Page 35 of Unconventionally, Elle

"Yes, that's correct." I smiled. "I'm a freelancer for the magazine she works for and see her in the office pretty often. We also do yoga together." We also do yoga together? C'mon, Elle , I told myself.

"A freelancer?" Mr. Henry interjected. "So you aren't actually employed with them?"

Well, that wasn't where I thought this was going. I hesitated for only a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm employed, but more so on my terms, I guess you could say. I work as an independent contractor while Emma is actually a full-time employee."

He didn't skip a beat. "So you don't work full time?" He looked to Barrett. "Margaret is employed at that magazine your aunt runs. Isn't she the art director or something high up like that?"

Barrett's face blanched at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. I could feel the frustration and anger rising in my chest. His dad was twisting my words. And also, aunt ? Olivia was Barrett and Emma's aunt. Holy shit! Before Barrett could reply, I chimed in again.

"Yes, Margaret is there still. She does a wonderful job for the magazine with layout and design." I was going to kill with kindness. I repeat, kill with kindness.

Sitting next to Barrett, I could feel him getting uneasy and noticed his shoulders draw up toward his ears. Tension was gathering in his shoulder blades, so I placed my hand on his upper back and made soft, circular motions to help him relax.

"I see. So as an independent contractor, you're not entitled to benefits or retirement then, correct?" Mr. Henry continued arrogantly with his twenty questions.

I was beginning to feel defensive, like he was attacking me for something I did wrong.

"Dad, I really don't think this is appropriate," Barrett said, his voice tense and low.

"Barrett, I can ask Elle about her work. It's fair game, right, Elle?" Mr. Henry asked with an overly sweet voice.

What is wrong with this man? I thought to myself.

While holding her wineglass with glazed eyes and a content smile, Mrs. Henry chimed in to the conversation. "I'm so glad you've met Margaret. We love her. You know, she and Barrett were a hot item? We thought for sure they'd be announcing an engagement, but--"

"Mother!" Barrett's voice was hot and firm.

Mrs. Henry closed her mouth abruptly and looked at Barrett with a confused and slightly annoyed expression on her face. "What, Barrett? It's true. We all thought--"

He cut her off again. "Mother, that's enough.

We aren't here to talk about Margaret. That relationship is over.

" I could feel the heat radiating off his back, so I moved my hand to hold his underneath the table.

His palms were sweaty, and I squeezed gently as our fingers interlaced on top of his thigh.

I had to keep him calm. If he lost control of his emotions, they'd eat him alive.

We were definitely going to need a stiff drink after this dinner.

I couldn't look away from Mrs. Henry. I didn't think she hated me, but she was a little cold earlier.

Now she was acting aloof. After Barrett reprimanded her outburst, she began to pout and kept looking over to Mr. Henry, then to her glass.

Sip, pout, sip. In that glimpse of a moment, I couldn't be angry with her; I felt bad for her.

She was coping with this very uncomfortable situation, and she was coping with her wine.

I wondered how often that was the case for her.

I turned a challenging gaze back to Mr. Henry. He didn't scare me; he annoyed the fuck out of me, and I wasn't intimidated by this small-minded, narcissistic man.

"Mr. Henry."

He looked over at me, surprised.

"You are correct in your assumption."

His eyes widened and his brows rose in question.

"I do not have retirement benefits or any other benefits with this current position.

However, I had a very successful, very financially rewarding career for many years prior to moving to Boston.

I do, in fact, have a 401(k) and an investment portfolio, but forgive me, I don't typically brag about it at the dinner table. "

Barrett whispered in my ear, "Elle . . ."

But I kept my fierce stare on Mr. Henry. Fire was burning in my eyes, and Mr. Henry wasn't going to treat me like Chris or Mr. Landry had. I wouldn't allow it. I deserved better as a woman trying to be enough in a society that was rooting against me.

"Elle, please, you don't have to justify yourself here. Please. It's not worth it." Barrett squeezed my hand and tried to assuage my anger.

I ignored him.

"You are very interesting, Elle Watson." Mr. Henry held my gaze; he was a powerful man, after all. "You chose to work for less. Or did you think you'd meet someone? Someone like my son?"

Okay. This made sense now.

"Dear, stop. Who wouldn't want to meet someone like Barrett? He's simply the light of my life--and such a good boy." Mrs. Henry waved her hand whimsically in the air.

"Motherrr," Barrett groaned. Though, it was pretty cute the way she doted on him.

"I'm not questioning that, my dear." His voice was sarcastic and crass. "But someone like our son, who is very wealthy and from a good Boston family, is quite the catch. Wouldn't you agree, Barrett?" He turned to his son and gave him a cold grin with thin pressed lips and a maniacal head tilt.

"She's happy, Father. Sometimes all the money in the world can't buy happiness," Barrett said tightly.

"Happy?" Mr. Henry sneered with laughter.

"This must be a new generational thing. Right?

Happy? I've never heard of such a thing.

" Then Mr. Henry lifted a finger and smirked at Barrett.

"Well, almost never, right, Barrett, my boy?

Didn't you once say you weren't happy?" He looked right at me as he spoke. "I set him straight. Right, Barrett?"

Barrett was trembling, his eyes were narrowed, and his nostrils flared. I squeezed his hand tighter and pulled slightly to keep him seated.

Mr. Henry continued with his harassment.

"Something about sailboats and Nantucket--what an idea.

" Mr. Henry waved his hands dismissively.

"You were born to lead this company, and it took a while, but we've come to an understanding.

Right, Barrett? Happiness? What do they teach you at college these days? " he said with disdain.

At the other side of the table, Mrs. Henry was staring at her glass, nodding silently, barely listening.

"One day, you kids will figure it out. You need to be successful and have money like we do.

You don't want to end up on the streets or, worse, be forced to fly commercial.

These hobbies and such, they won't do for long.

They don't pay the bills. You can't be a successful writer.

" He glared at me, then back to Barrett.

"And I refuse to allow you to do anything that will jeopardize our family legacy or our company. Do you hear me, boy?"

Barrett was stone-still. He didn't give his father the satisfaction of a reply. I didn't expect Mr. Henry to be so savage. He had thrown back quite a bit of scotch, but still, this man was awful.

We continued to sit in silence for what felt like an eternity but was only a long, agonizing minute. Mr. Henry kept checking his watch, and Barrett was inhaling and exhaling deeply and controlled. I could feel the rage emitting from his body.

I shouldn't have said anything, we were almost done with this fiasco, but I became brave for a few seconds and ran with the opening. "I'm also writing a book," I declared with a lift of my chin.

Barrett's neck whipped around and he stared at me, his eyes pleading with me to stop. But I couldn't. I was pissed, and no one was going to make us feel like we were less than.

"A book?" Mrs. Henry finally spoke.

"Yes, a book," I replied, noticing her interested stare. "With all due respect, Mr. Henry, I don't believe a corporate career is for everyone."

He rolled his eyes as if my voice inconvenienced him further.

"And yes, I did leave security and money and comfort.

I did it because it was right for me, and not everyone needs to lead the life others dictate for them.

" At that, I looked over at Barrett and felt his grip tighten.

"I'm experiencing unfiltered joy with your son.

" I didn't break eye contact with Mr. Henry. "I love your son."

Mrs. Henry sat silently with a curious look on her face. Her eyes darted between me and Barrett, and I noticed the tiniest smile appear on her lips. She reached for her wine again. The room was heavy, and the tension could be cut with a butter knife.

"Oh, look at the time. I must be going." Mr. Henry tossed his dinner napkin on his plate and rose to his feet. "My driver is outside. See, Barrett, you won't get a driver until you start making those big deals." And with that, he nodded to me and Mrs. Henry, turned around, and never looked back.

Harold came in through the doorway moments after Mr. Henry rushed out.

I had a feeling he'd been waiting for the atmosphere to cool down.

He walked up next to Mrs. Henry and made his announcement.

"I'm sorry, madam. Miss Emma called to say she is staying home for the evening.

She just got in from the city and won't make it in time.

" He bowed his head in regret, but Mrs. Henry just waved her hand in indifference.

That was our cue. Barrett squeezed my hand, and we exchanged a glance that said we were on the same page.

"Mother, I'm sorry, I don't think we can stay for dessert." Barrett looked across the table at his mother. "Elle and I need to get home to Louie."

Mrs. Henry didn't argue. "I think that's best, dear. Maybe next time." She gave us a defeated, pitiful look. "I'm sorry, Barrett. I thought he would behave." Tears glistened in her eyes.