Page 4 of A Father's Bliss

“Well, like father, like son, and two months of working for him might end just the same. Then I’d have to —”

“Old man.” I stand from my desk and move around to the unoccupied chair. I sink into Troy’s ass prints and place a hand over my father’s. More often than not, I become the calm tohis storm and help him see through his clouded vision, but this time, the smallest part of me wonders if there’s any truth to his worries. But I quickly disregard it. “It’s temporary, and a great opportunity. Not to mention, I’ve known Mr. Debois for four years, so he’s not some random stranger. He’s nothing like his son.”

“You thin?—”

“Even so,” I politely cut him off. “I’m a grown woman. I can look after myself.”

His eyes shimmer how they always do when I mention being an adult. “But you’re my sweet little angel.”

My smile is gentle. “Your twenty-five year old angel.”

Though if Troy was off speaker he’d likely mention how my wings are more black than white. But what can I say, I’m a little bit of a dark romance girlie.

“You’re right.” He releases a reluctant sigh before nodding. “This will be great. I’m excited for you. Really.”

“Thank you.” My voice is soft as I stand, trying like hell not to look out of the glass and at the man I’m soon to be working much closer with. “Now, let’s get packed up. It’s almost five.”

My father agrees and stands, wrapping his arms around me in a bitter-sweet congratulatory hug. “Right. He-uh, he wants to see you before you leave to officially offer you the position and go over some details.”

Butterflies dripping with trepidation slosh through my stomach as he releases me. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I can go with you if—I know, I know. Grown woman. Okay. But make sure you think it through before taking it, okay? Promise your old man you’ll do that at least, huh?”

“Pinky.”

His lips thin in a tight smile before he pats me on my shoulder and turns to leave. I haven’t even gotten back to mychair or even processed anything before my door snaps shut and Troy is flopping over my still warm seat. “Oh. My. Fuck.”

A smile cracks. “Right?”

“You’re fucking taking it right?”

I hold up a hand, my nerves still tingling and my heart doing overtime in my chest. “It’s only temporary and I’d still have to manage my own load. I doubt we’ll even talk much.”

“I mean, I wasn’t banking on you talking much,” Troy says thoughtfully. “Then again, you might be noisy, I’m not sure.”

“Troy,” I hiss, my eyes finally flickering to Marcus’s office. He’s at his desk, his fingers moving over his keyboard with a fluid grace. His stare is so intense at the screen, I almost miss it—the quick almost indecipherable glance my way.

My core tightens as I turn back to my friend. He crosses his legs and leans over my desk. “Lie and say you can’t remember the thirty-five conversations we’ve had about the things you’d do, or let be done to you by that man.”

“That was before I dated his son,” I protest, picking up my reading glasses and shoving them on so I don’t forget them.

He waves a dismissive hand at me. “Like that blip of time matters.”

“Does it not?”

“For one, you only hooked up with him because, well, you know, and second, you only stayed because you didn’t want to make things awkward here.”

“Okay, but I did stay, and I liked him at first. You know, before. Not to mention Marcus—I mean Mr. Debois is my dad’s rival.”

Troy blows a raspberry. “If anything, sleeping with Harrison’s dad would be rightful revenge, and also, Marcus, doesn’t give two shits about that rivalry.”

I shake my head. “Wait, why are we acting like I’m about to fuck this man? I’m just taking the temp position of working with him. How did we go from zero to a hundred so fast?”

“Because that man stays here long after hours and I’m guessing there’s gonna be a night where you will as well.” He stands and walks to the other side of my desk. Turning my chair so I’m forced to face him, he adjusts my cardigan and fluffs my boobs a little.

I laugh and bat him away. “Stop.”

“Apply a fresh coat of mascara and gloss, and you’re good.”

---