What should one feel for a father who’d abandoned him as a child? For a father who, before he’d done so, had been a raging alcoholic who liked to use his cruel words as well as his fists on his wife and children? The best thing he could’ve done was leave when I was eight years old. But then once he had, my mother had been forced to work two jobs while we relied on government assistance to help put food on the table.
For twenty-four years he was out of our lives without a word. Then, six months ago, he’d showed up on my mother’s doorstep and begged forgiveness. Evidently, he’d found Jesus, been sober for over a year, and was looking for redemption. More like a roof over his head with a woman to cook his meals. My mom had happily fit the role despite strong advisement against it from her two adult children.
I didn’t often entertain emotions, but repressed hatred toward the man had bubbled up unexpectedly with the phone call. Now that he’d died, she expected me to come home and pay my respects—as if we’d been a happy family all along. I couldn’t do it. Not for him. No matter how much she’d insisted he’d changed. Or how many times he’d called me over the last few months, wanting to make amends.
But I would travel home for her. Because despite the fact I now lived over two thousand miles away and had a very full plate at work, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the woman who’d sacrificed everything to raise me and my older sister. With one exception: forgiving the man whose actions were unforgivable.
I thunked my head down on my desk. This was not what I needed, now of all times. I should call Kendall back in to sort through logistics. But first I’d have to internalize everything as I often did, especially around her.
Although I suspected my assistant may want a friendlier work relationship, it couldn’t happen. I didn’t do emotional attachments at work. Hell, I hardly did them at all. This method had served me well; after all, I’d become the youngest equity partner in the history of Lowry and Anderson. Now with the goal of becoming a named partner for the firm, I couldn’t afford to have anything get in the way.
It was easier to keep my distance, both emotionally and physically, if I simply treated her in a professional manner, possibly erring on the side of being cool toward her. I’d thought she might be just as indifferent to me as I was to her up until the point she had to go and tell me to pick up the fucking phone.
Jesus, seeing the fire in her eyes and hearing her curse had been like a shot to my cock. One I had to ignore. I was her boss. She was my assistant. End of story.
Hearing Tabitha’s voice outside, I listened for a moment before deciding to use her as a distraction. Moving to the door, I took a breath and schooled my features.
Tabitha was a smart, driven, and successful income partner specializing in employment law. She was also blatant about wanting to be more than coworkers. I could almost hear her biological clock ticking every time she walked by. But it would never happen. Especially not with a woman who would probably eat her own young if it meant she could trade up from an income partner to an equity partner and earn more money.
I invited her in, but after thirty minutes of barely listening to her drone on about her latest case, I glanced at my clock.
“Sorry, Tabitha, I have a call.”
“I know the feeling. I need to get back to my packed schedule. I’ll probably be here late. Drinks later?”
“Thanks, but no. I also have a busy schedule.”
“If you want a break, you have my number.”
Yes, I did. And I’d never use it. Although there wasn’t a fraternization policy in place to preclude dating, in my mind there certainly should be. It was unprofessional and, worst of all, a threat to everything I’d ever accomplished. My rule applied to everyone with whom I worked. No exceptions based on title. A smart man did not sleep his way around the building he hoped to put his name on someday. “I do. Have a good night.”
After Tabita walked out, I sat at my desk unfocused. I needed to figure out what to do about next week and the funeral. And I required my assistant to help me do it, prompting me to ask her to come in.
She walked in slowly, her head held high, her shoulders back. I shouldn’t have noticed how snugly her new skirt fit her hips or how her silk blouse, although demure, gaped enough at the top two buttons to allow a peek of golden skin at her collarbone. I wasn’t sure of her heritage, but her skin appeared kissed by the sun in the most natural way. She was petite. Probably all of five foot two, but she had curves in all the right places. She was beautiful in such an unassuming, almost innocent way. And completely off-limits. Something I had to remind myself of several times a day.
“We need to talk about logistics for this next week.”
She licked her lips, making me quickly take a seat behind my desk and focus on my computer. It was a strategy I often used when she was in my presence. I avoided all eye contact and pretended I wasn’t attracted to her whatsoever.
“Of course. First I want to say I’m sorry.”
“For my loss or for telling me to pick up the fucking phone?” Did I mention I was often a dick? I justified it by my need to ensure there were no personal lines crossed or blurred. I couldn’t afford such a luxury in a place where my reputation and billable hours were everything.
She turned pink.
I shouldn’t have glanced up at her to witness the pretty blush on her face.
She took a breath, brushing her brown hair back behind her ear. I noticed she did this gesture as a nervous habit. “For both. I needed you to take the call from your mother, but I’m sure there were better ways to accomplish it.”
Probably, but seeing her stand up to me had been a very unexpected turn-on. Now it was time to reestablish our boundaries. “Yes, there were. Also you called me Liam.” And I’d enjoyed the sound of my name on her lips way too much. Once, I’d seen her applying strawberry lip balm, and it had made me wonder if she’d taste like it. “Let’s not make calling me by my first name a habit.”
If she was irritated, she hid it well. I imagined she had perfected this art since working for me. I wasn’t easy to deal with.
“Understood, Mr. Davenport. You mentioned the upcoming week? What do you want to discuss?”
To the point. She was always to the point. I respected the fact she didn’t waste time.
“I need to travel home.”
“Okay. When and where?”
“We can fly into Roanoke, Virginia, or Beckley, West Virginia. Whatever is the easiest route from LAX. From there, we’ll need a rental car.”
She wrote into the notepad she always carried and looked up. “We. Is someone traveling with you?”
This was quite possibly the worst or best idea I’d ever had. “Yes. You.”
I had the pleasure of watching her face flush again, this time with her big brown eyes going wide. Reason number ninety-two it was probably a bad idea to take her with me. But I had no other idea what else I could do if I hoped to get the deposition prep done while dealing with my family and the funeral. I had to have her assisting me.
“It’s your personal travel, and no offense, but I don’t think I should go with you to your father’s funeral.”
“For me it’s personal, but for you it’ll be all business. Are you not available to travel?”
She swallowed hard. “I’m available. But why would you want me there?”
“I’ll need you there to help me with the deposition prep. To get the office set up at the hotel. I can’t afford to lose time on this. As you’re aware, the days leading up are crucial.”
I realized talking nothing but business made me sound like a cold bastard in her opinion considering I’d only just learned about my father’s death. I could easily dispel her opinion by telling her the truth about him. But I didn’t. It wasn’t necessary for her to know about my personal childhood demons.
At the same time, knowing she’d be traveling with me immediately eased the knot forming in my stomach. It was a foreign feeling to rely on someone, but I knew without
a doubt she could handle anything I threw at her. She might not enjoy working for me, but she understood the importance of this deposition and its prep. She was damn good at her job.
“Right. Understood. What is the town we’ll be staying in?”
“The town is Tazewell, Virginia.” It was where I’d grown up, and I hadn’t been back since I’d graduated high school fourteen years ago. Instead, I’d fly my mother out to see me. Or my sister and I would meet her in the larger city of Roanoke.
“Okay. When do we need to leave?”
“Tomorrow.” My mother would need help with the arrangements. Since tomorrow would be Friday, I was hoping to get most of those tasks done over the weekend and then have the funeral soon after, making it possible for me to return to LA and have one uninterrupted prep week back here.
“So I’ll be working over the weekend?”
It wouldn’t surprise me to discover Kendall had a boyfriend and would have plans, but I definitely didn’t want to know about it. “Yes. Don’t worry. You’ll be paid overtime for your hours.”
There was temper in her eyes, but she tamped it down as always. Well, except for her earlier outburst over my mother’s phone call. “Will we return in time for the following weekend?”
“Yes. We need to.”
My answer eased the tension in her face.
Chapter Four
Kendall
I think I would’ve preferred to have been fired rather than go with Mr. you-need-to-come-with-me-across-the-entire-country-and-do-my-shit-Liam Davenport. But the truth was I needed this job. I needed the paycheck. Even once I earned my bachelor’s degree in business administration in a few months, there was no guarantee I would find a better paying job with the same great benefits. I’d been with this firm three years and made a decent salary even without my overtime hours.
My passion was to work as a chef or a caterer. But I didn’t have the luxury of entertaining such an idea. As much as I loved the cooking classes I snuck in whenever I could, the truth was most culinary jobs paid less than what I was making now. I quite literally couldn’t afford to follow my dreams when I had financial obligations.
Back at my desk outside Liam’s office, I forced myself to stop thinking about my future and take a deep breath. I had to make travel plans—for a place I’d never heard of. And prepare myself to fly on a plane for the very first time.
My super strength was being organized. First things first, I needed to book a flight. A half an hour later, however, I realized it was easier said than done. Flights were limited going into Roanoke and impossible from LAX to Beckley, West Virginia. But there was a bigger question. What client number did I charge this to? Most of Liam’s travel was client billable, meaning the client was charged for it. But this was a personal trip. So was he paying? Maybe for himself, but what about my ticket?
When I thought of having to ask him any questions, my head thunked down against the smooth surface of my desk. I’d reached my max of wanting to converse with him.
“It won’t help. Believe me, I’ve tried. We’re still going to Virginia.”
I sat up suddenly, startled by Liam’s voice. I hadn’t heard my boss come out of his office. And was that a spark of humor coming from him?
He reached a hand up to rub his temple, seemingly off from his usual cool demeanor. Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected by things as I’d unfairly judged.
“I have a question. How am I charging the travel?”
I waited. Waited for him to tell me to put it to non-billable or to a client which he’d then write off.
“Put it to my personal number, so I’m charged for it. Your travel, too.”
I don’t know why I was surprised. His integrity wasn’t something I’d seen was an issue, but there was always a first time a partner would abuse the system by trying to charge the firm for their personal travel. I found the richer the man, the more he seemed to take liberties with spending other people’s money.
“Roanoke is the only flight available from LAX tomorrow. There’s one stop in Chicago.”
“There’s not a nonstop flight?”
“Afraid not.”
“Are you sure?”
This. This was the reason I wanted a little doll of his likeness to jab pins into. Although I wasn’t familiar with the art of voodoo, I could fucking learn to jab a doll dressed in a suit for this guy.
“I’m quite sure. Unless you’d prefer to charter a private jet.” He’d done it before, but it had been for a client emergency and at their expense.
“No. It’s fine. What time do we arrive?”
“After four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“That late?”
Here is where I should’ve stayed quiet, but his obvious questions were grating on me. “There’s a three-hour time difference and a connecting flight, so yes. That late.”
“Fine, book it. And make sure to get an SUV for the rental car.”
“Okay. As far as hotels go, there’s not a lot to choose from. In Tazewell, there are two local inns and a bed-and-breakfast. The next town over has a Red Roof Inn?”
He simply stared at me. I imagined in his mind I’d just asked if he’d like to take a bed in hell. I wasn’t sympathetic as I was already in hell, knowing I would be traveling with him.
“None of those options will do.”
I figured he’d say as much. “There is a Hilton or Residence Inn in Blacksburg.”
“Blacksburg is an hour and a half away. It won’t do, either.”
Evidently, he wanted me to pull a Four Seasons out of my ass along with a nonstop flight while I was at it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Just figure it out.”
Right. Just figure it out. I loved it when my boss took the luxury of uttering those words, thus absolving himself of the problem. I prided myself on being savvy, but what the hell did he expect me to do?
“Also, I need all of the case files for the deposition to come with us.”
Although everything was available electronically, I knew my boss preferred paper copies he could hold in his hands. “I’ll prepare to ship them now.”
“No shipping. They are too confidential, and I’m not taking chances.”
“All of the files?” There were at least three full boxes. He couldn’t mean to take them all.
“The important ones.”
Which were? I could feel the heat rising in my neck. Did he mean the red folders which were confidential, or did he want the other witness testimony files, too? And if I couldn’t ship them, then what the hell did he expect me to do with them? I was about to ask him these questions, but he held up a hand.
“I’m done talking details, Ms. Tate. Just get it done. I’m heading home. Email me the itinerary, and I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport.”
With his departing words, he walked out. I had to keep myself from chucking my stapler at him. But then I remembered his father had died. Although he might not be displaying grief the way I would’ve expected, it didn’t mean he wasn’t upset. Plus, I liked my bright pink stapler too much to subject it to the abuse.
Chapter Five
Kendall
It would take three trips to get all of the boxes from the street up to my second-story garden apartment in Torrance. Since I had no idea which files were the important ones and Liam had taken shipping off the table, I’d had little choice but to bring every single one of them. I’d taken my normal bus from the office to class, then a Lyft car back to the office so I could load up all of the files into boxes, and grab another Lyft ride home, cursing my boss the entire way. Nothing like having to ask one of the janitorial guys to help me to the curb with three heavy boxes after nine o’clock on a Thursday night. I still couldn’t believe I was having to facilitate my boss’s unreasonable request.
At least the driver had been nice enough to unload the car and take the boxes to the bottom of my apartment steps. Too bad the complex didn’t have an elevator to help schlep them up. Which mean
t I was on my own.
When I opened the door, my roommate, Chloe, was studying sprawled on her futon sofa—which doubled as her bed. Our studio apartment wasn’t much, but it was in a safe area and seven hundred square feet. Since rent wasn’t cheap, we’d both compromised on a small studio instead of paying twice the rent for a two bedroom. It made things cozy, but considering all we both did was work, go to school, and sleep, it worked for us.
She glanced up, frowning. “What’s with the box?”
“Files I have to take with me tomorrow. I have two more boxes downstairs.” I flung my bag off my shoulder and set the box down by the door.
“I’ll help you.”
That’s what I loved about her. She was always offering to help. I’d met her through a Craigslist ad, and we’d instantly hit it off. Not that it was hard as the girl was the nicest person on the planet. I was convinced all Canadians must be. We had a lot in common given that she, too, was a working student, helping out her family where she could. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Wait. Where are you going tomorrow?” she asked as we proceeded down the two flights.
“To some small town in Virginia with my boss.”
“You mean your hot boss?”
She’d seen his bio picture when I’d first started working for him. Chloe had quickly given him a nickname.
“Doesn’t make him less of a dick, but yes. I’m traveling with him.”
We each took a box up the steps. Her with a lot more ease than me. Chloe was in amazing shape, having danced most of her life. I didn’t have a sporty or dancing bone in my body.
“You can be both hot and a dick. But you can’t be both cute and a dick. Like, no one says, ‘what a cute dick.’ They wouldn’t say ‘handsome dick,’ either. Of course I think he could probably be a sexy dick.”
Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1) Page 2
