Wicked Love | √

Thirty Nine

P R E S T O N
present

"SIR! You can't go in there without an appointment!" The young receptionist shouts at me but I ignore her with a dark smirk twisting my lips and determination clear in my stride.

Around the entire office floor eyes fall on me, but I don't care as my attention remains solely focused ahead. I shove the office door open with a loud slap that forces Henry Davenport's face to snap up to meet mine. Annoyance sharpens in his eyes after the initial shock fades. He may share his green eyes with his daughter, but he's nothing like her.

"Sir! I said you can't—"

He lifts a hand effectively silencing the woman, but he doesn't shift his attention away from me. She immediately falls silent as her eyes widen with fear.

"We will talk about this later, Kendra." His voice is gruff and overflowing with irritation.

She says nothing as she begins to scurry away like a hurt puppy.

"Shut the door," I call out, not even sparing her another look. I have one focus at the moment and the young secretary isn't one of them.

She follows my order and closes the door with a soft thud, leaving Jameson's father and myself alone.

Anger makes me want to see red and ram my fist into his face over and over again until he's in an inch of his life so he can begin to feel even a sliver of what Jameson went through. The sorry son of a bitch hasn't even attempted to come visit his only daughter while she's been recovering from the worst night of her life and mine.

But I know violence won't fix anything. It will make me feel better, a lot fucking better, but not for long. What I have up my sleeve makes the tantalizing thrill of vengeance slide through my chest until it wraps around my heart tightly making me smile.

Henry doesn't say anything as tension filled silence falls on us like a thick blanket of suffocation. But I don't stop smiling.

"You think you can just barge in here?" he rumbles, leaning back in his leather desk chair. His office is pristine. But for a rather modern building it's an old school office. All dark and trying to be intimidating without actually being so himself. It's a room filled with far too much mahogany wood and the faint whiff of unproven arrogance.

I move to sit in the chair in front of his desk making myself comfortable in his space, which clearly pisses him off. "I think I just did," I say nonchalantly as I relax and cross my ankle over my thigh.

He lets out a hard sigh as his patience is clearly wearing thin. "What do you want Preston?"

"Do you even care about what your daughter went through?" I ask bluntly. How can someone care so little? I've tried it. I've tried to not care and it only made me care more. Love more. Fall fucking harder for Jameson.

He flippantly motions his hands. "My wife deals with her."

My teeth grind at his dismissive response. "But you visited Aiden?" I question back.

He shrugs. "Needed to check in on my son."

I scoff. "You're a sorry fucking excuse for a father," I practically spit at him. I've never had respect for him, but what ever did exist has completely dried up and disappeared now.

"And you're a little piece of shit who will amount to nothing," he taunts back as if he thinks his words will wound me.

But all they do is fuel me. Fuel the fire raging wildly in my chest to protect the single most important person in my life. So the cruel smile on my face doesn't drop, instead it widens.