Chapter 19
“Ihave a rather odd question if you don’t mind me asking?
” I say to Parker after our meeting. He’s sitting in a chair in front of my desk that he dragged from his brother's. His feet are propped on my desk, and his arms are tucked behind his head. He looks more like an unruly teenager than a businessman. However, it makes sense, given what I’ve been told about him.
He grew up with his mom, away from the business world.
He also got into modeling early, so I doubt he even has more than a high school degree.
“Not at all.” A bemused smirk graces his lips.
“Has Owen legally signed over all control of these charities to you?”
Parker cocks his head and doesn’t say anything right away. I fiddle with my thumbs, hoping I didn’t say too much or step over some boundary.
“We’re in the process,” he answers. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Seems I’ll be your assistant once that’s all said and done.”
Parker smiles when he realizes it’s probably true, even though I’ll be long gone by then.
“When do you sign the papers?” I ask, trying to sound as though these questions are innocent.
“Sometime next month. You eager to escape my brother, Miss Riley?”
“You seem far too confident in my impression of you, Mr. Mills.”
Parker laughs, and I can’t help but love the sound of it. “You didn’t answer my question, Miss Riley.”
“I am neither eager to leave nor eager to stay.”
Parker snorts. “That’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one.”
I shrug.
We’re interrupted by Owen and Noah, who both come barreling through the doorway and look as though they want to kill each other.
Standing, my eyes dart between them. “What the hell happened?” I ask. It’s only been an hour, and they are already fighting with each other.
“Mr. Mills here has the impression that he can still do whatever the fuck he pleases without the protection of his security.”
I raise a brow at Owen, who shakes his head but doesn’t offer any sort of explanation.
“We detected some unusual activity across the street from the office. My men are investigating, but Mr. Mills here thought it would be a great time to slip out the front door and—what?” He turns and addresses the question to Owen. “Get a better pastry from the coffee shop down the street?”
This time I laugh, and all three men shift their attention to me, which only makes me laugh harder.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, wiping away the moisture from my eyes. “That is just—”
“The pastry was for her,” Owen grumbles. “I couldn't care less about the goddamn pastry.”
“Oh, so this is my fault?” I practically shout across the room.
“I didn’t say that.” He grinds his teeth.
I take a deep breath. “Thank you, Noah. I’ll keep him here. Inform us of what you find.”
Noah nods and smirks at me before turning to leave.
Once the door shuts, Owen takes the pastry bag and flings it at me. It hits my chest and I fumble with the bag before catching it.
“Asshole,” I mumble, but I already have my hand in the bag, pulling out the best chocolate croissant in the entire United States. I take a bite and practically moan at the taste.
Owen and Parker watch me with amused curiosity. I flip them both off but mumble “thank you” to Owen.
He nods and falls into his office chair.
“You know, there are assistants to get you pastries, Mr. Mills. You didn’t need to go yourself,” I say.
He eyes me over his computer screen. “I wanted to.”
Parker finally stands. “I’m sure you don’t want my opinion—”
Owen cuts him off. “We don’t.”
Parker chuckles and walks to the door, stopping before it. “Owen, don’t be a dick and just tell the girl what’s really going on, will you?” He doesn’t give Owen a chance to respond before he’s out the door.
I whip my head in Owen’s direction and hear him sigh. He stands and makes his way over to my desk.
I ungracefully choke down another bite of my pastry, my curiosity piqued.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, watching my mouth as I swallow.
“And what am I thinking, Mr. Mills?”
“That I’m some sort of criminal.”
Oh shit. “Why would I think that?”
“Because every multi-billion-dollar company is committing at least one crime. More like fifty, though.”
I raise a brow. Owen appears nervous, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. Small motions indicate he's fiddling with something in them.
“Another reason my father hates me. I’m trying to weed out the nefarious activity,” he continues.
“Why is that something you needed to keep from me?”
“Because it has created more enemies than I can count. This security team should have been in place a long time ago. I put you in danger. I can’t stop thinking about that. My mistake almost killed you.”
He’s right. This also puts other players on the board, increasing the number of people who may be after him. Too many leads to follow. Too many players in the game. Too many villains.
Instinctively, I reach out and pull his hand from his pocket. He startles and looks down.
“What’s done is done. Perhaps it was the motivation to do what was needed,” I say.
His green eyes raise and meet mine, and guilt shadows them. “I don’t think I want you working for me anymore.”
The statement is so unexpected that I yank my hand free.
“You can’t mean that.” There’s a slight wobble to my voice now. A tremor I didn’t expect. A tremor that shouldn’t be there. Not if I was doing my job correctly.
He shakes his head. “I can’t have you be a part of this.”
If only he knew how much I already was.
“I thought maybe I could keep this all from you. That I’d have you do admin work, plan the gala. But, but…” He trails off, and I desperately want to pry the words from his beautiful lips. “I need you away from all this. I won’t put you in danger anymore.”
His words sting more than I want them to. I know him, though. Don’t I? This is his fear speaking. His fear for me. His need to protect that which is precious to him. Just as he’s trying to protect his brother and the charities.
Have I become that important to him?
I still don’t have the evidence I need, but somehow that isn’t why I’m upset. Maybe I don’t want to admit it to myself, but now that I’m being forced out, perhaps it’s time I face it.
He’s not the villain. He’s not who I’m after. Not anymore.
What’s worse is that Ella’s right. I am falling for him. I have already fallen.
“I’ll resign if you want me to, but at least let me finish the gala. You owe me that much,” I barely get the words out.
He doesn’t say anything for so long, I fear he won’t say anything at all. “Until the gala. But I’m assigning you private security until it’s over.”
I nod, not wanting to fight him on it.
His eyes dart to the pastry bag sitting under my left hand. “You going to finish that?” he asks with a half-smile.
I cock my head to the side. “Why? You want the rest?”
“Only if you don’t want it.”
I snort. “You’re impossible. You’re giving me whiplash. One second you’re getting me a pastry, then you’re firing me, then you’re asking to eat the rest of said pastry.”
Owen looks at me thoughtfully, and the corner of his mouth kicks up. I can’t help but stare. “It’s you, Miss Riley, who is throwing me off my game.”
“Yes, it’s all my fault.” I roll my eyes, aiming to stuff the rest of the pastry into my mouth when he swipes it from me. It instantly disappears behind his lips as he jumps up from the corner of my desk and steps back. He dramatically chews and audibly swallows.
“I’m going to kill you.” I stand up.
Owen races for the door. “You can later. I’m late.”
He laughs and hurries to his next meeting, not giving me a chance to protest or try to catch him.