“Excuse me, ladies.” A deep voice that sounds like pure warmth speaks from directly behind me, and I whirl around.
A smile steals across my face when I see Benjamin Masters standing in the doorway, but that’s before I see his right hand bringing Jordan into the room behind him. The sleeves of Mr. Masters’s expensive dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, his vest is undone, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck.
“It seems I’ve found a … visitor,” Mr. Masters states simply, but the hint of a frown on his face surprises me.
Jordan’s eyes shift between me and the lawyer’s hand on his arm. He seems like he’s trying to ask me something. Maybe, Should I run?
I give a slight shake of my head.
“Mr. Masters, I didn’t know you were still here,” Stacia says, dropping her arm back to her side and looking from Jordan to the firm’s partner in confusion.
“Yes.” His eyes focus in on me, his eyebrows lifting as his gaze moves almost imperceptibly toward Jordan. “Well, here I am.”
“I—uh—” Stacia begins, looking confused, but Masters interrupts her before she can get any further.
“I hate to interrupt your conversation, but would it be possible for me to speak to Miss Riley in my office, please?” He turns and guides Jordan back a few steps without waiting for her reply.
“Of course. Do you need me to call security?” All emotion is gone from her voice. She’s switched straight over into business mode.
“Not necessary, but thank you.” His voice comes from halfway up the hall now, and I exhale sharply. Mr. Masters definitely likes a bit of drama, but I’m happy to see he isn’t going to jump the gun with this one.
With a quick wave and an apologetic glance to Stacia, I follow after them. Heading for the office of Benjamin Masters—brilliant lawyer, Skittles hoarder, and one of my favorite people in the world.
21
THEY ARE QUITE A BIT ahead of me, so by the time I stand outside the corner office with the words Benjamin Masters—Partner on the door, Jordan is sitting in a chair, and Masters stands with his back to him, staring out the window. Clearing my throat, I walk slowly through the open door.
Mr. Masters turns to face me without saying anything. Despite the deepening frown on his face, he opens his arms and I rush forward to give him a hug. He prefers to keep displays that make him seem “more human” out of sight of his employees. So I’m not surprised that he was less welcoming in front of Stacia. He says, “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I say back, hugging him tight. And it is. It’s always good to see Mr. Masters. He’s the closest thing to a father figure I’ve had—outside of Polunsky. He always comes to the few school events I’ve been required to participate in, brings me very thoughtful presents on my birthday, and even took me out to celebrate when I got my driver’s license.
He always says the exact same thing: “Your father can’t be here yet, but I can. Thank you for letting me.”
Mr. Masters doesn’t release me as he whispers in my ear, “What kind of mischief have you gotten yourself into this time, Miss Riley?”
I whisper in response. “He’s fine. He’s with me.”
Mr. Masters pulls back and searches my eyes, then his gaze moves to my cheek. He squints and grabs my chin before lifting it to the light and staring at the bruising that is barely visible there. He growls and it shocks me. I’ve never heard Mr. Masters make a sound like that. “If that young man did this…”
“He didn’t,” I respond immediately, pulling my chin from his grasp. When he just stares at me, I finally give him the truth in an effort to get Jordan off the hook. “It was Mama. We had a discussion … and we didn’t see eye to eye on things.”
Mr. Masters winces and shakes his head with closed eyes. “If this ever happens again, you come to me immediately. Understand?”
“I do.”
He nods again before tossing a look over his shoulder and moving aside so I get a glimpse of Jordan sitting in one of the office chairs and eyeing Masters warily. “Do you even know who he is?”
I falter as I respond, “D-do you?”
“Of course,” he scoffs, before walking back toward his desk and raising his voice to a normal level. “It’s my business to know. I was very sorry to hear about what happened to your mother.”
“Oh, thanks,” Jordan mutters, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
I hadn’t expected Mr. Masters to know Jordan on sight, but I can’t say I’m shocked by it. I take a seat in the chair beside Jordan, patting his hand as I pass since it seems he needs some reassurance. His normally olive skin has gone sickly gray.