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“I have a meeting.” I stride past her and push my office door open.
I know she is going to follow me in.
Her sneakers are quiet on the carpet.
She is not wearing a fancy dress or lipstick today. Instead, she is wearing her staple of a cropped T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Her honey-tinged curls are in a tight ponytail at the back of her head.
My eyes linger on her. I soak in the glossiness of her dark mocha-toned skin and the hint of gold that naturally lives above her cheekbones. Her stance is strong, but she is already beginning to chew on her bottom lip.
Keeping my eyes on her, I walk closer. Her lashes flutter rapidly. She keeps her feet rooted in place and yet her entire body eases back, away from me.
I step past her, shut the door and lock it.
The loudclicksends a skitter of tension through the air.
Keeping my back to her, I say firmly, “Did you think of the cost before you acted?”
Her breath becomes louder. It hits the air in rapid beats.
“If you weighed every option and still decided to take the one you did yesterday, I would have a better explanation for the board members. For the people who had to stay up all night with me, monitoring the responses to that damaging post.”
I turn to face her.
Her eyes are so large they seem to take up half her face. Her lush mouth softens, falling partly open.
“On the day I announced you as manager, the instructors gathered in my office. They demanded to know why I chose you when all of them are older, more experienced and have more degrees.”
The boldness leaks out of her eyes. She no longer faces me as an opponent, but clasps her hands together and stares a hole into the ground.
I assess her trembling fingers. “I told them I would stand by my decision to put you in that place. Because of you, Niko reclaimed the joy of learning the piano. I wanted the creativity, patience, and care that you showed her to become the standard. But now, not only the instructors, but everyone is doubting my words. They suspect me of making the wrong decision. Of being swayed by your youth or your beauty or something even more untoward.”
She pulls her lips into her mouth. Her nail scrapes against her thumb.
I take three steps toward her. “But I do not care what they believe about me or the decision I made. I care about who you really are.”
My phone chirps.
It is a reminder about the meeting.
I set a timer and show her the clock. “You have eight minutes.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Before I have to leave, you need to give me a reason to trust you again, no matter what anyone else says.”
She looks up at me with her big, heartbroken brown eyes. And I steel myself against the lashing urge to wrap my arms around her.
“I came in here with a speech,” her words are low, as if they are scraping against her heart, “I have an iron-clad defense, but the more you look at me like that, the more it feels like it won’t matter.”
“You have seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”
“I have a question first.” She licks her lips and looks up at me hesitantly. “Are you asking as Niko’s father, as the head of the foundation or as… something else?”
“I am whatever I need to be to hear the truth from you.” I glance at my watch. “You have six minutes and forty seconds.”
She licks her lips.
“I want you to tell me as straightforwardly as possible. So even the children who attend class can understand. I don’t want fancy words and I don’t want excuses. Be honest, the way you are when you are displeased with me.”
Her thick lashes drop, hiding her eyes from view. Her throat bobs as she swallows.
“You have six minutes and twenty seconds left.”
