Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 202

Gabriel’s POV

I checked the time again.

Ten minutes late.

Clairessa was never late.

In all the time I’d worked with her, she’d never kept me waiting—at least not without a damn good reason. Once, maybe twice, she’d cut it close, but only because I’d sent her a meeting brief late. She never made excuses. She never let things slip.

I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my thoughts were already spiraling. If she wasn’t here yet, something was wrong—and I had a damn good idea what. This had Adrian written all over it.

He’d screwed something up. Again.

I looked across the boardroom table at Randolph—CEO of Randolph Corporation. He sat stiff in a tailored suit, lips pressed into a line of disapproval. The impatience practically rolled off him.

His board members surrounded him like statues—silent, unsmiling, their expressions heavily judgmental.

Randolph tapped his fingers in an edgy rhythm against the glossy oak surface, then narrowed his eyes, locking onto me with an impatient glare.

“Gabriel,” his voice came low and tensed with a subtle warning, “you know how much I hate being kept waiting.”

I offered a patient, measured smile—calm but firm. “My team is never late. They’re on their way. Should be here any moment.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. Lying to someone like him left too much room for humiliation.

Especially when I had no idea where Clairessa was or what was holding her up. I’d already messaged Tems, told him to find her and bring her here immediately—no matter what it took.

Randolph leaned back, clearly unimpressed.

I didn’t wait for him to press further.

“But let’s not forget,” the words slid out smoothly, easing the pressure back his way, “we were supposed to deliver this pitch in a month. Instead, you gave us... what, three days? No prior notice, no chance for extensions—nothing but the weight of the Randolph name.”

That got a few stiff chuckles from the board. Even Randolph’s stone face cracked slightly.

I nodded once, firm but respectful. “They’ll be here. And they’ll deliver a great presentation.”

And right then, as if summoned by the thinnest thread of hope, the boardroom doors opened.

Clairessa walked in—steps unsure, breath quick, face a shade too pale.

I noticed instantly. Something was wrong.

My eyes moved past her, expecting Adrian to follow.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Nicole.

Just Nicole, clutching a laptop like a shield as she stepped in behind Clairessa.

No Adrian.

“Damn it.” The words slipped out under my breath.

My chest tightened. My suspicions were right. Adrian screwed it up. Again.

As she approached, her head stayed down, hands fumbling slightly with the folder she carried. When she reached the table, she stopped.

Her gaze darted everywhere—the screen, the chairs, the board—anywhere but me.

She took a breath, straightened slightly, then lifted her chin just enough to speak.

A soft smile touched her lips. “Mr. Storm,” she began, still refusing to meet my eyes, her voice silky, almost too calm as it cut through the tension. “I apologize for the delay.”

I rose halfway, offering a formal nod. “This is Ms. Hartwood and Ms. Wilkins,” I said, gesturing toward Clairessa and Nicole. “They’ll be presenting on behalf of my team today.”

She turned to Randolph with practiced grace and dipped her head slightly.

“Mr. Randolph, once again, we sincerely apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Then she smiled.

Elegant. Poised.

“But I can assure you,” she added, “it’ll be worth the wait.”

It landed.

The temperature in the room shifted—just slightly. Randolph’s focus settled on her, his interest unmistakable. A few board members uncrossed their arms.

Stepping toward the projector, she drew a slow breath as the screen lit up with our expansion plan. Calmly, she walked them through the goals, the budget, the projected results.

I should’ve been focused on the numbers. The charts. The bored, expectant faces of the Randolph team. On the stakes riding on every slide.

But I wasn’t.

My gaze was locked on her. Watching. Studying. Wanting.

I wanted to be angry. I needed to be.

She had one job—get Adrian in line. And he didn’t show. But how could I blame her? I knew exactly who my son was.

No, the fury burning in my chest wasn’t for her. It was for him—my arrogant, self-absorbed, spineless son who couldn’t pull off one simple task.

Who kept proving, again and again, why he would never be ready to carry any legacy I built.

He couldn’t pull off one simple task. And now, he’d left Clairessa to drown.

And yet… she wasn’t drowning.

She was holding it together, even if the nerves were there. I saw it—the slight tremble in her hands as she clicked to the next slide. But the more she spoke, the steadier she became—her voice growing clearer, more confident. Sentence by sentence, she found her footing.

All through, she hadn’t spared me a single glance.

Or maybe this was her way of punishing me.

For setting her up to fail.

For throwing her into this mess.

For forcing her to turn Adrian into the face of the pitch—when she’d already told me he wasn’t ready.

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