Forbidden Grumpy Boss (Damaged Daddies #2)

29. Leah

Chapter twenty-nine

Leah

My stomach feels like I swallowed a bag of rocks and washed it down with a gallon of regret. I’m not sure that simile makes sense, but that’s how I can best describe my feelings. Okay, I feel like a wilted flower in a storm. I don’t think that’s any better.

I roll over in Silas’s bed. The silk sheets are cool against my skin, but they do nothing to ease the bloated, queasy feeling that’s been gnawing at me since I woke up. God, why do I feel like this?

The room is quiet, too quiet.

Silas is at the studio, probably surrounded by protesters yelling his name like he’s some kind of villain. And Caleb’s off to school, dealing with his own set of battles.

I should get up, shower, and shake off whatever this is. Maybe it's stress—more like my life imploding, thanks to my father—and less like some kind of flu.

I don’t know.

I drag myself out of bed, the floor cold under my bare feet, and head to the bathroom. The mirror shows a version of me I barely recognize: messy hair, face a little paler than usual, and eyes slightly puffy from lack of sleep.

I shower, hoping the hot water will rinse away the nausea, but no such luck. I still feel off, like my body’s playing a sick joke on me, and I’m the punchline.

After I get dressed in black high-waisted jeans, a cropped white sweater, and my favorite brown ankle boots, I call Penny. She picks up on the second ring, her voice full of energy, like I didn’t just wake her.

That’s Penny for you. Always on .

“You up?” I ask. Stupid question, I know.

“For you? Always.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Uh-huh, so you’re finally awake from your little romantic sleepover with Daddy Dearest?” she teases, and I can practically hear her smirk through the phone.

I groan. “Don’t call him that. It’s weird.”

“Fine, fine. But you can’t pretend you didn’t just spend the night in his king-sized bed while the world thinks he’s some kind of . . . predator. Gross.” Penny sighs dramatically.

“Thankfully, I don’t care what the world thinks,” I lie through my teeth.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, you think the video will work?”

Penny advised that I shoot a video denouncing the rumors surrounding my and Silas’s engagement. It’s a somewhat obvious idea that crossed my mind when I first saw the news, but I wasn’t sure about it, so I shook it off. But Penny’s convinced it’d work.

“I think it’s the best thing to do. You’re being tried in public court. What better way to defend yourself than to air your truth?”

I nod along as she speaks. “Well, I’m not being tried. Silas is being prosecuted. They think I’m a victim.”

“Which couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“Right?” I sigh. “How was your date?”

Penny’s squeal immediately takes me aback. “It was sooo good!”

“Damn, really?”

“I’ll be at the office in like one hour to help with the video and give you the deets . ” She stops. “Or should I come to Silas’s place, or are you coming home? Shit, I don’t know your movements anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” I indulge her. “I’ll be at the office, though.”

“Great, great. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks, Pen. I’ll see you soon, too.” I reply, my voice thick with exhaustion.

“I hate it when you call me that. It sounds too much like you’re calling me a dick.”

We share a laugh, and when I hang up and grab my bag, I mentally prepare myself for what’s about to go down at the studio.

***

The protests outside Silas’s studio are a mess of angry faces and obnoxious signs.

I step out of the car, and the crowd notices me immediately, their chants growing louder. My jaw clenches. Seriously, do these people have nothing better to do? They’re demanding “justice” for something that never happened, all while my father probably sits behind his desk, sipping on scotch, and watching the chaos unfold with that smug look.

He orchestrated this, no doubt. It’s his favorite pastime—trying to control my life.

I rush inside the studio before I say or do something that’ll make the headlines worse. I hold my head high as I pass the lobby with watching eyes and whispering tongues. People stare at me like I’m some sort of circus freak, whispering behind their hands like I can’t hear them. But I do.

Every. Single. Word.

By the time I get to my office, I’m ready to pull my hair out. The nausea from this morning hasn’t gone away, and the added stress is worsening it. I collapse into my chair and put my head on the desk just as Penny bursts in.

“Wow, you look . . . awful. In a cute, bloated sort of way,” she says with her trademark bluntness, tossing her bag on the couch and setting a small pink carton on the desk.

Penny’s wearing a casual white crop top with high-waisted jeans and a brown leather jacket slung over her shoulders, her blonde hair in effortless waves. She looks like she just stepped out of a Pinterest board.

“Thanks. Just what I needed to hear,” I mutter, not lifting my head.

She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “You okay? You’re a little off today.”

“I feel like crap,” I admit, sitting up. “This morning was rough. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Penny raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

I snort. “Yeah, right.”

But she’s looking at me like she’s dead serious. “You’ve been sleeping with Silas, right? You feel sick, you look bloated—”

I cut her off, shaking my head. “Penny, no. That’s not it.”

She shrugs, flopping down on the couch like she owns the place. “Whatever you say. But if you start craving pickles and ice cream, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I roll my eyes. “What’s in the box?”

“Doughnuts for my favorite girl,” she says as I whip the box open.

“Ugh. You’re a lifesaver.” I grab one glazed doughnut and sink my teeth into it. My stomach growls with appreciation as I chew. “I’m freaking starving,” I say with my mouth full.

Why am I so hungry?

“Pace yourself; you’re eating like a castaway.”

“I feel like a castaway.”

By the time I’m done eating three doughnuts, which is weird because I’m not such a fan of doughnuts, I feel even more bloated. Penny’s staring at me like she’s studying me, and I’m suddenly avoiding her gaze.

What?

I hand her my phone. “Let’s just get this video done, okay? I need to clear Silas’s name before this gets any worse.”

I’ve already written a short script, just a few sentences to set the record straight. I glance at it again, making sure it sounds right.

“Ready?” Penny asks, pointing my phone’s camera at me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. “Ready.”

“Action!” she yells like a legitimate director, which makes me chuckle.

“Don’t do that, Penny.” I stifle a chuckle and shake my head.

“What?” She tries to swallow her laughter. “Action?”

“Don’t make me laugh, okay? You know I need to look solemn for this. The last thing people want to see is me smiling like I’m not taking this seriously.”

Penny raises her hands. “Okay, okay. I won’t make you laugh. You ready?”

I nod, and she hits record.

“Hey, everyone. This is Leah Grayson. I’m here to set the record straight about the rumors circulating in the media. Silas has never, and I mean never , done anything inappropriate to me. We met when I was an adult, and our relationship has always been consensual. Someone started these rumors, using his influence to manipulate the narrative, and I won’t let him destroy Silas’s life or mine. I love him, and we’re engaged. So, please stop believing the lies and let us live our lives.”

I stop recording, my heart racing like I just sprinted a mile. Penny looks impressed.

“Damn, girl. That was good,” she says, returning the phone to me. “You could give Meryl Streep a run for her money.”

I nod, posting the video before I can second-guess myself. Then, I shut my phone off and toss it on the desk. “That’s done.”

Penny grins. “Let’s hope it works. In the meantime, I’m going to chill here. Your Wi-Fi is amazing.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I watch her settle onto the couch with her laptop. As much as I love her, I need a break. I glance at my computer and see Silas’s schedule pop up. A reminder that in precisely one month, he’s supposed to be in Rome for a film festival. My stomach churns.

Rome. Where he met me, where he lost his brother, Ezra. No wonder he’s been on edge lately. It’s not just the scandal or my father’s attack, it’s the anniversary of Ezra’s death.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s Caleb.

“Hey, are you free?” he asks, his voice low. “I don’t want the driver to pick me up today. So, I—I was thinking . . . Um.”

“What is it, Caleb? You can tell me anything.”

“There’s a new issue of Spider-Man that just got released, and I don’t want to order it.”

I frown. “You want me to get it for you? I could pick it up by—”

“Can we go get it together at a comic store?” he spits it out like he fears rejection.

I smiled, touched that he had called me. “Yeah, of course. I’ll come get you.”

Penny waves me off as I leave the office, muttering something about still staying for the Wi-Fi. I head to Caleb’s school and pick him up, and soon, we’re at a comic book store on the East Side, flipping through the latest issues.

For the first time today, I feel fine. I look out the windows of the scanty store, out into the street, and there are no protests, no paparazzi—just people going about their lives. No cameras pointed at me or angry faces yelling about my situation.

“How was school? There’s been no more trouble, right?”

Caleb shakes his head without looking away from the comics he’s browsing. “Billy’s trying to be my friend. He offered me a cake today.”

“Did you eat it?”

He ignores me. Instead, Caleb looks at a shelf of graphic novels, his face serious. “Do you think villains are born bad? Or do they just become bad because of things that happened to them?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question and the change of topic. “Uh, I think, maybe a little bit of both? Why?”

He hesitates, his gaze fixed on a comic. “Is my dad a villain?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My poor bloated gut. I can’t believe he’s even thinking that. My phone buzzes: Dad. I ignore it.

I kneel beside him. “No, Caleb. Your dad is not a villain. He’s a good man. People just, they like to twist things. And my dad? He’s a manipulative, bitter man who’s trying to ruin Silas’s life.”

Caleb looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine. “Why’s your dad like that?”

I don’t get the chance to answer because my phone buzzes again—this time with a voicemail from my father. I let it go to voicemail, not ready to deal with whatever new scheme he was concocting.

“Sorry,” I say to Caleb, “I need to listen to this.” I retreat to the corner of the store and put the phone to my ear to listen to Dad’s message. His voice is stern, with a little quiver.

“Leah, you need to come home right now. It’s important. A matter of life and death.”

My heart skips a beat. What the hell does that mean?