Meet My Part-Time Husband

Chapter 3: Richard Whitfield's Warning

"Close the door," Richard said, not looking up from the folder open on his desk.

Elle hadn't even had a chance to answer Marcus's message before the summons landed, and one look at her father's face told her this had nothing to do with the shareholders' dinner.

Elle closed it. "If this summon is about the seating chart, I have already fixed it."

"I didn't summon you because of the seating chart." Richard finally raised his eyes, and immediately, Elle recognized the expression, it was exactly the one he usually wore before every hard decision he'd ever made in this room. "It's about the man who helped you fix it."

"Marcus."

"Marcus Hale," Richard said the name as if he was testing its weight. "Sophie mentioned to my assistant that he's taking you to dinner. Not the shareholders' kind."

"Sophie talks too much."

"Sophie works for this family. She knows what's worth flagging." Richard tapped the folder without opening it. "I had someone look into him the morning after the gala, the way I do with anyone who works that closely with you. I just didn't expect to need the file this soon."

"You had him investigated?"

"Everyone who gets that close to my daughter will be investigated."The folder was passed across the desk by Richard, but his hands still got a good hold of it when Elle reached for it. "He runs a small event company. Decent reputation, nothing remarkable. No family money behind him. No name that opens doors on its own."

"I don't care about his bank account."

"I am worried because you don't care." Richard finally released the folder, sitting back in his chair with the particular stillness he used when he wanted a point to land hard. "You've spent your whole life being wanted for what you'll inherit. Boardrooms full of men smiling at you because your last name is Whitfield. You've not gotten good at spotting it."

"I have."

"Then explain to me why you didn't spot it this time."

Elle's jaw tightened. "It's because there's nothing to spot. When he first walked into that ballroom, he didn't know me, he only did his job better than anyone else in the room."

"Or rather, he did better research than anyone else in the room." Richard made efforts to maintain a calm voice, which was somehow worse than if he'd raised it. "You inherited four billion dollars eighteen months ago, Eleanor. Every fortune hunter on the East Coast knows your name. Some of them are just smarter about how they approach it than others."

"You assume I can't tell the difference between someone who wants me and someone who's after my money."

"You're lonelier than you let yourself admit, and lonely people normally miss things that they should be catching." The words stung more than any accusation could have, even though Richard said it gently. "I watched your mother work herself into an early grave running this company. I don't want the same thing for you. Not the company part. The lonely part."

Elle stood, the folder still unopened in her hand. "This isn't about Mom. This is about you deciding you know my life better than I do."

"I'm your father. It's my job to worry."

"Your job is to run this company until I'm ready. Running my personal life stopped being your job the day I took over the ninth floor." She didn't mean to let the words out sharper than she usually let herself around him, but she wasn't ready to take it back. "I've had two conversations with Marcus Hale. That's all this is. Two conversations."

"Then two conversations shouldn't have you defending him like this," Richard blurted out.

"I will have to defend anyone you try to build a file on without telling me first." Elle set the folder on the edge of his desk, not willing to be handed something she hadn't asked for. "That's not about Marcus. That's about you and me."

"It's actually about both." Richard rubbed a hand over his jaw. He usually made this gesture whenever he was trying to choose his next words carefully. "This same thing was done when your mother started seeing a supplier's son the year before I met her. Her father hired investigators too. I know how it looks from where you're standing."

"Then you should know how it feels."

"I do, that's why I don't feel sorry about it." His voice was hard and immovable for a moment, but the kindness in it remained intact. "I prefer you being angry at me for a week rather than being blindsided by someone for the rest of your life."

The quietness in the room made Elle's chest so tight. Her father wasn't wrong that she was defending Marcus. She hated that he had noticed it before she even did.

"I'm not defending him," her voice was with little sound now, "I'm defending my right to decide who I trust without having a file built on him first."

Richard gave her a careful look for a long moment, and something in his expression softened, though the worry never left his face fully. "Fine, there will be no more files, but promise me you'll keep your eyes open, Eleanor. Money changes how people see you. It always has, since the day you were born into it."

"I know how to run a company, Dad. I think I can manage dinner with someone."

"Running a company and running your heart are two different skills." Richard picked the folder from the desk before she tried to stop him, and slid it into his drawer, which gave a signal that the conversation was coming to an end. "The fact that you never had the chance to practice the second one worries me the most."

Elle didn't prepare an answer that wouldn't prove his point, so she chose not to say a word. Instead, she moved towards the door with her heels sharp against the hardwood in the silence left behind her.

"Elle." Her father's voice stopped her before she reached the door. "I would be the first to welcome him into this family if he's genuine. If my doubts are right , I need you to promise you'll allow me to help you, and not shut me out the way you did after your mother's death."

Elle was caught off guard at the mention of her mother, the way it always did, landing somewhere she kept carefully sealed off during business hours.

"I promise you," she said, the words were quick to escape her lips before she was even sure if she really meant them.

As soon as she took three steps down the hallway, a text from the number she had only saved that morning made a continuous humming noise.

The text read, “Do you still need more time to think about the dinner? The place has carefully been picked by me. You will love it or hate that I was right.”

Elle stood frozen in the hallway with her father's warning still ringing behind her. She quickly typed back a single word before she talked herself out of it.

“Yes.”