Page 43 of Boss Daddy

Samuel turns back to me for half a second, the look in his eyes unreadable.

“Tell me what the hell is going on!” I demand.

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell me. Instead, however, he shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later. Let me handle this first.”

“What the actual fuck?” I mumble as he leaves the room.

I stand there, my hands clenched into fists. Handle it? Handle what? My chest tightens, panic and fury twisting together into a knot. My stomach churns as I watch him disappear around the corner, leaving me with nothing but more questions.

I glance down and realize with a jolt that I’m still in my tank and shorts. No bra, no panties. Definitely not what I want to be wearing if I'm going to be ripped apart by his in-laws. My cheeks burn and I hurry to my room, my mind racing.

As I reach the guest room, I grab the first thing I can find that doesn’t scream "morning after." A pair of jeans and a flannel shirt will have to do. I pull the tank over my head and replace it with the flannel, buttoning it quickly, my hands trembling with frustration. My mind spins as I try to piece everything together.

I consider again how he doesn’t behave like a married man. Nothing so far has indicated that he has a wife.But what if I’m wrong? What if I missed something?

No. I won’t be that woman. I won’t stay under the roof of a married man. I will not be used, and I sure as hell won’t be the reason someone else’s marriage falls apart. I’ll pack up and go before I’ll let that happen. Simple as that.

I grab my bag and start shoving things inside—what little I unpacked last night after Samuel insisted I stay. I sling the bag over my shoulder and head for the door. If this is about to blow up, I’m going to face it fully dressed, head-on, and ready to walk away if necessary.

I pause outside my door. I’m pissed but also confused.

I glance around, my gaze noting the clean, masculine decor—dark woods, leather accents, minimal clutter. Nothing about this place screams married. In fact, there’s no sign of a woman’s presence at all. No stray shoes in the corner, no floral touches, no forgotten hair ties or makeup in the bathroom.

I head down the hall and look at the space with new eyes.The entire place is clean lines and dark tones, a bachelor’s dream.The kitchen is pristine, aside from the breakfast dishes. No family photos, no feminine touches. The guest bathroom is the same—functional, masculine, devoid of personality.

I step into the living room, stopping short at the sight in front of me.On the couch is an older couple, both of them nicely dressed, looking fairly well-to-do. They both exude warmth, the kind of people who belong in a cozy family portrait.

I hang back, unnoticed for a moment, listening to their conversation.

“We were worried about you,” the woman says, her voice soft. “It’s been a while since we’ve checked in.”

Samuel leans back in his chair, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck.“Sorry. I’ve been really busy,” he replies. There’s a lightness to his tone I’ve never heard before. “Not an excuse, I know. But it’s how it’s been.”

“It’s fine, Sam,” the man says. “How’s work?”

“The club’s doing well, Robert, thanks for asking. Better than expected, actually. Found some great new hires, finally getting the kinks out of the daily flow.”

The man chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “I knew you’d make it work. You’ve always had a way with business.”

“Not to mention numbers,” the woman adds, smiling.

Samuel shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Nice of you both to say. But it’s more about me being too damn stubborn to let it fail.”

The woman laughs softly. “Well, we’re proud of you. Kara would’ve been, too.”

Kara.

Would’ve been.

That’s not the way you talk about someone who’s still alive.

The couple doesn’t seem upset or uneasy. There’s a comfort between all of them, a sense of mutual affection that doesn’t fit the narrative I’ve been spinning in my head.

The man glances toward the hall and notices me standing there. He rises smoothly, his expression brightening with a friendly smile.“Oh, I see you have company,” he says, his voice warm.

The woman stands as well, her eyes kind as they sweep over me. “Well, aren’t you a beauty?”

Samuel turns to me, his eyes flashing.He doesn’t look upset that I’ve walked in. But at the same time, it’s not like he’s tripping over himself to welcome me into the conversation.His silence makes the moment stretch out a little bit in an awkward sort of way.

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