Home > Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(58)

Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(58)
Author: M. Leighton

“I think I’ll take some coffee while I wait. I’m sure he won’t be long.”

She smiles and nods as she stands. “Cream and sugar?”

“Black, thank you.”

She nods again and walks toward the kitchenette behind her work station. Within two minutes, she’s bringing me a piping hot cup of expensive coffee. My mouth waters before I take one sip.

“Thank you, Juliette.”

“My pleasure.”

She takes her seat and resumes typing whatever it is she’s working on, giving me plenty of time to focus on my nerves. I think it’s a credit to how much I’ve changed that I don’t talk myself out of this approach. Confronting Daddy or doing anything to displease him was never something I would’ve considered before. I was happy being a blind, well-trained monkey, mindlessly following his commands. It makes me a little sick to think that I might’ve lived the rest of my life that way, being his pawn, never following my own path.

I’m so immersed in thought, I jump when Juliette speaks.

“His call just ended. Let me tell him you’re here.”

She gets up and crosses to the wide, mahogany double doors and slips inside one. A few seconds later, she reemerges and waves me in, holding the door until I’m inside then closing it quietly behind me.

Daddy glances up at me, then returns his attention to his desk. “It’s good to see you out and about, finally back at work. I was beginning to worry about you.”

Bullshit, Nash’s dry voice says from inside my head. It makes me smile. Because he’s right.

I clear my throat. There’s no reason to go through the motions of all these perfunctory niceties. They’re not genuine and they’re not necessary. I’m wise to his game. And since they were always for my benefit, nothing more than a polite ruse, I’ll cut to the chase.

“Daddy, I’d like to work on a case with Jensen Strong at the DA’s office.”

That gets his full attention. He looks up at me, whipping off his reading glasses to narrow his eyes on me. “You’re joking, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “Why?”

As far as reactions go, this one’s not as bad as I thought.

“It involves Nash’s father,” I say simply. I don’t want to explain to him all the details about the Davenport subterfuge, nor do I have any intention of telling him about my kidnapping.

“I thought you said that was over.”

“It is. But I still want to help. I owe it to him.”

“You owe him your career?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did. You just told me that you want to work with the DA’s office to prosecute a criminal. That’s not what you do, which means you must want to give up your work here.”

“It’s not a permanent change, Daddy. It would only be until the trial was over.”

“It’s not the timing I’m concerned about. Marissa, you know as well as I do that the people we represent expect us to uphold our sterling reputation. It’s unfortunate, but it’s a reality.”

Bullshit, the voice says again. He doesn’t think it’s unfortunate. Not for one second do I believe that. It’s yet another manipulation, something he’s saying just for my benefit, to elicit a certain kind of reaction.

“It is unfortunate because this is something I’m committed to.”

“Marissa, honey, don’t be ridiculous. Let the professionals handle this. A man’s life is at stake.”

“I am a professional, Daddy. Or did you forget that I graduated law school summa cum laude?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Regardless, this is just not something I can allow.”

I straighten my spine and tip my chin toward the ceiling, glad that I didn’t sit down when I came into the room. I want him to see me strong and tall. Standing on my own two feet, both literally and figuratively.

“I didn’t come to ask your permission. I came to tell you out of courtesy and respect.”

He slams his fist onto his desktop, his face growing instantly red with fury. “You call this respect? Throwing everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve worked so hard for our family to have, right back in my face, as though it means nothing to you?”

I take a deep breath and try to remain calm in the face of his anger. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve ever done for me, Daddy, every opportunity you’ve ever given me. But this is something I have to do. Maybe it’s just time for me to live my own life, to come out from under the roof you’ve built.”

My father gets to his feet. “You’re doing this because you ‘owe Nash’? You don’t owe him one damn thing! You owe me!”

“I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me, Daddy. I’ve never questioned you or hesitated to follow your direction. Can’t you just give me this one thing?”

I know before he speaks what the answer will be. This is as much a personal insult as it is a professional affront. This will forever, irrevocably change things between us.

“Wives of leaders don’t dabble in criminal law, and they don’t wallow with commoners or felons. You’re throwing away everything I’ve ever groomed you to be.”

And there it is. The truth.

“A politician’s wife. That’s what you groomed me to be, isn’t it, Daddy?” He says nothing. “Law school was a formality, a social experiment. You never intended to give me one ounce of control or responsibility here. You just planned to find me the ‘right’ husband and pass me off to be a sidekick, didn’t you?” His continued silence angers me almost as much as it hurts me. Suspecting I was right is much different than having my own father confirm it. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Daddy, but this is something I’ve got to do. For me. For my friends. For the people who love and care about me. About the real me, not the person you’ve created. I honestly hope one day you can meet her, and that you’ll be proud of her. But if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because for the first time in my life, I can see beyond my own selfishness, beyond the curtain. I always thought what was outside the walls of our family and our lifestyle were ugly, that we had the good life.” I walk slowly to my father’s desk and set my coffee cup down on the edge before I look up to meet his handsome yet livid face. “I was wrong.”

My insides are shaking as I turn and walk to the door. My father’s voice stops me, but I don’t look back.

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