Chapter Sixteen
Mia
Dr. Arnold Adams is a formidable man. A full head of hair, despite nearing his seventies, his beady eyes are sharp and roam the room until they meet mine. His mouth curls up into a sneer, which leads Alfie to squeeze my hand tightly. It’s not a comforting squeeze; it’s a warning.
“Son,” he says, his eyes flitting down to our joined hands.
“Dad, this is Mia.”
He eyes me up and down, bored, before turning back to Alfie.
“You said you were going to cut her loose.”
A sharp sting in my chest has my hand recoiling from Alfie’s, but he has the grip of a toddler trying to rip the hair from your scalp. He’s not letting go.
“Believe it or not, Father, just because you suggest something, doesn’t mean I’m going to do it. I’m with Mia, and I do not intend on breaking up with her.”
I lift my chin an inch, willing my lip not to tremble. I know men like this. They’re so sure they’re the best in their field, they do whatever they can to shit on the next generation instead of mentoring them.
“Are you going to be a working mother?”
I stare him down, his cold gaze penetrating. “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”
“An Adams is always my business.”
“We’re a modern couple. We may go for the double barrel. Or Alfie may take my surname. We haven’t decided yet, have we, honey?”
Alfie’s smirk tells me he’s not unhappy with my retort, so I take the opportunity to go a little further.
“You know we were even thinking of combining our names. What do you think? Do you prefer Sincladams or Clairadams? I’m leaning toward Clairadams myself.”
“A favorite of mine too,” Alfie chimes in.
“Listen here, young lady, you may think the Adams name is a mockery, but I don’t. I won’t have my son marry a scheming gold digger just so you can receive your alimony checks for the rest of your life,” he spits.
“Do you know, my mom said the same thing about Alfie? She was worried he was using me for my money. I’m from Texas originally.
Big oil money, you see. Turns out our ranch was sitting on an oil field, and my daddy sold out about ten years ago.
Overnight millionaires they were. My mom thought Alfie might be looking to cash in, but I assured her—" I lean in as if to tell him a secret, “—he’s just using me for my body.”
His nostrils flare; the hairs bristling out of them need a trim. Maybe I can convince Alfie to send him a nose trimmer tomorrow.
“Really Alfie? This is how you’re conducting yourself in public?” The elder Dr. Adams leans down as if trying to make me cower.
Alfie places one arm around my shoulder and the other he pulls my hand furthest from him, twisting me so I’m almost snuggling into his chest. It’s defensive, protective, and it has me thinking very unprofessional thoughts about the man I’ve just insisted on only being friends with.
“You insulted Mia the second you came over here—” Alfie puffs.
“And you insulted Alfie,” I add.
“Mia is my girlfriend, and you will respect her as such or find yourself one son down.”
I peek up at Alfie, his deep brown eyes thunderous. He must have inherited them from his mom; his dad’s are a gray-blue.
“It’s okay, Alfie,” I whisper, the situation escalating. He’s defending me so vehemently. I don’t feel it’s deserved, considering I’d purposely antagonized his father.
“No, it’s not!” he shouts at his father, his finger poking at his chest. I stiffen before he turns to face me, cupping my cheek. “It’s not, love. It’s fucking rude, and believe it or not, the old goat does know better. Don’t you, Dad?”
“Talk to me when you’ve grown up, Alfie.”
“You’re not going to get an apology from him,” he whispers as his father stalks away.
I grin. “I guess. I won’t be getting a job with Arnold Adams, will I?”
“No. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“How did you turn out so wonderful?” I ask before I think about how the words might come across. I had just told him he should date other people if he’s ready for a relationship.
“My mom is great. You should meet her sometime.”
“I can see where you get your sternness from, though.” I laugh.
His eyes roll, pulling me closer to him by my waist. “Is that what you want, Mia? Someone stern?”
My eyes flit between his. I like him stern, but the last few weeks he’s relaxed more and more around me and it’s been…
nice. Like he trusts me with his private life when his privacy is so important to him.
He’s supported me, helped me, encouraged me.
Stern isn’t really the right word for him.
He’s deviously considerate, as if he knows more about you than you realize.
He has all these Mia facts stored away, and he pulls them out of the filing cabinet at exactly the right moment.
It’s both unnerving and exhilarating. He’s so accomplished, and I’m just starting out.
And I won’t lie, being defended like that has me squirming in the best way.
His hand sits heavily on my waist, and I don’t want him to let go.
“Nah, I think I like you just as you are, Alfie Adams.” I pull at the lapels of his tux and run my hands down his chest, my eyes dropping down to his lips. One kiss would be enough to scratch the curiosity itch I’ve been feeling all these years, wouldn’t it?
He hums in approval. “And what’s that?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Maybe. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone’s opinion so much before,” he murmurs, swaying me to the music as his hand strokes down my hair.
“You’re incredibly caring, with your patients, but with your friends too. You joke around, but you love them.”
“I do. Despite how annoying they are.”
I smile. “You want the best for everyone, even if that means putting yourself in batshit crazy situations.”
“Those situations were all very calm and controlled until you entered the picture, Miss Sinclair.” His voice is low and gravelly against my ear.
“But were you having fun before?”
He pulls back, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Fun?”
“Yes, dummy. People do it to bring some joy into their lives. It’s good for you; you should try it more.”
He stares at me a little longer before he runs his thumb over my bottom lip like he’s considering my suggestion.
The ballroom is buzzing, drinks are flowing and the lights seem to have dimmed, creating an illusion of warmth and coziness in the grand room.
Maybe it’s not the room at all. Maybe it’s my proximity to Alfie, my boss, my friend… maybe he’s something else entirely.
His hands move and his fingers reach the back of my head, intertwining with the stands of my hair.
It’s slow, methodical, his thumb kneading in the soft flesh of my neck, like he thinks I might jump back if he moves too quickly.
How can I tell him it’s all I’ve thought about for months, years?
After everything he knows about me already, everything I’ve told him, he’s right.
I am scared. I’m practically panting at being so close to him and we’re at a networking event.
How much power do I think he has that he could do something here?
My palms start to sweat as they grip his lapels, I can feel eyes watching us from all around the room.
The silence between us is torturous. Just when I feel like I can’t stand a second longer, he speaks.
“For the record, I’m only having fun with you, Mia.” He takes a shaky breath. “You might think you’re not ready to explore this, but I am. I hope you know that.”