☼    Sasha    ☼

Something was...off.   Didn't feel right.

And I wasn't talking about the jagged hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

No, this was something else and it had started halfway across the Atlantic.  I'd miraculously snagged a few hours of shut-eye on the plane, courtesy of a valium and a glass of wine—yeah, I know, not exactly the textbook combo. Mixing alcohol and drugs was probably on my therapist's list of big no-no's, but hey, after Ellis walked away with half my heart and Zack passed me off to another guy, shredding the rest of it like it was an inconvenience, trust me, I needed something to drown out the chaos and emptiness.

But the second I'd stepped off the plane the off feeling doubled, no, tripled and it didn't get any better as I breezed through the doors of one of the office buildings that kept Daddy's business running smoothly.

And as much as I wanted to cry and scream and possibly devour a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's Choco-lotta Cheescake to numb the cruelty and torment of my life. Deep down, it was good to be back in the US, because I loved my father.  I'd missed him.  After all, at heart, I was undeniably a daddy's girl.

I just had to ensure he didn't pick up on my misery or the gaping hole in my chest because I was sure he would rip out Zack's heart to even the score. And as much as I hated Zack right now.  I didn't want him and Daddy falling out, or having blood on my hands because blood and Ice-cream didn't mix well.

So, I got this and plastering on a fake-ass smile, I pushed my shoulders back, keeping a firm grip on the Caramel-brulee latte in my hand which was a close second to B&J's.

I would get through this—over this. Time was my best friend here, and it had only been a handful of hours.

Immediately, I blinked back tears of confusion, hurt, and most of all, rage.  

Why? Why do that? 

And why the hell did I want to flip around and get right back on a plane and force him to explain it to me? 

Even more worrying was the fact that I still wanted him.

What an idiot.

However, I was many, many things—young, submissive, a little obsessive—but the one thing I'd never been, not even as a smitten teenage girl, was foolish. And I had no interest in chasing heartbreak with humiliation.

Oh shit. Pressure began to build behind my eyes, thankfully, before I could get all teary eyed my cell phone kicked off again. It was tucked securely in the bag anchored on my shoulder, and it had been steadily buzzing since I asked my daddy's driver to stop so I could get out and purchase my latte.

I relaxed when it stopped... but then it started buzzing again. It had to be daddy and maybe it couldn't wait.

But still, unwilling to risk my drink—or the Gucci double-breasted blazer I'd chosen to complete today's wardrobe—I put as much speed in my stride as I could in heeled boots, making my way up to Daddy's office. "Hold the elevator," a tiny woman with a pixie haircut turned around, eyed me up and down and nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem," she smiled.

I snuggled into the lift with several other people. I glanced around my eyes rounded when they settled on broad shoulders and dirty blond hair, Ellis!

I blinked again as the man turned to face me as if he knew I was staring.

I quickly averted my gaze.

No, it wasn't him, obviously.

He was in LA for starters and here I was in New York, which was another worrying thing. Why wasn't Daddy in LA? That was his main base of operations, he rarely came to New York, and I'd been here what? A handful of times?

But thinking I'd just seen Ellis opened up that hurt all over again. 

As soon as Mr Davies had put my suitcase into the trunk of his car, I'd tried to call Ellis... and at least twenty more times since, however, every single one went to voicemail. I couldn't blame him. He thought I'd chosen Zack over him and his tender little heart and his pride had taken a hit. 

Thing was,  I wasn't calling him as a backup plan. No. I just wanted to know he was okay.

My phone rang again. Managing to manoeuvrer my bag open I used my free hand to reach inside, trying to catch the call before it ended as missed, again.

I was right. Daddy flashed across the screen.

Eleven missed calls. Him ringing on me repeat was another major clue.

Something was definitely was wrong.

"Hey, Daddy," I answered brightly, some part of me hoping my cheery tone would bleed into whatever unappealing news he was about to deliver.

"About time," he replied with a sombre undercurrent that made me hold my breath for whatever was coming next. "Where are you?"

"I'm almost there, just riding up in the elevator," I answered, feeling different pairs of eyes on me. "Why, what's going on?"

"Come to the big office."

The big office.

Meaning, his office.

"Everything okay, Daddy?"

"Just get here and no distractions," he countered, and I pushed out a sigh.

"I'll be there in just a minute," I said, not bothering to formally end the call as the elevator doors opened on his floor and I navigated my way down to the big office, emotional support latte untouched in hand.

Rounding the corner, I met an unfamiliar face.  It was his secretary.  "Hi, my fathers expecting me, I'll just go through."

"Of course," the woman said, coming to her feet. 

"It's okay, you don't have to announce me."

She ignored me and stepped around her desk and led me to the door in heels a mile high.  I kept my eyes on those heels... I'd give her this, she had good taste. She opened the door and stepped aside.  "Your daughter, Sir."

Sir,  I had to bite back a wince but I managed to smile my thanks and walk on in.

The door closed behind me.  Oh shit. There was no way this was good and my suspicions were confirmed as his accountant, or rather, CFO, was seated at the large conference table that took up a good part of the office, looking grim as usual. He wasn't my favourite person in the world, he gave a whole new meaning to the phrase little man syndrome.

"Good morning, Carter," I greeted him, to which he grunted before looking at the head at my father.

Ryan Darling. 

My father had built up his Crisis Management Consultancy from the ground up. A crisis management consultant was a fancy word for 'Fixer,' However fixing problems and handling a crisis were two different things as my father would often tell me, the root causes of most crises often lie in an imbalance in one of seven traits: Ego, Denial, Fear, Ambition, Accommodation, Patience, and Indulgence.

Always remember that, Sasha. He told me.

I put down my drink and shucked my bag from my shoulder dropping that on the table too. 

The look my father exchanged with Carter said a lot while saying nothing.

"It's about time," a deep baritone voice spoke. I still hadn't sat down and quickly realized the high backs of the rotary chairs surrounding the table had obscured someone else in this meeting. I watched, frowning, as a chair near my father turned, revealing a handsome face that I recognised, but supremely annoying, because— "Why are you here?" I asked, the question spilling out before I could catch myself to deliver it in a more... personable manner.

His full lips spread into a smirk as my father sighed out.

"Princess, sit. Please."

Princess? Daddy only ever called me that when he wanted to soften a blow. My spine stiffened. If was going to drop bad news on me, then I wanted to be standing.

"I don't want to sit. What's going on—why is he here?"

"Just as beautiful and as stubborn as I remember," said the surprise guest unfolding a much taller sturdier body that I remembered from the chair and walked around the table. To come and stand right in front of me, practically towering over me and I took a step back and looked around him, making no attempt to return any niceties.

"Have you missed me, Sash?" my eyes moved back to his green ones and I took two steps back.

"My name is Sasha," I said, punctuating the a.

The man standing in front of me and the way his eyes burned along my body, from my heeled boots to the stray hair escaping my ponytail told me he didn't care what I thought or said.

Jarrod Collins.

With a humph, I blanked him and moved my head to the left so I could see my father. "Daddy, what's going on?"

"I will happily—"

"Please shut up!" I said, holding up my hand. I had to look up to properly glare at him, but I wasn't backing down. He seemed shocked by my audacity, his head rearing back a little in response. "I want to talk to my father, not you."

"Sasha, princess, please treat our guest with some respect," my father warned, making it my turn for disbelief at his audacity.

Jarrod instead moved to block my view of my father and leaning down he pressed his full lips against my ear and whispered. "Still a freak between the sheets?"

He moved back slowly but was still standing too close to me, looking incredibly amused.  My face heated but jerked back and brushed him to one side and speared a look in my father's direction. "Daddy?" I prompted. "Now would be a really good time to tell me what's going on.  Why you insisted I had to return from London ASAP?"

He didn't get a chance to answer and I felt a chill rush up the back of my legs and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose as the double doors opened behind me. 

My father's gaze moved past me and sharpened and snarled, "I told you to wait for my call."

Confused, I turned around to find a woman I hadn't seen in years. Despite my father's hostile gaze, she greeted me  with a wide smile that hinted at mischief.  "Have you told her, Ryan?"

The woman approached me, and my eyes met hers for the first time in years. It was like looking into a mirror of the past. The same shade of blue eyes stared back. Shaking my head, I redirected my attention to my father. "Told me what?"

With a laugh that could rival the devil's own, the woman replied, "Why, that I'm here to plan my only daughter's engagement party, of course."

As she spoke, her voice seemed distant, almost surreal. My eyebrows rose and stuck and my mouth dropped open.

The what now?

An engagement party? 

She... my mother, in a nonchalant manner, slid a finger under my chin, coaxing my mouth closed. "Close your mouth, darling girl, we don't want you looking like a ventriloquist's dummy now do we?" She punctuated the remark with a playful wink.

Had I somehow stumbled into an alternative universe?  One where my mother hadn't vanished when I was a kid and forgotten when my birthday was, and, not to mention the devastation, the hurt, she caused Daddy.

My father's face turned a shade of red I'd never seen before, and I couldn't help but worry about his blood pressure. "Jarrod, you and Sasha wait outside for me," he barked, his temper barely being banked.

Had that just happened? 

And was he serious? 

A bomb the size of the Yankee Stadium had just been dropped on me, and now he wanted me to wait outside like a well-trained puppy?

"C'mon, fiancée!" Jarrod chirped, yanking my hand as if we were off to a carnival. "Let's you and me have a catch-up."

Outside my father's office, I pulled my hand free  crossed my arms and shot him a withering glare.  

Jarrod's eyes fixed on my cleavage for a moment before they lifted to meet mine, pure evil glinting in them."Don't pout, princess," he teased, his teeth flashing white. "I can think of much better things to do with those lips."

I swallowed the desire to scratch the man's eyes out, knowing an emotional display wouldn't get me very far. "You're insane if you think my mouth is going anywhere near." My gaze dropped to his crotch and shifted back up just as fast. "You!"

I knew from the moment I met Jarrod Collins he was a player.

A bladed nose, and a firm mouth with a certain sharpness to its shape. Heavy-lidded eyes which seemed to take in everything at once and dark stubble covering the pale cut of his jaw and hollows of his cheeks.

Today, he looked no different to the very last time I saw him.

Still had the suit, shoes, and watch of a wealthy man; and the stride and bearing of a powerful one.  And all that power was wasted on him.  He'd called me crazy—a freak! For even suggesting he slap me, hold me down and choke me to get me off.

Shaking off that memory, I said.  "And I don't know what's going on, but it will be a cold day in hell before I date you again, never mind, marry you!"

I hiked up my chin but he didn't move a muscle, well, unless you could call the smile filling out those lips that were too pretty for any man.

Ugh. I hated him and he was everything I would never want. A vanilla playboy with a gorgeous smile.  A cheater.

But just as worrying, was why had my mother shown up after all these years and what kind of trouble was my father in to agree to this—whatever this was?

"Better wrap up warm then, Princess. Hell's about to get a hella-of-a-lot colder."