“Great film.” I nod nostalgically with a smile. I’m totally becoming distracted right now. I still need to get to the bottom of why Owen Wolfe of Lone Wolfe Pictures is here in my office. And I definitely don’t need to be acting like some star struck fangirl.
As if reading my mind, he finally drops his reason for being here. “I want to take you to dinner,” he says with enthusiasm that is…surprisingly hard to resist or say no to.
But I’m still surprised.
Dinner? Where the hell did that come from?
Confused, I do what comes naturally and scoff at his proposal.
“Are you kidding?” I laugh.
“No,” he states, looking confused.
“I don’t even know you.” I shake my head, wondering when the practical joke will be over.
“That’s the point of the date,” he says as if he’s stating the obvious. “I’m actually being serious here,” he adds. “I know tons of trendy scenes to check out for dinner places. I know so many people, we can just walk right in, we don’t even need a fucking reservation,” he brags.
I stare at him in bewilderment for a few seconds. “I can’t, I’m sorry, my schedule is full at the moment.” I need to shut this down, especially with the way I’m still reacting to him.
“I insist,” he says, and I notice some firm undertones in his voice.
“I can let you know when my schedule clears.” I look him in the eye, unwilling to back down.
Owen sighs and stands up. Yes! I think that means I’m winning this battle.
He takes a pen off my desk and lifts a Post It. He scribbles his number across the center of the paper. “If you change your mind, here’s my direct line. I don’t usually give out my private number to people,” he says as if I should feel fucking honored to receive it or some shit.
“Okay,” I stumble.
“Call me when your schedule clears,” he says, and without another word, he disappears as quickly as he arrived.
7
Molly
I arrive at my parent’s house at noon on the dot. I place my car in park, turn it off, and take a deep breath as I climb out of the seat.
I stare up at Quinn Manor as I stand in the driveway in a daze.
My parents live out in the Hamptons, which should come as no surprise to you, or anyone who knows our family, for that matter. My mom loves to be by the coast where she can sit on the beach, drinking cocktails with her friends while they gossip about other rich housewives.
Every day, I come out here to join my father for lunch.
Every day, like always, my father doesn’t care.
The purpose of my arrival is to report on the company, its daily processes and how things are moving along.
My father never asks me to do this, and I’m sure he doesn’t fucking give two shits about what I have to say, but I do it anyway.
You probably want to know why I spend a tireless amount of effort to impress someone who doesn’t notice me. Yes, it hurts sometimes, but that just proves my devotion to not only my father, but to our family business as a whole.
The company is my life, and I care more about it than anyone involved?I just don’t get the r
ecognition I deserve. I won’t let that little glitch derail me, though; I always start my day with driven purpose.
Think of it as a tradition of sorts. Yeah, that helps me not sound so crazy…right?
“Hey, Daddy.” I give Richmore Quinn, a.k.a. my father, a polite smile and kiss the top of his head as I walk past him.