“I’m fine. A little bruised. The thing is, Priscilla heard us. She stepped in and told him to stop, and now he’s gone.”
I blew out a breath, both relieved and worried even more.
“This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen, and now she’s involved. My daughter.”
“She’ll be okay,” I said, like I really knew anything about kids.
“What if he hurts her?”
If I weren’t paying extreme attention, I would have missed this. “Do you think he’s coming back tonight?” I asked, forcing myself not to say I was on my way.
“I don’t know. He’s never done this before. And Priscilla is locked in her room, all into TikTok like nothing happened.”
“It’s a defense mechanism, babe.”
The endearment slipped from my mouth, but I was caught up in some alternate universe. I knew all about that defense mechanism—knew it all too well.
“Let her be. She’ll come out and talk when she’s ready. Listen, I want you to relax. I know it’s hard,” I said, trying to speak calmly. “Hopefully, he’s gone for the night. Do you want me to come check on you?”
Why the fuck did I say that?
“No, no, that’s a bad idea,” Margo said, and her next words came out rushed. “Thanks for listening. I’ve got to go.”
Then, as quickly as she’d called me, she hung up.
I wanted to call back, but I didn’t. The phone rang again, giving me false hope, but this time it actually was my food arriving. When I finally sat down, my appetite fully gone, I sent Margo a text.
I’m here for you.
It was wrong and a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop my finger from tapping out the words.
After a mostly restless night’s sleep, I left whatever tension that remained on my Peloton bike and dressed for work. Looping the knot in my tie, aggravated I had to wear one, I made a firm decision to leave Margo in my rearview. Maybe I’d check on her, but this was a situation I didn’t need. It wasn’t my problem.
I drove to my office where the lawyers were waiting to begin the paperwork on the sale. We spent most of the morning going over clauses and addendums. When lunchtime rolled around, my assistant reminded me he’d made a reservation at Capital Grille for us. Lawyers liked that type of treatment, so I rolled down my sleeves, hit the head, and walked around the block with a bunch of tight-asses from both sides of the deal.
“Grantham. My assistant called ahead,” I told the host with a smile.
“Oh, sure, we have your round table ready. Is the back corner okay? Your assistant said you may like some privacy.”
“That’s perfect.”
Jeffrey got a little crazy at times with the requests on my behalf. It was only lunch ... not a Senate hearing. But he was a good assistant and put up with me.
As we walked through the restaurant, we passed the table diagonal from us, another round one that held a big group of loud talkers. I sat with my back to them, but their conversation still reached me.
“She does this shitty writing for a magazine and rides my coattails with the parents’ association. You’d think it would be enough. Now she’s got her boss, and I use that term loosely, involved with the school event, making her look like some big shot.”
Something about what he was saying pricked my mind, but I couldn’t place it. Besides, wasn’t this a business lunch? Why was he discussing his personal life?
“What’s next, big guy?” a lawyer from the other team asked me.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you, Craig.”
He guffawed, but I knew this guy. He’d represented another tech company I looked into buying, and he was always digging for an inside tip.
“Come on,” he whined.
I shook my head. “Let’s get this deal done first.”
