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If he’s thinking that I’m taking advantage of a young woman, maybe he’s right. I keep telling myself Sydney is wise beyond her years, but isn’t that what every old creep tells himself as he chases a girl half his age?
And Mitch doesn’t even know about Sydney’s history with my son or my newly discovered history with her father. Though, he might remember that Silas and I have a connection…
Mitch and I didn’t start working together until years after I left Watson Global, but we’ve discussed my time there. Silas is one of our many mutual connections. I worked for Silas, and Mitch, being nearly a decade older than myself, is one of his cigar club buddies.
I was actually invited to join the cigar club last year. They usually only allow men over forty, but Mitch said he could sneak me in a year or two early. I deferred, citing my deep loathing for the stomach-churning smell of cigar smoke. I held firm, even when he insisted the networking opportunities were worth a little nausea.
Now, I’m so glad I did. A closer connection than I already have to Silas would further doom my chances with Sydney.
What chances? She’s probably on her way out the old servant’s entrance right now, asshole.
The voice of panic is loud, but I know that’s not Sydney’s style. She’s not the kind to run when things get hard. She’ll face the problem, head-on, and probably tell me flat out that she can’t see me again.
I have no idea what I’ll do if that happens, but I already knew that our “one night” bargain wasn’t going to hold. At least, not for me. Being with her feels too damned right.
I have a good life, great friends, and a job and hobbies I love. Until Sydney, I believed that was enough. I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t lonely or longing for the kind of soul-deep connection I was certain had passed me by. But maybe it hasn’t. Maybe all my previous attempts at happily-ever-after failed because the universe was waiting to bring me into the same orbit as this incredible woman.
The one strutting into my living room in shorts, a t-shirt, and three-inch heels…
“Okay, first things first, is Mitch actually having a heart attack?” she asks, holding up her cell. “If so, I’m calling 911 and the rest of this can wait.”
“No,” Mitch grumbles, his elbows braced on his knees. “But it’s still early days. Give me a few weeks of keeping a secret like this from your father, and I’m sure I’ll be having chest pains on the regular.”
Sydney comes to stand on the other side of the coffee table, her hands propped on her hips. “You aren’t going to be keeping anything from my father. Because you never came up here this morning. You stayed downstairs and Gideon came down to meet you. You never saw me, I never saw you, and no one jumped to any wild conclusions.”
Mitch looks up, arching a brow. “Wild conclusions? You’re wearing his clothes, Syd. What other conclusion is there? And you can’t Jedi mind trick me. I’m too old.”
“You’re not too old,” she insists. “You’re the perfect age to realize that discretion is the better part of valor, and that what my father doesn’t know, can’t needlessly upset him. Additionally, you’re old enough to realize that I’m an adult and capable of making my own decisions without input from my father or anyone else.”
“Your own mistakes, you mean?” Mitch nods toward me, but still doesn’t shift his gaze my way. “He’s old enough to be your father, kiddo. He has a son your age.”
“I know,” she says, without missing a beat. “Adrian and I went to school together. We’re friends, actually. That’s how Gideon and I ran into each other again last night. And yes, the age gap is an issue. It might even be a dealbreaker, but that’s for us to decide. Until we make that call, I would appreciate you keeping this to yourself. Consider it a favor to an old friend.” She paces past him toward the door before spinning back with a calm smile. “I do hope we can be friends, Mitch. I’ll be head of Watson Global in a few years, and I know that business relationship has always meant a lot to you. Though I confess, I didn’t realize you worked with Gideon until this morning. But now that I do, I’m even more excited to put future retrofitting projects in your company’s care. Assuming, of course, that we’re on the same page this morning.”
Mitch’s jaw drops, but there’s new respect in his tone when he says, “Are you waving your business dick at me, Syd?”
She smiles, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe. A little dick-waving isn’t out of order at times like these. A friend taught me that. And my father taught me to leave a negotiation while I still have the upper hand. I’ll see you both later. Have a wonderful morning.” She looks up, meeting my gaze, a softer note in her voice as she adds, “Call me? I’ll leave my number at the desk downstairs.”
“Absolutely,” I promise.
Then, before I can offer to walk her to the door or tell her what a badass she is, she struts through the entryway and shuts the front door quietly behind her.
When she’s gone, I turn back to Mitch.
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”
My lips hook up. “You don’t know the half of it.” I nod toward the door, deciding the news that my son used to date Sydney can wait until we have coffee. And eggs. I’m suddenly starving. “Come on. I’ll buy you breakfast and confess my sins. My treat.”
“I don’t know if I can handle more sin,” he says, but he rises to his feet and smooths a hand over his impeccably gelled hair. “But I could eat. The diner on Eighteenth Street, though. None of that French shit.”
“None of the French shit,” I promise. I’d rather save that to share with Sydney anyway.
Sydney, who I will absolutely be calling. And likely, seeing again. I have zero self-control when it comes to this woman.
I suppose there’s a chance that talking things through with an old friend will bring me to my senses, but I doubt it, not with her powerhouse of an exit still fresh in my mind.
I’m beginning to think that if anyone can make the transition from dating a son to dating his father without causing a scandal, it’s Sydney.
twenty
