tries to invite me every year, and every year I politely decline. Dealing with my father is always hard. Can you love and hate someone at the same time? Maybe this is like the whole wanting to cry ordeal. No, I won’t compare those two. Mr. Baxter has made me feel things I never want to forget. My father, on the other hand, not so much. There are so many things that I wish I could wash away from my memories. I strive to be a nice person, but he makes it so hard.
“Gah!” I shout.
Mr. Grumpy Pants jumps up and runs away from me. “Sorry,” I call after him.
I should get it over with. I know Mom hates him. She’s told me to let it go and move on but I still get a tiny bit mad for her. How he treated her wasn’t right. Even my grandmother on my father's side knew how he was. It’s why she left me the small trust for college. She wanted me to have a future, and she knew he’d turned into a selfish jerk so she did whatever she could for me. My father hated that she left me that money, and to this day he continues to throw it in my face--accusing me of robbing him under his nose.
I knew better than to listen to him, though. His opinion never really mattered to me. My father's real issue with my grandmother leaving me that money was that he wanted to be the one to put me through college. Not because he was doing it to be a good dad, but because he wanted the control over me. That’s how he operates. That’s why I don’t ask him for anything.
I pop up from my sofa when a knock sounds at my door. Could it be Mr. Baxter? Maybe he misses me or something. I smirk. Or maybe it’s because I forgot to do a handful of things on my to-do list before I left the office. Could he be here to punish me? My nipples grow hard under my thin shirt. I’ve already changed into my pajamas for the night. Why don’t I have cute pajamas instead of ones with kittens on them? Wait. These are cute. I meant sexy. Why don’t I own anything sexy? It doesn't matter. He’s here and I’m sure I won’t be wearing any pajamas for too long. That thought puts a smile on my face.
I swing open the door and come to a dead stop when I see my father. “Dad?”
He’s never been to my place before. I’m not sure what the heck he’s even doing here.
“You know how to answer a phone?” he snips at me before pushing past me to get into my place. “Of course you do. You’re Liam Baxter’s new PA. You know how to answer a fucking phone.”
“Nice to see you too, Dad.” I let the door fall closed behind him.
Mr. Grumpy Pants raises his hackles as my dad passes by. I smile at that little loyal cutie pie and mentally remind myself to give him extra treats. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, and it’s hard to keep the unhappy tone from my voice.
“He’s using you.” He throws his hands up.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say if anyone can spot someone using someone it’s him, because he does it all the time.
“Who?” I go with instead. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I try to live by that motto, but most people ignore it.
“Your new boss, Mr. Baxter. He’s using you to get to me, but we all know that it won’t work.” I know he sees the small look of shock on my face before I rein it in. “He’s after my company. He wants me to sell it to him and I’ve turned him down. This is his last-ditch attempt to get me to fold.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I know that he’s warning me for my own good but also to somehow benefit himself. Mr. Grumpy Pants rubs himself on my leg to show his support. I pick him up, because I feel awkward having my dad in my house, and I need to do something with my hands. My dad turns to walk closer to me, but my sweet boy hisses, stopping him in his tracks.
“You’re still my daughter, and your actions reflect on your family name. Remember that.” He gives