“This looks like an invoice that’s been satisfied,” he said as though I was the dumbest human on the planet. “Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want you here.”
“I know that, you insufferable oaf. It’s a medical invoice for an experimental cancer treatment not covered by health insurance. Why is your name on it?”
“My name is on a lot of things,” he said. He took off his readers, then fed the paper through the shredder at his feet. “If that’s all, I’ll have security escort you out.”
There was a tension in him, a nervousness that I’d never seen before.
“I’m not leaving without answers. The faster you give them to me, the sooner I’ll be gone.”
He snatched up his desk phone and dialed. “Ms. Walton will be requiring an escort back to her mother’s place in five minutes.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.
“Yes. Have her vehicle swept and post a guard.” He hung up abruptly and leveled me with an icy look. “Ask your questions, and then you need to go.”
I was hanging on by sheer will. I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. “Lucian, why is your name on an astronomically expensive cancer treatment for my father? A treatment I was told was a clinical trial? A treatment that gave him six more weeks with us.” My voice broke pathetically.
The tension between us ratcheted up to unbearable heights. We stared each other down even as my eyes dampened.
“Don’t do this, Sloane,” he said quietly. “Please.”
“For once in your life, just tell me,” I begged.
“You should discuss this with your mother.”
“She told me to talk to you.”
He was silent for a long beat. “He wanted one more Christmas with you.”
I took a step back and hid my face behind my hands.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he demanded gruffly.
“I’m having a lot of feelings right now, and I’m not sure which one is going to win out,” I said from behind my hands.
“You’re angry with me,” he surmised.
“I’m not angry that you spent seven figures giving me a few more weeks with my father, assface. I’m beyond grateful for that, and I have no idea how to handle it. But why would you do something like this without telling me? Why hide this?”
“Perhaps you should try taking deep breaths? Outside. Far away from my office.”
“What else?” I demanded.
“I’m not following you,” he said, gaze darting toward the door.
I closed the distance between us, gripped his damn tie, and looked him in the eye. “I’m giving you this one, last opportunity to be honest with me. What else have you paid for or donated or created for my benefit without ever telling me while still treating me like I’d ruined your life?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I inhaled sharply. “So Yoshino Holdings, the Stella Partnership, and the Bing Group aren’t ringing any bells?”
His face hardened.
“I’m in the middle of a very busy day—”
I gave his tie a yank. “I don’t care if you’re in the middle of your own lifesaving appendectomy, Lucifer. We are having this conversation.”
His silence was stony, and it damned him.
“The Yoshino Holdings Foundation funded a $100,000 grant that allowed the library to upgrade our computer system and start the tablet and laptop lending programs. The Stella Partnership awarded the library a $75,000 grant to extend our community program offerings including creating a position for Naomi. And the Bing Group funded a generous donation to cover the rest of the building costs of the Knox Morgan Municipal Building, which coincidentally houses my library.”
“If you’re finished—”
“Lucian, all those organizations are named after cherry tree varieties. And all of them are owned by you.” It was all coming together into one unimaginable picture in my head.
He scoffed. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I can assure you—”
“I’m a librarian, you hulking pain in the ass. It’s my job to know things! What I don’t know is why you would be funding my dreams with your money when, as you so eloquently put it, you can barely stand the sight of me.”
“I don’t need to explain my tax write-offs to you.”
“I don’t know if I want to throw your stapler through your window or at your head,” I muttered, stepping away from him and starting to pace.