Page 17 of Secret Marriage To My Bosshole

If my jaw could hit the ground, it would. My blood boils as my hands curl into fists.

I’ve never been so close to throwing my father out on his ass before, but I’m considering it now.

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to make this worse. “Do you realize how outdated that is? I don’t need a wife to manage the household and pump out children. I don’t need a maid either. I have more than enough time on my hands to scrub my own toilet.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “You’re a fool, Griffin. I thought I raised you to be smarter than this.”

“Nannies raised me.” My tone is bitter, and I hate it. At thirty-two, I should have moved past the resentment of my upbringing. Yet, I’m not. “And I will not be getting married or having children. You can kiss those old-fashioned notions about my future goodbye.”

Dad’s face darkens to a bright red. “You are going to drag my family name through the mud if you keep up with your ideas of your future.”

“This family was ruined a long time ago.” I walk to the front door and open it up as he follows me. “I think it’s time for you to leave so I can get back to business. I have things to do today, and I can’t do that if you’re sitting here preaching to me how my life should be.”

“I’m only telling you what’s best for you.”

“No. You’re telling me what works best for you. I refuse to follow in your footsteps.” I hold the door open wider as he stands in front of me. “I appreciate the advice, but it’s not going to be my life, even if you wish it were. We both know that I’m a disappointment to you. Just let me be one, and everything else will be fine.”

His lips press together, his gaze flashing with anger. The vein in his forehead throbs as he walks out the door without another word.

I slam the door shut behind him, slumping against the wall.

It is too early in the morning to deal with his shit.

Right now, going back to bed and trying to get some sleep sounds like a good idea.

Maybe—just maybe—I’m actually asleep right now, and the meeting with my father was nothing but a nightmare.

I scrub my hands down my face before pinching my arm.

Nope. I’m awake.

One of these days, Dad is going to have to back off and let me run the business the way I see fit.

He needs to stop showing up at my door to inform me that everything I’m doing is wrong.

I don’t know what gives him the right to demand that I get married, either. I’ve never considered settling down and signing my life away to another person.

It’s too much commitment and expectations I know I will never be able to live up to.

The sooner he realizes I’m better off alone, the better.

I push off the wall, ready to go back to. A knock at the door stops me in my tracks.

My blood freezes in my veins. There is no way that it’s my father.

Just seconds after leaving, he wouldn’t be back for another round. He usually likes to have the final word.

Dad may have been offended when I kicked him out, but he couldn’t be coming back for more.

As I stand there, I consider not opening the door. It would be easy to pretend I didn’t hear the knock.

Dad wouldn’t bother knocking. He’d let himself in with his key like he already did.

I force myself to open the door, shocked to see a courier standing there—certainly not someone I expected to see on a Saturday morning.

“Griffin Blake?” The courier looks up at me, a manila envelope tucked beneath his arm.

“Yes.”

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