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The term of endearment slips naturally from my tongue, taking us both by surprise. Her eyes widen and a gentle blush creeps up on her cheeks, which she tries to fight off but fails.
I keep looking at her, pleased by her reaction, and she finally relents. “It was my dad.”
My lips press together in a disapproving line. “What did he want from you?”
Lana presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, leaning back into her chair. “He said Fred was upset by my behavior, and he tried to convince me to leave my job. Well…” Her tone turns a tinge sour. “He ordered me to, actually. And then he went on to say he had met Matt, and he was a well-established man who could fulfil all my needs and I should give him a chance.”
Were these men dense?
“He knows what Matt did to you?” I ask slowly, and Lana’s jaw tenses. “I made that clear to him, and he said it was a mistake and I shouldn’t judge Matt on it. I—” She takes a deep breath as if to calm herself down, then says, “I don’t understand them. It’s bad enough they’re trying to force a man on me, but to defend his actions? I’m his daughter!”
Her last sentence is a half shout, and my own temper stirs at the callous way her family is treating her. “What did you say?”
“I told him to leave me alone. I said if Matt comes anywhere near me, I’ll file a harassment suit against him and take out a restraining order.” Lana quivers with rage. “I’m done with this. They’re not even treating me like a human!”
I unfold myself from the chair, then walk over to her until I’m leaning against her desk in front of her. “You don’t think it’s odd they’re trying to force this on you, despite your protests?”
Lana removes her hands from her eyes, blinking curiously. “What do you mean?”
I raise a brow. “Think about it. You could not be clearer on how you don’t want to pursue a relationship with this man, yet they’re trying to force this. Have they ever been adamant like this with any other suitor they’ve sent your way?”
She shakes her head. “They’ve been disappointed, but they usually give up. They’re being oddly persistent this time. Anyway, I told my father I don’t want to see him anymore for the time being.” Her expression is bitter with hints of misery she so desperately tries to hide. It tugs at my heartstrings, and I reach out to take off her glasses. She doesn’t protest.
“I told him if they kept pushing me, I’d pack up my bags and get a job so far away they would never be able to find me.”
I grab one errant curl that is straying away from her face in rebellion. “And where exactly is this new job going to take you?”
When she glances at me suspiciously, I smile innocently. “You could always come to London.”
“Isn’t it wet, cold, and dreary there?”
“What’s your point?” I deadpan, and her lips twitch. “I’ll consider it.”
“Come on.” I pull her to her feet. “I’ll buy you one of those crumpets.”
Lana lets me drag her out of her office. She’s so distracted she doesn’t remember her glasses, which I’ve deliberately left behind on her desk.
I take her to the small bakery, which sells good imitations of snacks from my home country. We then walk over to the park, sitting together on the bench as she chews thoughtfully on the unsweetened cake.
“It’s not bad. I was expecting something fancier.”
My lips curve. “It’s nice with afternoon tea.”
Lana’s eyes widen at that. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” She clenches the crumpet between her teeth and opens her bag, digging in it.
“What’re you looking for?” I ask curiously, seeing the barely concealed excitement on her face.
She draws out a small gift bag, then hands it to me, smiling broadly. “A friend of mine was in Manchester this week. She returned yesterday.” I open the bag, blinking at the contents as she continues, a little nervous now. “I remember you said you ran out of the Jasmine Earl Gray, so I asked her to bring two packets.”
I’m so taken aback by the gesture I don’t say anything, and Lana fidgets in her seat. “It’s the same brand you like. Is there—”
I grasp her hand, feeling a little overwhelmed. I’ve never received a gift like this—one with no intention behind it. I had mentioned this tea in passing, as a vague annoyance. This particular brand and type are only available back home. Ordering it online would be a drawn-out process I simply don’t want to undertake.
“Thank you,” I say, stunned.
She studies me. “You really like it?”
“Yes.” I shift toward her, gently kissing her cheek. She turns red as a tomato, the gesture making her fumble. “It was no big deal. I’m glad you like it.”
