Page 14 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

“Are you trying to persuade me?”

“Very much so.” He tapped on the table. “Why don’t you ask your questions.”

My coloring became more like a few strokes here and there while I faced my potential employer. I took a breath and began my interrogation. “Well . . . first off, why were you given custody of . . .?” I pointed to the adorable boy now chugging apple juice from a sippy cup.

“Ah, you read up on me.”

I nodded, unashamed.

“That’s good. We should be honest and upfront with each other considering the amount of time we could be spending together in the very near future. Tell me what you’ve read, and I will tell you the real story.”

I had come across some interesting tabloid type articles about his family and the fight over Henry, so I wasn’t sure what was true or not. Honestly, some of it was straight out of Shelby’s soap opera life. Family feuds and vast amounts of wealth. “I read something about a custody battle and your father, Baron Greaves, intervening.” Miles was part of Britain’s aristocracy, though I couldn’t figure out why he and his father had different last names. “Does that make you Lord Wickham?”

Miles let out a derisive laugh. “Darling, they don’t pass down titles to bastard sons.”

Before I could digest that tidbit, Henry slammed his sippy cup on the table. “Bastard!”

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh.

I pressed my lips together to make sure I didn’t smile or laugh. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, children are like magnifying mirrors, they reflect the best and the worst of us. Always the worst at the most inopportune times, though.” I gave him a sympathetic smile. I had been there more times than I wanted to remember. Like when Chloe told an old boss of mine at a company picnic that I called him a douche bag. Thankfully, upper management agreed with me and fired him not long after.

“Henry.” Miles gave him a stern look, ready to reprimand him.

“May I give you some advice?” I interrupted Miles.

“Please, I’ll take any you have.”

“Don’t draw attention to it. If you do, he’s bound to repeat it.”

Miles sank back into the booth, looking worn and at a loss. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you. You must question my sister’s sanity leaving me her child, like the rest of my family.”

“You do seem like an unlikely candidate.” I tried to keep my tone lighthearted to spare his feelings that for some reason I cared about even though I didn’t know him. Though in my mind we’d had many conversations. The way Miles’s face dropped told me I’d failed, making me feel awful, so I followed up with, “But a mother’s love is fierce; she must have seen something in you that maybe you don’t even see in yourself.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“That’s not really how I roll.” It hadn’t been for a long time.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met . . . well, except,” he paused, “never mind. Why don’t we get on with the Q&A before I make another blunder with the lad.”

The lad in question gave me a huge cheesy smile while I contemplated who Miles thought I reminded him of.

“Where were we?” Miles drew my attention back to him. “Ah, yes, my scandalous family.”

“I don’t want to pry.” Maybe I didn’t want to pry, but if I was being honest, I wanted to know what made this man tick and where his beautiful words came from.

Miles waved away my reluctance. “This is well-known fodder and I’m not ashamed. If you did a little more digging, you would find it anyway.” He played it off as if he didn’t care, but there was a hitch in his timbre that said, although he had resigned himself, he did care a great deal about it. He leaned forward. “You see, Sophie, Henry’s mother, was my half-sister. We didn’t know of each other’s existence until we were young adults. In fact, my father didn’t know about me until I was almost university age.”

I tilted my head. “Were you given up for adoption?” That would have explained the different last names. Except he had said bastard son, so then I felt inept for asking such a stupid question. But we didn’t really say things like bastard son in the U.S.

Miles threw his head back and laughed. “That’s not near scandalous enough. No, darling, think more along the lines of an affair and a long-kept secret. Otherwise known as me.”

My eyes popped before I could dial back my reaction.

Miles didn’t seem to mind by the twinkle in his eye. “Intriguing, is it not?”

I dropped the crayon I wasn’t really coloring with anyway, most definitely intrigued. “How do you keep a child a secret?”

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