Page 41 of The Baby Twist
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Lucas has enough responsibilities and doesn’t need to add a child to the mix of things.”
I pushed my plate away, wiped my mouth on a napkin, and threw it on the table.
“Are we finished here?” I asked as I got up.
“I believe so.”
“I’ll take a cab back to the office.” I reached over and grabbed my purse.
“Jenna?” He called out to me, and I turned to him.
“I think you should reconsider working for Thorne Technology. As good as you are, I can’t have any distractions, nor can Lucas. Name your price?”
“My price?”
“I will pay you a reasonable sum of money to get out of New York and never contact Lucas again. That way, you won’t have to work and can solely focus on raising that child. You’re a very smart woman and know the right thing to do.”
“Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you. I’m sure I can come up with a good number that will benefit us both.” I turned and left the restaurant.
I thought my parents were horrible people, but Mr. Lincoln Thorne took the cake regarding parenting. Now, everything was crystal clear where Lucas was concerned. He was merely a puppet, and his father was the puppet master.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucas
I was heading to my office when Jenna called out my name. Backing up and stepping into her office, I could tell she seemed off.
“What’s up?”
“Can you come over after work? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Is it really important? I have plans tonight with Danny.”
“If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“We can’t discuss it now?”
“No, Lucas. We can’t. For fuck’s sake, forget it,” she shouted.
“No.” I sighed. “I’ll come over. Watch that attitude, Miss Larson.”
“When you watch yours, I’ll watch mine.” Her brow arched at me as she spoke in a snippy tone. “It works both ways, Mr. Thorne.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I shook my head and headed to my office.
I had a late lunch,so I wasn’t worried about dinner when I stood outside the door of Jenna’s apartment at seven p.m. After I knocked, she opened the door, and I stepped inside—the smell of something enticing infiltrated the air.
“Are you cooking something?” I asked.
“I’m making baked spaghetti. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“I hope you didn’t make that for me because I don’t plan on staying.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lucas. I made it for the baby and me. We’ve both been craving carbs like crazy the past few days.”
“Oh. What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked as I followed her to the kitchen.
She grabbed a glass of scotch from the counter and handed it to me.
