Lacing his fingers over his ample midsection, he leaned back into the leather chair. “Peggy,” he called into the front office, “go get yourself a coffee or something. Give us about twenty minutes. Bring me back a danish.”
“Yes, sir,” came through the open door. Hope’s replacement was obedient. A minute later the front door shut behind her and we were alone.
“Lock it,” he ordered Hope, who stared at him in silence. I didn’t know if she was too angry to speak or too shocked. Either way, I locked the front door myself. I had to agree with Edgar. Whatever was about to be said, we needed privacy.
Hope still said nothing. I wasn’t sure she’d welcome the touch, but the look in her eyes and the satisfaction in Edgar’s had me winding an arm around her waist, drawing her to my side.
“It’s done?” Edgar asked. “You’re married?”
“We are,” I confirmed. “How did you get Prentice to make your niece the queen of Heartstone Manor? What did you have on him?”
“Nothing you’ll ever know,” Edgar said.
Hope finally found her voice. “Why is there someone sitting at my desk?”
“You’re married, girl. You don’t need a job. It’ll take her some time to get up to speed, but she’ll do well enough for me.”
Hope just stared at him in mute horror.
“That makes things easier for us, doesn’t it?” I said, squeezing her closer to my side. Her eyes flashed up to mine in confusion. In comfort—and to keep myself from crossing the room to knock Edgar out cold—I dropped a kiss to her lips.
To Edgar, I said, “We were planning to tell you Hope was quitting, that she’s working for me now. Convenient that you saw it coming and already replaced her.”
Edgar leaned forward, his heavy brow creasing. “Working for you? What’s this about? She’s going to be at Heartstone Manor, taking care of the house and making babies. Raising the next generation of Sawyers.”
Hope made a choked sound in her throat. For a second I thought she might be laughing, but no. One look at her face told me that wasn’t amusement, that was rage. I waited for the explosion. It didn’t come.
Her voice arctic, Hope said, “Why?”
“Because he owed me,” Edgar answered as if that explained everything. Maybe to him, it did. Now I knew where Hope got it.
“And that’s it?” Hope pressed. “You’re fired, now go have babies?”
“Don’t get emotional, Hope,” Edgar said with a dismissive shake of his head. “I did my duty by you. Now you’re Griffen’s problem.”
Another choked sound from Hope. If she wanted to scream, to hit him, I wouldn’t stop her. Hell, I’d help. Hope disentangled herself from me. Turning for the door, she said, “I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she was gone.
Disappointed, I looked at Edgar. Beneath his smug satisfaction was a thread of unease. Good. Maybe he had a conscience buried somewhere in there. “You’re a complete asshole,” I said.
I moved for the door.
“Griffen.”
I stopped, curious to hear whatever he had to say.
“If you want to keep everything that just fell into your lap, I suggest you get her pregnant as fast as possible. Until then, you’ve got a big, fat target on your back.”
I didn’t need to hear any more. All I could think about was getting back to Hope. I found her exactly where she’d said she’d be—sitting in the passenger seat of my car, hands folded on her knees, face still blank. I got in and started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot before asking, “Are you okay?”
Hope turned shattered eyes to me as she said, slowly and deliberately, “No, I am not fucking okay.”
“What do you—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she shrieked. “He fired me? I’ve done everything he ever asked. Went to the school he picked, got the degree he wanted, sat at that desk and took his orders every single fucking day, and he fired me?”
“He—” I started, but she cut me off again.
“And then he sold me to you—to Prentice, but it’s the same thing. Like a piece of god-damn chattel. This isn’t the fucking fifteenth century for fuck’s sake.”
That was an impressive number of ‘fucks’ in a short amount of time. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard Hope swear before this. She hadn’t as a teenager. Not when I knew her.
“What did he say after I left?” she demanded.
Thrown by her anger, I didn’t think when I said, “He told me to get you pregnant as soon as possible.” Wrong answer. I was distracted by the flash of her eyes, the flush in her cheeks.
“What?” she screeched. “He told you to what? Impregnate me? Like I’m a farm animal? I’m a fucking virgin! I’ve never even had a boyfriend! He never let me date and now he wants me knocked up! Why? Did he tell you why?”