Chapter Twenty-Seven
After Saoirse had napped and they’d had lunch, they were spending some time in the den.
When she’d lived here before, Saoirse had loved this room, often reading for hours on one of the squishy couches or lying on the floor swinging her feet in the air while doing her homework. It was comfortable and homey and it felt right that she should be here with him. It felt like he had a family again, and he hadn’t realized he’d missed it.
What he hadn’t missed was page after page of bad news—people being terrible to each other, marginalized people being taken advantage of and abused, all the dangerous and awful things that happened in the world were too much and he wanted to keep Saoirse safely tucked away from all of it.
Arthur tutted at the paper he was reading. It was old school, yes, but he much preferred the crisp newsprint spread between his hands even if he had to wash the ink off his fingers when he was done. There was something viscerally familiar and satisfying about it.
Saoirse looked up at him from where she was building blocks on the floor at his feet. “What, Daddy?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, princess.”
But his little darling’s mouth turned down at the corners and he knew she wouldn’t let it go until he explained. Unless of course he spanked her for being nosy and then fucked her over the ottoman. But this would actually concern her when she was back in school and hell, for the rest of her career, as much as he hated to think about it.
“This is big girl talk, okay?”
Saoirse nodded, put down her blocks and rested her head on his knee.
Oh, yes, such a big girl, he thought, fondly exasperated.
He didn’t want her to think about these things, to be honest, but despite her recent cooperation and downright embrace of letting herself be little, she wouldn’t do this forever. And a small, selfish part of himself didn’t want her to.
He adored his sweet little princess and would happily baby Saoirse forever, but as a member of the legal profession—they needed her. And more people like her. Smart as a whip, compassionate, and honest as the day was long. Yes, she’d go back to school and graduate, become a respected and successful attorney. So he’d tell her.
“A grad student at my alma mater reported being assaulted by a tenured professor. When her accusations came to light, two dozen other women stepped forward to say the professor had harassed and in some cases assaulted them as well.”
“Does it say what’s going to happen to him?”
He didn’t bother to ask why she assumed the professor was a man. He was. 98 percent of the time they were. Assholes. Couldn’t they find a better outlet for their urges?
Goddamn right Arthur enjoyed spanking women, administering punishments, but there’s no way he’d bend his assistant Hazel over his desk to discipline her for a typo. That’s what role play was for. And if you couldn’t get your rocks off from role play then you just…couldn’t.
“He’s on leave for now. I assume he’ll be dismissed if an investigation bears out their accusations.”
Saoirse snorted and it startled him. This was not little Saoirse. But he ignored it for now—it wasn’t fair of him to tell her to get in a big girl mind frame and then not allow a grown-up reaction.
“I’m not honestly sure why these women waited so long to come forward. You’d think they would’ve reported him when this first started. Maybe no one else had to suffer.”
When he blinked back to Saoirse from the paper, her gaze was so sharp it could cut him.
“Your privilege is showing, Arthur. You don’t understand why they didn’t come forward sooner? Probably because no one would’ve believed them. And if they had, they likely would’ve told those women not to rock the boat because he’s powerful and they’re not.Don’t make trouble, no one wants to work with a ‘difficult’ woman,” she said, her voice shaky as though she were holding back tears. “There go your chances at grad school, fellowships and post-docs, your entire fucking career. And even if they had told the university, there’d be no guarantee anything would happen to him. If he brought a lot of money to the department or the school?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing. Fucking nothing would happen to him. But she’d either be ruined or have to look at this piece of shit living his best life every day while she suffered. So fuck off with your victim-blaming bullshit.”
While his intellectual brain was catching up on everything Saoirse had said, his daddy brain had its usual knee-jerk reaction to her cursing. “Little girls don’t swear in this house, Saoirse. You know better than that.”
Saoirse was a pretty girl, always had been, and sweetly so, like a doll or a fairytale princess. At the moment though, her features contorted by rage and not a little betrayal, she looked like an avenging angel or a warrior hellbent on seeking retribution. Especially when she stood up and pointed a finger at him.
Didn’t matter that she was in a pretty dress and a diaper and her hair was in pigtails. She looked about an inch to the left from committing homicide.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about my fucking language. Everyone should use this kind of language when they’re talking about these shitty excuses for human beings who ruin people’s lives. What are these people, golf buddies of yours? People you schmooze with at goddamn cocktail parties? Are they your clients? Do you get money from these fuckers? Fuck you, Arthur. I fucking hate you and I’m leaving.”
While he sat there shocked and head spinning, Saoirse turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.