Chapter 16
Pinned under the intense, simultaneous stares of a sociopathic twelve-year-old and a deeply suspicious socialite, Kerry ran the calculations in her head.
Do I make the call?
If she refused, it would look like she was hiding something, and Dustin would undoubtedly make her life a living hell. She had no choice but to summon the Grim Reaper to deal with his own mess.
Kerry pulled out her phone and dialed Clif’s number. She secretly prayed it would go straight to voicemail, neatly solving everyone's problem.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.
"What is it?" Clif's low, gravelly voice vibrated through the speaker.
Kerry swallowed hard, highly aware of the two sets of eyes burning into her skull. "Mr. Condon. Dustin asked me to let you know that Ms. Tucker is here."
There was a heavy beat of silence on the other end of the line.
"I'll be home in forty minutes," Clif said smoothly.
"Understood. I will let them know."
Kerry hung up and relayed the message verbatim. Darby Tucker maintained a faint, elegant smile, but her eyes were shards of ice. "You should have asked him where he was," she murmured. "I could have just gone to him."
Kerry smartly kept her mouth shut.
"Aunt Tucker rarely visits," Dustin chimed in innocently. "I'll have the staff prepare lunch. Since he'll be back soon, the four of us can eat together."
Kerry’s stomach dropped. Four of us? I am not a part of this 'us'!
Dustin looked up at her. "Ms. Jones, you didn't seem to like the food yesterday. Whatever you want to eat, I'll have the kitchen make it."
Kerry flashed a brilliant, entirely fake smile. "No need to go to any trouble. I actually have lunch plans with a friend."
Dustin immediately frowned, playing the part of a disappointed child to perfection. "You promised we would eat together today... Aunt Tucker isn't here often, you don't need to feel awkward."
Awkward?! I feel like I'm standing in an active minefield! Kerry screamed internally. This little bastard is going to get me killed!
Darby Tucker’s smile completely vanished. "Don't let me interrupt your lesson," she interrupted coldly. "I'll wait downstairs."
The second the door closed behind the woman, Dustin commanded, "Lock it."
Kerry locked the door and stood in the center of the room, looking at the boy. Dustin waited for her to yell at him. When she didn't say a word, he looked up. "Aren't you going to tell me to study?"
Kerry looked down at the carpet. "If you really wanted to fire me, you didn't need to do it like this," she said, her voice quiet and laced with exhaustion. "The tutoring industry runs on reputation. If word gets out that I offended someone in the Condon house, I'll never find work again."
She didn't yell. She didn't rage. She just sounded completely defeated.
Seeing her like that triggered a massive, unexpected spike of guilt in Dustin’s chest. "Who said I wanted to fire you?" he blurted out. "I told you, if you helped me, I'd accept you." He paused, puffing his chest out. "Besides, who would dare talk bad about my tutor? That's the same as insulting the Condons. Let them try."
Kerry kept her head bowed, but internally, she was practically doing a victory lap. Hook, line, and sinker. He was just a kid, born a whole decade after her. She was playing chess while he was playing checkers.
To maintain her cover, Kerry acted slightly anxious for the rest of the lesson, right up until Bill knocked on the door to summon them down for lunch.
"I really shouldn't intrude," Kerry tried one last time.
"Mr. Condon explicitly requested you stay for lunch," Bill replied politely. "The car is already waiting to take you back to the city afterward."
Trapped, Kerry followed Dustin downstairs. Clif and Darby were sitting on opposite ends of the sprawling living room sofa. It didn't look like family reuniting; it looked like a hostile corporate takeover.
Clif looked up. His devastating face was completely devoid of emotion as his eyes locked onto Kerry. "Let's eat," he ordered.
Kerry was placed on one side of the massive dining table with Dustin. Clif sat at the head, with Darby directly across from Kerry.
As the dishes were brought out, Kerry immediately noticed a drastic change from yesterday. Right in front of her was a platter of perfectly carved, glistening Peking duck, complete with thin pancakes and scallions. Next to it was braised pork elbow and heavily seasoned stir-fry. It was a complete departure from the light, delicate coastal seafood the Condons usually ate. Kerry had grown up eating bold, heavily seasoned food—Denver green chili, New York deli, the kind of cooking that announced itself. Seattle’s Pacific Northwest cuisine, all delicate salmon and cold-water oysters, had never quite agreed with her palate.
"Why the sudden change in menu?" Darby asked, her eyes sweeping over the table.
"Ms. Jones spent most of her life on the East Coast," Clif replied effortlessly. "Pacific Northwest food doesn’t suit her."
Hearing this, Darby finally turned her full attention to Kerry. "To earn Clif's personal approval, Ms. Jones must be exceptionally talented."
"I am very grateful for Mr. Condon's appreciation of my work," Kerry replied with a flawless, diplomatic smile.
Darby lowered her eyes to her plate. Just when Kerry thought she was safe, the woman struck. "Looking at Ms. Jones's face, I could have guessed she worked in a dozen different industries. A tutor wouldn't have been my first guess. But seeing her in this house, it suddenly makes perfect sense."
Kerry looked up. Darby was smiling, but her eyes were venomous.
"Men are such visual creatures," Darby continued smoothly. "And Clif especially loves beautiful things. Even the lifeless decorations in his house have to be stunning."
She had just compared Kerry to a decorative vase. A pretty toy Clif had bought just to look at.
Kerry glanced at Clif. He didn't say a word. Since the boss wasn't defending her, Kerry had no choice but to bite her tongue and endure the insult in silence.
She picked up her chopsticks and reached for some vegetables. Before she could take a bite, a pair of serving chopsticks reached across the table and placed a thick, succulent piece of braised abalone directly onto her plate.
Kerry’s breath hitched. She looked up.
Clif set the serving chopsticks down. The entire table was staring at him.
His face didn't change. He looked directly at Kerry and said, his voice a low rumble, "Eat some seafood. Abalone is deeply nourishing for a woman's body."
Boom.
Blood rushed to Kerry’s face in a violent, burning wave. She wasn't blushing from shyness—she was blushing from sheer, unadulterated panic.
The rest of the lunch was psychological torture. The second everyone set their chopsticks down, Kerry stood up. "I need to get back to the office."
Clif stood up slowly, towering over the table. "I'll drive you."
Not 'I'll have my driver take you.' 'I'll drive you.'
Before Kerry could reject the offer, Darby spoke from the sofa, her voice tight with suppressed rage. "Just let the driver take her, Clif. I have things I need to discuss with you."
"I don't feel safe letting someone else take her," Clif replied casually.
Darby stood up, her elegant mask finally cracking. "It is broad daylight! What exactly isn't safe?!"
Clif looked at Darby, his eyes utterly cold, before shifting his gaze to Kerry.
"Because she's too beautiful," he said.
