Beautiful Bastard Book 1 - Page 37

My eyes widened and flashed to his face. He had talked to Miss Mills about my professional conduct?

“Yes, I’m aware that it’s not just you,” he said, leading us into an empty elevator. “She’s a.s.sured me that she gives every bit as good as she gets. Why do you think I suggested you as her program mentor in the first place? There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she could hold her own with you.”

Henry stood silent next to him, a smug smile stretched across his face. a.s.shole.

I frowned slightly as the realization hit me: she had spoken in my defense. She could have easily made it sound like I was a tyrant, but instead she accepted some of the blame.

“Dad, I’ll admit that my relations.h.i.+p with her is unconventional,” I began, praying that no one understood how true that statement really was. “But I a.s.sure you, it in no way interferes with our ability to conduct business. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” Dad said when we arrived at my office suite.

We walked in to find Miss Mills on the phone, speaking almost inaudibly. “Well, I’m going to let you go, Dad. I have some things to take care of and I’ll let you know as soon as I can. You need to get some sleep, okay?” she said softly. After a brief pause she laughed, but then didn’t say anything else for a moment. Neither I nor the two men beside me dared say anything. “I love you too, Daddy.”

My stomach tightened at the words, and the way her voice shook when she said them. When she turned around in her chair, she startled to find us standing there. Quickly she began gathering the paperwork on her desk.

“How did the meeting go?”

“It went smoothly, as always,” my father said. “You and Sara really do a superb job taking care of things. I don’t know what my sons would do without the two of you.”

Her eyebrow lifted slightly and I could see her struggling to not gloat in my direction. But then her face transformed into a puzzled expression and I realized I’d been full-on grinning at her, hoping to see some of her trademark sa.s.s. I put on the best scowl I could manage as I walked into my office. It only hit me when I closed my door that I hadn’t seen her smile once since we’d come back and heard her on the phone.

    Ten

My head wasn’t in the game. I had a few things to show Mr. Ryan before he left for the day, had to get some doc.u.ments to legal for signatures, but I felt like I was walking through wet sand, the phone conversation with my dad looping endlessly through my thoughts. As I walked into Mr. Ryan’s office, I stared down at the papers in my arms, realizing how many things I’d need to organize today: plane tickets, someone to pick up my mail, maybe even a temp for while I was gone. How long would I be gone?

I registered Mr. Ryan was saying something—loudly—in my direction. What was he saying? He came into focus in front of me and I heard the end of his rant, “. . . barely paying attention. Jesus, Miss Mills, do I need to write this down for you?”

“Can we skip this game today?” I asked, tired.

“The . . . what now?”

“This a.s.s**le-boss routine.”

His eyes widened, brows drawing together. “Excuse me?”

“I realize you get your rocks off on being an epic d.i.c.k to me, and I’ll admit that sometimes it’s actually kind of s.e.xy, but I’m having a horrible, awful day and would really appreciate it if you would just not speak. To me.” I was close to tears, my chest constricting painfully. “Please.”

He looked like he’d been blindsided, blinking rapidly as he stared. Finally, he spluttered, “What just happened?”

I swallowed, regretting my tantrum. Things were always better with him when I kept my wits. “I overreacted to being yelled at. I apologize.”

He got up and began walking toward me, but at the last minute he stopped and sat down on the corner of his desk, fiddling awkwardly with a crystal paperweight. “No, I mean, why is your day so horrible? What’s going on?” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it outside of s.e.x. Except this time, he wasn’t quiet to keep a secret; he was quiet because he seemed genuinely concerned.

I didn’t want to talk to him about this because part of me expected him to mock me. But an even larger part was beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t. “My dad has to have some tests. He’s having trouble eating.”

Mr. Ryan’s face fell. “Eating? Is it an ulcer?”

I explained what I knew, that it had started suddenly and an early scan showed a small ma.s.s on his esophagus.

“Can you go home?”

I stared at him. “I don’t know. Can I?”

He winced, blinked away. “Am I really that big of a jerk?”

“Sometimes.” I immediately regretted it, because no, he’d never done anything to make me think he’d keep me from my sick father.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he stared out the window. “You can take whatever time you need, of course.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at the floor, waiting for him to continue with the list of the day’s tasks. But silence engulfed the room instead. I could see in my peripheral vision that he’d turned back and was watching me.

“Are you okay?” He’d said it so quietly I wasn’t even sure I heard him right.

I considered lying, wrapping up this most awkward of conversations. Instead, I said, “Not really.”

His hand reached up, dug into his hair. “Close my office door,” he said.

I nodded, oddly disappointed to be so quietly dismissed. “I’ll bring the notes from legal for—”