Page 23 of Bonus Daddy
Kenneth’s face softened for an instant, though the look was quickly replaced with a scowl. “I can’t. I’ll be at the Miller Foundation gala. I bought a table.”
Jess stiffened, the smallest sound of defeat escaping her.
This motherfucker. Poor Kit. She deserved support at such a significant event. If I thought it would do any good, I’d grab him by the hair plugs and drag him there myself.
I slid my phone out of my pocket and quickly typed out a text.
Like I hoped, I received a response immediately.
“You’re not, actually,” I said, placing the phone on the table.
He puffed up, his eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not attending.” This time, I plastered on a smile.
“Evelyn Miller is a friend. I’ve attended every year for the last decade.”
“Sorry.” I rubbed a hand over my bearded jaw. “You’ve been disinvited.”
As if on cue, his phone buzzed on top of the walnut conference table.
He picked up the device and unlocked it. When his pompous expression morphed into a furious scowl, satisfaction washed over me.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” He slammed the phone onto the table. “Jess, what kind of two-bit con man of a lawyer did you get?”
I stood, sweeping up my files and offering Jess a hand. “Great news. Turns out you’re free the night of Kit’s event after all. Now there’s no reason you can’t show up for your child. You need a ride? I can pick you up.”
His face turned red, and I swore steam billowed from his ears.
I wanted to shake Jess and ask her what she’d ever seen in this guy, but my anger was replaced with heartache when I remembered that, when we entered this room, she physically shrank. Fuck. She was afraid of him.
There was certainly no love there.
I’d been doing this long enough to know when the hurt a person wore was really a mask for all the love they’d shared.
Jess’s pain? It was caused by fear and resignation.
She was resigning herself to the knowledge that he would once again get his way.
But now more than ever, I was determined to fuck with this guy. And I would relish it.
As we stepped out into the sunshine, I grasped her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. It was cool and soft and so much smaller than mine. And the contact felt incredible.
When that thought registered, I released her. Fuck. I was her lawyer. She was my client. “Sorry.”
She looked up at me, her eyes shining in the sunlight.
“This may be a weird request from a client, but can I have a hug?”
When we’d stepped into the shade of one of the many skyscrapers of lower Manhattan, I turned to face her.
She immediately looked at her feet, avoiding my gaze. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
I set my briefcase on the sidewalk, then cupped her chin, tipping it up toward me.
“At Murphy and Machon, we provide full service for our clients,” I said in a serious voice. “That includes hugs.”
Without hesitation, I pulled her to my chest. Like it was second nature, she wove her arms around my waist and hugged me tight.
