Making It Personal by Wells, C. (best non fiction books of all time txt) 📗

bear’s arse.” The derisive note in his voice was suddenly too much for Blake to bear, and as for him denigrating Blake’s team….

“I’m on it, Dad. I’m interviewing a candidate for the position tomorrow.” He picked up the folder which contained all the details and brandished it at his father. “Will Parkinson: excellent qualifications, glowing references, seems ambitious—he looks perfect.”

Justin’s jaw dropped. “A man? You’re interviewing for a male PA?”

Christ, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. “Yes, Dad. You got a problem with that?” No sooner had the words left his lips, than Blake knew it was a mistake. Justin Davis bristled, his jaw clenched.

“Far be it from me to tell you how to run things, son…” his father began. Blake stared in frank astonishment. The man does nothing but tell me.

“Then don’t, Dad.” Blake watched as Justin snapped his head up, eyes wide. “I seem to be doing pretty well without your advice, don’t I?” Blake picked up the morning’s newspaper and turned to the financial pages. “We made ink again. Profits are up—again. And the new markets are proving to be a success.” He threw the paper down onto the desk, a gauntlet of sorts—if his father dared to pick it up.

Justin’s lips narrowed. “I can’t deny you’ve turned the company around, Blake.” Well, that was a first. “And starting up a department for translating books into other languages, well, it’s not an avenue I ever explored, certainly, but it seems to be paying off.” Justin’s eyes locked onto Blake’s. “But I can’t say I’m happy about this idea of yours of selling these…male/male books.” His mouth twisted as he spoke, as though the words themselves left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Blake gave his father a patient smile.

“Have you even looked to see just how much business those books are bringing in? Gay fiction is a huge market, Dad… and it’s a genre that’s growing more popular all the time.” It was clear from Justin’s expression, however, that this argument cut no ice, and for a second, Blake’s gut twisted. If his father felt this way about gay fiction…. Blake waited to see if his father would add anything, but Justin kept silent.

Blake walked toward the door and opened it. He turned to his father.

“Thanks for stopping by, Dad, but I really do have a lot on for today.” He smiled, hoping that Justin would take up the hint. To his relief, his father gave a brisk nod and made his way to the door. As he passed Blake, Justin’s eyes met his.

“Happy Birthday, son.” He paused. “Will you be seeing Melissa this evening?”

Blake kept his face straight. “No, Dad, not tonight.”

Justin’s expression revealed his disappointment. “Oh.” He obviously wanted to say more on the subject, but after a glance at Blake’s face, seemed to change his mind. Nodding once more, Justin filed past his son and out of the office, Blake watching from the door as his father exited the floor. He let out his pent-up breath in a long push of air.

Closing the office door behind him, Blake sat down behind his desk and leaned back into it. It had been tough growing up without a mother. Blake and his father had muddled on as best they could since her death from lung cancer when Blake was thirteen, but theirs had not been a close relationship. The two men were nothing alike. When Blake first realized he was gay at the age of sixteen, he’d fought against the very idea. He already felt alienated from his father—there was no way he wanted yet another thing to expand the yawning chasm between them.

As to what made him hide his sexuality? Vivid memories of when his uncle Dominic came to visit. Dominic was his mother’s brother and not one to hide the fact that he was gay. All Blake knew was that his father hated Dominic, and that was enough to keep him in his warm, safe closet for the foreseeable future. Dates with Melissa so far had been briefs forays to clubs and a couple of dinners. Certainly nothing intimate. Blake was hoping she’d get the message and give up, the same as all the would-be girlfriends his father had organized in the past. So far not one of them had commented on the fact that Blake hadn’t made a move to get them into bed. And as long as it stayed that way, Blake was happy.

Blake took out his phone, scrolling through to find Jenny’s number. He stared at it for a second, his thoughts conflicted. It had been a while since he’d required Jenny’s specialist services, but right now, he needed. God, how he needed…

His mind made up, Blake called the number, smiling as he heard Jenny’s voice on the other end. Jenny always sounded as though she was smiling.

“Hi, Jenny, Blake Davis here.” Blake was happy that he didn’t have to hide with Jenny: the woman was discretion personified. Well, in her line of business, she needed to be.

“Blake!” He could hear the note of delight in her voice. They’d progressed from ‘Mr. Davis’ to ‘Blake’ over the course of the last two years, and Blake could now chat easily with her. “What can I do for you?”

“Please tell me you have someone available for tonight?” Blake couldn’t quite keep the desperate tone from his voice. Jenny chuckled in his ear, as he heard the click of her nails on the keyboard.

“Happy Birthday, by the way.”

Blake laughed. He shouldn’t have been surprised Jenny knew it was his birthday: she obviously prided herself on providing an excellent service for her clients, and knowing little details like birthdays added the personal touch. “Thanks, Jenny.” He waited, more clicking audible at the other end of the line. At last he heard her sigh of satisfaction.

“Ooh, you’re going to like this one.” There was a gleeful note in her voice that sparked Blake’s interest. “He’s new on my books, been with me about three months. But