Dammit, I wasn’t going to be turned away.
Sure enough, Fairbanks’ assistant met me as I stomped into the office atrium on the fourth floor. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kardok, but Mr. Fairbanks is terribly busy?—”
I brushed past her, heading for the largest door. “Not too busy for his daughter.”
She made a squeaking noise, but stopped objecting, as I flung open the door and glared at the older man who was looking up from his desk. Rex Fairbanks looked surprised as any male who had not expected to find a large, angry orc in his doorway on a Friday morning, but was not, notably, afraid of one.
“Kardok,” he said, not unpleasantly, nodding toward the chairs across from him. “Sit down.”
“I’ll stand.”
Rex studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with the unhurried ease of someone who had conducted a thousand difficult meetings and found none of them particularly problematic. “Suit yourself.”
I crossed my arms. “Your daughter is breaking up with me.”
Something shifted in the older man’s face—not surprise, not satisfaction. More like a man who has just been handed a piece of information that doesn’t fit the shape of what he thought he knew. “Is she?”
“Because of the League compliance letter.” I watched his face carefully. “Threatening the Terrors’ franchise rights.” He gave no indication he knew what I was talking about. “Because of a conflict of interest between her relationship with a player and your ownership of this facility—fuck me, you saw the letter, right?”
Fairbanks’ blue eyes—so like his daughter’s—had widened slightly, and now he gave a little shake of his head as I realized the truth.
“You didn’t know,” I breathed, some of the anger leaching out of my shoulders.
The older man looked confused—not the reaction of a man whose plan was playing out. The reaction of a man who had just discovered his daughter had been carrying something heavy entirely alone.
“No.” The word came out clipped. He picked up his pen and set it down again, which I suspected was what Rex Fairbanks did instead of swearing.
“I didn’t know. But it’s logical—I forgot that part of their old-fashioned rules, or I would have found a way to address it when you two began seeing each other.”
Address it.He’d known we were together and hadn’t objected. He was saying he would have tried to help?
I frowned, confirming. “She didn’t tell you about the letter?”
“She never does.” He said it quietly, almost to himself, and the frustration in it wasn’t directed at me. He turned his chair slightly toward the window, looking out at the city.
“She’s been solving problems alone since she was twelve years old. I let her, because she was sogoodat it, and because it was easier than examining why a twelve-year-old felt she needed to.” He was quiet for a moment. “That’s not something I’m proud of.”
I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide my feelings from my expression. I didn’t want to like this male, not with the grudge I’d been holding since last night.
But…he hadn’t known.
This hadn’t been his idea.
And he regretted the way Lila thought she had to be perfect for him? Dammit, I appreciated that.
Rex turned back to me. He looked at me the way he’d probably looked at a hundred men across a hundred desks—measuring, assessing, making a decision about what he was seeing.
I held his gaze and let him look.
“You came here to fight for her,” he said finally. “Not to ask my permission.”
“Hells, yes. I don’t need your permission to date Lila, and neither does she.”
“You’re right.”
No, no, I wasn’t supposed torespecthim.
My scowl deepened. “She thinks I’m good enough. I don’t, but it doesn’t matter whatIthink, or what you think. All that matters is what Lila thinks.”
