Page 40 of Chance's Choice
I have a momentary, fleeting thought that I want my Daddy, but I shake it off and narrow my eyes at my boss. “I don’t recall agreeing to anything, Don.”
His resulting chuckle is dark and condescending. It’s an unpleasant sound. “Well, let me make things clear to you. I won’t have you fraternizing with him. Is that clear?”
“With all due respect, Don, you can’t control who -or what- I do in my private life.”
The old man’s lips curl into a sneer. “I’m well aware. However, you have a choice to make. You can continue to undermine me, and I’ll remind you that I am the entire reason behind your success and your ability to enjoy your…lifestyle,” the word is spat out, like it’s distasteful, “or,” he takes a breath, and I can see a perverse sense of enjoyment in his expression, “you can keep your job. You can’t have both.”
Even though I knew it was coming, the words hit me like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. “That’s illegal,” I breathe before I can think better of it.
Don scoffs and reaches into the top drawer of his desk, pulling a wad of glossy papers -photos- out and dropping them in front of me. They fan out as they land and the dread in my stomach turns to revulsion. I feel sick.
The photos are all of me and Chance, indulging in puppy play -and Little time- in his yard. I’m not stupid enough to think that these are the only copies in existence, either.
“Why…” I start, gaping, unable to formulate words.
Don nods solemnly. “I asked the same thing when I saw this. It’s beyond disgusting, you realize that.”
No, I want to scream, it’s not. It’s proof that we love and trust each other. It’s proof that Chance takes care of me.But I don’t bother and the words refuse to come anyway.
I know how it looks to an outsider. I know images like these would make Chance and my lives much more difficult. Even though discrimination based on sexual preferences is illegal, I’m sure Chance’s boss or his clients could find other reasons to justify letting him go. And future employers? They’d laugh us both out of interviews. Our reputations would be ruined.
“Now,” Don takes my fuming silence as invitation to repeat his ultimatum, “you can continue with this perversion, or you can keep your position here. Which will it be?”
Chapter Nineteen - Chance
Kade’s beautiful blue eyes are rimmed in red when he opens his apartment door and I pull him in for a crushing hug. “What happened, baby?” I ask, smoothing my palm over his head.
He mumbles something unintelligible against my chest.
“You…lost your dog?” I try to parse it out, thoroughly confused.
He shakes his head then turns it to the side, resting his ear over my heart. “Job,” he repeats sullenly. “I lost my job.”
I can feel my jaw dropping, even as I tighten my hold on him. “What? How?”
He’s damn good at his job, I know that much. Despite all the things I said when we were kids, my father got himself a smart, analytical, driven employee when he hired Kade. The fact that Kade climbed the corporate ladder all on his own merit -when I’m sure my father would have rather seen him fail- is proof of that. Then there’s all the advice he gave Charlie and Cherie -and, to a lesser degree, Tony- about how best to market their businesses. He knows his shit.
Kade huffs. “It doesn’t matter.”
Daddy instinct kicks in. Whatever happened, he doesn’t want me to know, which means he either did something wrong, or he’s protecting me.
I scowl over the top of his head. “What did my dad do, Kade?”
I know I’m right when he tenses in my hold. “It doesn’t-”
“Yes it fucking does. This is yourcareer. You were on track for promotion. You-”
“He gave me an ultimatum.” Kade cuts me off, still clinging to me just inside the doorway of his apartment.
The words don’t really compute. “He…what?”
With a sigh, my boyfriend pulls out of my arms and shuts the door behind me, trudging into his living room and plopping onto the couch listlessly. It’s only now that I take him in properly. He looks disheveled, his usually pristine business shirt rumpled and untucked, and his hair a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over again. There’s a tumbler of amber liquid sitting on the coffee table with a ring of condensation puddled beneath it on the glass surface.
“Kade…”
He leans over his spread legs, resting his forearms on his thighs and hanging his head. His messy blonde hair flops over his forehead and over his face, but he doesn’t brush it away. Kade speaks to his shoes when he starts to explain, “He gave me the choice. My job and reputation in the industry, or…” Trailing off, his eyes flit towards me for only a second, but I hear the message loud and clear.
“Or me.”
