Take This Regret (Take This Regret #1)(39)
Author: A.L. Jackson

What felt like five minutes passed, which in reality was only about thirty seconds, before the elevator doors slid open. I breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped out onto our floor a minute later, rushing to my office to grab the files I needed for the meeting.

I nearly tripped over my feet when I found my father sitting at my desk, his face twisted in disapproval. “So very nice of you to show up, Christian.”

Recovering from my surprise, I shook my head and crossed the room to find the paperwork. “Nice of you to let me know you were coming into town,” I threw back at him.

Standing at the front of my desk facing my father, I rummaged through the files, grabbed what I needed, and shoved them into my briefcase.

“I just thought I’d pop in and see how things were coming along here.” He waved his hand around the room.

“They’re coming just fine.” He was already wel aware of this. Sure, we’d had a few snags in the beginning but nothing that wouldn’t have been expected.

“Doesn’t look that way to me.” I still ed my frenzied activity and stared down at the man sitting in my chair, staring back at me, his dark eyes gleaming with contention.

“Care to tel me why I’ve been sitting in this very spot for . . . oh . . .”—he glanced at the Cartier around his wrist—“the last three hours while you were nowhere to be found?” I knew my father expected me to live my life the same way as he, tied to the office with concern for nothing but the elevated title he’d given me.

I refused.

“I was with my daughter. Do you have a problem with that?”

He looked as if I’d just smashed a paperweight against the side of his head, reeling with the blow I’d struck him with.

The shock was quick to morph into fury. He jumped up, his palms pressed flat on the desk. “You hooked back up with that money-hungry little whore? Are you real y that stupid, Christian?”

The briefcase I held smashed against the wal , glass shattering on the impact, frames fal ing to the floor.

I’d just told the ass**le he had a granddaughter, and instead of thinking to ask her name, he thought of money?

I couldn’t stand to look at the pathetic man in front of me—his black hair salt and peppered around his ears, only worn that way because he believed it gave him a look of distinction—couldn’t stand to watch him trembling with rage over what I knew was his embarrassment over my bastard child.

I hated him for it.

With a shaking hand, I pulled my wal et from my back pocket and dug out the smal picture of Lizzie I kept there. I slammed it down on the desk in front of him and made a decision I was sure I would never regret. “You can count that as my resignation.”

Chapter 10

I had no idea what I believed anymore, where I stood. A door had been opened, a line crossed, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about it. I knew I’d let it happen, had been a partner to it, had even pushed for it. How easy it would have been to call my mother or my older sister when Matthew’s phone had gone to voicemail.

But no, I’d call ed Christian.

In the time it had taken him to drive to our house, I’d agonized over that decision, what kind of mistake I was making, and its ultimate effect on my daughter. Did I still believe he would harm her?

Then when he’d knelt before her, his worry and tenderness enough to engulf us both, enough to chase away my baby’s fears and assuage the panic pounding against my chest, I’d thought, No. He never would.

It wasn’t difficult to trace it back to its origin, to the moment I’d sat beside Claire and she’d made me question everything I’d held onto for so long, everything I thought I understood.

I tensed when a too intimate hand ran down my upper arm and rested on the smal of my back. “Hey, Elizabeth, Anita asked me to finish up for her today. Do you need any help with anything?” Scott leaned over my shoulder and looked at my computer screen. He was so close I could feel his breath against my neck.

I shrank forward, the movement minute. With mouse in hand, I clicked through the daily closing procedures, brought up my reports for the day, and pressed print. “I’m just finishing up here.” I handed him the smal stack of papers, ending drawer, and key. “Here you go.” Scott was my friend, and I smiled at him in a way to indicate that was the only thing he was. His green eyes glimmered with misunderstanding. He’d been bold of late, his touch no longer a hint of desire, but overt want. He examined the documents for what seemed like minutes when it should have only taken seconds—stal ing.

Shifting my feet, I tried to remain patient under his scrutiny of both my work and my body while he stood inappropriately close. all I wanted to do was rush out, grab my phone, dial Natalie, and ask her how the day had gone.

Today had been Christian’s first day to pick Lizzie up from school.

“Looks good, Elizabeth,” Scott said as he nodded and took a step back, still lingering.

“Great.” I glanced around, hoping for an easy escape.

“So, uh . . .” He looked back at the papers in his hands before looking back at me. “Do you have any plans Friday night?”

I grimaced, wishing he would stop continual y putting me in this position, the one where I had to let him down. He was starting to make things uncomfortable between us.

“Scott . . .” I sighed and looked away, pushing my bangs from my face in exasperation.

“Elizabeth,” he pled low as a whisper. “I’m tired of waiting.” His dipped his eyes, searched my face. “Please, just . . . try.”

“I can’t.”

His voice raised a fraction in frustration. “Why not?”

“Please, Scott, you’re my friend.” Don’t ruin that, I wanted to beg.

He stepped back and huffed before he turned and left me staring at his back as he stalked away and into the break room.

I placed my hands flat against my counter, sighed, and flipped off my computer monitor while I wondered why I couldn’t force myself to say yes. It was just dinner. Why did it have to be such a big deal?

In the break room, I gathered my things from my locker and powered my phone, anxious to be in the privacy of my car so I could make the call . Tension fil ed the room, radiating from Scott as he trained his attention ahead, brooding as he refused to look my way. Selina offered a brooding as he refused to look my way. Selina offered a smal understanding smile, a sympathetic shrug.

“Night everyone,” I call ed as I slung my purse over my shoulder and rushed from the room, through the lobby, and out into the cool evening air, the sky grey with overcast. I breathed it in and wondered when things had become so complicated. Walking along the side of the building, I studied my feet, counted my steps, and tried not to think of Christian and his pain that had echoed through my house, call ed to me, almost caused me to cave.