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That’s when I remember he never said he wanted to improve his reputation. He said hisdadwanted him to improve his reputation.
“Wait. Is your dad not going to name you as his successor unless you do this book? Even with everything else you’ve done for this company?”
Luke’s jaw clenches. “It’s a business decision. He’s doing what he believes is best for the company.” His words are calm, but his tone is like a door slammed in my face.
He clearly doesn’t think this topic is up for discussion.
But my journalist instincts are perking up again, sure that understanding the relationship between Luke and his dad will help me understand how and why Luke became the man he is.
A smarter woman, one with self-preservation, would have stopped talking by now.
But sometimes getting the story means taking a risk.
“He’s yourdad,” I point out. My parents don’t entirely understand my career, but if it was in their power to help me succeed, they’d do it in a heartbeat. “Don’t you think your happiness should matter more to him than the company’s profits?”
“That’senough,” he growls.
“My job is to understand you,” I say, stubbornly. I can practically feel any goodwill I’ve earned today going up in smoke. But I can’t stop pushing. “I can’t understand you if you won’t answer my questions.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you understand me,” Luke says, his voice cold and disdainful. “It’s a book, not rocket science. Write the damn thing, stick to the approved topics, andstop asking me personal questions.”
“But—”
“From now on, we stick to interviews in my office,” Luke snaps. “It will help you remember your place.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped.
Remember your place.
Whosaysthat?
He’s acting like he’s the lord of the manor, and I’m some uppity servant who dared to think I was his equal.
I grit my teeth, trying to stay professional. “If you won’t talk about anything personal, it’s going to be a boring book.”
“That’s not my problem,” Luke snaps.
“You short sightedidiot—”
“Maybe I should say this in a way you’ll hear.” He grabs both dessert boxes out of my hands.
“Hey!” I gasp.
He looks at me. Then he very deliberately drops my dessert in the trash.
Well, technically his dessert since he paid for it. But I’m not in the mood for technicalities.
“That is sojuvenile,” I say.
“No, what’s juvenile is your inability to follow simple guidelines.” He scowls. “Rewards are for employees who follow my directions. So show up on Monday with a better attitude or I swear...”
“What? You’ll send me to bed without dessert?” I mock. “Spank me for being naughty?”
Luke’s eyes flare, and a hot thrill races through me.
Have I pushed him too far?
Why is that idea so exciting?
