I shook my head. “Yeah, okay. He was thirteen and living under the thumb of a god-awful monster. But what’s his excuse now?”
“How the hell should we know?” Knox said.
“Sounds like the guy you’re not worried about didn’t grow up with any kind of emotional support to show him what it’s like to be a real man in a real relationship,” Joel said, magically appearing behind the bar. “A guy like that might think the only way he can keep something safe is by keeping his distance.”
I didn’t want a reason to empathize with the man who was currently fucking his way through the beautiful female philanthropic geniuses in the District of Columbia. I wanted to forget that Lucian Rollins existed.
I held up a finger in Nash’s face. “First, you are hereby not allowed to discuss anything regarding me, including any past, present, or future threats.”
“Noted.”
“Second, who the hell would be targeting me to get to Lucian? A discarded lover? Some politician he put into office?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. Or maybe someone like Anthony Hugo. An enemy with the resources to dig into exactly who and what Lucian is doing.”
“Well, that puts a fucking damper on things,” Stef said, breaking the ensuing silence.
“Look. Right now, we don’t know who it is. So it’s smarter to be vigilant,” Nash explained.
“Then why the fuck isn’t Luce being vigilant here?” Knox demanded.
Nash shrugged. “Because he’s a dumbass? Did you at least install the new cameras you said you were going to get?”
“Waylay came over last weekend and helped me order everything,” I told him. “Now can we please change the subject and start in on Stef for still not telling Jeremiah he’s ready to move in together?”
Assface: How did it go with the judge?
Assface: Holly brought in gas station sushi to share. The entire office smells like listeria.
Assface: I’m making an effort here. You could at least pretend to have the maturity of an adult and respond.
33
Grumpy Bear
Lucian
How am I supposed to know the man’s grandmother died?” I snapped in exasperation at Lina, who stuck to my heels like one of those annoying yappy dogs that wanted something from you.
I was marching down the hall when my employee lost her damn mind and committed a fireable offense by grabbing me by the back of the jacket and dragging me into an office.
“Carl, I’m sorry to do this to you, but it’s for the good of everyone. Get out,” Lina said.
Carl’s eyes went wide behind his thick tortoiseshell glasses. Hastily he gathered his World’s Greatest Dad coffee mug, phone, and—inexplicably—the photo of his three bucktoothed children.
Petula needed to remind Carl that his benefits included dental insurance.
“You’re definitely fired,” I said to Lina when she shut and leaned against the door after Carl’s hasty retreat.
“Good. Because I didn’t sign on to work for a grumpy man bear. Broody man bear, yes. Grumpy, no. You’re being a dick to everyone.”
“Did it ever occur to you that everyone is too fucking sensitive?”
“Malik did two tours of duty in Afghanistan, and he was very close to his grandmother.”
“I didn’t know she died yesterday.”
“You made Holly cry Monday.”
I scoffed. “Holly cries when she watches Olive Garden commercials. And she rear-ended my security vehicle in the parking garage with the SUV I gave her,” I reminded her.
“Holly is a lousy driver. She’s rear-ended four people in the last month, but you’re the only one who made her cry,” Lina pointed out.
“Then either get someone to give her driving lessons or have security drive her to and from work. Or better yet, fire her,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yesterday, you told Nolan to get his ass out of your office until his presence wasn’t a waste of oxygen.”
In my defense, Nolan had taken it upon himself to question whether my mood had anything to do with Sloane.
“That statement stands for all employees,” I said.
Lina squared up and put her hands on her hips. “Let me lay this out for you in language you’ll understand. You’re being a fucking asshole. People don’t like working for fucking assholes. So unless you have time to deal with a mass exodus, unemployment claims, hiring a fresh team, and training them, I suggest you shut up and listen.”
I sat on the corner of Carl’s desk. “I’ll listen for one minute, and then you’re fired.”
“You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat others when things aren’t going well.”
She let that hang in the air between us, meeting my eyes.
“You’re going through a rough time, and that makes you feel out of control. But you don’t get to take it out on other people.”
Her words landed like hammers on my skull. “Leave. Now.”
“Oh, I am. But just so you know, Nolan and Petula told everyone to spend the rest of the day working from home.” She headed for the doorway. “Get your shit sorted out, Lucian.”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
She paused in the doorway and batted her lashes condescendingly. “That’s what friends are for. By the way, if you’re this messed up in the head over her, maybe you’re not as done as you think you are.”
And with that, Lina strutted out the door.
Beyond her retreating back, the cubicles were a flurry of activity as employees put on coats and packed up, all while shooting nervous glances in my direction.
I ignored them and stormed to my own office. I’d run this company alone once. I could do it again if necessary.
I’d get more done without the distraction of needy employees lurking about, I decided, slamming my door, then cursing the soft close mechanism. I wasn’t upset about Sloane, the stubborn pain in the ass. It wasn’t like I saw her face every fucking time I closed my eyes.
I was behind my desk, scowling through the latest vague report from the FBI, when I was interrupted by a knock at my door.
“Unless the building is actively on fire, I suggest you leave,” I barked.
Petula flung my door open. “If you don’t lighten up, IT is going to have to replace your down arrow key again.”
I pettily stabbed the key again with excessive force.
“Do you have a reason for annoying me, or are you hoping to get fired too?”
“You’d never find someone else less annoying to deal with your temper tantrums. Now if you’re done being a gigantic toddler, your mother is here, sir.”
Behind her in the doorway stood my mother, who looked like she was desperate for an escape. Shit.
Kayla Rollins was a lovely woman by anyone’s estimation. She was tall and delicate. Everything about her seemed ethereal, fragile. She wore her thick, dark hair swept back in a sleek twist. Simple gold hoops adorned her ears. Her dress was ivory, her coat a knee-length camel. Her face looked younger, fresher, and I guessed she’d paid another visit to Dr. Reynolds. Something I should have noticed if I’d bothered paying attention to her bank accounts lately.
She’d never remarried after my father. And except for a brief stint in Grover’s Groceries the summer after his arrest, she’d never held down a job. I’d gotten “creative” in college, supporting myself and my mother with some legal and not strictly legal employment, selling test scores and fake IDs.
“I can come back another time,” my mother said, her dark eyes darting for an exit.
I rose and used the walk from desk to door to rein in my dickishness. “Go home, Petula. After you’ve given security instructions,” I said, nodding toward my mother. I didn’t need Anthony Hugo targeting her too.
“Gladly,” she snapped.
“What can I do for you, Mom?” I asked more gently.
“It’s really not that important,” she said to her Jimmy Choo wedges as she inched for the door.
“It’s fine,” I insisted as gently as possible. “What do you need?”
I looked like him. I assumed it was this reminder of old ghosts that always made her behave so tentatively toward me.