Read Online SEAL Protected by Rosa Foxxe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosa Foxxe
Tags: United States, Romance, Literature & Fiction, African American, multicultural, Multicultural & Interracial
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corrected with a nod.
He nodded in return. “How are you holding up?” he asked, gesturing toward a chair in front of his desk. I took the seat, grateful because my legs had started to weaken.
“I’m…” I paused, letting the sentence roll over in my mind. I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Not well, actually,” I finished. “I’m worried. I’m worried about Tom, about the attack, about you, about everything.”
“But mostly Tom,” my father finished. I winced for the third time that morning. That was true, but I doubted I had been so transparent. And if I had, why was my father so observant now? He leaned over his desk, his hands folded together and his gaze locking with mine. “Michelle,” he said in a low, concerned tone that made me duck my head in shame. “What is going on between you and Tom, be honest with me.”
“Is he okay?” I asked, answering his question with one of my own. “Is he going to be all right? Have you heard from the hospital?” I studied my hands as they shook in my lap and refused to look up. My father sighed.
“Yes,” he said. “I heard from the hospital and Tom is going to be fine. He is injured, and they do not know the exact permanence or extent of his injuries at the moment, but they got the bullet, closed the wound, and stopped him from bleeding out.” I relaxed deeper into my seat with a quiet exhale. Thank God, I thought, I had been so worried about him and it turned out he was okay. There was nothing more I could have asked for. “Now, answer my question.”
I thought about it. Of course, I already knew the answer to the question. I was in a relationship with Tom, though I did not know the emotional extent of it. It had been solely sexual at first, but now it seemed so much more important than that. I cared for Tom, though I did not know if I loved him, I hadn’t known him long enough to really think about that. But did Tom care for me as well? And did I really want to tell my father? He would fire Tom in an instant.
“Yes,” I said after a pause long enough to speak for itself. “There is something going on between me and Tom.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and forced myself to look my father in the eye. “I’m not going to lie and say I was going to tell you. Frankly, it wasn’t your business anyway.”
My father frowned. “He is my employee and that makes it my business.”
“He was doing his job, wasn’t he? He was protecting me from those stupid people who were after you. Now that the guy is dead, Tom’s job is over, Dad. It doesn’t matter now what we are.” The words came out more sharply than I intended, but I held my ground. My father’s frown deepened, but for a moment he said nothing.
“I would like you to know, before you go at me again, that a week ago, or even two days ago, I would have told you that this was unacceptable and I would have fired him,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest. “But,” he continued, cutting me off. “I’ve seen the way you two act now. I saw how he didn’t hesitate to save me. I saw how worried you were. And, frankly, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Oh?” My voice was small and seemed to get swallowed up by the dimly lit room.
“Yes.” My father smiled. “It reminds me of the way I used to look at your mother.” At that, both of our gazes fell to the family picture on his desk. I was blushing, but I didn’t care. Did Tom care for me that deeply? I hoped so. But, more than that, I hoped he would be all right. I didn’t care if he was damaged, I didn’t care if the injury was permanent. I just wanted Tom back. Tom and his stupid smiles; Tom and his low chuckle that sent icy-hot fingers up my spine; Tom and his raised eyebrows, pursed lips, and dry sense of humor that made me snicker. More than that, though, I wanted a chance to talk to him, to find out where we stood, and to ask him if we could pass the
He nodded in return. “How are you holding up?” he asked, gesturing toward a chair in front of his desk. I took the seat, grateful because my legs had started to weaken.
“I’m…” I paused, letting the sentence roll over in my mind. I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Not well, actually,” I finished. “I’m worried. I’m worried about Tom, about the attack, about you, about everything.”
“But mostly Tom,” my father finished. I winced for the third time that morning. That was true, but I doubted I had been so transparent. And if I had, why was my father so observant now? He leaned over his desk, his hands folded together and his gaze locking with mine. “Michelle,” he said in a low, concerned tone that made me duck my head in shame. “What is going on between you and Tom, be honest with me.”
“Is he okay?” I asked, answering his question with one of my own. “Is he going to be all right? Have you heard from the hospital?” I studied my hands as they shook in my lap and refused to look up. My father sighed.
“Yes,” he said. “I heard from the hospital and Tom is going to be fine. He is injured, and they do not know the exact permanence or extent of his injuries at the moment, but they got the bullet, closed the wound, and stopped him from bleeding out.” I relaxed deeper into my seat with a quiet exhale. Thank God, I thought, I had been so worried about him and it turned out he was okay. There was nothing more I could have asked for. “Now, answer my question.”
I thought about it. Of course, I already knew the answer to the question. I was in a relationship with Tom, though I did not know the emotional extent of it. It had been solely sexual at first, but now it seemed so much more important than that. I cared for Tom, though I did not know if I loved him, I hadn’t known him long enough to really think about that. But did Tom care for me as well? And did I really want to tell my father? He would fire Tom in an instant.
“Yes,” I said after a pause long enough to speak for itself. “There is something going on between me and Tom.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and forced myself to look my father in the eye. “I’m not going to lie and say I was going to tell you. Frankly, it wasn’t your business anyway.”
My father frowned. “He is my employee and that makes it my business.”
“He was doing his job, wasn’t he? He was protecting me from those stupid people who were after you. Now that the guy is dead, Tom’s job is over, Dad. It doesn’t matter now what we are.” The words came out more sharply than I intended, but I held my ground. My father’s frown deepened, but for a moment he said nothing.
“I would like you to know, before you go at me again, that a week ago, or even two days ago, I would have told you that this was unacceptable and I would have fired him,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest. “But,” he continued, cutting me off. “I’ve seen the way you two act now. I saw how he didn’t hesitate to save me. I saw how worried you were. And, frankly, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Oh?” My voice was small and seemed to get swallowed up by the dimly lit room.
“Yes.” My father smiled. “It reminds me of the way I used to look at your mother.” At that, both of our gazes fell to the family picture on his desk. I was blushing, but I didn’t care. Did Tom care for me that deeply? I hoped so. But, more than that, I hoped he would be all right. I didn’t care if he was damaged, I didn’t care if the injury was permanent. I just wanted Tom back. Tom and his stupid smiles; Tom and his low chuckle that sent icy-hot fingers up my spine; Tom and his raised eyebrows, pursed lips, and dry sense of humor that made me snicker. More than that, though, I wanted a chance to talk to him, to find out where we stood, and to ask him if we could pass the
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