Page 63 of Arrogant Boss

I’m back at my office, filing paperwork. The day is long and dreadful and it’s almost lunch. My stomach rumbles and groans, and I only had a coffee for breakfast.

Someone knocks on my glass door, and I glance up. The first three buttons of Atlas’s shirt are undone, his hands in his pockets. My pulse accelerates, and adrenaline rushes through my veins. Without a word, he goes to the blinds and shuts them.

He picks me up, and sits me on the desk, then he kisses me deeply.

“Next weekend, we’re leaving for Thanksgiving break.”

I forgot Thanksgiving was right around the corner. Maybe I want to forget because this will be the first one without my mother, without her homemade meals. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down.

“Unless you want to spend it with your father and ste—Nicole.”

He must’ve read the expression on my face.

“No, actually, I don’t.” I exhale. “We can spend it together. I’ll have to break the news to my father today. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes because he wants to take me to lunch.”

I’ve been avoiding my father like the plague, so when I received a text from him earlier saying he’s in the area and is taking me out for lunch, I groaned. I can’t avoid him forever, and we need to talk.

There is a knock at the door, and we both look up. Speak of the devil. My father stands with his hands folded across his chest, eyeing me and Atlas, so I jump off the desk.

“You’re going to lunch with us,” he tells Atlas. My father does this to every guy I date and drills them with questions.

“Um… it’s not a good idea, ”Atlas says, annoyed.

“Why not? It’s all over the blogs about your relationship. Even BuzzFeed and TMZ are speaking about it. I had to hear from everyone else that you’re dating my daughter. Come, Atlas. My treat.”

My father leads us to his Mercedes, and I slide in next to Atlas as my father sits in the passenger seat. His driver, Decker, drives off into the oncoming traffic.

During the entire ride to the fancy restaurant, everyone is tense. I look over to my father and he’s studying Atlas like a hawk through the rearview mirror, whereas Atlas is acting like he’s not aware of my father’s presence.

Once we are seated in the booth, Atlas wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a kiss on the lips.

“So, how long have you two been dating?” my father asks.

“Two weeks,” Atlas answers, not taking his eyes off me.

The waiter, dressed in a black dress shirt and pants, comes to our table and collects our order.

“Hmm. You plan to take good care of my daughter?”

“The way you took care of your wife by leaving her for another woman? Then no. Don’t worry, I’ll treat her with respect.”

The waiter places a rack of lamb chops onto the table along with sweet potatoes and green beans. I scoop the food onto my plate, trying to ignore the tension between the two of them. As I dig into the lamb chops, I hum “Here Comes the Sun”by The Beatles.

“What the fuck did you say?” my father says.

“You heard me,” Atlas answers.

“The food is good, you two need to eat, and stop being pissy toward each other.” I use a fork to scoop food onto both of their plates. “It’s really delicious,” I say, placing a green bean in my mouth.

My father grips the edge of the tablecloth, his knuckles turning white as a ghost. “You’re almost ten years older than my daughter, the only reason you are with her is because you want to take advantage of her.”

“Oh really? Is that why you married Nicole?” Atlas shakes his head. “You’re real smooth. Take advantage of her how, exactly? I’m not controlling like you are. I overheard the conversation between my mother and Ariel. She was depressed because you tried to control every aspect of her life.”

I flag down a waitress and tell her to bring me a glass of wine, because they are not going to ruin my good meal over their petty bullshit. Several minutes later, she brings me a glass of white wine, and I gulp it down as if I’m dying of thirst.

“I’m not going to ask for your goddamn permission to date your daughter. We made it official, and if you don’t like it you can go to hell. You can’t pay me off either, so stop calling me.”

I look up from my glass of wine and cock my eyebrow.

---