Page 20 of Love Me

Even with Cole’s, at times, reticent behavior, one can see his admiration for his father.

“We’re heading out,” Uncle Josh tells me.

We exchange goodbyes as I check my watch. I’ve got about twenty minutes before I need to leave for the day to meet Monique at the first spot she’s looking at to open her gallery.

She was also supposed to hear about another grant she applied for. I’m eager to find out whether or not she got it.

“Mr. Townsend, you have a visitor to see you,” my assistant, Rebecca, says once I reach my outer office.

I pause because I don’t have a meeting on the calendar.

“Who is it?” I question.

She nods her head toward the lobby. I can only make out a man with dark hair from this distance. His back is to me.

“He says his name is Gabriel Garcia.”

Ice floods through my veins at hearing that name. “That’s impossible.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s the name he gave me,” she says, double checking the notebook where she read his name.

I don’t reply because I’m too busy staring at the guy. He takes that moment to stand and turns to face me. My heart rate kicks up, but I swallow the lump in my throat.

It’s not him.

Gabriel Garcia is my biological father.

Was.

He finally died weeks ago. The bastard.

This is his son, who was named after him.

“Diego,” Gabriel Jr. calls across the room, smiling like we’re fucking buddies.

“Wait five minutes and then send him in,” I tell Rebecca without answering or looking at Gabriel.

I head for my office to pack up my belongings for the day. I have another ten minutes before I need to leave the office to meet Monique on time. I don’t know what Garcia is doing here, but I plan to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

As soon as I close my briefcase, there’s a knock on my door. “Come in.”

In walks my assistant, with Gabriel Jr. following closely behind her.

“You can close it on your way out,” I tell her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask him as soon as the door closes.

The fake ass smile on his face drops. “Is that any way to greet your brother?”

“I have one brother, and you sure as fuck aren’t him. I’ll ask for the last time. Why the hell are you in my office?”

He doesn’t immediately reply.

I look over Gabriel, who is close to fifteen years older than me. He’s three inches shorter than my six-foot-one height, and his skin is olive while mine is more bronze, but I can’t deny the similarities in hair, eye coloring, and similar facial features.

I fucking hate it.

Gabriel and his brother, Victor, are the products of Gabriel Garcia’s marriage to their mother. I’m a product of an affair. The one Gabriel Garcia Sr. manipulated my nineteen-year-old mother into and then used me as a pawn to control her for years.