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His black pants stretched over his thighs and I realized they were just as muscled as his arms. After only two breaths, he straightened and speared me with his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it possible that this man could blow fire from his nostrils.
“We need to lay out some ground rules before you head to work,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is nothing for us to discuss. I just fired you.”
I pushed past him on purpose, but the plan backfired when I was the one who stumbled from the contact.
He moved closer to me, blocking my exit. “You can’t fire me because I don’t work for you. I work for your mother, and if she tells me to guard you, that’s exactly what I will do. Now about those rules.”
“Move out of my way,” I grumbled, and this time sidestepped to avoid him altogether.
He sighed loudly; I figured it was on purpose to exaggerate his frustration, but I ignored his attention-seeking ways.
“Fine,” he said behind me. “Let’s do this your way.”
A small smile crept on my lips, but I quickly slammed it straight. I would not find him amusing.
I didn’t have to worry about my smile because the next voice erased it completely.
“Nikole May Adams,” my mother called from the elevator. Her heels clicked along the marble floors and it seemed to me that everyone in the busy foyer stood still. Just like when the teacher called out a student’s name, the whole class would stop what they were doing to watch what would happen next.
I was twenty-six years old, graduated at the top of my class at law school, and was offered an incredible opportunity at one of the best law firms in the country, but at that moment, none of it mattered. I became a twelve-year-old girl standing in her bedroom, cowering at my mother’s words. Those three words, ‘Nikole May Adams’, always incited Pavlovian fear.
You’re not that girl anymore. She can’t make you feel this way unless you allow her to do it.
I inhaled sharply and turned around. “Yes, Mother.”
“I don’t care which fancy firm you work at now. You will not walk away from me.”
An instant apology flew to my lips, but I swallowed it. Pressing my lips together, I waited for her to say something.
“If this tantrum is over—”
“This is not a tantrum,” I ground out through gritted teeth. How could I not feel twelve when she spoke to me as though I were still a little girl? “I do not appreciate you making decisions about my life without consulting me first.”
She sighed. “Fine. Let’s go back upstairs where I can explain the situation to you in more detail.”
I hesitated at first but realized that this was what I wanted—to have a mature conversation with my mother.
She motioned to the elevator down the hallway and allowed me to precede her inside.
I’d nearly forgotten about Jacob until I turned to face the elevator doors and found my nose only a few inches from his back. He stood in front of us with his arms crossed like some sort of gargoyle.
“Does he have to come up, too?”
“Yes,” my mother said just as Jacob responded, “I go wherever you go, Nikole.”
I didn’t like my name on his lips. The rough sound made my body react.
When we reached my mother’s apartment, I sat down at the dining table but left my coat on. “I don’t have much time. I have to be at work in thirty minutes.”
While my mother booted up her laptop, my eyes wandered about the room. I’d only been inside her suite a handful of times. We usually met for lunch since my mother was always in one meeting or another. She had been this way my whole life. When she ran for governor, I wasn’t surprised. It was the next logical step in her career. I just wished I hadn’t found out while at a friend’s dorm room with the news on. My friend congratulated me, but I told her I wasn’t the one running, so there was no need. My tone must have been gruff because she never brought it up again.
“Here it is,” my mother said, turning her computer towards me. “I received the first email two months ago.”
“Two months,” I said, pursing my lips. “And you’re just telling me about it now.”
“Well, as you can see, this first email was only a personal attack—I’m used to those—but scroll down to the next one.”
