Page 9 of Accidental Dad’s Best Friend (Unintentionally Yours #7)

Ethan

I zzy is hiding something.

Though I’m not sure what it is.

At first, she was hesitant about the job, which I understand.

I wouldn’t want to work with my dad either if my dad was Liam Sloane.

But after I told her that she is working for me and me only, it loosened her up enough that she agreed to write the article.

With some stipulations of course. That part doesn’t surprise me.

Nothing comes easy with Isabelle Sloane.

(Except me. I come very easy with Isabelle Sloane).

She wants a two bedroom rental in a family friendly neighborhood.

That part is a mystery to me. Why a single girl of her age would turn down a free luxury flat in the heart of the mile high city is beyond me.

Not that Izzy is a gold digger– she’s too I don’t need no man for that– but I’m not sure what the appeal of being in an area overflowing with soccer moms and more Ben and Jerry’s than bars is.

I guess there are a lot of things about grown up Izzy I still don’t know. And if a picket fence townhouse is all she wants in return for her father’s professional demise, she’s got it. That’s cake.

After she leaves the coffee shop in Glenwood Springs, I immediately get to work finding her a rental.

It isn’t hard. Between my connections in the city and the budget I have, I am able to find a two bedroom place that is inner-city suburban life ?.

With brick cottage exterior, white shutters and even a modest private fenced yard in the back, it’s about as charming as townhomes get.

The laundry room and oversized tub will make her happy.

And the location– the heart of Cherry Creek– makes me happy.

She’ll be safe and close to all the best shopping and dining.

Once everything is arranged, I text her.

Ethan: Hey Izzy. How is packing going?

Izzy: Miserable. I guess I have more shit than I thought I did so I’m trying to downsize to make moving cheaper.

Ethan: No second thoughts. And send me your info. I’ll have movers come in for you. They can pack, load, unload and unpack.

Izzy: That’s…a thing?

Ethan: For a price it is. Consider it done.

Izzy: Jesus. Okay I guess.

I smile to myself. Her modesty is adorable.

As Liam’s daughter she’s never grown up in want of anything.

But he always had this way of making her feel like she owes him for it.

Because of that, over the years, Izzy has grown more and more independent of him, not wanting his help with any of it.

While he promised her he could get her into any college there is, she went to Naropa after winning a talent based scholarship.

He wanted her to stay in a high end apartment complex and she refused, shacking up with several other girls from the school in a bungalow house in downtown Boulder.

Nestled in the heart of Colorado’s hippy district, it was a hot spot of hot boxing (not that Izzy partook if I had to guess).

Though she did do yoga and even got a henna tattoo at one point.

I know this only from Liam’s ranting. I thought it was cute.

He thought it was a disgrace. Long story short, I’m not surprised she is fighting me on this.

Izzy: Shouldn’t we have a place lined up before you send movers in?

Ethan: Already done. 55 Garfield St SUITE A. Check it out on Zillow.

Izzy: That’s…a lot.

Ethan: So?

Izzy: Something simple is fine, Ethan.

Ethan: Simple in the city means sketchy. You will not be living somewhere that needs bars on the windows. The lease is signed.

There is a long moment before she responds and when she finally does, it’s a simple–

Izzy: Thank you.

It’s modest. I must have hit a nerve. One she doesn’t expose often.

I smile at that, my chest feeling warm. I know all of this is a bit nuts.

It’s been less than two days but I’m wasting no time.

I want that article written and ready for next month’s issue.

I have never been so done with someone in my life.

If you had told me ten years ago that Liam and I would be enemies, I would have told you to get bent.

The man has always been ruthless in a professional sense.

He’s always been the most competitive person I’ve ever met.

And for a while, that worked well for us.

Our energy played off one another and we spent all our time off brainstorming ways to make Next Big Thing, well, the next big thing.

Between my interest in staying up to date and well read in the world of business and his natural affinity for the actual world of business itself, we took the journalism industry by storm when we coined NBT.

He was the owner slash CEO which made sense considering his bulldog leadership and I became the chief editor and head writer.

We were the hottest business magazine on the racks and kings of the mountain so to speak.

But the success was never enough. Liam didn’t care how much good press we got or how high the sales soared.

If there was ever a mention of any other magazine having success, he sucked the air between his teeth and slammed the office door.

He bit into our writers, pushing them too hard and keeping them too late.

It was as if he didn’t just want NBT to be the best magazine in the world of business, he wanted it to be the only one.

This lust spread over him like a possession, eventually getting to the point where he wouldn’t listen to any outside voice of reason, even mine.

The old Liam, the one I knew and loved and would do anything for, is gone. I haven’t seen that man in years. And the Liam I am dealing with now is a reptile. A shell of the best friend I used to have.

And he needs to be stopped.

It takes one week from our text conversation for the movers to have her shipped across the state and situated into the new place.

As much as I want to meet her there, make sure she has what she needs, you know all the we fucked and it's all I can think about things, I know Izzy won’t stand for it so I give her space.

I do blow her phone up asking for details every hour until she sends an all caps warning for me to back the fuck off because she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself but also, thank you.

After that week of settling, we meet up at Roast, a little coffee spot three blocks from her townhouse. As much as she acts like I have gone completely overboard setting her up in a gated community in one of Denver’s most sought after areas, I know she loves it. I can see it on her face.

“You look good,” I say as she sets her bags down and glances up at the coffee menu.

I arrived an hour early to get set up but also so I can watch her walk through the door and take her in.

She’s in joggers this time, much less formal than the first time we met up at the lounge (and a more clothed than the last time) and a pink tank top.

They always say redheads shouldn’t wear pink, not that she is a true redhead, but it’s doing her a lot of favors right now.

It accentuates her blue eyes, making them visible the moment she walks in, and the constellation of freckles on her cheeks is more apparent too.

But Izzy just drags her gaze down to mine in the world’s most over the top eye roll. “Business. Not pleasure, Savage. Business.”

“Damn. Shoot a guy in the dick for complimenting you. Also, since when are we on a last name basis?”

“Since you became my boss.” Izzy’s eyes shoot back to the menu.

“I already ordered you an iced caramel latte. They’re making it now.”

Her eyes slice over to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But did I get it right?”

“You…did,” the words come out as if they taste sour in her mouth. “But still.”

“It’s not unheard of for a boss to treat their employees. I can write it off on my taxes so I’m not doing you any favors. So thank you, not you’re welcome.”

She studies me hard for a moment before sitting down and pulling out her laptop. Izzy is quiet while it loads. Meanwhile, I unbutton the wrists of my shirt and roll my sleeves up to the elbow. It’s warmer than I expected, especially with the shop keeping its doors open.

Izzy’s eyes flash over.

Her cheeks flush.

She looks away.

“How’s the house?” I ask.

“It’s nice,” she admits.

“Is it the neighborhood you were hoping for?”

“It’s lovely.”

I bite a smile, though I really want to bite her. She’s not being a very good girl right now.

“And that second room?”

Her eyes drag over to me. “Great for yoga.”

I stare at her. She stares back. Then I imagine her in a downward dog, sweat dripping down her breasts, sans the yoga pants and I have to shift in my seat. Then I take another sip of my coffee and clear my throat.

“Dry mouth, Savage?” Izzy asks as the barista sets her iced coffee flavored dessert down in front of her. Her brow is arched as she unwraps her straw and licks the tip of the whipped cream from her drink.

“Why don’t we just focus, yeah?” I tug my laptop closer to me and Izzy does the same. There’s a small smile playing in the corners of her lips. I want to kiss it off. But I can’t. I won’t. So I lean in and when I do, our knees bump.

Fuck me.

“So before we get started drafting, we need to talk about tactics.” I start in. I need to work, to talk about something boring and even off putting so I stop thinking about her.

“Tactics?” Izzy spits out. “I thought you said you'd read my blog.”

“I have read your blog.”

“Then you know I don’t need your help. Everything you are wanting me to do is my area of expertise. It’s why you’re hiring me isn’t it?”

I sit back, making direct eye contact with her. “I asked you to write this article with me because you know him. Because you’ve seen the damage he’s done with his power and I think you would agree with me that he needs to be stopped.”

“But you don’t think I’m a good writer?” Izzy pulls her knee away from mine under the table. But I widen my legs so they’re touching again. She swallows…hard.

“You are a damn good writer, Isabelle.”

“Izzy,” she snaps.

“And I wouldn’t want you for the job if you weren’t.

But this isn’t an article bringing awareness to readers of the fashion industry.

It isn’t calling out misogyny in the workplace or politics in preschools preventing aid for kids in need of IEPs.

Yes, I’ve read all your articles and they are good.

Better than good. But this is your father we are talking about.

Liam Sloane. Head of NBT and tycoon of the business journalism world.

This is a man that goes for blood no matter who he’s cutting in the process.

I know this because he prevented me from getting a job at the League.

Cock blocked me basically. Blackmail. If he would do that, if he would turn his back on you for what you did at Slay, he’d stop at nothing to hold his position.

So we can’t just be good journalists, sweetheart. We have to be smart journalists.”

My words are making Izzy’s lips tight and her knee tapping under the table. I can practically feel her pulse rippling in the air between us.

“Do you still want to do this?” I ask after a moment.

“Yes. But we are going to play by my rules,” she says in a stern whisper.

I let out a singular gritty laugh at that. “Your rules?”

“It will start with you keeping your hands, among other body parts, to yourself.”

Izzy jerks her leg hard enough away from mine that my knee slams into the leg of the table. I bite my lips and wince but there’s a smile behind it too.

“Anything else?” I ask through my teeth.

“It will end with me having final say about what this article will disclose about him. Nobody knows like I do what it’s truly like to live beneath his thumb. And no one knows his weak spots like I do either. If he goes down, it’s going to be because I was holding the sword.”

I open my mouth to say something when Izzy’s phone buzzes. She looks down at it and then stands up, shoving her things in her bag. “I have to go.”

“I thought we were going to work.”

“Something came up.” She slings her bag over her arm and reaches for her drink. When she does, I grab her wrist softly, forcing her to look at me.

“You are acting very secretively considering the favors I am doing you, Isabelle.”

“Then don’t do me any favors, Savage.” She rips herself from my clutch and swipes her coffee off the table. “This is a job. Nothing more.”

With that, Izzy marches out of the coffee shop. I can’t help the part of me that seems to go with her. I also can’t stop wondering what she’s hiding…