Dad would probably get mad at me for firing Karl and Vic, but I already had an excuse. I’d tell Dad that Karl spent so much time on his phone that if something were to happen, he’d probably fail to save me. And Vic often snoozed on the job. Truth was, the two men were just muscled minions Dad sent to keep tabs on me, and with them around, I always felt like I was being watched. My every action tracked and reported. Karl made sure I stayed out of trouble, and projected the right ‘image’ when I went out. He’d offer me ‘advice’ on what to wear and what to say to the paparazzi. He was like a publicist, bodyguard, and image consultant all rolled into one, and he happened to look like Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones. Yeah, no way I wanted someone like that tailing me 24/7. Vic looked more like a younger Austin Powers. He was supposed to be a housekeeper slash personal assistant, but I caught him stealing one of my diamond chokers, and had to fire him on the spot. Good help was hard to find. My trust had to be earned, and it took a lot to earn it.

All my life, I’d been told that my life was glamorous; the envy of every person on the planet. Men and women have told me that they’d sell their souls to walk a day in my shoes. At the risk of sounding ungrateful and even snobby, I had no idea why they were so jealous. The endless parties, charity functions, galas and fundraisers were enough to make my head spin. If I could, I’d gladly hire a body double to attend those events for me, so I could stay home in my PJs, drink wine and watch Netflix. Being a billion-heiress was exhausting and a demanding job in itself. And since I didn’t want to be one of those spoiled princess types that never worked a day in their life, I took it upon myself to run one of my dad’s restaurants. Yet, the media didn’t care about my own entrepreneurial aspirations or achievements. Anytime someone interviewed me, they’d ask who I was wearing, which restaurants I frequented, or which celebrity I was friends with. Strangers on the internet obsessed over my fashion and lifestyle choices, turning to me as if I was some influencer, icon or role model, when in fact, I was just a regular woman. I was no different from any other except for my last name. Yet, this tiny difference meant I could party with the Hiltons and Kardashians, have nightcaps with rockstars, and full spa treatments at my home on call. Being a Rayner opened doors for me everywhere I went, but it also meant that I had to keep up a certain image (even if it was false), especially on social media. After all, I had almost 750,000 followers on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. They were hungry sharks that enjoyed being fed selfies, hashtags and constant updates about my life. In fact, before handing over the keys to Bar None, Dad had made me agree I would keep up with my socialite activities. He didn’t want people to think I was forced to work for a living. God forbid. Dad meant well, I know he did. But occasionally, that meant he became controlling, and a bit nosy about my personal life. I guess he couldn’t help it. I was his only child, after all. The result of living like this, though, meant I often felt like I was leading a double life, maybe even a triple life, one that wasn’t really my own.

I reapplied my lipstick before leaving the car and heading inside Hennessey Eight. Hennessey Eight was a sister restaurant to Bar None. I ran Bar None much better than Felicia did Hennessey’s, though. Ida, the hostess, greeted me with her usual high-pitched squeal. “He’s up on the roof, waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Ida.” I made my way up to the rooftop patio, where I saw Dad waiting for me.

“Sorry I’m late,” I apologized.

“No worries, I just got here.” Dad glanced over at the server, who promptly brought over a menu and a glass of water for me. “Honey, you look like you’ve lost weight again,” Dad pointed out, gesturing to my sunken cheeks.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I said, neglecting to mention that Anthony was the source of my stress and poor appetite. I’d lost four pounds in the last three weeks.

Dad put down his steak knife. “Have you gone to see the doctor? Your eye bags are so dark and puffy…could be anemia.”

I batted his concerns away like pesky flies. “I’m fine, Dad. I should probably just sleep more.”

“Why don’t you let Quinn handle your workload and take a few days off? I’m sure Bar None will be fine without you there ten hours a day.” It was actually almost twelve hours a day, but I didn’t say anything. Dad reached across the table and grabbed my frozen hands. It was the middle of summer, yet my fingers were bricks of ice. “Jesus, Cally, you’re freezing. Please make an appointment. You should get that looked at.”

I withdrew my hands and placed them on my lap. “Just poor circulation, Dad. I’ve had that since I was little.”

“I can’t help but worry about you, sweetie. You’re working too hard, Cally.”

I noticed one of the servers slouching against a counter and shook my head a little. I’d never let my staff slouch like that. Or even stand around idly.

“Stop thinking about how you’d spruce up this restaurant,” Dad said, grinning. He’d always been able to read my mind. “Hennessey’s does just fine.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I fidgeted with my glass. I hoped it’d be good news. Dad was always jet setting around the world, and though we spoke on the phone weekly, it was almost always about the business. We had business lunches once a month, but fifteen minutes into our lunch date, Dad hadn’t brought up the business once.

“Can’t I just have a nice lunch with my daughter?” Dad asked. “I missed you.” He bent over and retrieved a bright pastel gift bag he’d hidden underneath the table. It was decorated with gold ribbons. “Go on. Open it. I bought it for you from Thailand.”

I pulled back the crinkly tissue paper, and nestled within was an intricately painted square canvas featuring an eighteen-armed Buddha. Its body was painted with colorful tattoos, and its eyes glittered like rhinestones. “Impressive. I love it.”

I had a small collection of paintings from around the world thanks to Dad. It started when I was just a kid. Dad would always bring back small souvenirs from his trips so I wouldn’t begrudge him for being away so often. When he noticed my particular obsession with paintings, he began buying a small one from every city he visited.

“This one was painted by a blind artist named Jali in Bangkok.”

“I can’t wait to add it to my collection. It’s gorgeous. Thanks, Dad.”

Dad laced his fingers together. “Listen, Cally, are you still seeing that boy, Anthony?”

The mention of Anthony’s name struck a sore spot for me. “No, why?”

“Well, I’ve met this great young man who—”

“Dad, I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me.”

Dad loosened his Windsor knot and straightened out his striped tie. “You’re almost twenty-six, baby. You can’t jump from boyfriend to boyfriend forever. I—Well, I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’d like a grandchild. All my buddies are becoming granddads lately and I’m getting a bit jealous.”

“Dad!”

Dad couldn’t stop grinning, even as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I’m just saying…well, no rush, of course, but—you sure you’re not seeing anyone?”

“Well, I did meet this guy at a bar a few days ago. But I turned him down.”

“Why?”

“I work too much, Dad. It wouldn’t be fair to him anyway. Besides, I’m going through some…stuff, right now.” I crossed and uncrossed my legs, pins and needles dancing along my calves.

“Cally, I love you, but sometimes you’re so picky when it comes to men. They can’t all be perfect like your daddy, you know.”

I swatted the air between us. “Dad! I’m not that picky.”

“You once turned down the CEO of Amber Hoxforth because you didn’t like his nose.”

“It was huge. And that wasn’t the only reason. He also treated his dog poorly. And that said a lot about his character.”

“What about Evan Potts, that photographer?”

“Every date was like a photoshoot. He looked at me through his camera lens more than eye to eye!”

“And the other guy…Quin-Quincy or something?”

“Quinn. He came out of the closet on our third date.”

Dad sighed, rolling his eyes. He drummed the table with his long fingers. “Guess you’re just doomed, then?”

“Not doomed, per se, but it’s slim pickings out there, Dad.”

Dad shrugged, shooting me a coy smile. “I offered to help.”

“No thanks. You worry about your billion-dollar empire, I’ll worry about my love life. Deal?”

“I’m here if you ever need me,” Dad said earnestly. “Don’t ever forget that, honey.”

I reached across the table and squeezed Dad’s hands. They were warm. “I know, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you more.” Dad polished off his glass of wine. “You’re coming to my birthday party, right?”

I grinned. “Of course, Daddy. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. I want to introduce you to—”

“I’m going to celebrate your birthday, not to meet a potential husband,” I insisted.

Dad shot me a wide grin. “Why not both? Two birds, one stone?”

“Dad. I’ve still got plenty of time,” I pointed out. “Stop rushing me.”

“Well, my Nexicore product launch party will be at the end of the month. It’s going to be huge. I’m pulling out all the stops. At least bring a date then, for your mother and I to meet.”

“I’ll think about it. No promises though.”

“Unless you want me to set you up with one of our investors…”

I narrowed my eyes at Dad. “Did Mom put you up to this?”

“Oh, no, she doesn’t care. She says you should enjoy your youth instead of tying yourself down to one man.”

“There you go then.” I chuckled. “You’ve got enough on your plate already. My love life should be the least of your concerns, Dad.”

“You’re my baby girl, Cally. Every aspect of your happiness and wellbeing will always be one of my top priorities.”

“Cheese alert!” I laughed.

Dad squeezed my hand. “You’re my only child, Cally. I have to spoil you rotten, you know that.”