The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(115)

“No. I will not,” he growls. “That’s it—tomorrow morning, nine a.m., I am at that fucking school.” He punches his fist. “Tick . . . tock . . . Mrs. Henderson.”

I roll my eyes. “Good grief, this is all I need.”





Chapter 23

The thing about loving a powerful man is knowing when to stand back and let him take the reins.

Today I’m doing just that.

“What is he doing out there?” Patrick frowns.

I dip my head to peer out the window and onto the front porch to see Tristan pacing, hands on hips, muttering to himself. He’s been up since five o’clock, dressed in his suit, and ready for battle.

Mrs. Henderson is going down . . . and to be honest I feel like calling ahead and warning her.

She needs to run.

It was his first official night here with me last night, and he didn’t even come to bed until well after I was asleep, and he was up before I woke this morning. I missed the entire thing.

He stayed up and went through all of Harrison’s past assignments and tests. He interviewed Harrison in great detail about the goings-on in class and when and why he has been sent out or suspended. I know that Harrison is a handful, and I’ve been sympathetic to the teachers about his behavior up until this point. But Tristan has assured me that there is more to this story than I realize. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Henderson is going to regret giving Harry such a low grade.

He sticks his head in the front door. “Are you ready?” he calls.

“Tristan.” I stare at him.

He raises his eyebrows impatiently. “What?”

“You’re not going to be passive aggressive to Mrs. Henderson, are you?”

He clenches his jaw. “Nope.” He gestures toward the car impatiently, and the boys walk past him into the front yard. “I’m going to be aggressive aggressive.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you not?”

“Claire.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I will not for one fucking minute have him treated in this manner, and if you are asking me to bite my tongue . . . it’s best you don’t come.”

“Christ Almighty,” I mutter under my breath. “Can you just be calm, please?” I ask. “You’re stressing me out.”

“I’m stressing you out?” He points to his chest incredulously. “Don’t come, Claire. Sit in the car. Because I am telling you right now: I’m not about to take shit from this fucking teacher.”

Oh jeez. I brush past him and get into the car. It’s big and black and has a new-car smell. Patrick and Harry bounce in the back. They love it and made Tristan drive them around the block ten times last night.

I watch Tristan leave the house and lock the door. He takes a deep breath, drops his shoulders, and undoes his suit jacket with one hand as he walks toward the car.

I smile as I watch him . . . Tristan Miles is here, the takeover king. The take-no-shit, get-what-he-wants man whom I used to hate is here batting . . . for us. Somehow, he has taken my naughty little boy under his wing.

I don’t think I’ve ever loved him like I do right now.

He gets in and slams the door. “Harrison, you will be coming to the meeting with us, please.”

Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “But—”

“No buts. You need to learn how to defend yourself.”

Oh jeez. I slide down in the seat in dread. I don’t even want to come to this meeting myself . . . maybe I can sit in the car?

Ten minutes later we pull up at the school, and Tristan parks the car. We walk into the office. The receptionist does a double take as she sees him. Her eyes flick to me and then back to him, as if questioning what he’s doing here with us.

She’s a real bitch, this one, and I’ve had run-ins with her before.

“Can I help you?” she asks flatly.

“Hello, I’m Tristan Miles. I would like a meeting with Mrs. Henderson, the principal, the vice-principal, and someone from the parent-teacher association, please.”

Her eyes flick to me, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“When for?”

“Now.” He stares at her deadpan, and I really wish the earth would swallow me up.

“What is this in regard to?” she asks.

“Harrison Anderson.”

“About?”

Tristan glares at her. “Can you please just do your allocated job and book the appointment? This is a private matter.”

Harrison looks up at Tristan and gives him a hopeful smile, and Tristan takes his hand.

I wither . . . oh crap.

Aggressive aggressive, here we go.

She glares at him and then twists her lips in annoyance. “That won’t be possible. You need to book a meeting at least two weeks in advance.”

“All right.” Tristan fakes a smile. “I would like you to get the board of education on the phone for me immediately.”

Her eyes widen. “What for?”

“I would like to make a formal complaint to them. It is your duty to contact them on my behalf in the instance of a crisis, is it not?”

She stares at him, shocked, and I drop my head to hide my smile.

He’s such an arrogant ass.

He takes a seat in the waiting area, crosses his legs, and sits back, as if he owns the place.