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“I bet.” George does not take lightly to people invading what he considers his territory. Hell, half the time it’s a miracle he lets me into the office. It wasn’t until Bell that he—
“If I were you, I might want to make my way upstairs.” Raymond glances behind me at the café. “Unless you were waiting for someone?”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I shake my head. “Nope. Not waiting for anyone.”
“Indeed.”
Nosy fucker.
Raymond inclines his head one more time before heading over to the group of women congregating around a makeup counter. I’m sure within minutes they’ll be simpering over his hoity-toity ways.
Moore’s is lucky to have him.
Hell, I’m lucky to have him.
When I glance back at the café, Thomas is at the counter ordering a coffee, and Bell’s at the table rifling through her laptop bag. Hopefully that means their little chat is over. I’d go find out myself, but I trust Bell. I sure as shit don’t trust my father.
I jog over to the elevators and swipe my security card, bracing myself for whatever new shit Stan is no doubt about to throw my way.
* * *
“Decided to make an appearance, huh?” My father is nearly vibrating with displeasure. A usual occurrence around me, though normally he does a better job of hiding it.
George jumps up from the couch in my office, where it seems he’s stayed as a self-appointed overseer of my father. He pushes up his glasses and buttons his suit jacket before speaking. “Mr. Moore came in early this morning.” His tone leaves no one wondering how he feels about this. “I called security and verified his arrival time. He was alone, in your office, a full ten minutes before I got here.”
Stan’s eyes narrow on George. “You insolent little… how dare you talk about me like I’m some sort of—”
“I found him at your desk,” George goes on, ignoring my father. Handy trick. I’ll need to remember it for future use.
“His desk?” Stan snorts. “We’ll just see about that.”
Making a mental note to give George a raise, I nod at him. “Thanks, George. I have it from here.” My father blusters, like he’s gathering wind for the new storm he’s going to throw my way. Looking back to George, I add, “Why don’t you go take a break? I think the marketing team brought in bagels again. Go get yourself one.”
“The sniveling secretary just got here and you’re already giving him a break? This is how you run things?” Stan glowers at George.
George just raises his eyebrow at the old man. His Uncle Raymond would be so proud.
“It’s a mental health break, Stan. From having to deal with your shit.” My voice comes off harsher than I’d intended, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck.
My father blusters again. “You—”
I slice my hand through the air. “Enough.”
Surprisingly, Stan quiets.
George’s lips twitch, his proper exterior cracking slightly. “Are you sure, Chase? I don’t mind staying. I could take notes.” He throws a narrowed glance at my father. “Be a witness.”
The fact that he called me Chase only signifies how much my father got to him, and how much he probably needs a time out away from my family drama. “Nah, you’ve done more than enough. Go ahead. Take a break.”
“Very well.” With a nod, he turns to leave, saying, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Once he clears the threshold, he pointedly leaves the door open.
Being the mature man that he is, Stan walks over and closes it.
Might as well get this over with.
“So, old man, what’s with the unscheduled drop-in?”
“Your little foray into heading the family business is over. Thomas is taking over.”
