Making His Baby(147)
“That may be the case but you’ll do it if you care about my father as much as you say.”
My antenna sticks straight up when he says that. What the hell does he mean by that?
“Because if you don’t give in, you’re fired and I know you don’t want to disappoint the old man, isn’t that right?” he asks, his voice taking on a mocking tone.
“Why are you doing this?”
None of it makes sense. Before my trip, he’d never so much as acknowledged me beyond saying “hi” and “bye.” Now he wants me to believe he’s just been “waiting his turn”?
The whole thing makes me want to vomit.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I tell him. “But I’m not going to abandon your father.”
“Tread lightly, Olivia. A lot is on the line here. Before you say no, make sure you’re okay with failing my father in the process.”
Shaking my head, I regard him with hatred in my eyes. I can’t believe he’d be so heartless. He knows how much I’ve grown to care for Arnold and my determination to see this fight through until the end. Would he really put his father’s life in danger just to prove a point?
“You wouldn’t.”
“Give me what I want and you’ll never have to find out.”
“No,” I say firmly, so sure that he’ll drop it.
I should know better because he doesn’t let it go.
“That’s a shame,” he murmurs shaking his head sorrowfully. “I was really looking forward to having my fill of you. But I guess you want to do this the hard way. Have your stuff out of my house in twenty-four hours. You no longer have a job.”
And with that, he turns and walks away.
What the hell just happened?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
OLIVIA KING
Settled on Winnie’s couch, I huff and look around the living room at my scattered bags and unorganized belongings. Because of how sudden my move was, I’d been in no way capable of cataloging things before I just dumped them in a bag or box.
True to her nature, Winnie hurried over and helped me pack when I called her upset about what happened. It wasn’t so much that I was sad to lose my job. It was the fact that now Arnold was susceptible to God knows what because of his son’s reckless behavior.
Everything transpired before eight and now it’s nearly midnight and I’m finally taking a deep breath.
“You okay?” Winnie asks, plopping down on the sofa beside me.
I turn my head to face her and feel a pang of guilt when I get a good look at her.
Simply put, my friend looks beyond exhausted and I know she has to get up and head to the office bright and early, even though it’ll be Sunday.
“I feel like I should be asking you that. Why don’t you go to bed? I’m fine. I promise,” I say, giving her a reassuring smile.
When I’d mentioned checking in to a hotel for the night, she objected and demanded that I sleep in her spare bedroom.
“Nonsense. We’re having a glass of wine to celebrate your freedom. I know it didn’t come in the way you planned but it’s still freedom nonetheless.”
She pulls a bottle of red wine seemingly out of thin air. Winnie makes quick work of filling two glasses and setting the bottle on the coffee table. We clink glasses and recline against the comfortable cushions of her couch.
“Cheers to you, girl.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell her.
“Please, I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t do for me. Have you talked to Sebastian about everything that’s happened today?”
My heart dances as soon as I hear his name and my smile isn’t too far behind it. Despite my shitty day, just the mention of him has me feeling lightheaded.
“Not yet. I honestly haven’t paid too much attention to my phone today. I’ll give him a call before I go to bed. It’s not as late over there so I have time.”
“You officially no longer have an excuse not to visit him in California. He’ll probably have you relocated and settled by the end of the week,” she says matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her wine.
“Your stuff is already packed,” she says with a half smile.
An hour later, after our second glass of wine, Winnie treks down the hall to her room. After locating something to sleep in, I grab my clothes and head for the guest room on the opposite side of the apartment.
Once I’ve showered, I slip under the covers and press my phone to my ear. Anticipating Sebastian to answer, I frown when it rings endlessly. Calling him again, I get the same result.
He must be busy.
When I called the third time, the phone bypasses ringing and goes straight to voicemail.