Leah Ashton – The Billionaire From Her Past (страница 9)

Her phone rang, vibrating in her hand as it was still on silent. It wasn’t a number she recognised.

‘Hello?’

‘Mila Molyneux?’ asked a female voice with a heavy American accent.

Mila’s stomach instantly went south. She knew exactly who this was.

‘Speaking,’ she told her father’s personal assistant.

For a moment—a long moment—she considered hanging up. It was exactly what her sisters would do. But then Blaine Spencer wouldn’t bother calling them, would he? He knew which daughter put up with his lies and broken promises.

‘Just put my dad on,’ said Mila.

This one. This gutless, hopeful, stupid daughter.

‘La-la!’

‘Mila,’ she corrected, as she did every time. ‘I’m not three, Dad.’

The age she’d been when he’d left.

‘You still are to me, darling girl!’

Every muscle in her body tightened just that little bit more.

‘Any chance you could call me yourself, one time?’ she asked, not bothering to hide her frustration. ‘You know—find my name in your contacts, push the call button. It’s not difficult.’

‘Now, don’t be like that, Mila, you know how hard I work.’

There it was: The Justification. Mila always capitalised it in her mind.

Why didn’t you call for <insert significant life event>?

But you said you’d come to <insert significant life event>.

And then The Justification.

You know how hard I work.

Or its many variations.

You can’t just pass up opportunities in this industry.

Work has been crazy!

This director is a hard-ass. I’m working fourteen-hour days...

But always: You know I love you, right?

Right.

‘So you’ve been working hard for the past three months, then?’

She’d done the calculations. In fact, this was pretty good for him. Normally his calls were biannual. Maybe that was why she hadn’t hung up on him.

‘I have, indeed,’ he said, either missing or ignoring Mila’s sarcasm.

To be honest, Mila didn’t know him well enough to say which. Maybe that was the problem—she clung to the possibility that he was just thoughtless, not a selfish waste of a father who knew exactly how much pain he caused.

‘I’ve just landed in Sydney for the premiere of my latest.’

He always expected Mila to know everything about him.

‘Latest what, Dad?’

‘Movie,’ he said, all incredulous.

Mila rolled her eyes.

‘Tsunami. The director’s from Perth, so the Australian premiere is over there tomorrow night. I’m doing a few cast interviews in Sydney today, then hopping on a plane tonight. You won’t believe it, but I’m booked on a late flight because Serena has no concept of how far away bloody Perth is...’

Blaine Spencer just kept on talking, but Mila wasn’t paying attention any more. ‘Wait—Dad. You’re coming here?’

‘Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d booked us a hotel in Melbourne instead of Perth. All the capital cities are the same to her—’ He finally registered that Mila had spoken. ‘Yes,’ he said, as if seeing his daughter for the first time in six years was something totally normal to drop obliquely into conversation. ‘Just for the night,’ he clarified, because bothering to extend his stay to visit with his daughter would never occur to him.

‘Okay...’ Mila said—just to say something.

‘If you want to catch up you’ll have to come to the premiere,’ he said. ‘I’m doing radio interviews tomorrow morning and then I’ll have to sleep most of the day. You know I can never sleep on a plane.’

She didn’t. She didn’t know him at all.

‘So if I can’t make it to the premiere I won’t see you?’

‘No. Sorry, darling. Can’t stay this time.’

Here it comes.

‘Pre-production has already started on my next. Got to get to work!’

It took Mila another long moment to respond. All the words she wanted to say—to spew at him—teetered on her tongue.

There was nothing unusual about this phone call. The last-minute nature of his invitation, the way he’d somehow shifted the responsibility for them seeing each other onto her, his total lack of awareness or consideration for her own plans for the weekend. Or for her life, really.

No, nothing unusual.

If—somehow—Blaine got Ivy’s phone number, or April’s, and either woman allowed the conversation to continue beyond the time it took to hang up on him, Mila knew how her sisters would respond to what was hardly an invitation.

With a no. A very clear, very definite, I’d-rather-scrub-the-toilet-than-waste-my-time-on-you no.

They would each be furious with Mila for even considering seeing him. For even answering this phone call.

The little tinkling sound of the doorbell drew Mila’s attention away from her father for a moment.

It was Seb. Of course.

He gestured that he’d wait outside, but Mila held up a hand so he’d stay. This wouldn’t take long.

‘Just get Serena to email me the details,’ she said.

‘So you’ll come?’

And there it was. The reason why she had always been going to go to her father’s premiere. That slightest of suggestions that maybe her dad had been worried she’d refuse to see him. The hint that he was genuine about this—that he really did want to see his youngest daughter.

After all, why else would he invite her?

Ugh, she should know better.

But she just couldn’t stop herself:

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Mila began, but her dad had already handed his phone back to his assistant. Such typical casual thoughtlessness made her shake her head, but smile despite herself.

‘Who was that?’ Seb asked as he approached the counter.

Behind them, Mila heard the familiar creak and bang of the workshop’s back door that heralded Sheri’s arrival.

‘Dad,’ Mila said simply. She’d considered lying to Seb—broken families and deadbeat parents were certainly not de rigueur for their superficial conversations of late. But then—it was Seb.

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