Page 36 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

I haven’t seen Caleb in three days, so I’m due anytime now. For the past few days, all I’ve done is be an assistant. Fix Silas’scalendar and keep him ahead of schedule. Nothing regarding the engagement, and no mention of the kiss from that night.

My core throbs at the thought of the kiss. His soft lips, the woody smell of his cologne, I can remember how hard he was when I stroked his cock through his—

"Leah, there's someone at the door for you. And before you ask, it’s not a pizza guy. I didn’t order pizza!” Penny yells from the living room.

I freeze. Who the hell is it? It’s past ten.

I make my way to the door, my pulse already picking up speed, and there he is. Standing on the doormat like he's about to announce he's found the cure for being a controlling asshole.My dad.

What the hell is Harvey Grayson doing at my doorstep at this time of night? It's not like we haveFather-Daughter Chat Houron the schedule.

He's wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans, and he’s got this look on his face. This disapproving once-over that makes my skin crawl.

"Leah," he says, his voice clipped, "We need to talk."

"No," I say, folding my arms over my chest, "we really don’t."

Penny appears behind me, laptop in hand and headphones around her neck, her brows raised as she takes in the scene. I can feel her curiosity bouncing around like a pinball, but she knows better than to interrupt this circus act.

Penny starts, “It’s nice to meet—"

Harvey steps inside without waiting for an invitation, as he cuts Penny off. His gaze sweeps the apartment like he’s expecting rats to scurry out from under the furniture. The air feels tight, suffocating, like all the oxygen just got sucked out of the room.

“This is how you live?” he says, eyebrows drawn in disdain. “Here?”

“I’m sorry, were you expecting Buckingham Palace? I’ll upgrade next week.”

“Leah,” Penny warns as soon as she sees my dad’s face tighten.

I take a deep breath. But it's hard to inhale around the swelling anger in my chest. I should’ve known this was coming. He never misses an opportunity to look down on me, my choices, or my life.

“Yes, Dad. This is how I live,” I snap, stepping in front of him like I can shield the apartment from his judgmental gaze. "Not everyone needs to live in a palace to feel secure. Some of us actually like a little character in our homes."

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Character? That’s what you call living like someone with no ambition. Leah, you could have anything,anything, and yet you choose to scrape by like—”

“Like what, Dad?” I cut him off, my voice rising. “Like someone from the bottom of the barrel? Like someone without your precious fortune? You don’t get it. You’ve never gotten it. I’d rather live like this—happily—than be chained to your version of ‘success.’”

“Family comes first, Leah. The company, after I’m gone, I—”

“Family comes first?” I rasp, stepping closer to him. “Familycomes first? After what you did to Mom?!”

“Look. Beth had her issues, and I tried to—”

“Just go, Dad.” I walk over and open the door. “I don’t want you here.”

His eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring. It's the same look he used to give me when I refused to play the obedient daughter role at fancy dinner parties or movie premieres for his studio. The one that says he's both infuriated and deeply confused by the idea of someone rejecting his money and influence.

I can practically see the calculations running through his head, trying to figure out what went so wrong.

“I didn’t raise you to be this ungrateful,” he finally says, his voice like ice.

“And I didn’t ask to be raised by someone who tries to buy love like it’s for sale,” I retort, my throat tight with the words I’ve held back for years. “And raise me? You didn’t raise me. Mom did!”

I watch as some color creep into his face, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I want to hurt him, make him feel the frustration and anger I’ve been carrying around like an old suitcase. And then, because I know it’ll get under his skin, I drop the bomb.

“I have a new job, by the way,” I say, my voice sweet with the satisfaction of watching him squirm. “I’m working for Silas.”

It takes a second for the name to land, but when it does, the reaction is as explosive as I’d hoped. His eyes darken, and his lips tighten into a thin line.

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