What the hell?
“Why are you here?” I repeat, grinding my teeth, not even taking a moment to point out that I changed my cell number because of him.
“You’re my kid, Emma,” he shrugs, as if that’s all the excuse he needs. My anger, simmering under my skin, rises a hundred degrees.
“I’m surprised you’re aware of that.” I realize surrounding eyes have looked up in interest, and we are drawing attention, people wondering why I am so hostile.
Crap. I can’t do this here, too public and we have an audience.
PA Emma takes control over shocked and emotional Emma, and I regain instant composure.
“Please come with me so we can talk somewhere private.” I turn on my heel briskly, gripping my fingers together harshly, my nails biting my flesh, but ignore it. I want to throw up; my skin bristles as I sense him move behind me into the elevator and I stand as far away as I can, trying hard to breathe.