Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I pull into a parking spot next to Dad’s Mercedes. He always got into the office early, and, even though it’s not quite eight yet, he’s already at the office. Climbing out of my truck that looks like an eyesore next to his expensive vehicle, I suck in a few calming breaths to try and calm my rage.
Don’t punch him.
Don’t fucking punch him.
I’d love to knock him on his ass, though. He deserves to be brought down a few pegs for sure. I fling open the front glass door with Larson and Larson Law Firm etched in a neat, gray font. Their secretary, Gladys—the same woman who’s been with them since they opened the firm—greets me without looking up from her desk.
“Be right with you,” Gladys chirps.
I stalk up to her desk, looming over it until she finally looks at me. As soon as she recognizes me, her face blanches.
“Atlas,” she mutters. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What can I do for you?”
She knows. There’s not much that Gladys doesn’t know around here. I’m sure my dad’s been bitching like crazy.
“I’m here to see my father.”
She purses her pink, wrinkly lips together. “He’s got back-to-back meetings all day, hon. Can I take a message or schedule you for another day?”
“He’ll make time.” My clipped tone makes her bristle.
“I understand you’d like to visit with him, but he just doesn’t have the time today—”
Ignoring her, I bypass her desk and head down the hall toward Dad’s office. His door is closed, which means he’s with someone. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck. He can hear what I have to say with or without an audience.
“Atlas!” Gladys cries out from behind me, her heels clacking on the wood floors.
I twist the knob, letting myself into Dad’s office. It smells like the familiar cologne he’s always worn. Sitting at his desk like a king, my father glances up at me when I enter. His hard blue eyes try to pin me in place, but he has no power over me. Not anymore. He’s not family to me. Not like Brie. Dad is just another asshole in this town who thinks he runs the show.
“We need to talk,” I bark out.
“Atlas,” a feminine voice says. “Good to see you too, Son.”
Mom sits in the chair opposite Dad wearing a tailored pantsuit that probably costs more than Dad’s suit. She’s always been the bigger spender of the two. The shoes on her feet probably cost more than what I paid for on my truck. From one glance, she’s a sophisticated version of Brie. Same Barbie-blonde hair. Same pert nose. Same build and height. And, because Mom is obsessed with having work done to her face, she looks as young as my sister.
“Good,” I grit out. “You’re both here. I’ll get this over with once.”
“I’m sorry,” Gladys squeaks out from behind me. “I tried to tell him you were busy.”
“Never too busy for my son,” Dad says, his smile that of a shark hungry for chum—wide, severe, vicious.
Gladys leaves, closing the door behind her. Dad motions for me to sit, but I refuse with a sharp shake of my head. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, glowering at my father.
“Out with it, Atlas. I haven’t got all day,” Dad snipes, already losing patience with me.
What else is fucking new?
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” I hiss, “but it is not okay for you to come to my house uninvited.”
“We’re family—” Mom starts, but I cut her off.
“Furthermore, you do not, under any circumstances, threaten Callan Kincaid. Ever. You will live to regret the day you do.”
“Why are you so protective over the Kincaid boy?” Dad asks, cocking his head to the side. “Hmm?”
Mom’s brow arches high, and she has a knowing smirk on her face. They want me to admit that I’m gay? Fuck them.
“He’s my boyfriend.” I dart my gaze back and forth between them, daring them to give me shit.
Mom’s lips thin out, and Dad sneers.
Again, fuck them.
“I don’t appreciate you saying shit to him. As a cop of this town, I won’t stand for it. As his boyfriend, I really won’t fucking stand for it.”
I’m sure Callan might have a thing or two to say about me calling him my boyfriend. But I told him that he would be mine when I kissed that pretty mouth of his. He should expect it with my forewarning.
“Language,” Mom admonishes.
“I’m an attorney,” Dad says in an authoritative tone. “Surely you can’t think coming into my office and threatening me is going to be okay. I could have your job taken away if I really wanted to.”
“And I’m a cop,” I throw back. “Do not push me on this. You’ll regret it.”
Something in my gaze must tell him to back off because he dismisses me with a flick of the wrist. I don’t utter out a goodbye to either of them as I start for the door.