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I bite my tongue, fighting the natural reaction to remind her that I’m not some piece of meat to be bartered. Instead, I plaster on my best fake smile.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing fine, Mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be going.”

I turn to leave, but Dad reaches out and gives my arm a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t let your mother get to you, kiddo. You know how she is.” He lowers his voice. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job. Both at work and being you.”

I blink, surprised by his unexpected words of encouragement. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nods, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Give ’em hell, Mary.”

I smile back, feeling a surge of affection for my gruff but caring father. With one last glance at my mother, who’s pursing her lips disapprovingly, I head for the door.

“Goodnight, Mother. I’ll see you next week.”

“Goodnight, Mary.” Her tone is clipped, but I catch the hint of worry in her eyes.

As I step outside, I let out a long, heavy sigh. Dealing with my parents’ constant pressure to settle down is exhausting, but at least I have Dad in my corner. Even if he is a little rough around the edges, I know he means well.

I should apologize to Connor.

Chapter 17

Connor

This whole weekend was a test of my will. After Mary told me off and compared me to the lawyers hitting on her, I was livid.

And then she admitted wanting to get to know me. If I didn’t leave that second, I would’ve thrown her over my shoulder, into my car, and fucked her until she begged to be mine.

But Mary’s still hurting. She’d hate me even more after.

So, this whole weekend, I held myself back from going to her apartment. It’s frustrating as hell, and the tension builds inside me, ready to snap at any moment.

She stayed home all weekend except Sunday when she went to a family dinner. I followed. And thank fuck I did.

I’ve already bought a fine bottle of whiskey for Richard for defending me at the dinner so openly while her mother, Victoria, called me a thug.

A smirk creeps ontomy face.

I’ve secured Richard’s approval. Now the real challenge will be winning Mary over, in more ways than one. Her mother will come along, eventually. If not, I’ll have other cards to play.

The secretary’s attention snaps to the gift in my hand when I step up to her desk. “Mr. Milton, how can I help you?”

“Is Richard available? I have something for him.”

“Of course.” She reaches for the intercom. “Mr. Wempton, Mr. Milton, is here to see you.”

Richard’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Send him in.”

With a jerky nod, she waves me through, and I stride past her desk.

“Connor, come in!” Richard rises from behind his desk, greeting me with a firm handshake and clap on the shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I pass him the bottle of 30-year-old scotch. “A thank you. For trusting in me.”

“Well, aren’t you generous?” He turns the bottle in his hands. “I appreciate the gesture and your work.”

“I aim to please. If there’s any other way I can be of service, ask.”

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