Page 16 of My Grumpy Billionaire Protector

Mitchel reaches for his glass and takes a sip. “I don’t understand your generation’s need to be independent. When I was young, my parents had nothing to give me.”

My grip on the fork tightens. “It’s not about being unappreciative. It’s about wanting to work hard and earn things.”

Mitchel scoffs. “It’s a waste of time.”

Alba clears her throat, her lips lifting into a half-smile. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to make it work. Evie is respected and liked by all of her peers, and her students seem to adore her.”

“What about the parents?”

I pause. “What about them?”

“They’re the ones you need to cater to. A good business woman knows her clientele, and they’re the ones paying your salary, aren’t they?”

The fork falls to the table with a clatter. “Why is everything about money?”

“It’s not just about money. It’s about power.”

“For fuck’s s—”

“Evie,” Alba interrupts, giving me a long look. “Language.”

“I don’t care about that, Mom. And neither should you. We’ve got bigger problems than the kind of language I use at the dinner table.”

Mitchel sits back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “If you’re going to launch into another one of your speeches about morality and the importance of making a difference in the world, I’d really rather you wait until dessert.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Mitchel’s expression remains calm, only a slight tightening around the edges of his mouth gives him away. “I’m not. You should know better by now.”

Underneath the table, I fold my hands into my lap and dig my nails into the inside of my palms. “The only reason you don’t want to hear it is because you know I’m right.”

Mitchel laughs, but it is humorless, and it sends a ripple of unease racing through me. “You can’t possibly be that naïve, Evie. Your mother raised you better than that. Money and power are the only things that matter in this world. After that, it’s all about perception. That’s how you have a good life and that’s how you take people seriously.”

“You’re wrong,” I snap.

Mitchel leans forward, and his expression hardens. “Am I? I’m a governor who got here because I worked hard and put in the work. What have you done with your life? All you have to show for it is a community college education and a job that doesn’t pay you well and disrespects you.”

I reel back as if I’ve been slapped.

Mitchel looks triumphant as he reaches for his fork. “I think we should get back to dinner.”

“At least I surround myself with good people,” I mutter under my breath.

Mitchel’s grip on the fork tightens. “Excuse me?”

“Remember that story last year about the drug cartel?” I ask him tightly. “You knew the truth, didn’t you?”

Mitchel recovers quickly. “You know that I didn’t know anything about that. It’s not my fault that I cross paths with a lot of bad people.”

“You have the ability to stop them.” I place my hands on either side of the table and lean forward, feeling something tightening in my chest. “Or at least make it better.”

“It’s not my job.”

“Then whose job is it?”

“Law enforcement,” Mitchel reminds me with a bored look.

I make a low, frustrated noise in the back of my throat and say nothing.

---