Know Her, Love Her: Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE by Z.L. Arkadie Read Free Book Online Page A

cities—not living in them long-term anyway.  
    I prefer the countryside and antiquated fishing villages. I really love Martha’s Vineyard. I wanted to ask Belmont to build us a pretty little three-bedroom, three-bathroom cottage near a pond and make it our home. Why didn’t I? Perhaps because I knew that Belmont loves to live larger than that. There’s nothing wrong with it. He’s earned it. He works hard. I’m just different.
    I make it to the media building and take the elevator up to the Travel X suite on the fifteenth floor. The receptionist gives me a stony, wide-eyed glare.  
    It’s clear she’s not going to speak first, so I say, “Hi, my name’s Daisy Lord.”
    She lifts her eyebrows pretentiously. I’m waiting for her to say something, but she doesn’t.
    “I’m here to see Dexter Frampton,” I say.
    “About what?”
    I feel the tension in my forehead when I hear, “Daisy! You made it!”  
    I turn to see Dexter walking toward me. His smile is infectious.  
    “I did!”  
    We shake hands. I put whatever issues the receptionist may have behind me and follow Dexter to my office. It’s small. The desk, chair, and one long wooden filing cabinet are against one wall, and a white board is tacked onto the other. I haven’t worked in an office outside my house since college. I shared that space with three other interns who took a lot longer to become paid travel writers than I did. Jamie Rotherham, a friend of Heloise and editor at Road Climb Magazine , published my first three articles six months after I graduated.  
    “Have a seat,” Dexter says.
    I sit, clinging to my briefcase. I feel as though I’m ready to jump up and leave without notice.
    Dexter studies me with a frown. “Are you comfortable, Daisy?”  
    I release the tension in my shoulders and sit back in the chair. “I am now.”
    He chuckles. “Good. I have something I want to read to you.” He opens a folder I hadn’t noticed and flashes me a quick smile. “‘My parents inflicted me with the need to travel without even knowing it. My mom was a bitch before Alexis Carrington made it en vogue . Mom got away with it because she was a stunning French woman working in Hollywood. She used to say that the executives didn’t know if they wanted her to blow them or if they wanted to slap her. It was because of that confusion, she went from fetching coffee to calling the shots in less than five years.  
    “‘My father is famous. When you read his name, you’ll think, “I’ve heard of him.” You’ll think of him in all of his perfection and genius. He is Jacques Blanchard, award-winning musician and composer. As long as I can remember, my father referred to himself as the music man. He trained my brother and me very early to respect that part of him. When Papa’s practicing, he’s not to be disturbed. When Papa’s working in his studio, act as though he doesn’t exist. When Papa’s on the road, he doesn’t exist.  
    “‘That was fine with my brother, Daniel, and me, because we ran wild and far. We would tell our parents we were going to the neighborhood park, but instead we’d skateboard half the way and bus the rest of the way to Olvera Street in downtown L.A. My brother and I used our allowance to buy sweet rolls and paletas , and we ate them as we sat around the white stone fountain and listened to the rancheros in their hats and ponchos sing from their souls. Then we happened on Chinatown, north of the 101 Freeway, and the Chinese New Year parade. We ran the streets of L.A. like feral kittens!’” Dexter snickers. He’s reading the introduction of my book.  
    Dexter’s expression turns stern, changing with the tone of the passage. “‘It’s a wonder that the most devastating event of my life occurred close to home. My brother and I had set up a plank in the middle of our driveway. We were jumping willies off it. As always, Daniel had let me go first, and then it was his turn. He promised to show me how to