

Water was running down his chest as he came up the steps, and his black swimming shorts were clinging to his thighs. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to look at? His face? His chest? The fact that this man somehow managed to look ridiculously attractive while doing something as ordinary as getting out of a swimming pool?

Jesus Christ, Blair, your father is standing right beside you. Could you at least pretend you were raised properly?

Tristian reached for a towel, rubbed it over his hair, and walked toward us with a smile.

“Daniel, you old bastard!”

Daddy laughed and stepped forward to embrace him.

“Look at you! I see you’re enjoying yourself while the rest of us are working.”

“It’s my resort. Surely I’m allowed to swim in my own pool.”

“That’s exactly the kind of attitude I’m trying to get out of my daughter.”

Excuse me? Why was I catching stray bullets already when I hadn’t even been officially introduced as an employee?

Tristian laughed, and then his eyes moved toward me.

“Blair?”

“Hi, Alpha Tristian.”

He smiled as he came closer, and I suddenly became very conscious of the fact that this man was standing in front of me with nothing but a towel around his neck and a pair of wet shorts.

“I hear you’ve been causing trouble again, Blair.”