Father In Law

Charlotte:

I see something flash through Anthony Crosswalk's eyes as his son ignores him.

I look away when he glances down at me. Goosebumps rise on my skin as I feel his gaze on me. He is an intimidating man.

"Excuse him. He's not used to not getting what he wants."

I appreciate his honesty, despite his words.

"It's alright Mr. Crosswalk. If he loves someone else, why not get married to her?"

"I'm sure you of all people know how our world works, Ms. Daymond. We don't marry for love. It is a mere abstract concept. Marriage is just a tactful strategy to further improve our businesses."

I shake my head vehemently, completely at odds with his words, but I know it's useless arguing with men of his power. Men like my father. They're thick headed and refuse to listen to what the other person has to say. If Sebastian's childhood was anything like mine, then I feel sorry for him.

Everyone knows about Anthony Crosswalk and his ruthless reputation. I could guess having him as a father is not an easy feat, so I don't hold Sebastian's rude behavior against him.

"Well, I guess I should leave now. It was nice meeting you Mr. Crosswalk."

It wasn't a pleasure to meet you. My heart was pounding furiously the entire time and if I stay any longer, I may risk the chance of getting a heart attack.

"My intention was not for you to meet me. It was for you to meet my son. I could have closed a deal in this time."

I look down at my shoes. I can't help but think it's all my fault. Maybe I could have dressed up nicer. Put on more make-up. Made an effort. But, at the same time, he could have told his son to put some effort too.

"I should go now." I inform him and abruptly take my leave.

"Franco." I smile at my driver.

"Where to, Ms. Daymond?"

"Let's go to the boutique."

"Very well."

We exit the gates of the Crosswalk household and enter the familiar traffic of New York.

My wedding boutique, Charlotte's Secrets, located in SoHo, attracts all brides. It's all about the location, after all. We're a boutique and wedding planning combined.

I thank Franco and exit the car. I take a moment to appreciate the chic, yet rustic building. My life's work. With a bright smile on my face, I step inside, and the air conditioning slaps me in the face, cooling my heated skin.

"Good morning Ms. Charlotte."

"Just Charlotte is fine Harper. Any new customers?"

I hear her click away on the keyboard.

"Two actually. One is supposed to meet you in the afternoon. Precisely at three o'clock."

"Perfect. I'll be in my office if you need me for anything."

She nods and I go into my office cabin at the back. Dropping my handbag on the loveseat, I sit down in my chair and start up my computer.

Just as I'm about to open our accounts, I get a call from father dearest.

I pick up on the first ring because God forbid, Charles Daymond even wait a second.

"Charlotte." His stern voice rings out.

"Father." I greet softly.

"Have you met Sebastian Crosswalk?"

"More like his father."

"Anthony?"

"Yes, father. Anthony Crosswalk. Look Dad, Sebastian is in love with someone else. Why do I have to marry him?" I hold my breath for his response, which I expect won't be too nice.

"Who he loves is irrelevant. Me and Anthony will both benefit from this union. We have both agreed upon it, and that is what is most important."

With a frown, I say, "Yes, Father."

"I know you're frowning. Stop that."

I let out a deep breath and focus on the conversation.

"How's Mom?"

His tone immediately changes into a soft, loving one.

"She's wonderful. Worries about you everyday. You should come visit this weekend."

His words create a pang in my chest. I miss her so much.

"I'll try my best to."

"Daymonds don't try Charlotte. They do. You are a Daymond and this is the least I expect from you."

"Yes, father. I have to go. Take care."

"The same goes to you Charlotte."

I hang up and sigh heavily, resting my chin on my palm. How is it going to be to plan my own wedding? One that I don't want. One that the groom, himself doesn't want. A wedding that, only our fathers want for us.

I shake my head of those thoughts and focus on work.

By the end of the day, I'm beat and before I go, I tell Harper to clear my schedule for the weekend.

What Father wants, Father gets.

I look down at my phone to book a flight to Arkansas. I could use Dad's private jet, but I don't think it's worth taking the jet just for one passenger.

When I step outside, I collide with someone and my phone crashes to the ground.

"Mr. Crosswalk, what are you doing here?" I ask as I bend to pick up my phone, checking for cracks.

Anthony Crosswalk looks at me through narrowed eyes. He and his son share the same bone structure. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Whereas his son's jaw is peppered with stubble, Anthony has a neatly trimmed beard.

"I came to see how my future daughter-in-law's business looks like. Maybe I'd even buy it if I like it well enough."

Rare anger bubbles in my chest at his words, so with the sweetest smile on my face, I say,

"I'm sorry Mr. Crosswalk, but it's not for sale."

I see his lips quirk up in the faintest of smiles, before it's gone. It makes me wonder if it was just my imagination.

"Where are my manners? Come. I'll show you around."

So, I make introductions between him and Harper and show him around. The wedding dress section, the trial section, my office, and the brainstorming section. It's like a sun room really, with glass walls, a high vaulted ceiling, plants and warm colored lights.

By the time I'm done showing him around, I don't know whether he's impressed or not.

His sharp ringtone cuts through my thoughts. He picks it up on the second ring and listens to what the other person says.

"What do you mean?"

I watch different emotions flit across his face. Disbelief, hurt, disappointment, and finally anger.

"I trusted you with this, and you sabotage me for what? All because I won't allow you to marry a no good whore?"

Ah, so that must be his son. Whatever Sebastian says makes Anthony's eyes flare.

"Sebastian!" He shouts his name with such high volume, that I flinch and a lock of his black hair falls on his forehead, that, which had been previously neatly gelled back.

He catches my flinch through his peripheral vision and places his hand on top of my head. His gesture is shocking, because I can only assume he's trying to reassure me.

When he ends the call, he removes his hand from my head and brushes the lock of hair away from his forehead.

"Excuse me. I'll have to go now."

My tongue is too twisted to form any words, so I just nod and watch him walk to his car, get into the driver's side, and drive off.