Page 64 of Reluctantly You

Asshole. Goddamn guy.

Why has he gotten under my skin? Is it the thrill of the chase? Of trying to figure out who he is?

I don’t fucking know, and I don’t know why I care.

Sinking back in my chair, I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. It really needs a better paint job. I can see the lines from the rollers.

My mind flits through all possible rational thought. I was supposed to be satisfied, getting this job, taking it all away from Jack Morris, and here I am, obsessing over his son who hates me. Who I honestly don’t like much either.

And yet, I can’t seem to stay away from him.

“Um, boss, we have a problem,” Shiloh says, his voice coming through the speaker on my phone.

I snap up and tap the button. “What?”

“Seems someone is here to see Mitch and he’s not happy about it. She’s making a bit of a scene.” My heart rate picks up as I jolt from my seat. I turn to look at the screen and see that Mitchell is now offline.

Who the fuck is bothering him?

Striding toward Mitchell’s office, I find him standing in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed in frustration. The woman who looks so much like him is flinging her arms out as if pleading with him and yet missing the mark entirely.

“I’ve tried calling, Mitch. I’ve tried and you won’t speak to me!” she cries, her voice shrill.

“Who the fuck is this?” I interrupt, stepping beside Mitchell, sensing the anxiety rolling off him. His body tenses when I get close, but he doesn’t step away.

Good. He should let me help.

He needs to let someone help him.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” the woman says, her voice shrill and annoyed.

“His boss. And who are you?”

“I’m his mother,” the woman hisses, her eyes flaring with sadness and anger. She looks appalled that I’m interrupting, that I’ve navigated my way between her and her son. Well, she chose the wrong place to approach him.

Not on my fucking watch.

I stare at her, seeing the emotion splayed across her prominent features. “Did you have an appointment?”

“I’m his mother!” she reiterates, but I’m unmoved.

“You’ve said, but we should conduct this in your office, Mr. Morris,” I say curtly, causing his eyes to flash to mine.

He doesn’t want to conduct anything with this woman, and from what he told me the other night, I understand why. But she seems unwilling to leave unless they speak and I really don’t want to have to call security.

“Now,” I emphasize, and Mitch steps to the side, allowing me and his mother to move past him and into his office. The door closes behind us with an audible snick and Mitchell turns to face away, his cheeks splotchy, his chest laboring under deep breaths.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Morris?” I ask and she huffs.

“I didn’t come here to speak to you.”

“I know, but you’re here, interrupting my work day. So what do you need?”

My words are cold, my body stiff and unyielding. She will not get past me to him. I refuse.

“He…he blocked my calls,” she explains and then turns toward Mitchell’s back. “Why would you do that? I’m yourmother.”

He huffs, seemingly unmoved by this awkward display of remorse. “Because I didn’t want to talk to the woman who lied to me my whole fucking life. How about that,Mom?”

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