Page 41 of The Emma Special

Eww. No. James got all the tact, and this guy got all the sleaze—and of course he didn’t remember her. She crossed her arms, refusing to shake his hand.

Garrett raised an eyebrow and turned to James. “You were hiding this one. Hoping to keep her for yourself?”

James was currently in the running for best actor because he gave nothing away. If he was rattled by Garrett’s forwardness, no one could tell. “How much this time?”

“Twenty thousand. Cash is best,” Garrett said.

James turned to his computer. “I’m not giving you twenty grand.”

Emma coughed. Twenty thousand dollars? That was more than she’d ever made in a year, and this guy wanted James to just hand it over! She was stuck—frozen. Couldn’t move her little legs no matter how hard she tried.

Garrett threw his hand in the air. “There you go. Greedy as always.”

James looked at his brother as if this was a normal day in the office. “If you need money, go get a job.”

Garrett slammed his hand against the side of the chair sitting opposite James’s desk. The heavy chair toppled against the one beside it, sending a loud crack throughout the office.

Emma jerked back and covered her mouth with both hands. What was happening?

Garrett’s face was turning red. “You’re Dad’s puppet. You get the money because you always did whatever he wanted!”

Lumbering steps came from the hallway, and Emma backed up to the wall. She should leave. She should call the police. Or animal control. Somebody.

Mr. Moore, Sr. barged into James’s office. His hair and suit held the distinguished air of a gentleman, but the redness that covered his face said he was ready to burst.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Moore asked Garrett, closing the door behind him.

Great. Now she was trapped. Trapped in family drama that wasn’t her own for once.

Garrett pointed a stiff finger at James. “Your golden child just won a case worth half a million, and he’s too greedy to share with the class.”

Whoa. Half a million? She’d heard James had won the case, but… half a million?

Mr. Moore crossed his arms over his chest. “Just because he’s helped to fund your drunken escapades doesn’t mean he’s obligated to continue.”

The family secrets were pouring out like water, and Emma was pinned to the wall like a butterfly.

Garrett swiped his arm over the desk, sending everything from the surface flying across the room.

Toward her.

Emma turned her shoulder to shield her body against the onslaught and covered her face. Something lightweight hit her side and a heavier something struck her ankle.

None of it hurt, except the same fiery sting in her knee at the turn. The quick movement was instinctual, and she’d forgotten all about the ache in the heat of the dramatic scene.

“Emma!” James was in front of her, shielding her from… what? The papers, stapler, and pens that had been on his desk a moment ago were now littering the floor at her feet.

She winced as the fire shot up her leg, but she bit back the grimace. “I’m fine. Right as rain.”

“You’re not.” The wide-eyed look on James’s face morphed into an expression she’d never seen him wear before—rage. James whirled on his brother and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Garrett scoffed. “Why don’t you make me?”

It took one step. One step for James to be close enough to grab Garrett’s arm and twist it behind his back like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

A string of profanities burst from Garrett as James led him across the room, opened the door, and walked out of it, shoving Garrett toward the building exit.

Mr. Moore hung his head and let out a sigh that came all the way from his rounded belly. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’ll have Joseph write up a formal report. He’ll want your statement.”