“Leave, worm, before I make an enemy out of my father,” Damon rumbled, and Antonio scuttled out of the room on his knees.
As he left the house, he felt the weight of the situation descend squarely onto his shoulders, and he began totruly realise the consequences of what he had done. It felt like an impossible task to regain his wife’s trust, but he knew that it was something he had to at least attempt. Even if they were never together again, he was about to be a father, and he had to set a good example for his child.
“To work, now, sir?” Simeon asked mildly, glancing at him in the rearview mirror as he slid into the car. He nodded silently, pulled out his phone, dialled a number and waited for an answer before ordering a dozen red roses to be sent to his wife’s office.
“You can’t buy her affection, you realise,” Simeon observed. “Mrs Blackwood has never really been one for fancy gifts or flowers. Better to take her to dinner, or go to an appointment with her – you know, for the baby. Something meaningful.”
“I’m well aware of that, but it costs nothing to let her know that I am thinking of her.” Antonio snapped. “If I don’t at leasttry, what sort of man am I?”
“The cheating kind, sir.”
Antonio looked at Simeon in the mirror, only mildly annoyed at his remark. He raised an eyebrow at him, and Simeon looked back at him with a cool gaze, before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Doeseveryoneknow what has gone on?” he asked, wondering why he’d bothered to ask when he already knew the answer.
“Yes, sir. Mrs Blackwood was very keen to make us all aware of what had transpired.”
“Fantastic,” Antonio groaned, slumping back in his chair. “I guess I’ll be eating my own cooking for a while, then.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, sir. We are, after all, still your employees. Killing you does us no good, you realise.”
“Doesn’t stop the chef from spitting in my dinner, or serving me something I’m allergic to.”
“This is very true, sir, but I have advised the staff not to do anything of the sort. After all, we were hired by Mrs Blackwood to serve you, and her word is law. We are to treat you with the same respect as we always have.”
“Thank you, Simeon. I appreciate that.”
“We’re not doing it for you, sir. We’re doing it because Mrs Blackwood told us to. Were it up to me, I’d be letting everyone gossip from here to New York, spitting in every meal you had, and putting rats in your bedsheets. After all, even the heir to the Blackwood family needs to know his place from time to time.”
“I’m sure you would, Simeon.”
The car pulled up outside Antonio’s office, and he stepped out of the vehicle with a relieved sigh. At least his colleagues would treat him as they normally did.
That illusion was firmly shattered when he walked through the front door and his secretary stalked over to him with a face like thunder, shoes clicking precisely on the floor as she walked. She grabbed his arm, frogmarched him over to the elevators and pressed the button for the top floor, where the company’s owner worked.
“The boss wants to speak to you.” Her voice was curt, her gaze absolutely furious, and her already rigid posture somehow even more rigid than ever. A horrible premonition crept over him, and he very nearly threw up in the bin.
“Should I pack up my desk and leave now?”
“I believe it’s already been packed for you, although you’re still employed … for now.”
“Let me guess … we’ve been moved to the top floor?”
“Well, look who’s a psychic,” Janice’s tone was incredibly derisory, and he closed his eyes as he realised what that meant for her.
“Did they at least say you could use the elevator?”
“They did, after I explained to them that forcing me to walk up those stairs would lead to my arthritis getting worse. The boss isn’t too keen on losing his best secretary overyourindiscretions.”
The rest of the elevator ride was uncomfortably silent, with both parties studiously avoiding each other’s gaze. After what felt like years, they finally reached the top floor, and Antonio headed straight for the owner’s office, feeling thoroughly defeated.
4
“Enter,” came a firm voice. Antonio immediately walked in and sat down, remaining silent. The owner, William Anderson, swivelled to face him, anger stamped on his weathered features. Despite his age, he was as limber as ever, and was arguably the sharpest mind in the building. Today, however, was not the day for compliments.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he snapped.
“I’m not sure, sir.” Antonio answered nervously. William slammed his fist onto the table, making his pencils jump on the desk and papers flutter nervously.
