The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping her up in a huge hug. “How was your flight?”

“No babies, no hacking coughs.” She shrugged and stepped back, her hands in her pockets. “Hi, Sue.”

“Welcome home, Emma,” Sue said, looking over her shoulder from the stove.

Emma’s gaze reluctantly fell on me, because there was nowhere else to go. “Sophie.”

“Emma.” What else was I going to say?

“The table is set in the dining room.” Emma gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “Are we being exceptionally posh for a reason?”

Neil nodded and came back for his coffee. “I thought we might all have lunch together. You could get to know Sophie a little better that way.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. “What a wonderful idea.”

We moved into the dining room, with Emma leading the way. Neil put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly as we passed through the door.

“So, Sophie,” Emma began as she scooted her chair in. She sat to the right of the head of the table, where Neil took his seat. “Are you living here now?”

“What?” I took my chair, to Neil’s left. “No, no, no.”

The corners of Neil’s mouth twitched. “Sophie stays with me on the weekends. We don’t get a chance to spend much time together during the week.”

“Ah.” Emma reached for the carafe of ice water on the table and poured herself a glass. “That explains why the TV room is in shambles.”

A totally unsubtle shade of red crept up Neil’s neck.

“I’m only teasing,” Emma chided. “I think it’s sweet, really. And I’ll be out of your hair tonight.”

“Oh?” Neil lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t meet his daughter’s gaze. “Will you be staying with—”

“With Michael?” she finished for him. “Yes. I’ll be staying with Michael. My boyfriend. Of two years. Surely you don’t have a problem with a twenty-four-year-old woman spending the night with her boyfriend?”

“Touché.”

Sue emerged from the kitchen and set a huge, square black bowl on the table. I had gotten way too used to amazing food. When I went home on Sunday afternoon, I would end up standing over my stove, staring sadly into a little pot of mac and cheese. Neil’s housekeeper had spoiled me into major food dissatisfaction everywhere else.

Lunch was a salad of mixed lettuces, sprouts, and shredded kohlrabi. On top were three chilled fillets of some kind of white fish. Sue dished out the food for us— and brought out a non-fish-touching salad for Emma— and left.

Emma cleared her throat and addressed me. “Sophie, I feel we got off on the wrong foot the last time we met. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my father was dating anyone, and it came as a bit of a shock. Especially so soon after his divorce.”

I paused mid-chew, and hastily swallowed. I took a sip of my water before I answered. “It’s all right. I honestly don’t know how I would have reacted to catching my mom with a boyfriend like that.”

Oh god, why did I have to bring up the fact she’d heard us having sex? Could the floor just swallow me up, please?

Neil swooped in and saved us. “Sophie is a beauty editor at Porteras,” he said, reaching for his water glass. “They’ve recently gone completely cruelty free.”

“Have they?” Emma speared some lettuce with her fork. “That’s very... forward thinking of you.”

“Mm,” Neil intoned noncommittally. “It was your mother’s idea.” He glanced at me briefly, then down at his plate. “I’m just keeping Porteras warm for her, while she—”

“Grapples with her inability to do the humane thing and euthanize her old, yappy dog?” Emma rolled her eyes. “How is it working out, Sophie?”

Why was she asking me? How the fuck did she expect me to answer that? Especially now that my head with spinning at the idea of Neil no longer working at Porteras. Why hadn’t he mentioned this to me?

I knew how she expected me to answer, but I didn’t want to lie. Not just to get her on my good side. So I didn’t really answer at all. “It’s been... interesting. It’s been a lot of work, but we’re discovering some cool products we would have never sought out before.”

There. Diplomatic. Not a lie.

“Oh, I’m so pleased to hear it,” Emma said, beaming at her father. Then, as she looked back to her plate, she added, “Lots of untried lipsticks to fill up the pages, and in a neat ripple effect, no one sprays poison in a rabbit’s eyes.”

“Emma, could you at least dim your hostility?” Neil asked, sounding perfectly pleasant.

I wondered if all their family lunches went over like this, or if I was the magic ingredient making it all possible.

I was ready to settle in for a rough meal when Emma put down her fork, closed her eyes, and said, “You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry. Sophie, I am sorry. I have been very rude to you.”