Page 52 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

Phone at the ready, I tapped out a reminder for myself.

“Why don’t you let them sit down first, Beverly?” Mr. Hawthorne said to his wife, stepping down from the entryway where he’d gone to help his mom.

He then turned to Duncan and me, gesturing to the couch between where he and his wife sat. “Please, have a seat. It’s good to see you, son. And to meet you, Miss Rosabel.”

I wasn’t sure which of them to answer, since Mommy Dearest, Grandma, and Dad didn’t seem to be on the same page. Mrs. Hawthorne cocked her head to one side and plastered on a simulated smile, as though she were trying to cover up how irritated she was by her husband’s lack of notice that she’d spoken first.

Sitting implied staying. Lingering. Remaining. However you wanted to look at that word, I didn’t want anything to do with it right now.

I didnotwant to stay here any longer than we already had.

But the invitation had been set, and I, at least, had been taught a few manners. So I swallowed my pride and strode to the couch Mr. Hawthorne had indicated. But I didn’t settle in. Isat as close to the tip of the couch as I could, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“She’s worked with me for about a year and a half,” Duncan said, waiting for me to sit before lowering himself beside me. Again, his posture was patriot perfect, ramrod straight, and I noticed he didn’t sink back all the way onto the couch, either.

“And I’ve been…okay.”

He cleared his throat, resting his fists on his knees.

This was unusual. Typically, he acted as though he were in charge. But here, now, he acted unsure. Boyish, even.

Two things I would never have called my boss before now.

“Mother, Dad, Grandmother, I know we didn’t end things very well the last time I was here, and I wanted to?—”

Grandma Hawthorne readjusted her cane and placed both hands on it.

Mrs. Hawthorne reacted to her mother-in-law’s cue immediately, sliding forward in her seat.

“Oh, come now. We don’t need to go back there today. Not in front of company. Miss Astor, I’d like ninety-five bouquets of lilies and gardenias.” She blasted her fake smile in my direction.

The forced expression did nothing to ease the simmering friction between the four of them. If anything, the façade made things worse.

“Uh….of course,” I said, feeling more and more like hired help by the minute.

Duncan lowered his head. I watched him closely, noting the twitch in his jaw and the position of his fists in his lap. His heels bounced, making me wonder what was with this pent-up energy?

Obviously, he’d wanted to clear the air about something—and his mom called me the impediment.

Not only that, but they barely knew me and were okay with giving me orders? At least Maddox had told me over and over how sorry he was and how grateful he’d been for my help.

I took it back. I wasn’t ordering any flowers for these people.

“You know,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’m not sure about those flowers after all. You’d better get someone else to order them for you.”

“Well, really,” Grandma muttered, gaping at me.

I kept my head high. “And I actually have a phone call I need to make. I’ll just step out for a minute.”

Make that minute however long it takes for Duncan to say what he needed to say so we could leave. If they didn’t want to discuss personal things with me here? No problem.

Not only would I save myself from being given any more tasks, but hopefully, they’d allow Duncan to open up without me in the room.

Duncan gave me a slightly panicked look. He foiled my plan. He rose, too, bolting from the couch as though one of the cushions had overheated.

“That’s right. I remember that call. It’s about time for us to head back anyway.”

“But you just got here,” Mrs. Hawthorne protested—much to my surprise.

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