Mine to Keep, page 6
“You know I’m the boss, right?” he questions.
“Really? This is brand new information. Thanks for letting me know.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t want people to think I’m not working. They might think I dipped.”
“Think you dipped?” he repeats my words.
“They might think I’m not working.” I grab the file. “Didn’t mean to throw you off with some hip lingo. Feel free to use it.”
“Grace,” he barks my name. “File. My house. Now.”
“Caine,” I say his name back. “In my hand. Walking out. If you let me go. As soon as you stop talking.” He doesn’t even say goodbye. He just hangs up, and I have no choice but to laugh out loud.
I grab my purse and the file, stopping at Kayla’s desk on the way out. “Hey, Caine isn’t coming in today, so I’m running this file over to his house.”
“Good luck with that,” she tells me right before her phone rings, so I walk out. I press the elevator button, looking down at my phone when it beeps again, but it’s just because I didn’t open his text. Opening the text, I save his phone number under Not Batman, laughing at my joke before stepping into the elevator.
I plug the address into the map, and it tells me it’s a twenty-minute drive from here. I pull out, not sure if I should tell him I’ll be there in twenty minutes or just show up. I opt to just show up, and I know right away we are in a different tax bracket when I have to punch in a code for the gate.
“You would think he might have mentioned that it’s a gated community,” I grumble before grabbing the phone and calling him.
He answers after three rings. “Caine Griffin.”
“Hey, it’s me, Grace. The gate around your palace has a keypad.”
“The code is the four digits of my address,” he explains.
“That’s not safe at all,” I say, punching it in, and the gates open. “What if I’m about to rob you? All I have to do is put in your address.”
“It’s gated, and there are cameras,” he informs me. “I think I’m fine.”
“Five minutes with my family, and they can tell you all the ways you aren’t,” I mumble. “See you soon.” I hang up on him, or maybe he hangs up on me.
I follow the route until I’m in front of his house. The house is bigger than I thought it would be. But it suits him, which is strange. The grass is cut perfectly, and I bet he hasn’t mowed it a day in his life. I grab the file and exit the car, walking up the paved driveway and looking up at the three big windows on top of the double-car garage. The two steps lead to a big brown door that is all see-through glass, except you can’t see inside, which is cool. The window on top of the door is massive. I ring the doorbell, hearing the bell on the other side as I wait for him to open the door.
I hear footsteps coming to the door, but I don’t see anything, which throws me off. The sound of the lock opening makes me look up. I’m expecting him to answer the door, but I’m not expecting Caine to open the door dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, holding the sweetest-looking baby girl in his arms. Her head is on his shoulder as she looks at me, wearing pj’s with little hearts. Her blond hair is loose, and she looks at me with the same eyes her father has. My heart literally soars in my chest, and I have to clear my throat. “Hi,” I greet them, holding up the folder, trying not to look at him. He’s all hot and bothered in a suit, but dressed in jeans, he might be even hotter, which doesn’t bode well for the whole ‘I hate my boss’ era.
“Is she a fairy?” the little girl asks him, or me, and I just chuckle.
“No, she’s not a fairy,” Caine answers in the softest tone I’ve ever heard him use. “She’s Grace.”
“Hi.” I hold up my hand for her. “I work for your dad,” I tell her, holding up the folder. “Here it is.”
“Thank you.” He reaches out his hand to grab it. “She woke up with a fever this morning, so we’re keeping her home from daycare.”
“Well, you know what they say.” I hold my hands in front of me nervously. “Feed a fever, starve a cold.” He just looks at me like I have seven heads. “It’s an old wives’ tale.”
“Old wives’ tale,” he repeats. “You’re barely out of school, and you’re preaching old wives’ tales.” He chuckles, and then it is all there. All the reasons he’s a dick. I feel this weird pressure in my chest when he says it, but I push it back. Way, way back.
I ignore him, turning to his little girl instead of telling him to go fuck himself sideways with a cactus and no lube. “Hope you feel better, pretty girl,” I tell his daughter before I turn around and walk down the stairs to my car. I can feel his eyes on me, and if he wasn’t holding his daughter in his arms, I might flip him the bird. But instead, I walk back to the SUV, almost jogging when I’m at the end of the driveway. Never once do I look over toward the door, and I drive off knowing he’s watching me but making sure he doesn’t know he got to me.
eight
Caine
“She’s pretty, Daddy,” Meadow says softly from my shoulder as we watch Grace walk back to her SUV. My heart goes into overdrive in my chest while my head tells me I was an asshole again to her.
“Yeah, baby,” I admit, “she is very pretty.” I watch her walk down the driveway in another pair of high fucking heels. Of course, she can run in those shoes, so she jogs as she gets closer to her car, and my cock comes out to play.
“Is she a fairy?” Meadow lifts her head from my shoulder and pushes her hair from her face.
“I think she is,” I tell her with a smile, “but I think it’s a secret.” She gasps. “How about we go watch some TV while Dad works?”
“Okay,” she agrees, squirming from my arms at the same time Grace drives away. I watch Meadow walk into the family room while I look up seeing Grace’s SUV turn the corner.
I close the door and wait for a second, looking down at my cock. “You’re a dirty old man,” I tell him. “She’s too young for you,” I say as my phone rings from my back pocket. Pulling it out, I spy Marylin’s name, making my cock duck and run for cover.
I put my head back and know she’ll call me every ten minutes if I don't answer. She either doesn’t call for six months or else she calls too much. I press the green button before it goes to voicemail. “Hello.” I turn, walking into the house, past the staircase and dining room, past my home office and into the family room where Meadow is already on the couch with a blanket over her. The remote is in her hands as she goes to her channel, so I walk back into the home office.
“Caine,” she says, “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
Yes, you have, and I haven’t answered. You would think that was clue number one, I want to say, but instead, I go with, “Sorry. It’s been crazy busy.”
“Well, I’m in town, and I was thinking that maybe I could come over and see you for lunch or dinner. Maybe spend the night?”
“Spend the night?” I don’t realize I’m saying the words out loud until she answers me.
“Yes, spend the night. Catch up with you,” she confirms, and I cringe.
“Well, Meadow woke up with a fever,” I inform her, “so you can come over now if you like.” I know full well she’ll stay ten feet away from this house with Meadow being sick. She didn’t do well when Meadow was a baby and had colic for a month. She even refused to give her a bottle at one point because the vomiting made her sick.
“Eww,” she replies. “What’s wrong with her?” And this is the biggest reason I hate this woman.
“She probably heard you were flying over. It’s enough to make anyone sick,” I finally respond to her.
“There are a couple of things I need to say to you.” She completely ignores my last sentence.
“Well, you have me.” I pull out my chair and sit down. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping we could have this conversation face-to-face.” Her voice goes soft, almost seductive. “That way we could, you know.”
“I have no idea what you are getting at, absolutely none.” Nor do I care or even want to know, I don’t add that in.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she says, and I lean back in my chair rocking back and forth, “and I think I will be moving back.”
“Here?” I ask.
“Yes, here,” she huffs. “My family is here.”
“Your family?” I ask, confused. “What family? I thought they were all out West.”
“I meant you and Meadow,” she snaps. “My family is here, so I thought it’s time I come back home.”
I sit up straight now. “Number one, there is no you, me, and Meadow. There hasn’t been for the past four years.” That I even have to remind her of this is lunacy.
“Well, yes, I know this, but she’s getting older, and she’ll need a mother.” Her soft voice now sounds irritated.
“You don’t know this because you haven’t been around for the past four years, but,” I grind out, my tone hopefully letting her know that this conversation is as irritating for me as it is for her, “she’s been doing fine without a mother.”
“She was just a baby,” she huffs, and I can even see her rolling her eyes at me. Just like she did when Meadow was a baby and would cry nonstop, and she would just leave her crying.
“Yes, a baby who is now grown up and looking to start school soon,” I let her know. “You’ve spent a whole six days with her in four years… six days. I have food in the fridge that has been there longer.” My finger taps on the desk. “And just so we are clear on how this will go. You can stay where you are because coming back here isn’t going to change anything. I have full and complete custody of her. You signed the papers. If you want, I can have my lawyer send you a copy.”
“I know what I signed, Caine,” she snaps. “I was hoping we could talk things through.”
“Talk things through? It’s been four years.” I laugh at her. “All the talking should have been done.”
“When can I see Meadow?” She ignores me again. “I have a flight back tomorrow morning.”
I chuckle. “Well, I guess we’ll have to do it next time. You were invited to her birthday party last month,” I remind her.
“I already had plans,” she huffs. “I asked you to change the date.”
“I can’t change the date my daughter was born,” I tell her.
“Daddy.” I hear Meadow calling me from the living room.
“I have to go,” I tell her, pushing my chair away from the desk. “Good talking to you. Safe flight home.” I hang up the phone and get up, walking to the family room.
“What’s up, baby girl?” I ask as I round the couch and sit next to her.
“Will you watch television with me?” she asks, and I smile before leaning in and feeling her head, which feels a lot less hot than it did this morning.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water,” she answers. I get up and walk over to the fridge to grab her water bottle. After filling it with two cubes of ice and then water, I walk back over and hand it to her. She opens the top and the plastic straw pops up as she takes little sips of water before handing it back to me. “Thanks, Daddy.” She turns on her side toward the television.
“You’re welcome, baby girl,” I tell her as she watches television. Her eyes are getting heavier, and I know that within ten minutes, she’ll be asleep again. Only when she is sleeping do I slowly get off the couch and walk back into my office, leaving the door open.
Flipping open the folder, I look down seeing the Post-it with all of Grace’s notes. I have to give it to her, she’s very thorough. My mind goes straight back to when I opened the door and saw her standing there. She is fucking gorgeous. There isn’t another word I can think of and even that word doesn’t do her justice. I shake my head to stop thinking about her, looking at my phone and wondering if she made it back to the office safely.
Grabbing my phone, I call her office phone line to see if she picks up. It rings three times before she picks up. “Caine Griffin’s office, this is Grace. How may I help you?”
You can get on your knees and swallow my cock, my head screams, and I have to shut my eyes, hoping like fuck my mouth doesn’t say the words. “Hey, it’s me, Caine.”
“Oh, good, this saves me a phone call. I was on the phone with Dyrex about your appointment tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I respond to her.
“They called and asked if they can shift it to Thursday instead. They are currently out of town and their travel schedule got shifted.” I’m about to ask her if she checked my schedule. “I’ve just finished going through your schedule for Thursday, and the only thing you had on there was the meeting with Sofia. So, if it’s okay by you, I can switch them around.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I agree. “Thank you for checking.”
“Just doing my job,” she says. “Let me know if you need anything.” She is direct.
“Will do,” I reply and hang up the phone before I ask her if she’s okay and if something is bothering her.
I spend the whole day trying to think of different reasons to call her, but nothing is a good enough reason, and the next day when my alarm rings, I spring out of bed, anxious to get to work. “Daddy,” Meadow calls me from her room, “am I going to daycare today?” I slip on shorts before I go to her bedroom.
“That depends,” I say, putting my hand on her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she states, and her forehead is cool.
“Then you are going to daycare,” I tell her even though I had Mrs. Potter on standby to come and watch her. “Get dressed, and I’ll get breakfast started.”
“Okay.” She turns over until she slides off her queen-sized bed. “I’m going to wear shorts.” I nod, watching her pick out her pink shorts with a matching top. When she’s got her outfit picked, I walk back to my room, go to the bathroom, wash my face, and fix my hair before getting dressed and walking downstairs. Forty-five minutes later, I’m parking my car in the parking lot at work. A quick look around and I don’t spot her SUV. After getting out and grabbing my coffee, I walk over to the elevator, pressing the button.
I look at my watch and see that it’s almost eight forty-five. Screeching tires make me turn my head to see her SUV pulling into a parking space closest to the elevator instead of in her normal spot. She rushes out of her SUV, and she doesn’t even notice I’m here, so I take a second to take her in. She’s wearing blue pants that are tight as fuck but go loose at her knee, with a white satin button-down top. I don’t even bother looking at her shoes because I see that she’s wearing sunglasses. She finally looks up and sees me. “Shit,” she mutters. “Busted.”
“I would say.” I put my hand in my pocket as she comes closer. “Are you hungover?” I bark, and if I could move, I would lean in and sniff to see if she smells like lingering booze.
“What?” she snaps.
“Are you hungover?” I ask her again. “You’re an hour late and wearing sunglasses. If that doesn’t scream I’m hungover, I don’t know what does.”
“Incredible,” she huffs and ignores my question before she steps forward and presses the button for the elevator that is already lit.
“If this is too much responsibility for you…” I know I should stop, but I’m pissed. I just haven’t admitted to myself that I’m pissed she was out partying without me, or the fact she was probably out on a date. Maybe this is her walk of shame. That thought alone makes me grit my teeth.
“For the record, I’m forty-five minutes late, not hours,” she says, pulling up her sunglasses. I expect to find her eyes bloodshot, but they just look tired. “My alarm didn’t ring because my phone died.” The elevator pings. “But instead of you worrying that, I don’t know, I was in maybe an accident, the first thing that comes to your mind is I’m hungover.” She steps into the elevator, shaking her head, and presses the button five times nervously. I don’t note how my stomach clenches when she says she might have been in an accident. “Fuck that.” She walks out of the elevator. “I’m not sharing this with you. I’d rather walk.” Her heels click on the asphalt. I watch her walking, shocked at her snapping at me. “And for the record.” She turns and stops walking. “I’m not hungover.” She continues until she gets to the door, which has stairs written on it.
“You’re going to walk up seven flights of stairs?” I ask as she pulls open the door.
“If it means I don’t have to share an elevator with you,” she retorts, walking in the door, and it closes behind her. I jog over to the door, pull it open, and find her at the top of the first landing. “So help me God, Caine, if you follow me up these stairs, I quit.” She turns to look at me. “And I’m not joking. I will quit and walk out, which is probably something you’ve been trying to get me to do since I first started. But I’ve decided that I’m going to be a grown-up, you know, instead of the child you think I am, and stick around, even if you make my job fifteen times harder than it should be.” She shakes her head. “Incredible,” she mumbles as she walks up the steps and farther away from me. “Drunk. He’s insane. If anyone is pushing me to drink, it’s him.” I stand here listening to her talk to herself, and the only thing I can do is hang my head.
nine
Grace
I walk up the stairs, ignoring the burn in my chest, and push through just to spite him. Was I late? Yes. Did I fall asleep doing homework last night? Also, yes. Did I wake up when I almost fell out of the chair? Again yes. To say I hightailed it out of my apartment in a matter of ten minutes isn’t an understatement. I literally brushed my teeth and hair, applied a light coat of mascara, and got dressed. The whole time, I cursed all forms of technology while I told Alexa to order me an alarm clock.
I knew I looked like shit, which is why I put on the sunglasses, hoping I could maybe slip away once I was at work to put on some concealer. But luck wasn’t on my side today. I also semi-ran two stop signs and four yellow lights to try to get here before him, but again, my luck was off on a coffee break. Now here I am huffing up the steps just to get away from him, pissed the first thing he thought was I was coming to work hungover, like I lived in a sorority house.
