Page 57 of Worth Every Risk

He blows out a breath and runs a hand down his face. “If you’d done what I’d told you to do, all this could have been avoided.” The volume of his voice is lower now, but anger is a harsh scrape through his tone.

I drop my gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes for a few seconds before he speaks. “You put the life of my child at risk today.” Again, his voice cracks a fraction. “I don’t know where we go from here.”

I can’t disagree with him. Lucie’s fine, at least I’m pretty sure she is, but it could have gone differently…

Mr Hawkston nods in the direction of the stairs. “Go. I don’t want to see you again tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

The rest of the afternoon passes uneventfully, but I can’t think about anything other than what Mr Hawkston said in the hall.

Tomorrow, we’ll talk.

I’m getting fired. I must be. It feels unfair and justified all at once. I didn’t do what he wanted, but what happenedwasan accident, and how was I supposed to know he didn’t trust hisex-wife? But I can’t shift all the blame. Itwasmy fault. I let this happen. My negligence. Guilt gnaws at my stomach lining like a starved rat released from a cage, ravenously devouring everything in sight.

After Lucie’s bath, the doctor checked her over and said she was fine. I washed all our clothes, made Lucie a jam sandwich (raspberry, not strawberry. Apparently Mr Hawkston doesn’t have it in the house at all on account of Charlie, even though Charlie’s away at school most of the time), and a cup of sugary tea, the same as Mum used to make when anything bad happened to me as a kid. I can still remember how comforting it was to sip that sweet tea, cuddled up next to her on the sofa watching movies.

That’s what we’re doing now. Lucie is snuggled against me, and we’re watching The Little Mermaid.

We’ve nearly reached the end of the film when I become aware of a presence in the doorway. Not so much a shadow as an energetic prickle that makes the hairs on my forearms stand on end. I don’t turn because I know it’s Mr Hawkston. I can hear his breathing. And he specifically said he didn’t want to see me tonight.

He stands there for about thirty seconds—the entirety of which my breath shallows like my lungs have shrunk to a tenth of normal capacity—then he leaves.

I can’t handle this.

“Stay here,” I whisper against the side of Lucie’s head.

“Where are you going?” she asks, pawing at my jumper to keep me beside her.

“Bathroom.”

She nods, releasing her hold on me, and I slip out into the hall. There’s no sign of Mr Hawkston, but I can smell him. His scent is strong, exotic, expensive, and it switches on my hormones like no other cologne I’ve encountered. Maybe it’s morehimthan his scent… I’ve heard that expensive colognes mix with the individual's skin to form an entirely unique scent. And whatever Mr Hawkston’s particular combination is, I think it was made just for me.

But there’s an edge of fear to my arousal now, and as messed up as it is, I think it only heightens what I’m feeling. I must be messed up if I can summon arousal for a man who screamed at me earlier today. But that hint of pain in his eyes, the vulnerability beneath the fury… I know he’s a decent man. An angry, decent, loving man.

Maybe he doesn’t lovemeright now, but I know he’s not a monster.

I quickly search the basement, but I don’t find him. Nor can I hear him. I head upstairs to his office. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, especially after he said he didn’t want to see me. But I feel oddly compelled, and I’ve never been one to ignore that kind of gut instinct.

The door to his study is ajar. I knock, and the door opens a bit further. I peek in. The room is empty and I step inside.

I stand for a moment, absorbing the energy in here. It feels like he does; intense and a little threatening, but warm beneath the exterior.

What am I doing here? Searching for my boss who yelled at me? What if he has cameras in here? What excuse do I have?I’ve been standing in an empty room too long now to pass it off as nothing.

I still have the broken iPhone. It’s in my pocket. I put it there after my shower out of habit. I take it out and slide it across his desk. I’d have to admit to him it’s broken at some point, so it might as well be now.

I tiptoe out, hoping no one sees me.

16

MATT

Idon’t know why I linger at the cinema room door. Maybe it’s because the two of them look so peaceful, curled up on the big chair like that. Maybe it’s because I want to have that with someone.

Fuck. I don’t even have that with my kids, and I certainly don’t have the companionship of a partner now. Not that I ever really had it with Gemma. I think we hated each other from the very beginning, and we wasted over a decade of our lives struggling to make something work that never,everwould.

I’ve spent so much of my life feeling trapped by other people’s desires and expectations that I don’t know how to live without them. Always trying to do the right fucking thing. Be a decent man. Be someone my mother could be proud of because she never had that in my father.

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