I Married a Billionaire: The Prodigal Son(26)
Author: Melanie Marchande

“Anywhere and everywhere,” he said, putting a dish in the rack.

“They’ll complain if there’s too much walking.”

“Well, everywhere that’s not a museum.”

“And what about dinner? We can’t take them someplace nice, they won’t have anything to wear. Plus they’ll think I’ve turned into a snob.”

“I’ll cook for them,” said Daniel, mildly, drying his hands. “They’ll love that. Parents always do.”

I looked at him in complete bewilderment.

“What?” he said. “You think I’ve never had to undo someone’s parents’ impressions of a rich young a**hole?”

“I guess I never really thought about it,” I admitted.

“Best case scenario, you’re a Kardashian. Worst case, Patrick Bateman. Until you have them over, cook them a nice meal, and chat with them about all sorts of normal human things.” He smiled. “I’ll admit to having trouble with certain people, but parents are easy.”

“Oh, well, excuse me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to impugn your abilities.”

“They think they care about all sorts of lofty things, like your true personality and your long-term ability to support their daughter, but really they just want someone who makes them feel warm and welcome. It’s all about first impressions. They want to be charmed, even if they don’t think they do.”

“Speaking of Patrick Bateman,” I said, wincing as I sat down on the stool. They weren’t quite as comfortable as they used to be, before little Laura started to grow.

“I might be accused of social maladjustment,” said Daniel. “But not a psychopath. Please. Give me some credit.”

“Yeah, if you are, you’ve hidden it pretty well.” I gave up on trying to get comfortable and wandered into the living room. “Okay, well, let me know when you’ve devised the tasting menu for my parents’ visit.”

“Oh, it’s not going to be anything fancy,” said Daniel. “That defeats the whole purpose.”

I couldn’t stop looking at him with a confused smile on my face.

“What?” he said.

I just shook my head.

“You think you know a guy.”

***

My parents were here, and I hadn’t lost my mind.

Yet.

“Oh,” my mother was almost tittering. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I wanted to die. Daniel turned on his brightest smile for her benefit, and she actually blushed. I was surprised that he didn’t kiss her hand.

“You look beautiful, honey,” my dad said.

“Thank you for not saying ‘glowing.’” I smiled at him.

My mother didn’t look nearly as different, although there were many more flecks of gray in her hair than before.

“Nice place,” said my dad, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to be pointed about it. “I bet there’s waiting lists a mile long.”

“There are,” said Daniel. “Thankfully, I knew the property owner when the place first opened. I even had the staircase custom made.”

“It’s something else.” My dad sounded strangely awed, with none of that sarcastic edge I was expecting.

I don’t know what I thought would happen, exactly – that Daniel would be awkward or standoffish, or something of the sort. I knew he was more than capable of charming people. But seeing it in action was something else.

“I’m so glad you were both finally able to get away from work and come visit,” said Daniel, graciously establishing to precedent that we weren’t going to discuss the actual reasons they hadn’t. Which, granted, mostly just boiled down to my inability to put up with their bullshit.

“I’m sure you know what that’s like,” said my dad.

“You must have an awful lot on your shoulders,” my mom agreed.

Daniel shrugged it off. “Day to day, it’s not bad,” he said. “I have a very good team of people working alongside me.” Not under him. A very deliberate word choice, I thought. “I have to say, it was bittersweet, losing Maddy’s talent from the company. But I couldn’t have the conflict of interest; it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else.”

“Of course not,” said my mother. “But I’m glad to hear that you appreciated her.”

“Still do,” said Daniel, with a beatific smile. “But for a whole new spectrum of reasons.”

“It wasn’t the most artistically rewarding job, anyway,” I said. “I’m glad I have the time to do things on my own now.”

“Oh? Are you still doing your drawings?” My mom took a sip of wine.

“Yes, honey, remember? We saw it in the paper,” my dad said, patiently.

“Oh, oh, that’s right. Well, that’s very nice.”

They were both carefully avoiding any commentary on my actual art, which didn’t surprise me. They’d never liked it, and usually dismissed my drawings and frivolous in one way or another. That wasn’t a conversation I was particularly eager to have with them again.

“Such a beautiful place,” my mom said, so quietly it almost seemed like she was talking to herself. “Did you decorate any of it, honey?”

“Not really,” I said. That was another thing: they’d never been very clear on the distinction between graphic design and interior design, no matter how many times I explained it to them.

“It’s sparse,” said my dad.

“Modern is the word,” my mom tutted. “I love it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” said my dad.

“I just picked up a few pieces more or less at random, when I got the place,” Daniel cut in. “I was utterly surprised to realize they all fit together, more or less. All the appliance and light fixtures and all that – the credit goes to the architect who designed the place and my friend who actually bankrolled it.”

“The bedroom loft is very appealing,” my mom said.

“I like that it gives a feeling of separation between the bedroom and the rest of the place,” Daniel agreed. I hid my smile.

“Well,” I said, trying to switch topics from this incessant HGTV prattling. “So, dad, how’s work?”

He shrugged. “Well, old Mr. Farmer finally retired. Turned out it didn’t matter. What’s that old line? ‘Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.’”

Oh good; it wasn’t even dinner yet, and my dad was already quoting song lyrics.

“The Who,” said Daniel, grinning as he pulled a pan down from the hanger.

“I saw them in concert once,” said my mom. “And, believe it or not – they cut off drinks towards the end of the show, and I had this beer I’d barely touched. This man with a backstage pass came up and offered me a trade. Naturally enough, I took it.” She paused to sip her wine. I’d heard this story so many times I could have mouthed it along with her.

“I hate this story,” my dad griped.

“Hush.” My mom slapped him lightly on the arm. “I had a life before you.”

Daniel was absolutely eating this up, his eyes dancing from one to the other of them. I knew I wasn’t going to hear the end of this once we were alone.

“Anyway, I went backstage and met them all. And they were perfectly nice men. And gentlemen,” she emphasized, glaring at my father. “Howard doesn’t believe me.”

“I know how girls are with rockstars,” my father griped. “You can tell me whatever you want, but I know what goes on.” He started drumming his fingers on the table. “Although I guess it’s the same thing for any powerful man, isn’t it?” He looked at Daniel pointedly.

“Howard!” My mom smack his arm again. “Not in front of Maddy.”

“Jesus Christ, mom,” I said, with my head in my hands. “I know he wasn’t a virgin when we met.”

My dad started snickering.

I couldn’t stand the thought of looking at Daniel. “So, what about you, mom? Anything new and exciting?”

“Oh, no. Not me.”

“Not since that Who concert,” my dad mumbled.

“HOWARD!”

“Oh my God, both of you,” I pleaded. “Stop.”

I finally looked up at Daniel. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

“Well,” he said, wiping down a Santoku knife. “How does everyone like their steak?”