Breaching the Contract(10)

By: Chantal Fernando

Jaxon never micromanaged me, and I really appreciated it. Tristan is a whole other ballgame, and he’s not an easy man to work with.

Just as I’m thinking that, he sticks his head into my office. “Kat, I need you to be ready to leave at two thirty to pick up the kids from school.”

My jaw drops open. Again? I grit my teeth and clear my throat, trying to calm myself. “I thought picking them up yesterday was a one-time thing.”

“My nanny has a bad case of the flu, so she’ll probably be out for the rest of the week,” he explains, giving away nothing in his expression or with his tone. “So you’ll be helping.”

He leaves and I turn to Callum, who chuckles. “You’re his bitch.”

I purse my lips. “Shouldn’t it be you doing this shit? You’re the one still in school. You should be his slave, not me.”

Callum pushes back his chair and raises a brow. “Would you trust me with your kids, if you had any?”

“God no,” I say instantly, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s just that I’ve worked my ass off to be here, and it’s not fair that he’s making me do shit like this.”

I know that at the end of the day, I can complain all I want, but I really need to suck it up. He’s the boss, and he makes the rules. I just need to do what I can and hope that Jaxon returns soon and reclaims me.

A girl can dream.

I leave Callum to finish the research and get ready to pick up Logan and Laura.

“Kat?” Tristan calls before I’m about to leave.

“Yes?” I ask, car keys in hand. What else can he possibly ask of me right now? To help them with a school project or something? Fuck, I better not have to papier-mâché something.

“No junk food today,” he says, arching a brow. “There’s fruit and vegetables in the fridge they can snack on until I arrive with dinner.”

How . . . fun.

“I’m sure they’ll much prefer that,” I say, flashing him a saccharine-sweet smile.

Blue eyes narrow to slits. “What would you suggest? Burgers and fries every day?”

“No,” I reply, shifting on my feet. “We could mix it up you know, sometimes some fried chicken, or hot dogs . . . or maybe—”

“Kat,” he chides, lip twitching. “A healthy fruit and vegetable platter will do.”

“I’ll make sure they know it’s your idea not mine,” I say, waving as I exit the office. I take my car this time, since they’ll recognize me now. It’s nowhere near as nice as their dad’s, but it’ll have to do. When I arrive at their school, I park and stand out on the grass, where they can see me.

I have to say, this is not what I thought I’d be doing as an associate at the top law firm in the state.

chapter 6


But when I walked past Tristan’s bedroom and the door was slightly ajar, I couldn’t help myself. So here I am, in my boss’s bedroom, staring at the picture of him, his wife, and their two kids. They look like the perfect family, all of them standing in a row, holding hands. Logan is a baby, so the picture must have been taken several years ago. Tristan’s wife has long blond hair, and is tall and willowy, and resembles a model. She’s beautiful. Tristan looks so happy in the picture it makes my chest hurt.

What happened to her? Did they get divorced, or perhaps she passed away? I put the photo back on top of his drawers and eye his king-size bed covered in an expensive-looking gray quilt. I wonder if he brings women here. I can’t see him having much charm, but then again, he probably just doesn’t use it on me. It’s his job to have his way with words. I leave his bedroom and rejoin the kids in the living room. Logan wanted to watch Hercules, which we couldn’t watch yesterday, so we’re all snuggled on the couch, popcorn within our reach. I open my laptop and am about to start typing when I hear a big sigh from Laura. “Dad always works during movies too.”

I slowly close my laptop.

Heaven forbid I’m anything like Tristan.

The next thing I know, Tristan is gently shaking me awake. I must have fallen asleep.

“Mmmm?” I mumble, sitting up and realizing exactly where I am. Shit. I glance around, but the kids are fast asleep too. I sigh in relief, then rub my eyes. “What time is it?”