I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. The red pencil skirt hugging my narrow hips looked like it had been made especially for me, but I still sneered at it, loathing every inch of it and the short-sleeved, white button-down blouse I had tucked into its high waistband. I wasn’t an “executive assistant” kind of girl, but that was exactly the part I had to play today at my father’s company.

Well, stepfather. He wasn’t my real dad. I reminded him of that fact more often than I had to, if only because I knew that it bothered him so much.

Maybe...