It’ll be cutting it close, but I’d rather have my way with Vanessa now, at home, rather than needing her again like this in the office.
But I seriously doubt that the way things are going so far.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vanessa
So my best friend Jase, apart from being a big fat virgin all along, just like me, also lost his virginity around the same time I did.
Wow.
I would’ve thought he’d tell me, though, but I can forgive him for that.
I’ve discovered for myself just how high a priority being with the one you love is over everything else.
But Jeez! Losing that huge contract in the process. I can’t believe Michael isn’t even that mad about it.
Michael hasn’t said those magic words to me yet, but I haven’t told him I love him either.
I figure it’s a no-brainer, considering just how well we’ve clicked and everything we do to each other every chance we get. Even almost missing his video call appointment with Jase but Michael’s organized enough to allow time for both.
We’re in high spirits by the time we pull into the office underground parking, and my hand slips absently into Michael’s as we head for the elevators.
I’m so relieved things have turned out the way they have. I don’t even blink when I see what looks like my Dad’s car parked near the elevators.
I’m still convinced he has no idea of what’s gone down with Michael and me, and I figure we can deal with that side of things when the time comes.
Which unfortunately happens to be right now.
“Oh no,” I exclaim as we near the open elevator. My Dad steps out from behind another parked car.
My grip on Michael’s hand wants to slip, to somehow try to keep up the charade that I’m just at work with my boss’s Dad. But Michael keeps a firm hold on my hand. Not an ounce of worry or tension anywhere else in his body.
I’ve only ever seen my Dad really mad once, and this is ten times worse than that time.
He’s not a small guy, but once he steps between the elevator and Michael, it’s clear that Michael stands head and shoulders over most tall, well-built guys.
Especially my Dad.
“Dad!” I exclaim, trying to sound like I’m not having a mental breakdown at the sight of him, but his eyes are fixed on Michael.
He knows. He knows everything…but how?
“You son of a bitch,” my Dad snarls, moving toward Michael in a way that tells us he’s not playing.
“Mr. Campbell, I presume?” Michael drawls.
Before I even become aware of Dad’s next move, Michael’s pulled me back and pushed his whole body forward. Putting himself between my Dad and me, who does the unthinkable.
It’s an angry punch, and my Dad snarls like a beast with a swipe that connects with Michael’s jaw.
But he doesn’t flinch.
Dad’s second and final blow lands square in Michael’s ribs, and I hear a sickening crack before my Dad groans, his hand crumpled as he nurses it instantly against his own body.
“You done?” Michael asks in a deep tone, standing over my Dad for a second to make sure that’s all he’s got before he turns to me.
“Are you alright?” he asks, the small cut on his face from my Dad’s ring drawing blood and making me gasp.
But I’m okay.
My Dad’s not.
“Are you crazy, Dad?” I scream at him, but all his fire’s gone.
His hand looks bad, but his eyes tell me more. They’re brimming with tears, and I can clearly see that he’s only acting out because I hurt him by lying to him. By not telling him the whole truth about what working late with the boss actually meant.
“I thought you were with Jase, Vanessa. But I called him this morning, and he said he isn’t even in town, let alone the office,” he spits, sounding more hurt with every word.
“And now I see you with this guy, hand in hand like he fucking owns you or something…,” he grits, and Michael clears his throat, dabbing the spot of blood from his jaw and examining it for a moment.
“He’s old enough to be your father, Vanessa,” my Dad says, raising his voice at me for the first time ever.
“I’m your father, and this shit ends now!” he says firmly, motioning me with his one good hand to go with him.
Not asking, but telling me.
“Now, young lady,” he says loudly.
But I don’t budge. And Michael doesn’t either.
“This guy,” Michael’s voice echoes through the suddenly silent parking garage. “Is Michael Hart, and you’re on private property. My property,” he informs my Dad, whose face turns ashen once he starts to realize just what he’s gone and done.
“I know you’re upset, Mr. Campbell, and I don’t think you want assault charges on top of trespassing and illegal parking on your slate, or do you?” he asks my Dad, leaning down a little closer.