Page 97 of Kissing the Boss (Fairy Tale Quartet 2)

Agony coiled through my stomach.

“Fine,” his father blustered, turning to me directly. “So you own at least half of it now. Name your price, girl. We’ll pay whatever you offer.”

Ezra’s eyes shot open, waiting for my answer. But how could he expect me to say anything other than no deal? He knew how much I wanted my company back, too.

It felt like I was staring at a stranger when I looked into his blue eyes. Add that onto the fact that he’d never bothered to tell his father about me, and I’d just found out what I had about my own dad—

He hadn’t had a heart attack at all. He’d been killed, stolen from me so that I was left alone, an orphan under the control of his very murderer.

It was more than I could bear. Grief and anger and helplessness swamped me.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” I said, fumbling out of my chair to get to my feet before I stumbled toward the exit.

“Kaitlynn.” Ezra flew from his own seat and took a step toward me, but I held up a hand and shook my head, warding him away.

I couldn’t deal with him right now either.

I raced into the hall.

It felt as if people were everywhere, clumped into groups, no doubt gossiping about the fact that one of their CEOs had just been dragged away in the back of a police car. They all paused to stare at me, judging, questioning, condemning, demanding. Unable to take all the gawking, I began to run. Blindly.

I found myself back in my old workroom in the basement, sitting in the hard, uncomfortable chair I’d used for six months and wishing I could just go back to then, when I was naïvely determined to work my way to the top, where no one had killed my dad, and my stepmother just despised me instead of hated me so much she wanted me dead.

Hugging myself, I squeezed my eyes closed and bit my lip. But the tears came anyway.

“Hey, kid,” a quiet, concerned voice crooned. “You doing okay?”

I shook my head and sobbed, “No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t figure.” Picking me up, Brick stole my chair so he could settle me on his lap like a small child and hug me to his chest.

I re

sted my cheek against his shoulder and soaked in all the sympathy he was offering.

“He left the company to me,” I repeated, my chest hollow with shock. “He loved me after all.”

“Of course he did.” Brick stroked my hair methodically. “How could you doubt that?”

I shook my head. “I thought she’d turned him against me. I thought he stopped loving me. I thought… I thought…”

When a sob seized me, Brick murmured quiet, soothing sounds. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

But how could this be okay? My dad had been murdered, and all this time I’d been angry with him.

“He must be so disappointed in me,” I whispered. “I doubted him and lost faith in him. He must be watching me from wherever he is, and thinking—”

“Bullshit,” Brick cut in. “He’s looking down at you, and he’s smiling because he’s so fucking proud of the woman you became. And he’s loving you… Always.”

I sniffed and looked up at him. “I can’t believe she took him away.”

Pain shuttered his features. “Neither can I.”

Suddenly, I remembered. “She took your dad too.”

He glanced away, and his throat worked as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he choked out in a raw voice. “Crazy, huh?”

I touched his cheek. “Are you okay?”

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