Single Dad CEO: A Billionaire Boss Romance Read online

  I might not have believed him, not entirely, but it still made me feel better.

  Now…

  I look back at him with my heart in my throat.

  The doctor says something about being around later if I have any more questions, but I barely hear him as he leaves, all of my attention on my grandfather lying in bed in front of me, looking so weak.

  Some background part of me is sure I must have a dozen questions, but I have no idea what they are right now. Except the most important one, the one that repeats again and again without an answer:

  Will he be okay?

  “It’s going to be okay, Gramps.” I tell him, since he can’t tell me. “I’m just going to have to be the strong one now - you’re going to have to let me look after you for a while. You’re not going to like that, but you’ll do it anyway. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to make it okay, I promise.”

  I hold back the tears and sobs that want to rock through me, telling myself I have to be strong. I have to deal with this. For him. The way he always has for me.

  None of that’s what’s important right now - the only thing is Gramps. Whatever it takes for him to make a full recovery.

  I stay with him for as long as they let me - and he seems to drift in and out, seeming tired and confused whenever he wakes up. He notices me there, that’s obvious, his good left eye fixing on me more than a couple of times. But his words are slurred and jumbled when he tries to speak and I can read the frustration and fear in his face, before it slackens and he drifts back to sleep.

  I try to tell him what’s going on - as much as I can - but I know it isn’t enough. I try to answer all the questions I know he probably wants to ask, but it’s hard to hold back the fear that he doesn’t quite seem able to ask them. I’ve read all about strokes - all about the symptoms - and this was the one I feared the most.

  Not being able to talk is probably the worst thing that could happen to him. He has such strong opinions, such a strong mind…the thought of it being trapped inside him, that terrifies me. I can’t even imagine how it makes him feel.

  All I can do is pray that it will get better, though. I know it can. How it looks right now, this initial view, that doesn’t mean that’s how it’s going to be. It always looks worse at first. I try to remind myself that, but it’s so hard watching him struggle with it, before giving into the exhaustion again.

  I just want him to be okay.

  It’s not until they finally insist I have to leave - and I come home with a mess of emotions threatening to overwhelm me - that I finally lose the battle with the fear.

  I curl up on the couch, pull a blanket over me and stare numbly into the darkness. It’s past midnight, I haven’t even turned the light on, I have no idea where Pan is - and I can’t remember the last time I felt so alone or desolate.

  Gramps. Oh, god, my poor Gramps. What are we going to do?

  I want to be back there with him already. I feel as exhausted as he looked when I left him, but I don’t care. I’d rather be curled up on a chair next to him than anywhere else. The last place I want to be is the house that he raised me in. All alone.

  I can’t stand being so alone - feeling it in every part of my body.

  The fear of losing him, of everyone in my life slowly slipping away from me until I have nothing left, no one that really cares for me…it’s all too much.

  It’s overwhelming.

  I can’t beat the swarm of emotions that seem to tear through me. I can’t stop the confusion or hurt or pain of it all.

  Stupidly, desperately, acting on childlike instinct more than any real thought - I find myself stumbling over to the cabinet at the edge of the room.

  Even in the dark, I find the drawer immediately. Pull it open.

  Take out the letter inside.

  I can’t see it, but I run my fingers over the edge anyway.

  It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid, but I cling to it the way I used to cling to these letters in the past.

  To the idea that she cared.

  I take it back to the couch and stare at the vague outline of it in my hands. I have no idea how long I stay that way for, but even as I know this is a bad idea, this is the wrong time, the wrong reason…I feel something inside me calling out for it, desperate.

  I flick on the lamp beside me before I let myself think about what I’m doing, my eyes squinting in the sudden light.

  I curl up further into the couch and wish Pan was here beside me, even while I’m secretly glad he’s not. I’m not sure I can take even my cat watching this moment.

  I squeeze my eyes tight shut and rip open the top of the envelope, pulling out the folded page inside.

  Not a card, then. A letter.

  It takes another few moments before I can bring myself to open my eyes, my aching heart feeling like it’s balled up in a tight knot in my chest, just ready for a last reason to shrink and fade away forever.

  The instant I do, my eyes skim over the letter - not even able to read it properly, just looking for the answer to the question I’ve had ever since it arrived.

  What is this? What do you want?

  It takes a minute, my heart in my throat the whole time, before my eyes can finally focus enough to snag on the part I’ve been hoping-and-fearing to see.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Jessica. Too long, I know that. There’s nothing I can say that can make up for the past twenty-eight years - no apology I can give for my absence. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. And if you’ll let me, I’ll try anyway, and hope that one day you can forgive me. I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing now, but I’m back in St. Louis and if you’re willing, I’d like to see you, or talk to you somehow. It’s too late to say it, but I promise if you give me a chance, this time I won’t let you down. Text me, or call me, or whatever you want - whatever happens, I promise this will all be on your terms. I love you, I always have, I just didn’t know how to be the Mom you needed.

  - Mom’

  A drop splashes onto the page, blurring the ink a little before it falls from my hands.

  I don’t see where it lands, my vision suddenly blurry and unreliable - and I don’t reach for it as I curl into myself even further, burying myself under the blanket the same way I did when I was five, as I finally can’t hold back the sobs anymore.

  I don’t even know what I’m crying for - maybe all of it - maybe for Kenneth and Gramps and my Mom and…and…the hurt little girl that still lives deep inside of me.

  It just all suddenly comes out, every difficult, confused emotion that I don’t know what to do with overwhelming me and driving me breathless and shuddering.

  I’m not even able to process what she wrote.

  To work out whether it’s what I wanted, or what I want to do about it.

  I don’t feel happy or relieved to finally hear words that I’ve always wanted. I don’t feel resentful and angry that it took this long.

  I just feel emotional, wild and out of control and unable to deal with any of it.

  I can’t think anymore.

  It’s too much.

  It’s all too much.

  I don’t even try to.

  I just lie there and finally let myself sob, one heartbreak after another rocking through me until I’m not sure I have anything left to give.

  I just lie there.

  And cry.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kenneth

  After a weekend of longing, with that kiss replaying over and over in my mind, I come in to find Jessica isn’t at work.

  I’m early - and part of me was hoping she might be, too. Even though I think I know nothing will come of it, I want to talk to her. To see her. Just…anything.

  That last day coming home from New York felt strange, and slightly wrong, and whatever happens, I want to fix that much at least.

  Except she doesn’t come in early - and half an hour before she’s meant to arrive, I get a text.

  ‘I need to take a fe
w days off. It’s not about what happened in New York.’

  That’s it. Nothing else, no explanation, and unease coils through me.

  I send back an immediate - ‘Are you okay?’ - and get nothing in response.

  It feels like I spend most of the day waiting for it anyway, grabbing my phone whenever it goes off, insisting on keeping on full volume in my meetings that day - just in case Jessica does reply. Just in case there’s something wrong and she needs help.

  But no, nothing - and all that does is leave me thinking too much.

  Her message said it wasn’t about New York, but her silence still makes me wonder.

  If it’s not about that, why hasn’t she said what it is about? Why haven’t I heard anything else from her?

  There’s an uncomfortable pit in my gut at the idea she might feel unable to face me, or work together, after our kiss.

  That’s the last thing I want.

  Not just because she’s a damn good secretary and I can’t imagine trying to find someone to replace her - in fact, if I’m honest, probably not because of that at all.

  I just don’t want her to stop being around.

  Selfish, stupid, maybe. But it’s true.

  You’re so screwed, Kenneth. This whole thing is so messed up, and—

  My desk phone brings me out of the reverie and I look at it half-suspiciously. I had no idea how many calls Jessica must filter through me until they started coming through directly in her absence. I didn’t bother to ask Tyler for a temporary secretary - for some reason, the idea depressed me.

  After a moment I pick it up, with a cautious greeting.

  “Hello?”

  “Kenneth.” Patrick’s voice comes through as clear as ever. “Do you have a moment? I need to talk to you.”

  My lawyer. A valid call, at least, but that doesn’t mean it’s one I’m glad to take.

  “Um…yes.” I say slowly, clicking through my calendar to check. I’ve been late to two meetings already today.

  “Good. I wanted to give you a quick update on how the lawsuit is progressing.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. He continues, not needing the acknowledgment anyway.

  “We’ve been given a date in court - it’s scheduled for two months from now.”

  “Okay, good.”

  There’s a long pause, and I get the impression this wasn’t meant to be ‘good’ news.

  “Kenneth.” He says slowly. “That date was requested by Danielle’s lawyers - I think they’re looking to put pressure on us, step up the impetus for us to try and settle.”

  “Well, we’ve already said we’re not doing that.”

  “I don’t think they fully believe us.” He says, in a tone of voice that heavily suggests they’re not the only ones who don’t believe it.

  I have to hold back a sigh. I must have said this a dozen times already. Patrick is supposed to be my lawyer and support the legal action I choose, but he can be damn stubborn sometimes. Apparently it’s just good legal practice to repeatedly advise on something that I’ve already ruled out, if he thinks it’s the better option. Which he does - he’s made that clear enough.

  “That’s good for us, then. Maybe they won’t prepare properly.” I say, then deliberately shift the focus. “How’s our defense coming along?”

  Patrick doesn’t sigh - he’s too straight-laced for that - but he definitely gives me the impression of it before he responds.

  “It’s going okay. We’ve gone through all the dates and times you were potentially alone with Danielle, especially in the few months before she left, and we’re trying to get evidence to prove there was no opportunity for anything inappropriate. It’s a lot to cover and some of it just isn’t possible, but hopefully we’ll have enough that we’ll catch them out with one or two of their claims, and that will be enough to swing it in our favor. I think most of their case will be built around these ‘witnesses’ they’ve hinted at, but they haven’t disclosed their witness list yet, which will give us some much needed direction.”

  “Why haven’t you got the list yet?”

  I know that shouldn’t be the part my mind snags on - and I know I shouldn’t have a vested interest in that list - but I really want to know who those witnesses are. Who I’ve offended and upset so badly that they’d be willing to lie for Danielle. And the person they mentioned who currently works for me, too…

  Obviously, the moment I find out, I’ll have to avoid them. As much as I want to talk to whoever it is, I have a good idea what that might do for the case. None of that stops the driving need to know, though.

  “I think they’re stalling - they really want to push us to settle - but now that we have a date, I’m filing a motion with the judge to ask him to demand they hand it over. We need time to depose them. Though, I guess if they wait long enough, the witnesses might be excluded - that would make our life much easier.”

  “Hah.” I smile at that idea. “What did I say - having them so focused on settlement will only make going to court better for us.”

  “Mm.” Patrick makes a non-committal noise, but I’m unfazed.

  “Well done, though, Patrick. Really. It sounds like you’re on top of it and the case is going well.”

  I mean that, too. It’s the first time we’ve had a conversation about it that sounds remotely positive.

  “Yes, well…there was something else I needed to ask you about.”

  “Oh?”

  From his tone, I get the impression my feeling of positivity might have occurred too soon.

  “Your recent trip to New York - you took your secretary, correct?”

  My blood chills slightly.

  “Yes.” I say, hoping this isn’t going where I think it is.

  How does he know that? Why does he care?

  The feeling of Jessica’s lips against mine resurfaces again, and my face heats as I think about what happened on that trip.

  Oh fuck. If anyone knew about that, it would be so bad for this case that I’m not sure—

  “I see. That’s not typical for you, Kenneth. Was there a particular reason?”

  I hesitate before answering, feeling uneasy as I realize I can’t answer that.

  Abbie.

  The reason was Abbie, but I can’t say that. There’s no doubt it’s probably inappropriate in some level, and that’s enough to be a concern for this case - but more than that, it was a private arrangement between Jessica and I.

  It’s not fair to her to admit that she was there to look after my daughter - I have no doubt she didn’t intend it to become common knowledge any more than me.

  I’ve been completely open and honest since this lawsuit came up, and this is the first time I’m considering doing otherwise. It leaves me frozen for a moment and I can’t help feeling like it’s a bad idea - like it’s never going to work out well - but I can’t do anything else, either. It’s just a sinking feeling in my gut.

  “Not particularly.” I finally say. “It was a complex and packed itinerary and Jessica is a very good secretary - it was helpful to have her there to deal with some of the fluctuating plans.”

  I hesitate for another moment, and then I do mention Abbie, because I can’t bring myself to leave that out entirely.

  “I also had my daughter with me for this trip, so I needed the extra support with the work, scheduling and meetings that she could provide, so I had enough time for Abbie.”

  That’s half the truth, I guess. It’s close. It will have to do.

  I’m not saying I basically asked Jessica to be my Nanny for a week. It’s simply not fair to her.

  “Kenneth.” He says again. He’s been using my name far too often for my liking in this conversation. It never bodes well. “I’d just like to remind you that I’m your lawyer - you can tell me anything, and it would be helpful to know. Attorney client privilege protects anything we might discuss.”

  Oh god. He knows about the kiss. He must do. What the hell do we do now?

  “I know that.�
� I say, refusing to amend anything I just said anyway, and feeling far too much like some naughty school kid who has been caught out and is just waiting to find out how much trouble they’re in.

  Something I haven’t come close to for years.

  Hell, the last time was probably also with Jessica.

  “Okay. So my last question - was your room adjoined to your secretary’s?”

  “What?” I blink. That’s not what I was expecting at all. “Of course not. What the—what are you talking about, Patrick? Of course they weren’t—she was right down the hall—where did you—”

  My voice gets more incredulous as it goes on, until he cuts me off.

  “Your rooms weren’t connected?” He asks again.

  “No, of course not.” I repeat. “What are you talking about, Patrick? What’s going on?”

  It’s so not what I was expecting to hear that defending myself feels like a relief at the same time. This is easy. This isn’t about kissing my secretary. This is something just…totally…stupid.

  “Well, that’s a relief. That would have made things much more difficult for us.”

  “Well, of course it would have.” I say, having just thought about all that for another issue entirely. “But why on earth would we do that? What made you think that, Patrick?”

  I wonder whether I’m playing up the disbelief a little too much - even as I say it, I can see the clear advantage of connected rooms, of sneaking into Jessica’s late at night and what we could do together—

  I cut that thought off. That’s exactly the wrong thing to be thinking about my secretary right now. Or at all. If nothing else, this conversation should make that obvious.

  And even if I can see the advantage, I’m more than a little shocked by this direction of the conversation.