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He moves his eyes away from me, and I have that feeling that he’s hiding something from me again.
“What did your father say about Ted Sloane? You never told me…”
He moves his focus to me.
“That night… When it happened…” I murmur.
He clears his throat, and he’s tense again.
“He didn’t have a reaction…” he says after weighing his words. “And that’s not a reflection on you. That’s how he is. He wouldn’t have a reaction if something bad happened to me.”
I appreciate his efforts to make me feel better by comparing me with him.
That doesn’t change what he just said.
Bob Walker––as Ted Sloane affectionately likes to call him––might just be a bit of a sociopath.
I didn’t expect him to wrap his arms around me and console me with kind, loving words, but learning that about his father gets me thinking.
The man must be more narcissistic and jaded than he looks.
“Do you think this thing will work…?” I ask quietly.
For a second, he can’t tell what I’m talking about, and I notice a flicker of panic in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Me working for you? Do you honestly think I can do this job? Learn enough to make it work?”
For a moment, neither of us talks.
“One of the things Ted Sloane had tossed in my face was that the men working in your firm would eat me alive. Although I doubt I’ll work close to them in any capacity, some men, like your father, will be unavoidable. And I’ll have to have some type of relationship with him. No?”
My words bring a shred of concern to his face, and I can tell from the stern expression that he’s thought about it himself.
Keeping Ted Sloane away from me is one thing, but staying away from his father is entirely different, and it’s not exactly easy to accomplish.
“Perhaps it’s too early to talk about my father…” he murmurs.
And that’s my confirmation.
It’s too early to think about anything serious between us.
How do we feel…? Other than that?
We burn with passion between the sheets, but our life circumstances are against us, and I feel defeated.
So, I don’t insist.
I don’t want to enter uncharted territory.
And I don’t want to continue the conversation either, so I straighten and start moving away when he stops me, sliding his fingers up to my shoulders before taking my face in his hands.
“Look at me, baby…”
Our eyes meet with renewed interest in being honest with each other.
He searches for an answer before speaking again.
