Single Dad CEO: A Billionaire Boss Romance

by Lara Swann

  “No, look, there’s an ice cream stand! Let’s get ice cream.” He points ahead of us, forgetting the rest of his story.

  Pity. It just seemed to be getting good.

  I shiver slightly, wrapping my coat a little tighter around me as the wind picks up.

  “It’s October, Gramps, isn’t that a little late for ice cream? It’s not very warm.”

  He grabs the wheels all of a sudden, spinning the chair out of my grasp, turning it decidedly toward the ice cream stand. I let it go without a fight, a slight smile on my face. Most of the time that we go out like this, he’s content to let me push the chair, but every so often he’ll obviously get frustrated about it and take over himself - even without there being ice cream at stake.

  It’s easier just to let him until he’s satisfied again and willing to magnanimously offer it back to me. Personally, I think that’s almost certainly when he gets tired, but I’m not going to risk saying so.

  “At my age, you take the ice cream when you get the chance. Who knows if I’m going to have the time to wait until it’s warm again, hmm?” He winks at me, rolling up to the ice cream stand while I’m left with an uneasy pang in my stomach.

  It’s not like this is the first time to say something like that and usually it doesn’t bother me, but right now…

  “Gramps…” I murmur, uncomfortable. I don’t want to have to think about his time or him not being around next Spring.

  “You young ones today, there’s no hardiness in you. Can’t even take an ice cream in the cold.” He shakes his head, then his eyes light up as he sees the selection of different flavors in front of him. “Yes, I’ll have chocolate, please.”

  I roll my eyes, giving into the bullying and getting an ice cream to join him.

  “Over there, I think.” He says, pointing toward a bench by the small pond. “We can have them there.”

  I take the hint and start pushing him again, ignoring the temptation to walk in that direction and leave him to fend for himself. With the ice cream to hold as well, that seems a little too mean.

  I set him up to the side and sit down on the bench, taking a tentative taste.

  Yep. Just what I thought. Cold.

  Gramps seems to have no qualms about that, already seeming halfway through his.

  Maybe he’s right, I think wryly, maybe older generations really are tougher.

  “What’s wrong?” He finally asks, belatedly picking up on my mood as his eyes narrow in my direction. “Has work been tough?”

  I shake my head, but don’t say anything else. It feels silly now to go back to his comment about not being here by the time it gets warm, or to give a voice to that needy part of me that’s scared of him leaving me too.

  Gramps frowns, though, finishing his ice cream with a quick bite or two, while I’m still just trying to keep on top of stopping mine from dripping everywhere. You’d think they wouldn’t do that, without the heat, but they seem to anyway.

  He scoots his chair a little closer to me, the concern obvious on his face.

  “Are you sure, Jessie? That boss of yours isn’t getting worse, is he?”

  I blink in surprise. I’d mentioned that I wasn’t sure how this would go when I first got promoted, but since then I’ve said nothing about Kenneth at all. There’s been nothing to say.

  “No, no, he’s okay…” I shake my head, then run a hand through my hair. “It’s all going fine.”

  Better than fine, actually, this last week.

  Sure, having Abbie around wasn’t exactly typical, but it’s been the most fun I’ve had since I moved back to Springfield. I can’t say I got quite as much work done as usual, but Kenneth certainly didn’t seem to mind, and I think she enjoyed her time there. I hope she did. She seems like a very special little girl.

  “Jessie?” Gramps asks again, and I realize I missed whatever he just said.

  I shake off the weird mood and lean toward him, trying to get back to how I usually am around him - our easy banter and the usual way I confide in him.

  “I don’t exactly know what I think of him yet.” I say with a small smile. “But I like his daughter.”

  His eyebrows rise. “His daughter?”

  “Yeah.” I say, shrugging. “He had some issues with his Nanny this week, so he brought her in to the office with him. It made the week a whole lot more fun - poor girl obviously needed some entertainment. She’s very sweet, though. Four years old.”

  It’s been hard to get her out of my head, actually. Or both of them, if I’m honest about it.

  Those moments I saw Kenneth with her…the way he seemed so different. How caring and sweet he was to her, even with everything else going on. It might be true what I said to Gramps - I still can’t work out what I think of him - but I can’t help feeling for him. For them both. It’s obvious how difficult it is raising her alone - and just how hard he’s trying.

  I wonder what they’re up to today. How they’re spending the weekend together.

  I can just imagine all the attention he’ll lavish on her now that the work week is over. How much fun they might be having. It’s a weird thought. Partly because just yesterday I was having some of that fun - and partly because thinking about Kenneth doing anything like that is…strange.

  Abbie seems to have totally blown my detachment out of the water - and she’s changed things, too.

  Kenneth isn’t just the guy who broke my heart when we were kids anymore. He’s also a father now.

  As well as my boss.

  It’s too many different things for my mind to wrap itself around, so I think I don’t even try.

  He can just be an enigma. That’s fine.

  “It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Bringing his daughter to work?” Gramps brings me out of the reverie of my confused emotions and I look back at him, confused.

  I thought he’d find it amusing, hearing that I got to play with a little girl at work this week, but the concern is still obviously there.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s probably not that uncommon for someone in that position - long hours, important meetings, and no one’s going to object to the CEO doing it, I guess.”

  “But it’s a bit…personal…isn’t it? For you to be meeting his daughter?”

  I frown. That’s something I might have been concerned about - should still be concerned about, really, except that I enjoyed it too much to keep thinking about it that way - but I don’t know why Gramps would mind.

  “What are you talking about, Gramps?” I finally ask, definitely getting the feeling there’s something else going on here.

  He hesitates, then finally comes out with it. “You know he’s been accused of harassment, this boss of yours? It was all over the papers this morning.”

  Oh.

  I wince. I saw the headline earlier, but I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.

  “Yes.” I say slowly. “I know.”

  “And?”

  “And…nothing.” I shrug. “It’s an accusation. From what the paper says, he also denies it.”

  And I really don’t want to be having this conversation.

  “Well, of course he does.” Gramps says, obviously exasperated. “So you don’t know anything about it?”

  “No.” I say firmly. “And I shouldn’t, either. It’s nothing to do with me.”

  Which is exactly how I want things to stay.

  I mean, sure, I knew there was some sort of lawsuit going on - I’ve been fielding enough calls from ExVenture’s lawyer and receiving enough documents about it to know - but I never knew the details. I didn’t know it was a sexual harassment thing. And I think I would’ve rather not known, too.

  The idea of someone accusing Kenneth of that…

  I shake my head.

  I might have gone into the job thinking he was a dick, but I don’t believe he’d do anything like that. His reputation at ExVenture might not be the best, but that’s because he can be ruthless and demanding when it comes to the job. I can see that
about him. But I’ve never heard anything about him trying to take advantage that way.

  I just can’t see it. He’s not sleazy or creepy or…anything.

  I mean, damn. The only thing he seems to think about outside of work is his daughter - and after seeing them together…yeah. I can’t believe it.

  Not that I should even be thinking about it like that. I’m his secretary. My job is to make his easier, not to add my own opinions to what he’s doing or what the company might be dealing with. The last thing I want is to have anything to do with this - or be put in a position like this, where I’m commenting on it.

  “And…he hasn’t done anything…inappropriate?” Gramps presses and I almost groan.

  “No, really. It’s all been fine. And…I don’t think he’s like that, Gramps. Really. It’s just a stupid eye-catching headline, that’s all.”

  That’s it. All I’m going to say. And only because this is Gramps and I can talk to him. Anything else - to anyone else - would feel like I was stepping way out of line.

  “With a lawsuit behind it.” He points out, leaning back with a small groan. “I’m just saying, where there’s smoke, there’s usually a fire. I just want you to be careful, Jessica, okay?”

  I nod slowly, even as something in my chest clenches tight. I know he’s only worried about me - he’s spent his whole life trying to look out for me - but I don’t like him thinking that way about Kenneth. Even if the whole thing makes me uneasy myself.

  “I will.” I reach out to squeeze his hand. “I promise. But for the record, I think you’re doing him a disservice.”

  “Well if I am, I’ll be glad to hear it.” He squeezes back and gives me the warm, sparkling smile I’ve known all my life, relaxing me a little.

  I know he doesn’t mean anything by the comments he’s making about Kenneth - he doesn’t even know the guy. At least, not these days. And from how this conversation has gone, I’m guessing he hasn’t made the link back to the boy I used to date all those years ago - this little discussion would have been entirely different if he had. I’m more than a little glad I don’t have to worry about all that.

  No, he’s not attacking Kenneth - he just wants you to be okay, Jessica. Same as always.

  I don’t even know why I want to defend Kenneth. I don’t know anything about what happened and I don’t exactly have a reason to jump in and stick up for him. Except my gut saying he wouldn’t do that.

  And since when was your gut right about Kenneth?

  That thought makes me squirm a little. If I was wrong back then, who says I’m not wrong about him now?

  I cut that thought off before it goes too far. This is why I shouldn’t be thinking about it - or involved at all. I can’t afford to have that sort of opinion about my boss.

  We sit there in silence for a few minutes, but I can still feel his gaze on me, the quiet scrutiny that always sees too much. I’ve appreciated it more often than not throughout my life, but right now…when I feel so confused about so many things…I’m not sure I want to have to face it.

  “So, if it’s not work…what is bothering you, Jessie?” He finally asks, not letting go of my hand. “You haven’t seemed yourself this week.”

  “I don’t know…” I trail off mid-denial, knowing exactly what he means and not sure I can keep it back any longer. Not sure whether I want to. I’ve almost mentioned it so many times this week, stopping myself at the last moment every time, but…I know I need to say it. “I got a letter…from Mom.”

  The strange mix of feelings I’ve had around Kenneth - and especially seeing Abbie - this week has been one thing, but as confusing as that is, it’s not enough to really bother me.

  My Mom, on the other hand…I’m not sure I can handle that alone. Even if I don’t know how Gramps will take it.

  He stiffens where he’s sitting and I can feel his tension through the hand I’m still holding. I watch a dozen things flash across his expression before he looks back at me carefully.

  “Did you…open it?” He asks, quietly.

  I shake my head. I haven’t worked out what I want to do at all. It’s just sitting there, on my dining table, staring at me. I tried hiding it away somewhere, so I didn’t have to think about it, but for some reason, that made it worse. At least if it’s out there, I can claim I’m dealing with it. Sort of.

  “And what…are you thinking?” He squeezes my hand and the mixture of sadness and gentle compassion on his face is obvious.

  It hurts me see it - I’ve never wanted anyone’s pity. I hate the idea that there might be a reason for it. But I latch onto it anyway, needing the warmth and support that’s always been there for me and not missing the way he immediately makes this about me, despite whatever emotions he’s now dealing with. She’s his daughter as much as she is my Mom.

  As far as I know, this is the first contact either of us have had for the last seven years.

  “I don’t know.” I finally say. “I can’t work it out.”

  “You don’t have to open it, Jessie. You don’t owe her anything.”

  “I know. I know that. But…”

  But she’s still my Mom. But it’s hard not knowing what’s in there, even if it could just be another thing to hurt me.

  Even after all this time, I still don’t know that I’ve given up on her completely.

  He squeezes my hand again and doesn’t say anything, giving me time to deal with my thoughts.

  “I don’t know.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m not…I don’t think I’m angry anymore, not really. I don’t…I didn’t think I cared, these days, before it arrived. But now…”

  I’m scared I still might.

  “You remember the last time…the way we left it, with her?” I ask softly.

  The last letter I’d had from my Mom had been just after my twenty-first birthday. She’d sent them every year - birthdays and Christmas - until I was eighteen. Occasionally she forgot, but they usually turned up eventually. After that, it had been more sporadic, but I was still expecting - hoping - for something on my twenty-first. The day I became an adult.

  As stupid as it was, part of me hoped she might even turn up.

  Yeah, even after all those years of disappointment, I’d never learned better. I think I thought it would be different, now that I was an adult. She wouldn’t have to deal with raising me, after all. Despite all the resentment I hadn’t quite dealt with, part of me fantasized about having some kind of relationship with her. Now that we were both fully adults.

  So when nothing came at all, it was like a punch to the gut.

  And when that letter turned up a week later…all that hope flared to life in me again. I almost instantly forgave her for being late - I never thought she was a particularly organized person, and it didn’t matter so much. Not compared to what I was hoping for.

  Instead…I got an upbeat ‘update on her life’ kind of letter, the sort she’d sent every so often, where she talks about all the things she’s doing and doesn’t seem to notice that it’s all without me. Her daughter. This time, it was all about the amazing man she’d just met and how they were leaving for a road trip across America. She didn’t know where they were going, when they’d be back, or how often she’d be able to write to me - but she wanted to tell me everything about the grand adventure she was about to embark on.

  No mention of my birthday. Nothing about coming home, or seeing me, despite her apparent willingness to give up her job and go just about anywhere else.

  It was all about her. As always.

  After that - after I’d spent the next few days in bed, crying my heart out - Gramps finally had enough.

  I don’t know exactly what he did or said, or how the conversation went - but he told me she wouldn’t contact me again, not unless she was ready to do whatever it took to earn the right to be part of my life.

  I knew the moment he said that, I’d never hear from her again. And the only thing I felt at that was relief.

  It’s what I wanted. I just w
anted an end to it. To write her out of my life for good.

  To finally give up on her.

  And it worked.

  All of the heartache about what she sent, or said, or did or didn’t do…all of that disappeared.

  I didn’t have to think about her anymore.

  And now…she’s back.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  I look up at the slight inflection in his voice, wondering what he does remember of that time - what it was like, for him. I’ve never asked before. I don’t know whether I really want to know. I know how much it hurt him, everything she did and how it affected me.

  I bite my lip.

  “Gramps…you told her not to write again, not unless…”

  Unless she wanted to be part of my life. Really wanted that.

  He nods. “That’s what I said to her.”

  I can hear the dubiousness in his voice, though, the same skepticism I feel.

  I let out an exaggerated breath, and finally say what I’ve been thinking this whole time.

  “So either that’s what this letter is about…or she’s totally forgotten the whole thing.”

  There’s more bitterness than I’d like in my voice, but Gramps doesn’t flinch away from it. He’s always understood - always been there to support me - and it meant more than I can ever say that it’s always felt like he’s on my side. Stupid and immature, maybe, but that’s what I was for a long time. Maybe I still am, even.

  He sighs. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “If she does want…I don’t know if I can throw that away, Gramps, whether I’d really be willing to cut her out forever. But…”

  But the kid inside me doesn’t know if she can deal with the pain of this being something else.

  He wheels himself a little closer, so our knees are almost butting against each other and the closeness makes me shiver suddenly, as if I’ve just realized how cold it is sitting here in the chill breeze.

  He notices it and, in a maneuver I didn’t think he’d be able to manage, pushes himself out of the wheelchair and onto the bench beside me. The next thing I know, he’s got an arm around my shoulders and - to my total horror and frustration - a few tears escape from the corner of my eyes.