Page 389 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Today’s the last day of the summer festival, right? The big party at that mansion? Why don’t we all go together?” she said casually.

I felt like she’d thrown a bucket of ice water on my good mood. “There’s not a single thing on earth I want badly enough to set foot on that man’s doorstep.”

“But—”

“He killed my father, Olivia,” I said bluntly. “I’m not going, and I forbid you and Catie to go.”

Sympathy filled her face. “Declan, I know what it’s like to lose somebody.”

“Not like this, you don’t,” I snapped.

She flinched.

I knew that was cruel of me, but I needed her to understand. “Your parents…it’s terrible what happened, it absolutely is, but it was an accident. For me, it’s different. Mark O’Rourke has never faced a single fucking consequence for what he did.”

Mark O’Rourke’s face popped in my mind’s eye, and my hands balled into fists. For a fraction of a second, my body relived what it felt like to be a young boy again, struck by the knowledge that my dad would never come home again.

I only relaxed when I reminded myself I was no longer a boy—and that Mark O’Rourke would pay for what he did, come hell or high water.

Olivia’s voice gentled. “I just thought, this is a community event. Something the whole town participates in. Don’t you want Catie to have a chance to experience it? Don’t you worry that you might be letting your hatred of O’Rourke build a wall between you and the rest of the town?”

“Is that meant to be a joke, Olivia?” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. I thought she knew me. “How are you not getting this? Mark O’Rourke was drunk. He was drunk and reckless, and he killed my dad. So no, I’m not going to his damn party.”

“Declan—”

“And no employee of mine is either.” The words came out with an edge. I was no longer Declan, the man who needed Olivia’s warmth as much as he needed the air to breath, but Declan, the hammer of retribution hellbent on crushing Mark O’Rourke.

Still, when I saw Olivia’s face, I realized I’d gone too far.

She didn’t look pissed. No, she looked terrifyingly calm. She took a deep breath. “I realize this is a sore spot for you, so I am going to forgive you for what you just said. But Molly invited me to go to the festival with her, and I’m going to accept. You might be my boss, but it’s my day off. And you don’t get to control where I go, or who I see. Ever.”

“Olivia…” To think of her in that monster’s house… no, I wouldn’t allow it. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t stomach it.

She slammed her dishes down on the counter. “Declan, it’s clear we’re not going to agree on this. I thought this would be a good way for us to spend time together. Obviously I was wrong. Enjoy your day with Catie.” Then she stormed out of the kitchen.

I stood there, transfixed, looking at the place where Olivia had just been.

Had I gone too far?

Was my hatred for the O’Rourke’s bigger than what I felt for Olivia?

I spent the rest of the day throwing myself into work, while Catie slouched in the beanbag chair and watched cartoons on one of my spare laptops.

I’d been going at it for several hours when my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from Anil. “I’m taking away your email privileges. I can’t believe you just called one of the most influential tech journalists an arse.”

“He is an arse,” I grumbled.

“Arse is a bad word,” Catie chimed in from the corner.

“Is that Catie?” Anil asked. “Catie, why is your uncle in such a snit?”

“He had a fight with my nanny,” Catie said.

I whipped my head toward Catie. “You heard that?”

Catie gave me a judgmental look. “You shouted and then she left. You keep doing that.”

“I didn’t….” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Look, it’s complicated,” I said to Anil. “But I’m right about this.”