Page 68 of The Art of Deception

Shaking my head, I bring my hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry I took it that way and came down on your ass. But if we talk things through like we have, then we’ll be all right.”

He nuzzles into my hand. “Yeah… we’re going to be just fine.”

Chapter Twenty

ALEX

I’m a new man. It’s as if a thousand-pound weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m finally back with the woman of my dreams, and I’m going to be a father.

It puts things into perspective for me.

Life isn’t about this office—it’s about the people in your life, the ones who make your life complete. Tomi and Levi are those people for me. While I need this job to support them and keep the lifestyle I want for them and my child, I don’t need the drama that comes with it.

Unfortunately, it’s all a part of the job, and I need to suck it up.

Sitting down at my desk, I turn on the screen of my computer and type in my password to open my emails right as my door swings open with such gusto, I’m positive it might fly off its hinges. I watch Sasha, my receptionist, peek up from her station to check on the noise.

I steady my shoulders as Dad storms in, in his usual fashion, huffing and grunting like he’s going to give himself a damn heart attack. I guess I knew this was coming, I just didn’t think he’d be ready to stroke out quite so dramatically on entry. Honestly, he missed his calling, he should have been an actor.

“Alex—”

“Before you start—”

“No! Your blasé attitude to this job, to this firm, has got to stop.Now! Your name is a part of this business, and people are noticing your lack of attendance. That reflects badly onme.”

Relaxing back in my chair, I exhale. “Because I’m your son, or because I’m your second-in-charge?”

He scoffs. “You’re being irresponsible and not behaving the way a COO should. If you’re not careful, Alex, I’ll have no choice but to demote and replace you.”

Sitting forward in my seat, I entwine my fingers and place my hands on top of the desk as I stare at him. “You won’t. You don’t have it in you to push me out. The problem is, Father, I know it.” He curls up his lip, going to yell something else at me, but I put up my hand and continue, “However, I won’t use that to my advantage as some people would. I know I need to be here, and I plan on making a better effort…” I pause, unsure whether to tell him or not, but he’ll find out sooner or later, so I’ll give him a snippet. “I have a family to support now.”

His head recoils back while his eyebrows narrow on me. “What the hell does that mean?

Standing from the chair, I round the desk and then sit on the edge crossing my legs over in front of me, staring my dad square on. “Tomi and I are back together—”

“That tattoo floozy?”

My hands ball into fists, but I contain myself. “She’s not a floozy, Dad. We’re moving in together, us and her younger brother, Levi.”

Dad scoffs, turning away from me, pacing the room. “Jesus Christ, they’re moving in with you. I knew she was nothing but a money-hungry—”

“Stop!I’mmoving in withthem. Levi doesn’t like change due to his disabilities, and my apartment wouldn’t be right for him.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dad bellows. “You’re moving out of your penthouse apartment to live in squalor with a woman you hardly know and her idiot brother?”

Anger surges through me as I step forward, the vein ticking in my neck. Everything in me wants to deck him, but he’s my father and my boss. I need to keep my cool. “Don’t youevercall Levi an idiot…” Fuck! I’m trying so hard to rein myself in. “So helpme God, I’ll—” I stop myself before I say something I will totally regret.

His brows knit together as he stares at me. “Ha, you actually care about the kid?”

“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t love them both.”

“Love?Love! You love her? Of all the women you could have shacked up with, it had to be a boring tattoo artist.”

I scoff. “There’s nothing boring about Tomi, Dad. She’s the most complex, stunningly beautiful, kind, and generous woman I know. Not like the womenyouwant me to be with.”

He curls up his lip. “What about Sasha, she’s more your type?”

I glance out the window at Sasha typing away busily, thankfully not hearing this argument. “She’s my receptionist. And she’s moreyourtype than mine.”

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