Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Simon
I’d just finished my meeting. As I left the conference room, I saw my father walking toward my office.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.” I stepped into my office, removed my suit coat, and sat behind my desk.
My father shut the door and sat across from me with an expression I knew all too well. He looked amused, and that was rarely good news for me.
“What?” I asked, as he didn’t say anything.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
He brought his ankle up to his thigh and placed his hand on it. “I met Bella this morning.”
“You what?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I met Bella. You know. Tall, brunette, pretty. Apparently lives in your penthouse.”
“I know who Bella is,” I sighed.
“I would hope so, considering she’s living with you.”
“She’s not living with me,” I said firmly.
“Does she sleep there?” He stared at me.
“Yes.”
“Does she use your kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“And her belongings are there?” he asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“Then I believe that’s generally considered living with someone,” he said.
“It’s only temporary.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Until October 31st. No exceptions.”
“She told you about the rules?” I narrowed my eyes.
“She did.” He nodded.
“Of course she did.” I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my jaw.
“All ten of them.”
“Okay. Before you start, I had no idea she was there. Daisy told her she could stay while I was in Los Angeles.”
“So I heard,” he smirked.
“I came home and found a complete stranger in my penthouse.”
“And your first instinct was to create a list of rules, son?”
“No. My first instinct was to throw her out.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“I don’t see what’s funny here,” I said.
“Nothing. It’s just very you.”
“And what the hell does that mean?”
“You always needed rules.”
“That is not true.” I pointed at him.
“You made a list with ten rules for a woman who’s staying with you for a month.”
“Only because she’s proven she can’t be trusted without them.”
“Has she?” His brow arched.
“Yes.”
“Is it because of Harold?” he asked.
“What?” My brows furrowed.
“Harold. I met him.”
“You met the pumpkin? Jesus Christ.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What did she do?”
“Nothing.”
“Dad!”
“She was taking pictures of him.” He smiled.
“Of Harold? Where?”
“In your living room.”
“I specifically told her last night no more lifestyle shots in my home.”
“Before or after lecturing her about the poor life choices she’s made?”
“She told you?”
“Yes,” he smirked.
“In my defense, I apologized to her, and she accepted it.”
“You apologized?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Dad.”
“I’m not making a big deal out of it. I’m just trying to remember the last time you admitted you were wrong.”
“I didn’t say I was wrong.”
“You apologized. People don’t normally do that if they’re not wrong.”
“I apologized for how I said it.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “So you’re still an asshole. Just a remorseful one.”
“Jesus Christ. Did you come here to specifically piss me off?”
“No. That’s just an added benefit.” He smiled. “I like her.”
“Wow. Wonderful,” I said.
“She’s funny, and she doesn’t seem particularly intimidated by you. Which is probably good for you.”
“Whatever you’re about to do with this, don’t.” I pointed at him.
“Do with what, son?”
“Bella.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
“You’ve been sitting there this whole time with that look on your face.”
“What look is that?” he asked.
“The one you get when you think you know something I don’t.”
“All I know is that I stopped by your penthouse this morning to pick up some documents and found a beautiful woman in your living room.”
“She’s only there for a month,” I said. “No longer.”
“Yes, son. I know all about the expiration date.” He smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re sitting there explaining an awful lot for a man who supposedly doesn’t care.”
“I don’t care. I just want this month to hurry up and end so she’ll leave.”
“Right.” My father nodded.
“Did you come here for an actual reason?”
“Yes. To let you know I’d met Bella.”
“And you’ve told me.”
“And Harold,” a smirk crossed his lips.
“Get out,” I said.
He laughed as he stood up from his chair. “This is going to be an interesting month.” He opened the door and left.
My phone rang. When I glanced at it, I saw my best friend’s name appear on the screen.
“Christian.” I smiled, leaning back in my chair.
“Top of the day to you, Simon.”
“Are you back? How was London?”
“London was great. I flew into New York last night. Are you too busy to meet your best friend for lunch?”
“Never. Name a time and place.”
“Gramercy Tavern at 12:30. Will that work?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you then, buddy.”