By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

“Don’t forget your meeting with the real estate agent Friday,” I reminded Ally, closing my menu and setting it aside.

We’d snuck out of the office for lunch today.

She bounced in her chair to a beat only she could hear. “I’m so excited and nervous I don’t know if I’ll survive that long. What if it appraises for more than I thought? What if it’s less? What if the market crashed, and it’s worthless? What if the buyers are horrible people and want to use the basement as a killing ground for their serial murder business?”

I gave her an exasperated look. “There’s a lot that goes on in that brain of yours,” I observed.

She gave me a very deliberate once-over and sank her teeth into her lower lip. “You have no idea.”

I grinned when her foot slid up my ankle under the table. “Did you pick out any sheet music yet?” I asked. She’d been on the hunt for a few of her father’s favorite pieces to play.

“As a matter of fact, I did. I downloaded a couple of songs, and they all look a whole lot more complicated than I thought they’d be.”

“Most things are,” I mused.

We ordered our meals, and when the server left, Ally leaned forward. “So I never got the chance to tell you about Christian’s shoot for Label’s YouTube channel while you were gone.” I went from admiring the way her eyes sparkled to being vaguely annoyed.

“I really don’t like you spending time with that guy,” I told her.

“Dominic Russo, you went to LA and hung out with some of the world’s most beautiful models at afterparties. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. Right now.”

“Christian and I are friends. And you better get used to him being around because—”

“Dominic!”

The voice, the familiar tone of it, had my blood going to ice.

He looked the same. Distinguished in Armani, his full head of silver hair ruthlessly kempt in the same style he’d had my entire life. Paul Russo was nothing if not consistent. Whether it was with his appearance or his disgusting appetites for things that didn’t belong to him.

He had the audacity to pull up a chair and offer his hand to Ally. His black onyx pinkie ring winked ominously.

“You must be Ally. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I felt her watching me, and when she made a move to accept his hand, I took it instead. This man wasn’t touching her. I wouldn’t let him put those fingerprints on her.

“What do you want, Dad?” I demanded coolly, my gaze never leaving Ally’s face.

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.

“Always in a rush,” he laughed in a facsimile of fatherly affection that wasn’t fooling anyone. “All right, my boy. I’ll cut to the chase.”

“You do that.”

Ally squeezed my hand.

“I need a little something to tide me over until the divorce settlement,” he said. “You know your mother. She’s dragging this out just to annoy me. I need a few hundred thousand.”

Ally’s eyes went wide.

“Salary from Indulgence not cutting it?”

My father’s charm cooled. Indulgence was a respected publication. But it was no Label. We both knew it.

“That’s neither here nor there,” he insisted.

The only time things mattered, the only time the world was supposed to care, was when Paul Russo was winning.

“I tell you what, Dad. I’ll give you the money.”

Ally’s eyebrows winged up.

My father looked surprised, then smug. “I appreciate that, son.”

“I’m not finished. I’ll give you the money when you pay Mom and me back for the cash settlements we paid to your victims.”

Our joined hands were vibrating, and I didn’t know if it was Ally’s fear or my rage.

“Oh, please. We both know those girls were just looking to make a quick buck—”

I rose so quickly my chair nearly overturned. “I’ll show you out,” I said coldly. “It’s time for you to go.”

He rose and straightened his jacket. He gave Ally another appraising look. “If you ever get tired of Dominic—”

I clamped a hand on his shoulder and walked him out of the restaurant, barely resisting the urge to throw him into the planter at the entrance.

“I don’t need an escort,” he complained. “I need money.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your needs. You stay away from Mom. You stay away from me. And you stay the fuck away from Ally, or you will regret that you ever called me son.”

“I don’t appreciate threats,” he sneered.

“This isn’t a threat. This is a promise. Remember that the only reason you still have a job in this industry is because Mom and I kept our mouths shut about your pathological inability to understand consent. And I’m getting very tired of keeping secrets.”

“Everyone has indiscretions. Look at you fucking a secretary. You can’t escape your blood, boy.”

An icy rage squeezed at my chest. I wanted to physically hurt him. To make him feel just a degree of the pain he’d caused others.

“Indiscretions? Try assaults,” I spat out. “We paid your victims for the suffering you caused. And if you think you’re getting another dime from Mom, I will personally see to it that every single one of your victims files criminal charges and civil suits against you. I won’t rest until the world knows that you are nothing but a disgusting piece of trash.”

“Don’t be so naive, Dominic,” he snarled. “They aren’t innocent victims in all of this. Women are attracted to power, to what you can provide for them. What has that girl in there gotten out of you? A few pretty baubles? Some couture in her closet? Did she make it look like it was your idea? Wake up, son. We’re all just using each other.”

“Stay away from us,” I said again, not wanting his words to penetrate my brain, but they were already burrowing in and releasing their poison. “I’m not protecting you anymore. I’ll burn down the family name if I have to.”

“You’d better rethink that strategy, my boy. I can do quite a bit of damage to your mother. You think I was the only one who strayed? That I was the only one with predilections?”

I was shaking my head. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth.”

He leaned in, and I could smell scotch on his breath. Because of course he’d already started indulging. Paul Russo didn’t know how not to. “Your mother, those girls, that secretary in there? They’re the liars, and you’re just the fool who fell for the lies.”

I did what I’d wanted to for so long. I hauled back and hit the man squarely in the face. His nose made a crunching noise that wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped.

“You’re the damn liar,” I said, standing over him wishing I could keep hitting him until he felt a shred of the pain he’d inflicted.

“Is there a problem here?” A doorman hustled over from his post and helped my father to his feet, shooting me wary looks.

“Not anymore,” I said.

My father took a step toward me, holding a linen handkerchief under his bleeding nose.

“Believe this, Dominic. If you don’t get me what I want, I’ll be forced to remind you just how important I still am to you and your mother.”

“Try it, old man,” I said, daring him.

The doorman was debating whether or not to get in between us. Passersby were giving us a wide berth. That was the thing about normal people. They could sense evil. And between my father and me, there was a vortex of it swirling.

“You’ve made your bed,” he said. “I gave you a chance. Next time your father asks for something, you’ll remember this.”

“You were never a father to me.”

“What a coincidence. You were always a disappointment to me.”

He strode away, coat billowing in the wind, looking like the villain he was.

I was so angry I was shaking.

“Dom?”

Ally. How much had she seen? How much of him had she seen in me?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I insisted, refusing to look at her. I didn’t want her anywhere near this. Anywhere near the feelings that my father brought out in me. I didn’t want to taint her.

She reached for my hand and squeezed it. But I pulled out of her grasp.

“Dominic, listen to me. You’re nothing like him,” she said quietly.

“I said I don’t want to discuss it,” I snapped, blindly looking over her head. I couldn’t look her in the eye. She’d seen us side by side. There was no way to deny the similarities.

“Let’s go back inside,” she said.

I followed her, careful not to touch her. And when we sat, I ordered a drink. A double.

If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me.