Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)(15)

"How are you settling in?" my father asks, sitting back in his leather chair.

"Fine," Carter replies. "Thank you," he adds belatedly.

"Good. And your doctor's appointment?"

"Got the cast off," Carter replies shortly.

"But you didn't visit the physical therapist," my father points out. His voice is friendly, but I can tell that this is the issue we were summoned here to discuss.

"No."

"I have her information here, name's Petra Ogilvy, and a list of her recommendations. It seems she thinks it would be a good idea for you to come in to learn the exercises, and then perform them on your own every day in the gym here, and return to the office for weekly check-ins."

"Well, I—"

"And she said you would need someone helping you with your at-home therapy, and I thought that would be a perfect job for you, Alexa," he says, suddenly turning to me.

"What?" I blurt out.

"Did you already find a job? Or start looking?"

"I've only been home for two days, Dad. And it's Thanksgiving."

"If there aren't any bakeries accepting applications, then I think this would be a useful way to spend your time."

My jaw drops. "Wait...you knew? The whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I just assumed you were working there with your current boyfriend or something like that, and I know you never listen to my advice in those matters," he says with a smile. I bite down hard on my lip to keep from snapping at him. "But if you want to continue staying here, which I assume you do since I can't imagine you saved up any money, then you'll need to make yourself useful."

"I don't need her to help me," Carter cuts in.

"It would actually be a rather convenient arrangement," my father replies. "Because the other reason that I asked you to come in is that my security says that you ditched the team that was following you today."

"I knew it," Carter murmurs.

"Wait, hang on...team? You mean...they were yours?" I burst out. "You had people following us?"

"Yes," he replies in a maddeningly calm tone.

"Dad, that's insane!"

"Any specific threats?" Carter asks.

My father actually smiles at him. "No. I suppose it's my anxiety about expanding my family and having more people to worry about. And I'm always conscious that as the business grows in profile, I, and my family, could become increasingly a target of random madmen. The world is such a crazy place these days, and I would never forgive myself if I didn't take every precaution."

"Dad, you can't have me followed everywhere!" I snap, my voice rising. "And why wouldn't you tell me about this in the first place?"

"Because I knew you'd react emotionally, like you always do, and like you're doing now. I thought it would be best if you just didn't know about it, but Carter here managed to spot the car almost immediately."

"They weren't very good," Carter says, a bit smugly.

"But you are. Which is why I'd like to hire you."

"Oh my god," I moan.

"Since Alexa is so resistant to normal security measures, I thought you would be able to handle looking after her in a more...subtle way."

"I don't need a security guard!" I protest, looking to Carter to back me up, but he's considering my father quietly.

"I'm not sure I'm looking to get into security," Carter finally says.

"Look, it's up to you," my father says, "but this could be the start of a new career. The screws in your knee are permanent, yes?"

"Yes."

"Why does that matter?" I ask, barely able to follow where this conversation is going.

Carter pauses for a moment. "It matters because I can't be active service military anymore. I was honorably discharged, as I think your father is well aware."

"I'm not trying to rub salt in the wound here, Carter," my father says almost gently, leaning across the desk. "My point is that I'm able to offer you a good job with salary and benefits, and you would be able to rehab your knee at the same time. I don't think you're going to find that anywhere else. And it would really put your mother's mind at ease."

He throws out the last sentence like it was an after-thought, but I think it was anything but. It took me a long time to learn that my father is a master manipulator. Every word he says has been carefully chosen. I tried to learn how to do it, because I had to admit it was a useful skill – the man always gets what he wants. But it never worked for me. Maybe he's right, maybe I am too emotional.

"Deal," Carter says after an interminable pause.

"What!?" I explode, jumping out of my chair.