The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..50..

"Hello, Mr. Stewart." Mika smiles, stepping around me to greet my father with a firm handshake. "Thanks for dinner the other night. I had a nice time."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. It was my pleasure. Any friend of Eric's is a friend of mine." Malcolm says in his smooth British accent. "But it seems to be more than just friends with you two; Eric seems to be quite taken."

"I am too." Mika smiles again then looks over at me. "But, ummm, pardon me, I have to go run a few errands for him. I'm his new assistant."

"You're his assistant?" Malcolm frowns deeply and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"But I thought my daughter was."

"Now I'm your daughter." I mutter, flipping through files.

"She is," Mika looks over at me again. "but she's more secretarial now, Mr. Stewart."

"Oh." Malcolm breathes and I turn my back to them.

"Well, I'm gonna go." Mika excuses herself. "It was great seeing you again."

"You too, Miss Menkina." Malcolm smiles and I sigh, listening to Mika's heels clicking towards the elevator.

After she steps inside the elevator, I walk around my desk to seat myself behind the oval counter and busy myself.

"Bunny?" Malcolm smiles, leaning against the counter, as I boot up my iMac.

"Yes?" I reply in an amazingly sweet voice.

Where did that come from?

All that sugaring up from Michael, maybe?

A smile touches my lips, but I get rid of it quick.

I'm supposed to be mad at my father.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine." I answer, without looking up at him, typing. "Besides getting a minor concussion and you not checking on me for the past week. I'm great. How are you, Dad?"

"Dad?" Malcolm frowns, disgusted, at the word. "No daddy?"

"Daddy." I grit, before looking up. "Are you happy now?"

"Bunny," Malcolm sighs heavily and I feel his remorse. "I'm tired of this tension between us. I think we should go to lunch and straighten this out."

"I have a lunch date already." I say, passively.

"With who?"

"Who I'm going with." I answer, blandly, typing out an email.

Malcolm smiles a little, staring at my face. "Bunny, when your nose scrunches up like that, you remind me so much of your mother."

I purse my lips, arching a brow. "I thought you hated anything that reminded you of Carly Stewart."

"Before, I did," He agrees. "but not now."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" I ask, rearranging random papers before me. "I clearly remember you two having a pure and mutual hatred for each other."

"We don't hate each other, Bunny. Besides, Carly helps me see things, clearly, that I don't choose to see myself."

"Like?" I ask, skeptically, looking down again.

"That Britt came on to me only to hurt you, because I'm your father."

With that response, my head pops up, and I gape. "Say what?"

Does he really get it now?

Malcolm smiles, solemnly, at my reaction, and continues. "Your mother and I went out to dinner a few days ago to discuss our children: you and Taylor, and while we were out I saw Britt...with another man."