Page 13 of The Powerful Boss She Craves

Micah saw that Jago’s car was gone. He glanced towards Liyana’s end of the garage and noticed that both her cars were in residence, which meant that Liyana was...somewhere. London? Milan? It was hard to keep up with his stepmother, not that he wanted to.

He and Liyana had what could be described at best as a frosty relationship, and at worst as a long-standing cold war from the moment they’d met when he’d been nine, just a few weeks after his mum’s death. The next nine years had been a raging battle between them. The two years after Brianna’s accident had been filled with silence, and these days they didn’t talk more than they had to. Too much had happened and she’d hurled too many acid-tipped accusations at him.

‘Brianna’s condition is your fault.’

‘You are a bad influence on Thadie and I should keep you away from her.’

‘You don’t deserve to be part of this family after what you did.’

Leaving the garage, Micah headed to the house but made a detour to a wooden bench at the base of one of the oldest oak trees on the property, where he sat and rested his forearms on his knees, childhood memories rolling over him. In the space of a couple of months, he’d lost his mum, acquired a stepmum, seen the family house stripped of his mother’s possessions and been told that it was time for a new start, a new chapter. Within a year, he’d also acquired a half-sister, and it had been too much to deal with. He’d been upset, grief-stricken, confused and angry, and he’d acted out...

He’d been an absolute terror, obstreperous and defiant, rebellious and lost. He’d pulled Jago into pranks, some of which had been downright dangerous. He looked at the two-storey-high roof of the garage and his blood iced at the memory of the two of them sliding down the roof and off its edge to land on a stack of mattresses on the grass below. He could’ve broken a leg, Jago could’ve broken his spine... If the twins even thought about doing something like that in the future, he’d ground them for life!

But back then he hadn’t cared, he’d just been looking for trouble, for attention good or bad. His relationship with his father, when he was around, was terrible. Unlike his siblings and his late mother, Micah didn’t hesitate to call his father out for acting like a jerk, something Theo excelled at—and, when she wasn’t yelling at him for being impulsive, reckless or for doing something stupid, Liyana ignored him. Jabu, their family butler, had been more of a parent than his father and stepmother put together.

It had all come to a head a month or two after his eighteenth birthday. He’d been on his own at Hadleigh House—Jago had been away on a rugby tour and Micah had been suspended from school for the third time that year. He had been rubbing on his father’s and Liyana’s last nerve...deliberately, he was sure. His father, he of the volatile temper, had started yelling at Liyana and him. Then Theo had focused all of his ire on Micah and their argument had rapidly escalated. Theo had pushed him and he’d pushed back. Then Theo had thrown a punch, his fist breaking Micah’s nose and spilling his blood on the ancient Persian carpet. Despite being constantly at loggerheads, he’d never imagined, not once, that his father would physically hurt him.

Shocked, stunned, emotionally eviscerated, the physical pain had been secondary, almost an afterthought. Knowing he had to leave, he’d stormed out of the house and, out of habit, called Brianna.

While Jago never hesitated to call him out, Brianna had always,alwaysagreed with him and taken his side. He’d told her what had happened and that he planned to get drunk and stoned. She’d begged him not to go, told him that the bar he intended to visit was in a dangerous area and that he might get hurt. He’d brushed her off, never thinking that she’d follow him to that bad area of town, and had proceeded to get drunk, then high. When he’d finally made it home the next morning—he had vague memories of an older blonde who’d taken him home and into her bed—he’d been met by his father and Liyana, red-eyed and weeping.

Brianna had been in a head-on car accident, he’d been told, had massive head injuries and was on life support. Nobody had understood why she’d been out at night, why she’d been in that area of town. Her parents then accessed her mobile phone and they’d quickly established, by the numerous voice messages she’d sent Micah, that she’d been worried about him, upset that he hadn’t returned her calls or messages. Her last message had been that she was going to look for him. Not used to driving at night, she’d lost control of her zippy car and had veered into the oncoming lane...

Brianna had eventually been moved off life support and onto a feeding tube and she had been moved to a private long-term-care medical facility. To this day she remained in a profound state of unconsciousness, had minimal brain activity and her prognosis for recovery was slim to none. Yet her parents continued to hold out hope that, with the field of neuroscience advancing rapidly, someone, somewhere, would find a way to bring their only child back to them. And her parents had never stopped blaming Micah for her condition.

That was okay, because he blamed himself too.

His first year at university had been a blur, a lost time period of bouncing between lectures, lawyers and sessions with a psychologist to help him deal with his guilt and grief. After the court case had been dismissed—he’d not been foundlegallyliable for her injuries—he’d slowly started to turn over a new leaf. It had taken time, but he’d managed to get his temper under control and learned how to think before reacting. He’d also made a couple of vows to himself—most importantly that he’d never again be a source of pain for anyone he loved and cared about. That meant never putting himself in a situation where he risked hurting anyone, especially a woman, again.

It was simple: if Brianna could never have her greatest wish fulfilled—to have a family and kids—then neither could he.

Micah heard a familiar clearing of a throat and looked up to see Jabu standing on the path, his hands linked behind his back. His face radiated dignity, and within his dark eyes Micah read his concern.

‘Sawubona, Mkulu,’ he said, greeting him in Zulu, and using the word for ‘grandfather’. It was also a word used for elderly men held in high regard, which Micah did.

Jabu lifted his grey eyebrows. ‘As a child, when you were upset I could usually find you up this tree. Is everything all right?’

Micah stood up and walked over to the shorter man, gently gripping his shoulder. He knew Jabu worried about him and, since he’d caused the man enough grief, he forced a smile. ‘Everything is fine, Mkulu.’

Jabu sent him a disbelieving look.

‘Your stepmother is asking for a report. She wants to know if you’ve made any progress on finding a wedding venue,’ Jabu stated as they walked to the side entrance of Hadleigh House. Instead of using the massive front hall, with its hand-carved double-wide staircase and impressive paintings, he and his twin accessed their suites via a back staircase. Jabu punched in the code to open the door and Micah stepped back to allow him into the house first.

Did Liyana honestly think he could magic a venue out of thin air? Before he could reply, Jabu spoke again. ‘I told her that you are working on it and that I’m sure you’ll find something soon.’

‘Thank you. If she asks again, tell her that I have help and that I am on it.’ He and Liyana had been passing messages to each other for twenty years through Jabu and he’d never once complained. It was childish and immature but it was also a habit that kept the peace. Life was better for all of them when he and Liyana ignored each other as much as possible.

‘I had another job offer today,’ Jabu told him, pulling a drooping rose from the vase on the hall table.

Micah, about to run up the stairs, stopped and turned to face his favourite person. He was reasonably sure Jabu would never leave them, and that he used his status of being the most headhunted butler in the country as a means of manipulating Jago and him to settle down and start families.

Micah, knowing the drill, just waited in silence.

‘The family has three young boys under the age of ten. They entertain a lot, both here and at their home in Switzerland. The couple seems to be very happily married but busy; they need help.’

Translation: neither you nor Jago has provided me with grandchildren, you don’t entertain enough and you need a woman in your life. ‘Jabu, come on...’

Uneasiness flashed through Jabu’s eyes. ‘I don’t earn the enormous salary you pay me, Micah.’

---