“Father,” I say loudly, and my father looks at me in surprise. Then he drops Gabrielle’s arm.
“There’s no need for her to run off,” he says to me and then smiles at her again. “I would prefer it if she stayed.”
“I have work to do,” she says stiffly, looking at the wall.
“Work?” He brings his gaze to me. “You’re working her too hard, Pascal. It’s her first week, and you’re only giving her Sundays off.” He twists toward her further and puts his hand on her shoulder. She eyes it, flinching a little. “Stay here with me, I insist. Perhaps I can take you for a drive today if your slave master will let you have the time off. Otherwise, we’ll do it tomorrow.”
Now I’m seeing pure fear in Gabrielle’s eyes, fear I don’t want her to feel. “Father,” I say again, my voice firmer. “Let her go so she can work.”
He eyes me like I’ve just ruined something spectacular for him, and the smile he gives me is as false as his teeth. “Do I get no say here? She is working in my house. In fact, I don’t recall you even discussing her hire with me. Rather impetuous of you.”
“Gabrielle,” I say to her, ignoring him. “If you could prepare the files for Monday’s meeting, that would be great.”
I’ve never discussed any files with her before, but she nods gratefully and then exits the room, her feet moving fast.
“Monday’s meeting?” my father asks, staring at the door for a moment and then looking back at me. “Which meeting is that?”
“The weekly meeting with the heads of the department,” I tell him. I do have that meeting every Monday, and he should know that.
“Perhaps you’re working yourself too hard too,” he says, striding over to me, fiddling with the newspaper. He’s dressed in his weekend outfit, which is always the same, a blue dress shirt and cream-colored pants.
“Someone has to do it,” I say.
“Yes. Someone has to. I know what you’re getting at, Pascal; you don’t think I’ve worked enough. Perhaps I never did. There’s a reason Luddie was around for as long as he was. But of course, even though he did it all, he did it all wrong. You have to learn, son, to delegate. Let someone else run the company. We’re the CEOs; we’re not expected to work. We pay other people to do that so we can sit back and drink and fuck whatever we want. That’s the life, you know.”
My nose twitches. It never sounds good when he says it.
“Now, was I interrupting something here? Because the two of you seemed awfully, well, close.” He sits on the side of the bed, and I know that’s a power dynamic thing, and I hate it. I’m lying down, naked, so I’m vulnerable and stuck, while he’s lording over me.
“We were talking,” I tell him, wondering if he saw my hand behind her neck, but I think we had broken apart by the time he came in.
“What about?” he asks, tapping the edge of the rolled-up newspaper against his thigh.
“Her maid duties. Is that all?”
The corner of his mouth twists into a smirk. “You’re awfully defensive about her, Pascal. Don’t go down this path.”
“And what path is that?”
“Fucking the help,” he says simply. “I know you’ve done it before.”
He’s not wrong. I slept with Charlotte in the beginning, before I realized she was overtly needy and couldn’t separate us from her job (not that there ever was an us), and I did with another maid in the past. I can’t help it. They throw themselves at me, and there are some things in life I just can’t say no to.
“That’s not what’s going on,” I tell him.
Of course, I wouldn’t mind if that were the case.
“Then what is going on?”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t know. Nothing. She’s new. My life is fucking crazy right now. There’s a lot to discuss.”
He watches me carefully and then nods. “That I understand. But I may want to borrow her sometimes, just so you know.”
His comment makes me uneasy, as does the glint in his eye. “Borrow her?”
“Yes. Sometimes Jolie is busy doing stuff for your mother.”
No. I don’t like this at all. I can’t even explain why, but I don’t. “Gabrielle is mine. I pay her salary from my pocket.”
“And I pay your salary. So therefore . . .” He frowns at me and then lets out a sour laugh. “You should see your