Page 21 of My Ex’s Dad (Scandalous Billionaires #1)

I let go of Warrick’s foot so fast that it splashes into the water. His eyes fly open, and his whole body jerks forward. He groans, thrusting his head into his hands.

“Sorry!” I gulp. “I’m just going to answer that. I…should I answer it?”

“I suppose so,” he grunts.

“Just stay there. Keep soaking.”

I rush off before I can humiliate myself further. Maybe it’s someone from work or the clinic coming to check up on Warrick. Even a salesperson would be preferrable to who I find on the doorstep. I’m completely unequipped to come face-to-face with Reginald.

“Oh!” I step back, swallowing far too loudly. I would love to be one of those people who could magically compose myself within a few seconds, but alas, I’m more of the blessed to always be a mess variety. “I…Reginald. What are you doing here?”

He tries to take a peek into the house around me. He won’t see much of anything because the hall has enough of a defined space that, if anything, all he’ll catch is the side profile of where the kitchen starts. He won’t be able to see into the living room.

I have no doubt Warrick can hear everything I’m saying.

Reg scans my face like a machine. If he’s here, it’s because his mom must have said something. Or maybe my family. Or has Warrick told him that I’m working here?

I’m ruffled, discomfited, and sure that my face is doing all sorts of wonky things. For example, loudly and clearly projecting the employee and boss feelings that I certainly don’t have. Not at all. Not ex-boyfriend feelings, not ex-boyfriend’s dad feelings. No feelings. None at all.

It doesn’t help that I realize my mouth is open.

I quickly rearrange my jaw and hope the rest of my face follows.

Reginald has known me for too long, and his scanning eyes send messages to his brain far too damn fast. He frowns, but slowly, that deepens until he looks almost furious.

Instead of digging deep inside to find my lady balls, all I can do is go straight to the panicked place of oh, shit, I’ve seen your dad wet in a pool and totally naked and wet in a shower.

I’ve hugged him, looked after him, massaged his feet, and made him soup.

I’ve thought the most indecent thoughts, subbing him into my smut books and having heart-stopping, panty-melting dreams.

I wish I could say I haven’t really done that, and it’s just my panicked mind that’s telling the tallest of tales, but alas…

I’m so fucked.

“R-e-g,” I stammer again, turning each letter into a syllable. “What are you doing here?”

He crosses his arms, trying to look bigger than he is.

I know what he’s doing. I’ve seen it before.

He might know me, but I also know his tells.

My face might be projecting all sorts of things it shouldn’t be, and I might want to find a hole to die in, but nope.

It looks more like I’m going to have to pick a hill to do that on instead.

What that hill is, I’m not entirely sure, but I know there’s one.

A Warrick-shaped hill in the middle of my chest.

“It’s my dad’s house.”

Facts: This man lied to me and tried to get me killed. That event led directly to me getting hired here. I haven’t done anything wrong. I have every right to stand my ground.

What I don’t have the right to do is fall for Reg’s dad. Or kind of dad. Technically still his dad. Whatever I do, I have to keep that from showing.

I force my eyes open wide. Obscenely wide. If Reg sees them twitch, he’ll know for sure that something is off.

“What are you doing with your eyes?”

I don’t blink. I keep staring until my eyeballs are one step away from rolling out of my head and sticking to the front doorstep.

“Nothing,” I answer.

“You’re doing something strange with them.”

“No, I’m not.”

In typical Reg fashion, he rolls his own eyes dismissively. “Whatever. Get some eye drops. I think you need them.”

I cross my arms. There’s no way I’m budging from this doorway until I know why Reg is here. My protective guard dog hackles are up in full force. I can practically hear Booty Sue hooing in the back of my mind. Not all guard dogs are built equal, but they’re all super cute.

All the same, my hackles are now engaged.

“You’re here,” I state flatly. It’s another version of my earlier question without repeating it. Well, mostly.

I don’t state that this is the first time he’s probably ever visited this place.

I don’t remind him that he doesn’t talk to his dad.

Things have changed. For all I know, maybe Warrick asked Reginald to come.

He’s trying to get him on the straight and narrow.

I asked him to do that. No, I begged him.

Maybe he came to thank his dad. To tell him that he’s sorry and wants a relationship.

The scrappy part of me that I didn’t know was a thing beats on her cavewoman breast at the thought of Reginald coming here because he wants something from Warrick. I can’t stand the thought of Warrick being hurt.

Ugh, that’s me. Maid by day, werewolf door guardian by night.

Because aren’t werewolves just a shade cooler than regular dog door guardians?

You know what would be cool?

The robot dog.

I wish I were good at programming so I could write its code to read people’s innermost thoughts and emotions and chase the bad ones away with really bad robot dog farts made to work with the world’s most toxic fart spray. Maybe it’s something Warrick could do.

“You’re here because…” I prompt. For a third time. “It’s the middle of the day.” If Reginald wanted to talk to his dad, he should have assumed he’d be at work. Maybe he already tried there and was told Warrick wasn’t in.

“I wanted to come see if what Candice said is true. That you’re living here now.” Reg always calls her by her name. Apparently, since he was a legal adult, she insisted on it.

“Here? No. I don’t live here.” Technically, he means the house. Well, I don’t actually live in it. My quarters are around the back. There’s a big difference.

“But you work here.”

My eyes are starting to waver. I’m going to need those darned eyedrops Reg so thoughtfully suggested. “Your dad offered me a job after I was fired from mine when some thugs showed up and intimidated my boss and all the other employees.”

This selfish little turdbag doesn’t even have the grace to look guilty about his actions. A wild vine of true anger wraps around my throat, but far from choking off my oxygen, it actually gives me a burst of fury equal to the task of doing what I should have done long ago. Telling Reg off.

“Those thugs smashed my teapot collection. They ruined my apartment. They also tore up and destroyed pretty much everything I owned. They threatened my family, and they were going to try and break my granny in half. Thankfully, your dad didn’t just pay them off.

He replaced the money you stole from me and my family.

How can you just…how can you hurt people so casually ? ”

He blinks at me, but my words just flow right past him like someone holding a leaf blower to his head. Unpleasant, but something he can walk away from without any long-lasting damage.

It’s not fair, but then, what does he care? Did he ever even give a shit about me?

The rage is so strong that the hurt, painful parts of me want to start throwing words at him like handfuls of poo, monkey style. All the things I was dreading Reg finding out, though they were nothing, jump straight to the forefront of my mind and then some.

And. Then. Some.

You did me a favor, almost getting me killed, because now I know your dad is a gentleman on the streets and an animal in the sheets.

Your dad is so hot that I’ve wanted to dry hump his leg ever since the first second I met him.

Even my granny thinks your dad is amazing. He took her for a ride in his awesome car.

I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you were never able to satisfy me the way your dad has. Turns out, all I needed was a real man. Thank you for showing me what I’ve been missing all this time.

Your dad really knows how to rock a pair of grey sweats.

I’ve seen your dad slick and naked in the shower.

Go gargle a ball sack, asshole.

I’ve never had such horrible, juvenile thoughts in my life.

Gargle a ball sack? Where have I even heard that before?

I certainly would never say anything about Warrick.

It might drive Reginald to distraction and be a sweet payback, but no amount of temporary satisfaction is worth hurting a good man.

All his life, that’s exactly what happened to him. Injustice surges up my throat like acid. I’d do anything to protect him, and it makes me feel doubly guilty for those thoughts.

Meanwhile, Reginald is still an asshole.

He hasn’t changed a whit, and he’s not sorry for anything he did.

I don’t care why he’s here. I don’t even care that he’s Warrick’s son.

I know Warrick wants to have a relationship with him.

He has tried so hard. But this isn’t the way it’s going to happen.

I won’t let Reginald in here to hurt his dad with ungrounded accusations about me being here.

I won’t let his petty meanness touch a good man, especially when he’s sick and not at his best.

“Warrick isn’t here. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Reg’s face twists nastily. “You can stop milking my dad for money. Find someone else to be your sugar baby. You’re not even that pretty, Amalphia. You’re kind of pathetic, actually. Going from the son to the dad.” He makes fake gagging noises.

Dude. It’s sugar daddy.

But I’m certainly not going to point that out. Reg will only take it as confirmation.

I breathe deeply. Violence never solved anything. If I so much as flip him off, he’ll probably try and sue me. Reg is like that. He has always blamed his own shit on everyone else. Why did I ever think I could help him be a better person?

My silence only winds Reg up. He’s digging for a reaction, and he’s not going to stop until he gets one.

“Getting my dad to go where I’ve already been is sickening.

I never pegged him for a sloppy seconds kind of guy, but it’s clear that’s what he’s into.

Subpar, lukewarm, microwaved, leftover pasta.

Limp, bland, and disgusting. You’re so aimless that you’d fall right into the warms of anyone willing to let you—”

I don’t hear him coming, but I feel the way the air changes. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. It’s like a science experiment gone wrong, lethal gas creeping through the air, killing slowly but surely.

I realize why Reg suddenly cut himself off.

Warrick is standing right behind me.

Then, Warrick steps neatly in front of me and shields me with his huge body. “That’s enough, Reginald .”

Warrick’s commanding presence actually serves to silence Reg completely. My mouth goes dry behind him.

My eyes fall straight to his ass.

Oh my god, his ass in those sweats.

My mouth goes dry all over again. My eyes finally remember to blink, but they’re beyond redemption at this point. Besides, I think all the moisture is being siphoned straight down to my panties.

Every dirty line I’ve ever read in every smutlicious book floods my brain at once.

I would do dirty, dirty things to Warrick’s ass—and the rest of him—if he let me.

And all the not-dirty things too. Whatever he wanted.

I wouldn’t just be happy to do it. I’d be honored .

I’d enjoy making him feel good. His happiness would make me happy.

“Dad, I…this is…you can’t just…” Reg can’t get it going. His mouth is like a car spinning in a snowbank, going nowhere fast.

“I’m not going to demand an apology because it would be insincere at best,” Warrick barks.

“Please leave. Not for good, but until you can be civil and think before you speak. Your words and actions can have lasting harm, Reginald. You need to learn that. You can’t go through life hurting other people.

I apologize for your pain, and my door is open for you. Just not today. Not right now.”

Warrick slowly shuts the door on Reginald.

Then, he locks it. Loudly.

He’s perfectly still. Too still.

I want to say something. I need to apologize. My hand at my side itches to touch him, not like a lover, but as a friend would. I get halfway there, closer and closer to his shoulder, but then he turns, his face a black storm of despair and guilt.

“This was a mistake. I should never have offered you this job. I knew what it would look like.” He can’t maintain eye contact, and he studies the floor instead of my face.

“I hoped Reginald and Candice could be mature, that somehow this would change them, but I’m the idiot for believing in anything other than what has historically been true.

I’ll pay you for the year, and you can go home.

You’ll find your place, Amalphia, but it’s just not here. ”

“Warrick, I—” I don’t get to finish is what I don’t get to do. He shoulders past me, determined and stronger than I’ve seen him look in days.

Completely, irrevocably, decisive.

As he walks away.