Chapter Eleven
Poppy
I’m standing in Nathaniel’s office. His son, Micah, is sitting in one of the chairs, legs dangling, kicking back and forth while he waits for his dad.
His dad.
Son of a bitch.
I am officially the biggest idiot on the planet, and Nathaniel’s the biggest jackass on the planet. I should have known better. Someone that rich, that good-looking, that smooth—of course, he’s a cheater. A manipulator. They know just how to twist you, just how to wrap you around their little finger. They get what they want, and they don’t care about how their actions affect anyone else.
I know because I know my dad. Until my mom died, he never felt a single damn bit of remorse over what he’d done… what I’d witnessed him doing. And I should have goddamn known better. I was the floozie bent over the desk this time. I’ve been in Micah’s shoes before, and I feel like shit. I can’t meet his eyes.
Great. I’m a coward and a home wrecker.
And who was that woman downstairs anyway? His wife? His girlfriend? His lover? Well, his other lover? Any one of those options makes me feel sick.
I hear footsteps coming toward the office, and a moment later, Nathaniel is there. Micah jumps up and runs to his dad, and Nathaniel picks him up and folds him into a huge hug. Despite my current twisted gut, the softer part of me is smiling at the pair. It’s obvious that Nathaniel is smitten with his son. His eyes completely give him away—glazed with genuine warmth.
And, unfortunately, girls tend to eat up such tender gestures like they’re a warm, slice of apple pie.
“Hey, Micah, why don’t you go down to the front desk and see Roberto? He has a surprise for you!”
“A surprise?”
Nathaniel nods. “And then we’ll go get dinner. Okay?”
“Okay!” Micah shouts, and then he runs out of the office, leaving me alone with Nathaniel.
I can’t even stand to look at him.
He walks into the office, then steps toward me. I can smell him, and all I can think about is how much time I’ve spent with that scent surrounding me, with it on my skin from being in his arms. Beneath him. On top of him. All I feel now is used and dirty.
He’s standing in front of me, waiting for me to look at him. He can wait forever.
“Poppy,” he begins. Something snaps. I finally look at him, and before I realize what I’m doing, I slap him as hard as I can across the face. I can feel tears stinging my eyes, and I blink hard, willing them not to fall. I take a step back, shocked by what I’ve done. He stares at me for a moment, but the anger I expected to see isn’t there.
He nods, slowly. “I deserved that. Please, let me explain,” he says, and there’s a bit of a tremor in his voice. I’m not sure if it’s anger or what, and right now, I don’t really care.
“There’s nothing to explain. You’re a goddamn liar and a cheat. You’ve got a wife, and a kid, and a whole life you kept from me. What the hell else is there to explain?” My voice had become a shout, and I didn’t even care. I needed some outlet for the rage and hurt swirling inside me, and short of hitting him again, screaming was the only thing likely to make me feel better just now.
But damn, do I want to hit him again. And I want to lock myself somewhere and have a good, long cry because I’m a mess and I hate that he’s made me feel this way.
“Poppy—”
I start to walk away, and he steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Baby, I’m not married. Not anymore, anyway. Micah is my son. There is no wife.”
“Yeah? Then who were you kissing downstairs? Another one of your whores? Man, I’m gonna be pissed if she’s making more than me.” I go to walk away again, and he grabs me by the arms and pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest.
“Calm down. Stop acting like a child.”
That’s it. I shove him back, hard. “You’re not my father,” I snarl. “Get your dirty, disgusting old hands off me. The only reason I ever slept with you was to pay off my father’s debts. You’re nothing.”
He seems stunned, and he drops his hands. “You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t.”
Before he can say another word, I run out of the office, determined to put as much space between us as possible.
Downstairs, I try to compose myself as best I can when I approach the front desk, which is unavoidable due to how close it is to the door of the gallery. Roberto and Micah are engaged in a thumb war behind the solid marble counter, and I almost manage to walk past without either of them noticing.
“Poppy, are you leaving? I thought you might here to help with the final preparations for the show tonight?” Roberto calls out when I’m literally a hairline away from the door.
I take a quick, deep breath and turn to him, spreading a convincing smile. “Ah, no. Mr. Stone said I can still have the day off. I was just, ah, double-checking that he didn’t need me.” I know it’s mere seconds away before my cheeks turn pink and give me away completely, so I swiftly add, “I’ll see you tonight though. Bye.”
But then Micah pipes up, halting me in place again. “It was nice to meet you, Poppy. You’re pretty.”
The fresh smile that lights up my face is all genuine. “Thank you, Micah. You’re quite handsome yourself,” I reply, and he giggles.
Outside, the cool air comes like a godsend, temporary relief from the beyond-uncomfortable situation I was just made to suffer through. Yet, as I head toward the subway, all I can think about is the crazy mess that I’ve just left behind me.
This is on you, Poppy. You should’ve known better than to fuck your boss… repeatedly.
But if that’s true, then why don’t I regret any of it?