Page 9 of Reputation (Tempt)

“No.”

Because it was stupid. And, of course, I wasn’t going to email him about why I hadn’t responded to his email. He was being ridiculous.

He finally met my eyes, his simmering with irritation. “Did you forget the password to your email account?”

“No,” I said, feeling my power surge with every “no.” I was taking back control.

“Is there some other technical error I should be aware of?” he asked.

“No.” Damn, that felt good—defying him. I wasn’t being rude. But I was done taking his shit. It was almost difficultnotto smile at this point.

“I expect you to respond to all emails in a timely fashion.” I simmered with pent-up rage, with unspoken comments and snide remarks. “And yet, you haven’t replied to my email from—” He glanced at his computer screen. “Three days ago. Would you care to explain?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”

I absolutely did not care to explain.

He arched his brow, a haughty expression overtaking his face. “Should I remind you that a violation of house rules can result in immediate termination?”

“I’m well aware,” I said in a calm tone.

“And yet you choose to stand here and defy me.”

“I choose to stand here and have an actual conversation with you. And frankly, you’re lucky I’m doing that instead of just quitting.”

He leaned back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee. “You’re not happy about the social media thing. I get it. But my PR team thinks it’s necessary. So, what do you want in return?” he asked in a bored tone. “A raise? More time off?”

Termination, my ass.The man wasn’t going to fire me. Brooklyn adored me, and Nate needed me. Hell, he was offering me a raise on the heels of threatening to enforce the house rules.

He gestured to the chair across from him, but I remained standing. He tilted his head to the side, eyebrow raised. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t going to work.

There was no way in hell I was going to let him dictate what I could and couldn’t post. It was my profile, and it was my body. But that wasn’t even the real issue.

“Some respect would be nice. I adore your daughter. I take care of her and love her, and yet you treat me with nothing but contempt.”

“What will it take?” he asked, as if it was a foregone conclusion. “Five hundred extra a week? A thousand?”

“No!” I clenched my fists. Hell, maybe I’d come here looking for a fight. “This isn’t about money.”

“What is it about, then?” he asked, clearly exasperated. As if that was the only thing I could possibly want. Did he really think so little of me?

“It’s about having some fuckingdecency. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me here and that I’m not valued. If I didn’t adore Brooklyn, I would’ve already left.”

Something passed through his eyes, and it looked a lot like respect. In reality, it was probably just shock. I didn’t get the feeling Nate was used to anyone contradicting him.

He rubbed his jaw. Part of me was convinced he was going to tell me to fuck off, but then he said, “Contrary to what you might think of me, I don’t allow many people into my life. Let alone into my home.” He shifted. “And the fact that I’ve let you anywhere near my daughter…” He shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t if I didn’t trust you.”

“You say you trust me, but you micromanage me. More than Andre or Belinda or anyone else. And while I get that you’re entrusting me with your daughter, that doesn’t mean you get to dictate aspects of my life that are private.”

“Is it ‘private’ when you post about it on the internet?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, prepared to call him out for being a hypocrite. But he had the decency to look chagrined. “You’re right. I—” He hesitated then said, “Overstepped. But this is…new.” He seemed to have difficulty with the word. “You have to understand that for the past eleven, almost twelve, years—since Brooklyn was born—we’ve had the same nanny. A woman who was also one of my nannies as a child.”

I nodded. I understood how difficult change could be, but that didn’t excuse his behavior toward me. At least he was finally opening up. Finally acting more human.

“I’m all Brooklyn has,” he said, tapping his chest. “Me. Her mother…” He sighed and seemed to think better of whatever he’d been going to say. “My daughter means more to me than life itself.”

I softened at his words—and the vulnerable look on his face. “I know.” I shifted on my feet, my voice suddenly quiet. “I see how much you love her. But you’re wrong.”

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