Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 29

What is wrong with me?

But I saw how he reacted to Arlo once. That man and children can't coexist in the same room.

"Mommy?" Arlo's voice tells me he wants something. "Yes, sweetie?"

"I want a button shirt."

Button shirt? I rack my brain, trying to decipher little boy speak.

"You mean a button-up shirt? And you do, huh?" I blink at him and put my spoon in my bowl. "Why's that?"

"Mr. Grumpybutt has one. It makes him look grown-up." He smiles mischievously. "I remember 'cause I spilled cocoa on it."

"You did, yes." I'm a little amazed he remembers the disaster when he can be so oblivious. I'm also stumped at kid logic. "But I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't. I mean, only a little." Arlo looks at me like it's obvious. "But he owns a whole building, Mom. He's rich."

"Maybe so, but—"

"You gotta listen to him. That's not fair!"

I eye him carefully. Only five years old and he hates office politics. I have trained the boy well.

"That's how it works sometimes. It doesn't mean it's bad. You have to listen to me," I tell him. "That doesn't make me so special, does it?"

"No, but you're a grown-up!" He rolls his eyes so hard I laugh. "I'm just a kid."

"So?"

"So it's cool Mr. Grumpybutt gets to tell you what to do. He gets to boss around a lot of people."

Well, no argument there.

Arlo picks at his garlic bread crust.

"If I get a button shirt, I can be like him!" Perfect.

Absolutely peachy.

My son, estranged from his unknown father, has decided after a single meeting to fixate on him. To flipping imitate him.

A man who would, undoubtedly, freak like his hair's on fire if he knew the kid who tore up his precious new property was really his own son.

A man who would absolutely go nuclear if he had to contemplate giving up a shred of his seemingly perfect lifestyle to burn one hour as a dad.

Like I said, call me Miss Unlucky.

The gods of good fortune decided to forsake me forever after one random night on a casino boat, and I'll never be over it.

PATTON

All things considered, the next couple weeks go smoothly.

Aside from the fact that I can't get Salem's face out of my head.

"That's right." She launches into how we could handle the schedule better, given all amenities are open twenty-four seven.

I do my best to focus on what she's saying, and not the fiery-red lipstick she's wearing today.

Or the way the sadness seeped into her eyes when I asked if she was on that riverboat with me.

Or the brutal fact that I know what's under her neat blue blouse.

Or hell, the fact that long after that one-night stand, I could still smell her perfume on me and dreamed about the way she purred.

The way she laughed at the table games, before I found myself inside her, haunted me for months after that night.

She's not laughing now.

She looks like a woman who's forgotten how.

"Another thing, I think we should consider increasing security. Maybe add one more person for the overnights," she says as I make myself pay attention to her again.

The ice in her eyes feels so frosty it makes the forty-degree day outside feel balmy.

"We already have two security guards patrolling overnight."

"I think we should make it three, enough to handle the rooftop bar and cover the floors every half hour." She pauses. "You wanted input. There it is."

She might be right. Bumping up our personnel also means better coverage for the cameras, without anyone skipping out on checking footage to finish long patrols.