Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 38

PATTON

I never thought mentoring would break me after all my years in business.

I've organized deals and landed contracts that had the potential to bring the company to its knees in its infancy—and with the Forrest Haute case, it almost did.

I'll admit, that one was a blunder.

But even that stress hasn't rubbed me raw half as much as Salem Hopper.

Why is it so damn difficult?

She isn't the first intern I've ever had. The other property managers we have on payroll haven't caused me an inch of trouble.

It's a me thing, probably. It fucking has to be.

It shouldn't bother me that she's still standoffish after my latest fuckup. She sent the survey reports to me as promised, finished her other work, and I sent back a handwritten note of thanks.

With anyone else, I would've made a call. Only, I know she wouldn't take me growling in her ear as a sign of gratitude.

That goes double for the note, I guess.

When I went into her office for our weekly meeting, I saw it crumpled up at the top of her trash can.

What the hell ever.

I don't need her to like me.

Especially when I'm not particularly fond of her.

I just wish our relationship wasn't so goddamned frayed. How hard is it to just shut our mouths and be civil?

It's our pre-work history, obviously. It's the only explanation.

I'm mulling it over with a scowl that's starting to hurt my face, staring at the massive floor-to-ceiling aquarium built into my home office.

Usually, it's my inner sanctum, the place where I can find a little peace from a world that never stops biting my ankles.

The colorful fish and rippling green plants never fail to take me a million miles away from my woes. When the octopus comes out, I imagine what it sees on the other side of the glass.

Is it a man living an easier life without tentacles, free to do whatever his heart desires? Or are we both just as trapped by circumstances beyond our control?

The octopus, countless miles from the sea.

Me, marooned in my world of work and bare-bones social existence, where the only woman I care to obsess over hates my damn guts.

Dark thoughts today.

It's not just the fact that I slept with her, but the undeniable truth that she represents a different time in my life. Another era when things were simpler, and I really felt free.

Naming them would change that, making it too personal. You'd better believe I hate that shit.

Thinking of Junie reminds me of the family, too. Mom and Evelyn Hibbing. Her friend's been staying a while, trying to ride out the worst of her winter back home.

Damn, I promised her that talk about real estate, didn't I? Knowing it won't go anywhere.

Aside from having no interest in expanding that far north, we're not about to make the mistake of partnering with outsiders again so soon.

Not after Haute. Not even for a family friend.

But I should hear her out as a courtesy. I can at least point her in the right direction, possibly help her find a better partner than Higher Ends if she's looking to sell.

I finish the last of my drink and push the glass across my desk.

Tomorrow. I'll talk to Evelyn and let her down easy to keep Mom pleased. Then I'll be back to brooding in front of my fish, wondering how grey this evil ladybug will make me with her soul-sucking hot and cold shit.

Salem.

My mind pings on something.

The meeting with Evelyn could be a good chance to demonstrate the art of negotiations—if we can stand inhabiting the same room and breathing the same air for that long.

Isn't that my job as a mentor? To man up and mentor her? If I'm not careful, Dexter or Archer will get to her first.