End of the Innocence(6)
“Right. One of the things on Broward’s desks was a form to complete for your professor. It asks about your conduct and work product, and asks for a recommendation letter.” He moved the form underneath the desk lamp and squinted at it.
“Yes. That will be crucial to my law school application.” My leg shook nervously, and I stilled it, pushing down on the floor with my toe.
“The problem is, I haven’t been here. I’ll have Sheila complete it and type up something for me to sign.” He moved the paper dismissively and was on the verge of saying something else when I shot to my feet.
“Sir. I would really prefer Sheila not complete the form for me.” My conduct?
He frowned at me over the desk. “Why not?”
Yes, Julia. Why not? “Sheila and I recently had a ... disagreement. I worry that she won’t be impartial.”
His frown remained, etched into his face with the staying power of stone. “I doubt that. Sheila seems very capable, and not one to hold grudges.” His blue eyes hardened behind his glasses. “But, I will let you know that I have very little patience for office drama.”
The statement, almost comical after the kitchen standoff, hung in the air, my mind unable to conjure a response. I nodded, a ridiculous movement that didn’t respond to his comment at all, and stood, picking up the coffee tray and exiting his office. I didn’t bother returning it to the kitchen, instead bee-lining for my office and shutting the door. I set the tray on an empty chair and unlocked my computer, trying to focus on anything, everything, but the disaster this day was quickly becoming.
I could physically feel the buzz outside my door. Feel the energy. It fought in the hall and pushed at my closed door. Whispers. Chatter. Gasps and scoffs. The good news is that I wouldn’t have to go around and tell each and every person about the engagement. The bad news is that eventually I would have to leave my office.
Chapter 5
Brad pulled up to the guard gate of his family’s estate, waving to the guards and waiting while they went through the ridiculous procedure of making sure that he wasn’t carrying anything of concern in his trunk or under his car. The iron gates in front of him finally parted, and he pulled in, rounding the curves of the drive until he came to a stop in front of the imposing home.
Oddly, his father opened the door, and Brad glanced around for the staff.
“This needs to be quick, Brad. I have items to attend to.”
Brad nodded, meeting his father’s eyes and walking past him to the formal living room, which had not changed since his childhood. He stopped next to the massive stone fireplace. His father closed the front door, and the room darkened considerably. With his hands in his pockets, he turned to face his father, who eyed him warily, skipping right to the point. “You mentioned a wrinkle in this situation?” his father prompted.
“Yes. Last night I asked Julia for her hand in marriage. She accepted.”
His father’s eyes closed briefly, and he took a few slow steps forward and sat in a cream, wing-backed chair, gripping the arms tightly as he leaned back. “Sit.”
“I don’t have much time. Like you, I have business to attend to.” He sat on the chair across from his father and studied him across the space.
His father sighed, a raspy, exasperated sound. “Is this you being stubborn? I’m assuming this Julia you speak of is the intern who has been so troublesome?”
“Yes, that is Julia. And no, I am not being stubborn. I love her.”
“I thought you were too intelligent to allow love to dictate your life.”
Brad laughed. “It isn’t a dictation. You are thinking in terms of power, which this isn’t about.”
“Isn’t it? You’ve played the only hand that could win this game. And twisted my arm in the process. You’ve won this match, Brad. But signed yourself up for a lifetime of servitude in the process.”
“It’s not a lifetime of servitude.”
The old man laughed sharply, the quick action causing his chest to clench, and he stifled the outburst, coughing and staring grimly at Brad. “Right. Because you can just divorce, right? My son, the king of destroying marriages, of ripping apart families.” He shook his head bitterly. “You disgust me.”
Brad stood, his hands clamped in fists. “Because you are my father, and I still respect the head of this family, I won’t respond to that with what is in my heart. But know that I find it despicable that, of all of your sons, I would be the one that you find shameful. Thank you for reminding me of why I cut off contact with you.”
He strode past the old man’s chair and opened the door, the harsh sun filling the room with light.