Page 50 of The Boss's Hideaway Baby

“Let him up,” I instruct, my curiosity piqued.

I pace around the living room, anxiety bubbling in my chest as I wait for him to arrive. After all these years, why has he chosen to show up now?

Before I can come up with any answers, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. There he stands — my father — looking regal in his suit, just as he always does.

“Good morning, Nathan.” His voice is cold and distant.

“Morning, Dad,” I reply cautiously. “What brings you here?”

“Can’t a father visit his son?” He smiles, but there’s no warmth in his eyes.

“Of course.” I motion for him to sit down on the plush couch. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Please.” He takes a seat, sinking into the cushions and relaxing as if he owns the place.

As I pour him a cup, I can’t help but observe how much we’ve grown apart.

And with good reason, too. The two of us have never really seen eye to eye, and when I was growing up he basically ignored my existence. So it’s not like we had much of a solid foundation to grow off of as I entered adulthood.

“Here you go.” I hand him the steaming mug. He nods in appreciation and takes a sip, while I sit across from him, waiting for him to explain his sudden appearance.

Finally, he gets it out. “I’m here to negotiate my will.”

“Negotiate… your will?” I ask, my heart sinking. What could he possibly mean by that?

“Exactly,” he confirms, seemingly unfazed by my confusion. “You see, Nathan, I’m willing to give you a certain percentage of whatever I leave behind if you hand over the new downtown property.”

My brow furrows as I try to process his words. He’s heard about the project that I’ve poured my heart and soul into, and now he wants me to just hand it over? For what? A portion of his estate?

“Wait, what?” I say, incredulous. “Dad, are you seriously trying to turn a profit on your will?”

“Business is business,” he says coolly, taking another sip of his coffee. “Besides, I’ve heard all about your project, and I think the two of us could strike a great deal.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Is this really why you came here today? Not to reconnect or see how I’m doing, but to negotiate some twisted business arrangement involving your own son?”

“Like I said, business is business.” His expression remains stoic, as if we’re discussing stocks and not our family bond.

The hurt I feel is quickly replaced by anger. I stand up abruptly, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

“Get out,” I spit through gritted teeth. “This is not up for discussion. I won’t be manipulated like this.”

“Fine.” He sets down his coffee and stands. “I hope you realize what an amazing opportunity you’re passing over.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be fine without your assistance. I always have been.” I don’t hold back my sneer.

“Fine,” he snaps, his tone dripping with disdain. “I thought you were smarter than this, Nathan.” With that parting shot, he strides out of the penthouse, leaving me alone with my fury.

I’m left standing in my living room, seething with a mixture of anger and hurt.

This man has let greed and ambition consume him to the point where he’s willing to turn his back on his own family. As I look around my penthouse, filled with expensive trinkets and cold, lifeless décor, I can’t help but wonder if I’m heading down the same path.

I pace through the lavishly decorated living room, my anger boiling over at the sheer nerve of the man. How dare he walk into my home after all these years and try to manipulate me like that? It’s all about personal gain with him. Always.

As I continue my furious circuit, I catch sight of my reflection in one of the many floor-to-ceiling mirrors that adorn the penthouse walls. The image stops me in my tracks. I look so much like him, from the same sharp jawline to the same piercing eyes.

But there’s more. I act like him too.

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