“Yes.”
“Are you prepared to handle that conversation with Harrison?”
She sighs, picking up her mug and holding it with two hands. She brings it to her mouth, blowing on it before taking a sip.
“I’m trying to be.”
“Regardless of us, you should have that conversation with him. I know my son. He’s relentless at times. If you don’t lay it out in black and white, he’ll find any chance he can to sneak in.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t like the way he talks to you.”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Harrison speaks to you as if you are a piece of property to be owned. As if you don’t have a voice and never will. He isn’t giving you the opportunity to grow. It’s like he wants you quiet and compliant. He doesn’t want to hear no.”
“That sounds like Harrison,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.
“Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing, Seraphine. You are doing so well in voicing your needs and wants. Don’t let him ruin that for you.”
She smiles, putting her coffee down. “I won’t. I promise.”
I nod. “When will you speak with him?”
“I’m going to dinner with him tonight.” The words fall from her mouth quickly, almost like she knew I would not be happy to hear it. I’m not.
I grit my molars, trying to keep my temper in check. Getting all caveman over her won’t help anything. I don’t want her tofeel like she has to do something or can’t do something because of me.
“Good luck.”
She smiles, then it turns into a laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” I ask.
“Your mouth said good luck, but your face said something very different.”
“Oh? What did it say?” I ask, humored.
She leans back, crossing her legs. “That if he puts a hand on me, you’ll have something to say about it.”
I lean forward, speaking in a low tone. “If anyone puts a hand on you, I’ll have something to say about it. I will keep my hands to myself, for now. But that won’t last forever. Handle this situation with my son, so I can taste you again.”
Her cheeks go pink, and I sit back in my chair, imagining how sweet it’s going to be when she gets this handled and I can enjoy her spread out on my desk for lunch.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Seraphine
I don’t have time to stop home before meeting Harrison for dinner. Elliot’s final meeting of the day ran late, and I stayed to assist him with keeping notes. I felt it was the right thing to do, as he’s done so much for me, and this is my job after all.
Elliot prepared a car for me, since I still won’t let him buy me one. My car is still at my father’s house, and I haven’t bothered to go get it because I like getting chauffeured around—sue me. I refused to let Elliot drop me off, because he offered. That would only cause issues. I’m not entirely sure what is going on with us or where it will go, but I do know that not a single part of me is ready for Harrison to find out about us. I can deal with questioning looks we may get from strangers over the age difference, but I cannot handle comments from people I know, talking about things they don’t understand.
And Harrison will never understand this. Hell, I hardly understand what it is. Until Elliot and I figure out what’s going on,no one needs to know. We can stay happy in our little bubble all by ourselves—with lots and lots of sex, becausewow. Who knew sex could be likethat?
“Miss Sinclair?”
I meet the gaze of the man who called my name. He’s standing by the security desk, dressed in an all-black get-up, finished with a chauffeur hat.
