Page 52 of Winning Bid

“Ah, Sounds like most of my friends. Very good. That is all.” He turns to his laptop, dismissing me.

Good, because I have a father to tear into.

27

JUNE

When I get to my office, he’s there, standing outside. “Junebug?—"

“Not a word,” I order and barge past him, ushering him in. Once he’s inside, I shut my door as quietly as my anger will allow. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Thanks for not letting my little impropriety slip?—"

“A little impropriety? Is that what you call forging an email introduction?”

He gives me that, “Aw shucks,” look that has gotten him out of and into trouble more times than I can count. “You were sick, and what kind of father bothers his sick daughter just for an email? That’s downright cruel. Monstrous. How could I possibly do such a thing to you?”

“Of course,” I gripe as I start to pace my office. “The old make-it-sound-like-you-did-me-a-favor, instead of making it sound like what it was. You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“How long?”

His brows draw down. “How long what?”

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Planning? What are you talking about, Junebug?”

“Don’t call me that!” I snarl in his face. “That nickname is reserved for use by the man who I call Dad. You’re not him anymore, Mitch! You’re the bastard who pretended to give a shit about his daughter long enough to use her to get to Andre. So tell me, Mitch, how long have you been planning this? Weeks? Months? Or did you see an opportunity and jump on it last minute, the way you used to jump on women?”

His facade shakes, and lines form on his face in hurt. I might have actually struck him with that one. There’s no guile in his tone when he says, “June, I didn’t use you.”

I’d love to believe that. It would mean the past month of lunches with Dad haven’t been built on bullshit and that he really was trying to turn his life around. But I’ve been hurt by him too many times to be suckered in now. “Yes, you did. How did you even make the email look right? Andre isn’t dumb enough to open something from an account he doesn’t recognize—wait.” It’s falling into place. The tech firm he works for is full of guys who could have done it. “Did you have one of your coworkers break into my email?”

He swallows, “Now, June, you’re upset?—"

“Don’t tell me what I am! Tell me the truth!”

“I had a friend make some arrangements, so it looked legit?—"

I laugh, shaking my head as he rambles on.

“But I only did it so I didn’t have to bother you, honey. You know me. I left a life of crime behind me. I’m trying to do the right thing these days, and I’m not always going to get it right, but I’m still trying. You make it sound like I did something wrong by not bothering you.”

I close my eyes because I can’t even look at him right now. “So, what you’re saying is, you broke the law to avoid annoying your daughter. That’s your excuse for this?”

“There’s a law about that?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I apologize.”

I laugh. The sincerity in his voice is genuinely funny to me. “You apologize and poof? Nothing’s wrong? Is that how you think this works?”

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Oh, so now it’s my responsibility to come up with your penance?”

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