Page 77 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

I feel their gaze like a hot, searing weight on my skin, but I lift my chin. I’ve been around Hollywood sharks long enough to know when to play the part. Screw them.

Wait, do I smell alcohol?

Silas doesn’t even glance at me when he speaks, his voice low and tired but still carrying that unmistakable edge. “Why wasn’t I called directly about this? I’m Caleb’s father.” He turns his attention to Principal Morgan, whose nervousness is palpable.

The principal fumbles with her papers, her stiff blazer making her look even more rigid than usual. “We, uh, we couldn’t get through to you, Mr. Waverly. Caleb gave us Leah’s number instead.”

Silas exhales sharply and rubs a hand over his face, sitting back heavily in the chair. I feel like I’m witnessing a man trying not to drown. For a brief second, his hand rests on the arm of the chair between us, close enough to mine that I can feel the warmth radiating from him. I resist the urge to reach out. Barely.

“I’m here now,” he says. “What’s this incident Leah called me about?”

Before I can answer, one of the other parents, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and an attitude that says he thinks he’s better than everyone in the room, jumps in. “The incident is that your son punched my son in the face. Look at his eye!” He gestures to the kid beside him, slouching in his chair with a bruised eye that’s already turning a nasty shade of purple.

Is it just me, or does this kid look like a troublemaker?

I shoot Silas a quick glance, trying to gauge his reaction. He’s been drinking—I can tell. His jaw tightens, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of the accusation.

“Caleb isn’t violent,” Silas says, his voice calm but with a bite that makes the other parent flinch. “There has to be more to the story. Hey kid, why did Caleb hit you?”

“Uh, I—I was, uh," the kid stutters.

“More to the story?” the mother chimes in, her voice shrill enough to pierce the window’s glass. “The more to the story isthat your son needs to be suspended for this. Billy looks like he got hit by a truck!”

Okay, easy with the hyperbole.

“Their final exams are in a couple of weeks,” Silas says.

“Final exams or not.” She rolls her eyes.

I can’t help but flinch at the mention of final exams. Caleb’s been working so hard to get into Livingston High, and a suspension now could ruin everything. I glance at Silas again, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing.

Principal Morgan clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Mr. Waverly, we’re considering a probationary suspension.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

“What did you just say?” Silas sits up, his eyes sharper. “Repeat those words.”

“Mr. Waverly, we have a no-violence policy, and the last thing—”

“What did the kid say that triggered Caleb?” Silas beats the large desk. “It’s a simple enough question.”

Something clicks in my brain then—something that smells rotten. Is this my father? The situation stinks like it has hisfingerprints all over it. He’s not above using his connections to manipulate the situation, and if he can tank Caleb’s future to get at Silas, he absolutely would.

I feel a surge of anger boiling in my chest.

I turn sharply toward the principal, the question spilling from my lips before I can think it through. “How much is my father paying you to ruin things for Caleb?”

Silas’s head snaps toward me, surprise flickering in his eyes. I don’t look at him. I’m too busy watching the principal, who goes from pale to blotchy red in seconds. She delicately touches her glasses, balancing them on her nose, but I can tell she’s trying to buy time.

“The lady asked you a question, Morgan.” Silas doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Principal Morgan sputters, her voice rising in pitch.

Liar.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms, trying to steady my breathing while I decide how to play this. A bluff? Hell yes.

I glance at Silas, trying to look as calm as I can. “Do you still have that private investigator?” I ask, knowing full well it’s a complete shot in the dark. “The one who can dig into people’s finances?”

---