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I’m beginning to feel like I’m more of a parent than he is. Even now, I hear his harsh voice snapping out half of what I assume is a phone conversation while I worry about his kid.
My hands tighten so hard around my mug that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. With a sigh, I slam it back down and go to check on Leo. His moon nightlight paints his room in a rosy glow, illuminating his innocent, sleeping face — and the tear tracks staining it.
Sighing, I creep in to cover him with the blanket, running a soft thumb over his cheek and wishing him a silent goodnight. I hate that he fell asleep feeling alone and angry. I hate that Roman allowed him to.
Without thinking, I leave and march up the stairs to his office.
As I pound on the door, I hear his conversation halt.
“Not now!” he shouts, ire spiking his words.
Yes, now, asshat.I grit my teeth and knock again, this time so hard the door trembles.
I won’t do this. No job is worth watching a little boy’s magic ebb because of his absent father.
A huff gusts against the door, and then it swings open. Roman’s face is like thunder, his glare as electrifying as lightning. An involuntary shudder runs through me as I match his expression. He may be angry, but I’m angrier.
He clutches his phone in his hand, lifting it slowly up to his ear. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you back.”
He presses the end call without tearing his gaze from mine. I feel trapped, like a cord is wrapped around my stomach, squeezing. I remind myself why I’m here and cross my arms over my chest.
“Can I help you, Madison?”
My scoff drips with venom. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not a man who likes to kid. Please tell me why you think it’s appropriate to interrupt my work when you should be putting Leo to bed.” He leans against the doorjamb impatiently as though trying to remind me of his towering height and broad physique. I won’t let it intimidate me, not even when the broken woman inside me wants to shrink back and run.
Oh, forget ‘asshat.’ He’s a first-class prick.
“Leo went to bed all on his own because he was upset that his father doesn’t spend time with him,” I spit out. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. “I have no problem working fourteen-hour days for you, Roman?—”
“As you shouldn’t. I’m putting you up in a luxurious suite and paying well above minimum wage for your services. Not to mention that flexible, sometimes long, hours were something you agreed to when you signed the contract.”
“I didn’t agree to this!” I jerk my finger toward the stairs and then, afraid that Leo can hear, lower my voice into an aggressive whisper. “I didn’t agree to watch you ignore your son. I didn’t agree to comfort him while he cries because you’d rather be in your musty little office, doing whatever it is that arrogant CEOs do!”
His brows slash into one another as he straightens up again. “Excuse me?”
“Leo needs you and you’re not here. Not even when you come home! Do you have any idea what that must feel like for him?” I’m seething now, heat warming my cheeks and rattling my entire body. I forget that he’s my boss, that I need the money, that this place makes me feel safe. I can only see Leo’s cherub cheeks dripping with tears, hear his whines as he asks me when his daddy will be home.
His hand snaps up, silencing me. “Do not pretend you know anything about our lives. Do not pretend, Madison, that you have any idea what it means to balance work with single parenting. You think you know best? How many children do you go home to at night?”
I fall back as the words hit me. That isn’t fair and he knows it. He’s trying to hurt me. “I don’t have children. I’m too busy trying to take care of everyone else’s so people like you don’t have to.” I jab my finger into his chest, feeling his hard muscles jump beneath my skin.
He grabs my hand roughly and I feel it like a flame against my skin. “That’s your job, sweetheart.”
I flinch.‘Sweetheart.’That tag. I hate that tag.
I rip my hand away and then myself. “No. My job is to keep your child happy. I can’t do that if you won’t help me try. I’m done.”
Twisting around, I make to walk away, but he captures my wrist, yanking my back. My chest collides with his, sending another jolt of fire through me, and suddenly, I’m fueled by more than just hatred.
That desire is back, a treacherous, wicked little butterfly flapping around my uneasy stomach. Why? Why am I attracted to him even now? Even when I despise him and everything he stands for?
His eyes turn dark, hooded, as they slip to my lips, and I know he feels it, too. I should push him away. I should run down the stairs and never come back.
Instead, I’m rooted in place. He has me imprisoned and I don’t know how to break free.
Suddenly, he grabs my face and kisses me.
