Page 13 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

Madison made a sound like a choked laugh. “That’s not an unreasonable assumption,” she murmured.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” I said, abandoning my post to focus on my daughter. “That’s just how Americans cook. See, it’s just a little burned.”

“That looks a lot burned,” Kenna said, her lower lip wobbling.

“You’re right,” I agreed, pulling her into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, sniffling into my shoulder. “How about we eat some of the not burned toast? Then you can call Aisling and wish her a Merry Christmas.”

“Okay!” Kenna perked up and settled back on her stool as I dished her up a plate of french toast and berries from the fridge. I settled in next to her with my own plate. With the hob safely off, Madison joined us, and despite the awkward silence we lapsed into, I couldn’t help noticing the small smiles Kenna kept flashing her. She seemed very pleased to have guests.

“What’s Princess going to eat?” Kenna asked, suddenly very concerned.

“I have some of her food in my bag,” Madison said. “She likes liver and kibbles.”

Kenna giggled and wrinkled her nose. “That’s yucky.”

“Princess thinks it’s delicious.”

Kenna stared down at the dog who’d been annoyingly pawing at my heels for the last two minutes, probably hoping I’d drop a hunk of french toast. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. As Madison had said, the bread was finite until the roads were clear.

“Done!” Kenna announced, pushing her plate away and turning those big, blue eyes on me. “Now can I open presents?”

I looked at the still-full plate. “A few more bites,” I said, trying to reason with her. She pouted at me.

“You’re going to need energy to do all that unwrapping,” Madison said.

Kenna considered this for a moment before accepting the logic and stuffing another wad of french toast into her mouth. “Done!” she said with crumbs dribbling down her chin. “Can Princess come open presents too?”

I stiffened. What a horrible idea. It was bad enough that I’d had to put up with them since last night. “I don’t think⁠—”

“Princess loves presents,” Madison said, cutting me off.

I shot her a glare over Kenna’s head. She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Your move.

“Daddy, please!” Kenna said, folding her hands together, giving me that pout I was seldom able to resist. “I want to show Princess what Santa brought me.”

“Fine,” I bit out.

Princess yipped as Madison met my stare over the rim of her water glass. Her lips twisted, entirely too pleased with herself.

I bit down on my french toast. Hard. This wasn’t about presents.

Madison thought she could play games with me. But this was my house, and she’d forgotten we were playing by my rules, and I didn’t lose.

5

ALISTAIR

The playroom was covered in Christmas wrapping paper after Kenna gleefully ripped open all her presents. I could hear it crinkling as Kenna crawled around, chatting happily to Madison about everything Santa had brought her—specifically the toy kitchen where she insisted on making pretend snacks for Princess.

When I bought the place, I’d purposely chosen the room attached to my office as her play area so I could keep an eye on her while I was working. It usually wasn’t an issue to have her next door, but that blasted dog kept barking the entire time, and it was loud.

I curled my fingers against my keyboard as Princess started barking again. That high-pitched yip was going to haunt my nightmares. I finished the email and fired it off to my administrative assistant, Alfie.

He’d messaged me an hour ago saying the latest start-up company I’d invested in was requesting an urgent meeting. I’d told him I could jump on a call in the next ten minutes if it was that urgent, but at this rate—bark, bark, bark—I wasn’t going to be able to hear a damn thing.

Plus, I’d come off as unprofessional, and that was absolutely the last thing I wanted.

Jessica’s embezzlement had already tanked my reputation. Everyone blamed me for not seeing it coming, for giving her the access to my life that let her get into the accounts. Hell, the whole reason I had to spend those awful months in court was because my own board sued me for negligence and dereliction of duty. The criminal courts had no interest in me—it wasn’t illegal to be a sad bastard who’d fallen for a scam artist—but the court of public opinion was more than willing to crucify me, and the board members thought they could sue to get their pound of flesh. I won the case, but it didn’t make things any better. There was no healing the divide between the board and me, and resigning was the only option that made sense.