“So a professional relationship, like I need to keep my tie on when I fuck you?” I teased.
Ivy’s eyes widened.
“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me like I’m a big, thick slice of wedding cake that that’s exactly what you meant,” I said, my breath hot against her neck. I pressed a kiss there then straightened my tie and suit jacket.
“Ivy?” The baker came back into the room, and Ivy jumped.
“Let me know when you want to continue our very professional discussion,” I told her with a wink.
* * *
Ivy wanted me,that was for sure, I decided on the way back to my office. Maybe not for a relationship, but then what had I expected?
Sebastian:I heard you were out with Camilla last night???
Sebastian:WTF dude!
Evan:It was just to get the property from her father. He wanted me to have dinner with her. I’m not getting back together with her.
Sebastian:Cool cool, I just thought she might have trapped you with promises of a hot and heavy evening then the next thing I know you’ll be planning a baby shower.
Evan:I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.
Evan:Besides, I’ve got Ivy.
Sebastian:I hope that’s a rebound and not a sex doll or an escort service.
I clenched my fist, suddenly irrationally angry at the perceived insult.
Evan:She’s not like that she’s a respectable woman.
Sebastian:Dude chill. She sounds like a great rebound.
That’s all she is, I assured myself as I walked into my hedge fund’s headquarters.
“Mr. Harrington,” the receptionist called after me. “There’s a guest in your office.”
“Is it one of the Svenssons?” I asked, wondering why she looked so nervous.
“No, it’s your father.”
Fuck.
My dad was waiting in my office. Actually, he was sitting in my chair at my desk, with his feet on my expensive imported Italian blotter.
“You have some nerve,” I told him.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” my father said, pulling a flask out of his coat pocket. “The sex wasn’t even that good. And if you think about it,” he said, swinging his legs off of my desk, “I did you a favor.”
“Camilla was my fiancée.”
“You can’t be seriously angry about this,” my father scoffed. “If anything, it’s your own fault for letting her act that way. And now you’re compounding the problem and making us all look bad by carrying on with this grudge of yours against me. I’m your father!”
“And I am paying for all your condos, your vacations, and your own daughter’s wedding,” I interjected. “Meanwhile, you’re screwing my fiancée behind my back!”
“Don’t you forget,” my father said, jabbing a finger at me, “that you wouldn’t be anything without me. That was my mother’s inheritance you used to jump-start this hedge fund. And I gave you a roof over your head and food to eat all through your childhood.”
“Congratulations. You did the bare minimum,” I told him bitterly. “You know, all through this, I was wondering, ‘What was he thinking?’ But as per usual, you were just thinking about yourself. I should just wash my hands of you. Get out of my office. I have to work. I’ve already wasted most of my day with Imogen and her wedding.”
