Giselle had taken extra care with her appearance, the idea of being beautiful for the evening made her excited for no reason. She looked forward to the drama on the dinner table. She descended slowly, her floral patterned dress rustling and sweeping against the steps. Her hair was swept into a high ponytail that accentuated the line of her jaw. There was no hesitation in her stride, no downward cast of her eyes. Richard was already standing near the sideboard, a glass of scotch in his hand. He froze as she entered the dining room. He was stunned to say the least. He had seen her beauty before, but this was different. This was regal. This was too much to take in. Giselle didn't wait for him to pull out a chair. She marched to the end of the long table—the seat traditionally reserved for Chase—and pulled it back with a decisive scrape sound. She sat down, spreading her gown with the calm elegance of a queen. "Good evening, Richard," she said, her voice smooth and cool. Before

The atmosphere had barely settled after the dining room skirmish before the large front doors groaned open again. Chase walks in with Monica. Richard was still in the hallway, a glass of usual drink in his hand, his mind still reeling from Giselle’s cold exit. He looked up, his eyes darkening as Chase marched in, softly dragging Monica by the arm. Monica was dressed in a cocktail dress exposing all her contours, her chin tilted up in a desperate attempt at a warm smile but failed woefully. "What is this?" Richard’s voice was a low rumble. "Chase, what on earth would possess you to bring this woman into this house? Have you lost every shred of your mind?" Chase stopped in the center of the floor, puffing out his chest. "It’s also my house, Dad. And I’m a man with desires and needs. Considering the fact that I have an estranged relationship with my soon to be Ex wife, Monica is exactly what I need to get by. She’s staying here." "You will not turn this house into a brothel," Ri

After a time well spent in the garden, Giselle decided to go back to her room, she was walking toward her suite, her robe sweeping the floor, when a shadow detached itself from the alcove near the library. Monica stepped into the center of the way, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her jaw was set in a jagged line of resentment. "We aren't finished," Monica hissed, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Giselle stopped. She didn't look startled; she looked inconvenienced obviously. She adjusted the cuff of her robe and met Monica’s gaze with a terrifyingly calm stare. "I’m fairly certain I finished with you earlier," Giselle said. "Unless you’ve come to ask for the Wi-Fi password? It’s 'Irrelevant,' with a capital I." "What was that back there?" Monica stepped closer, her heels clicking aggressively on the floor. "You think because you have a ring on your finger that you can talk to me like I’m some dirt stain? You think you can humi

Giselle went straight to the library to cool off. The library was bathed in the amber glow of a single desk lamp, casting long, skeletal shadows across the rows of leather-bound books. Giselle sat at the massive desk, several thick folders splayed open before her. She didn't look up when the doors creaked open. She didn't need to. The scent of sandalwood and tobacco announced him before he even stepped into the light. "It’s late, Giselle," Richard said, his voice a low velvet rasp that seemed to pull at the air in the room. "The clock just told me that, Richard. I can count," she replied, her eyes never leaving the page in front of her. Richard walked further into the room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his nightie. He stopped at the edge of the desk, looking down at her. "Why aren't you sleeping? I imagine it’s quite quiet in the master suite now that you’ve chased my son out of his own bed." Giselle finally looked up. The lamplight caught the gold in her eyes, making the

Chase had surprisingly orchestrated a welcome charity fund raiser that Monday afternoon , he had done so with military precision—or so he thought. He had hand-picked the guest list to exclude anyone who might favor Giselle’s "new attitude," intending to use the luncheon to re-establish himself as the Hemingway heir-apparent.Richard sat at the head table of the conference, looking stoic and regal, though his eyes darted toward the entrance every few minutes. Chase sat to his left, with Monica—dressed in a sequins-gown that screamed too much for 1:00 PM—clinging to his arm.The Master of Ceremonies stepped up to the podium, tapping the microphone."Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests," the MC beamed. "We are gathered here to celebrate the return of a titan. Please, join me in welcoming the man of the hour, Mr. Richard Hemingway, and his beloved wife, the stunning Mrs. Hemingway!"The room erupted in applause. The MC gestured toward the grand double doors.Chase’s face turned

All Chapters of Even If It Hurts, Daddy: Chapter 41 - Chapter 45

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