“I’m okay.” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. A nervous habit that I’d been trying to kick since I’d seen Fifty Shades of Grey. I released it as soon as I realized I was doing it. “You seem busy, as always.”
He motioned to one of the client’s chairs in front of his desk and lowered himself into his handmade leather monstrosity.
Of course, that was what I always felt like when I went to his office. Just another client.
“I am,” he said. “I just got in this morning, actually. I have a lot of work to catch up on.” There it was, the familiar implication that I was wasting his time. His eyes bored into mine as if challenging me to something.
I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath to calm myself. I was this close to snapping at him, but that wouldn’t do either of us any good. “Yeah, I can imagine.”
He looked slightly surprised by my response; then his surprise turned to amusement. Amusement that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can you now, honey?”
I gripped the armrest so hard my knuckles turned white. My fingertips numbed. The anger I’d felt minutes before turned quickly to rage. It threatened to rise as I absorbed his tone.
“Yes, I can,” I managed to grit out.
I must not cause a scene. I must not snap. I repeated the mantra to myself over and over again.
If I wanted even a minuscule chance of him actually taking me seriously about not taking the bar, I had to keep a level head. Anyth
ing that could be construed as even slightly immature had to stay on lockdown.
“I’m actually really busy myself, but I have something that I need to discuss with you. I thought it would be best to have this discussion in person.” There, I congratulated myself. That sounded perfect. Very levelheaded.
My father didn’t seem to give a shit about my perfect delivery. “I hope that it’s studying for the bar exam that’s keeping you so busy and not the partying or the boys.”
I groaned. He was never going to let that go. I got busted once while I was in high school. Once. Yet that was the yardstick by which I was always measured.
It didn’t escape me that he hadn’t mentioned my graduating from law school once. Or that he was proud of me for graduating, with honors.
“Well, actually, Dad, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He cut me off. “Honestly, Gabrielle, it’s time for you to grow up and take some responsibility for your life.”
I nearly gagged out loud. Responsibility? I was 24, I had graduated with honors from one of the top law schools in the country, and as far as he knew, I was about to take the damn bar exam. Something most people don’t do until 27. Yet, here he was, lecturing me about taking responsibility?
He didn’t seem to notice that I was seconds away from going nuclear. He continued. “I mean, when I was your age, I was well into my career with the NFL. I was breaking records every season, and during the off season, I spent every spare second of my time with your grandfather being groomed to take over a multinational corporation.”
I nearly laughed with derision, but I held on to the explosion brewing inside me so tightly, I couldn’t move a muscle.
If I so much as tried to lift one side of my lips, I would lose control. If that happened, he would hold my “immature outburst” over me for the next decade or so, and he’d dictate my life movements for my lack of maturity to make my own decisions.
The muscles in my jaw twitched, but still, he droned on. “I was only a year older than you are now when I had you. Then I had to take care of you on top of everything else.”
I knew I should be used to this lecture, but it stung every time. It never failed to remind me of my mother. How she had always shut me out, thus leaving my father to take care of me. Or at least, the slew of nannies they hired to take care of me.
He was lost in his rant, though. “You, on the other hand, want to stride in here to chat about how busy you are? The only thing you need to do is go home and study for the bar exam.”
“Are you done?” I asked, my teeth gritted and my tone flat. “I wanted to talk to you about the exam. That’s why I’m—”
The door cracked open, effectively cutting me off. A really tall, really well-built guy with short black hair and the most sparkling hazel eyes stuck his head through the door.
From the immediate change in my father’s demeanor, the guy was one of his players. An important one, judging by my father’s sudden genuine smile and welcoming expression.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, Rich. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting. I didn’t check in with Olivia. I’ll come back later.” His voice was deep, low, and smooth. He could work for a phone sex line with a voice like that. I was pretty sure he could make a girl come just by talking to her. He’d make a killing.
Oh wait, he probably already does. I mentally admonished myself for even taking notice of how good-looking he was or how sexy his voice was. Even if my father didn’t have his rule about my staying away from his players, I wanted nothing to do with the arrogant assholes anyway.
I waited for my father to tell him that he should go back to Olivia and wait, just like I’d had to, but instead, he motioned the guy inside. I fumed at the gesture.