Seattle is miserable.

It’s rainy and cold and the meetings drag endlessly, another boring board of directors, and another boring meaningless round of chatter. Something I learned working in my new role is how much businessmen like to set up meetings to discuss nothing much at all and will take several sessions to conclude on something minor.

The hotel is like every other we have stayed in and as usual we have a penthouse suite. Grand, opulent, and modern. Jake insists that when we travel, we have rooms in the same suite, so I can be at his beck and call as we usually work late from them. I spent the best part of last night having him dictate memos and running through his schedules and itinerary before he made me get up at the crack of dawn to jog with him in the rain.

Jake likes conversation when he runs, so whenever we leave home and his trainer behind, he harasses me into it. I have never jogged so much in my life until I started living with this man.

I’m tired by the time we get back to the hotel, it’s been a long day and I’m none too pleased, when upon arrival, we’re met in the foyer by a familiar looking red head. I inwardly groan.

Felicity Crane!

This is the one with a voice like razor blades and I have a headache coming on. She’s also a screamer and the reason I carry headphones and an iPod when I have to live in the same suite as Casanova Carrero. I am instantly deflated.

I give him a withering look and catch his smirk; he knows how much I love Felicity. She’s been on his date list for a few weeks with sporadic hook ups, because she understands the meaning of casual sex! Seattle is her home base, although she travels a lot and meets us in random cities.

“Miss Crane.” I smile tightly and try to look elsewhere as she embraces Jake eagerly, with loud wet kisses on his cheek.

Gross. Have some class for god’s sake.

“Oh, Jake, you look so hot in this suit, so very businessman of the year.” She whines in that painful voice. I try to numb out the clingy baby tones as we hit the elevator. Like nails down a chalkboard.

as ever, although he only noticed

at him and turn away. Even though I’m standing with my back to them I know

get any enjoyment out of conversation with the brain dead. I guess it’s not the conversation he’s

pocket and I

for the distraction from the

I vaguely recognize, something gnawing at me in the back of my mind as I

Jakes eyes honing in on me with interest, his probing gaze, because normally all calls relate to him in some

nosy shit, he probably thinks I have finally

distracting as I’m trying to listen to the hoarse voice on the other end, who is mumbling

to me … It’s been a long time … Emma it’s your father, Frank Roberts.” The faceless voice slurs and my blood freezes in my veins, the warmth drains from my face, inhaling fast and I’m at a loss for words as I zone out whatever else he is saying. The suffocating sensation in my lungs momentarily knocks me for six but I push it down harshly

me as I regain my composure, cutting off his babble. I sound as shocked as I feel and know that Jake will

His voice is weak and gnarly, it causes a creeping bile

switch it off. Jake’s hand is on my arm in a heartbeat, trying to turn me, but I stiffen to stop him. Not able to look

mute and shove it deep into my bag. I am overcome with emotion, and I don’t want to be closed in this elevator with Jake and

hard chest against my back, his face coming around the side of mine to see me. I block him out, trying to get a hold on self-composed

breath. Steady, calm,

closing walls begin to move back out and I calm myself, pushing out of his embrace

glance back and a tight smile, but his expression stays the same. He looks worried and only frowns

boss often manhandles me, it doesn’t

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