“That’s probably a compliment.” I moved my spoon around my soup. “So you’re restacking the power in your favor…”
Rodge gave me a smug smile. “Exactly. As it should be with father and son.”
“You don’t have any other kids, though.”
“No.” Rodge’s eyes flicked down at his soup for a brief moment as a sour expression crossed his face. It was gone almost immediately.
“Ah. Not for lack of trying, though. You think going young will help, but it’s the old sperm that’s the problem…”
His eyes snapped up to me, anger blasting out. Just like his expression from a moment before, though, the emotion was gone a moment later. Back to cool and collected, but I had affected him. That was a sore subject.
“Anyway,” I said, “you’ll have me, you’ll devastate him again—so you think—and then you will, what? Dance naked in the moonlight? What will you gain?”
Rodge gave a small shrug. “The upper hand. With a man like Hunter, the upper hand is a great thing. It really gets under his skin.”
“You sound like an adolescent.” The girls came and removed our soup. I saw that Rodge’s was nearly empty, and I got a quirked eyebrow from Stacy, as my bowl was still almost full.
Next came a chicken dish that also smelled truly divine. This I did sample, though with a churning stomach from just being in Rodge’s presence, not to mention the fear of what Hunter would say if he found out. I didn’t eat much before I laid down my fork and knife.
“So tell me,” Rodge said conversationally as he cut into his meat, “how do you like graduating from a pristine college with a great education, only to become a secretary?”
“First, executive assistants for large corporations make a lot of money. Second, I do much more than administrative duties.”
“Of course you do.” He gave me a condescending smile as he raised his fork to his mouth. “And what will you do when Hunter fires you for fucking his father?”
With shaking hands, I pushed my plate away and put my hands on my clutch. I took out the vial and emptied one of the pills into my palm. I had no idea how I was going to get it into his glass, but it was better to be ready than miss an opportunity.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see…” I said in the same conversational tone.
Rodge laughed, putting another bite into his mouth. “I’m no longer hiring, if that was your thought.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I also don’t have room for a mistress.”
“I’m heartbroken.”
Rodge took a sip of his wine. “You seem like such a soft touch, Olivia. I thought you’d be a doormat. But you have some fire to you. You know your own mind.”
“And let me guess—you hate that in a woman.”
He laughed again, putting down his cutlery. “Only when she says no.”
The girls came out and removed the plates. I got another quirked eyebrow. Dessert came and went, and eventually he stood, gesturing for me to do the same.
“Shall we move to the den, Livy?”
My stomach swirled and twisted. I followed him with shaking limbs and the overwhelming impulse to cry. I felt trapped. I wanted Hunter to come and save me, as stupid as that was. I wanted him to just barge in, say he’d found another way, and let me run out of here.
I followed behind Rodge, and sat on the couch where I’d been before. This time, he sat right next to me. His cologne assaulted my nose and stung my eyes, the fragrance probably delightful on someone else, but sickly sweet on him.
“I need you to sign that waiver,” I said with a trembling voice I couldn’t help. I scooted a little away, hating that his thigh was rubbing against mine.
“What’s to prevent you from leaving if I sign it?”
Rodge’s voice was low and husky. I felt a finger run softly up my arm.
Shivering in disgust, I bent forward to my clutch, the pill still in my hand. I took out the folded waiver and held it up to him. “I’ll let you keep hold of it until after, and then I’ll take it and go. Immediately. I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
Rodge took the piece of paper from me. He leaned forward and put his glass on the coffee table before straightening back up, angling away from me to catch some light in which to read.
Seeing my opportunity, I grabbed the open bottle of wine left from before and poured us both full glasses. As I turned to straighten back up, I glanced at him, seeing him struggling to read the print. I dropped the pill into his drink, laughing to cover the small plunk. “Need glasses?” I taunted.
Rodge’s brows lowered as his eyes shifted back and forth over the page.