Read Online Once Kissed: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family) by Cecy Robson - Free Book Online

muses.
    “Whether you’d return to your vehicle or take patrol in the hall.”
    I don’t have to see him then to know he’s smiling. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you open the door to the hall?”
    “I meant the lobby.”
    “No, you didn’t.” He pauses. “You were checking me out.”
    My mouth pops open. “I was not.”
    “Yeah, you were. Like what you see?”
    “
What?
You—”
    “Scoundrel?” he offers. “I don’t think you’ve used that one yet.”
    “I’m hanging up the phone now.”
    “Okay. But if you change your mind and want one last look before you go to bed, I could step out and—”
    I hang up. My face so hot I could warm bread on it. What did I do? Better yet, what do I do now? I’m seeing him tomorrow—if not sooner. What if it’s sooner? I can’t admit that I was gawking at his bitable ass. I’m a professional—and I’m working for his brother—and I’m an almost lawyer!
    The phone rings while it’s still clutched in my hand, making me jump. I punch the button to answer. “Look. I know you probably think you’re the hottest thing ever. But I’ll have you know I have no intention of—”
    “
Contessa.
What in blazes are you talking about!”
    My hand quivers, and my leg muscles turn to sand. Slowly, I lower myself to the couch before my knees give out. Father’s voice is so laced with rage my voice shakes as I speak. “I’m sorry, Father. A telemarketer called and she wouldn’t stop her relentless—”
    “Don’t lie to me, Contessa.”
    Anger rushes forward, washing away a bit of my fear. “I’m not lying,” I insist. “Who else would I speak to this way?”
    He takes a moment, likely mulling over his response. He doesn’t believe me, but he also doesn’t have any evidence to the contrary. “Watch your tone,” he warns.
    I give him a moment to calm, wishing I could simply disconnect both the call and him from my life.
Six more months,
I remind myself.
Graduate, pass the bar, and move on.
That light at the end of the desolate tunnel is within reach. I can’t ruin my chances now.
    I soften my voice. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He doesn’t respond, probably because I haven’t groveled enough. But although I depend on him in every aspect of my life, my patience has worn thin following years of being berated. “Is there something I can help you with?”
    “Spencer Woodworth phoned me today,” he says, not bothering to acknowledge my apology. “He’s asked me to consider donating to his son’s campaign for mayor. You remember his son, young Spencer Woodworth the second, don’t you? He seemed quite taken with you.”
    If “taken with me” involves groping and fondling me in his limousine, then I suppose he was. I rub my eyes, remembering how I had to walk seventeen blocks home when I refused to spend the night with him following an event I’d been forced to attend. Spencer-the-second was a douchebag, and I told Father as much. But either he didn’t care or didn’t believe me.
    “Contessa, are you listening to me?”
    “Yes, Father.” Nausea claims my belly as I clutch the soft blanket my stepmother had given me. I know where this conversation is going, and it’s already making me sick.
    My family is one of the last of the Pennsylvania blue bloods—posh members of society whose gene lines can be traced back to royalty. The men belonging to this so-called exquisite bloodline are few, and the women even fewer. I’m one of the youngest, and unfortunately, so is Spencer.
    “Contessa, do you remember Spencer or not?”
    “I remember him well,” I assure him.
    He ignores the bite to my tone. “Good. I agreed to the donation in exchange for your presence at his son’s side.”
    “I’m sure Spencer would prefer someone else. The last time we saw each other we had a terrible fight—”
    “His campaign fundraiser is in three weeks,” he continues, unaffected. “Spencer senior seemed thrilled with the idea.