“Charlie Delmonico, ma’am,” he immediately responded, seeing what was expected. He took the hand she held out and delicately kissed the knuckle that smelled like cold cream. It was a familiar smell, again reminding him of his first foster mother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He laid it on thick, and the woman tittered in response. Certainly not in the real world. It had been a long time since someone had tittered at him. Someone he hadn’t paid for the company, anyway.
“Okay, Gram, I’ll leave you to go to sleep then. I’m home. I’ll see you in the morning.” Amelia kissed her gram’s forehead fondly and then tucked her blankets up on her chin before turning off the lamp. Charlie watched the bed shift as Gram rolled over to her side with a grunt.
“She does nothing but read Regency romance novels, and that’s sort of the world where she lives.” Amelia walked the three steps down the hallway to the living room. Charlie looked at the closed door at the other end of the hallway, knowing that had to be where Amelia slept. He resisted the urge to open the door and check it out. “That and pickles. She makes pickles and reads all day.”
Amelia opened the fridge door and started removing stacks of pickle jars that matched the Mason jars on the table, only these actually had pickles in them.
He must have looked as confused as he felt.
“They’re refrigerator pickles. No cooking involved, which is good, because I turn the gas off when I’m not home so she can’t cook. We had a rather alarming kitchen fire a couple of years ago, and that’s when I learned the trick. Every day she makes pickles, and every night, I throw them out so she can do it again tomorrow.” Amelia was babbling and something warm swelled inside him. He liked hearing her.
Charlie came to a decision right then and there. It was something he should have asked about, or at least been intuitive enough to figure out before now.
“Sleep in tomorrow and come in whenever. I won’t be in the office anyway. Get Gram sorted for your new schedule. I’ll have a nurse brought in for while you’re at work.” Before he examined his motives too much, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, similar to her kiss on Gram’s and left the house as quickly as he could. He did not want to think about what had just happened there, the depth of things he was sinking into.
Chapter Eight
Amelia slept in until seven a.m. and rose feeling rested and rejuvenated. Even though the weekend was two days away, she still felt like she could do anything. And she would. Working her hours, as far away as she did, meant she didn’t have downtime ever, during regular office hours. She’d saved enough from her shopping spree that she could afford to pay off some bills that had been plaguing her for a while. In fact, she was making today take care of tax bill day.
She drove to the tax office first thing.
But when she got to the tax office, her bill was paid already. In the dingy government office, the exhausted-looking woman at the counter told her impatiently that it was paid. She did offer a small smile as she looked at her computer screen. “Just in time, too.”
Confused, she drove to Mr. McGee’s house in a daze. He was a farmer who lived a mile from the house and kept Gram in cucumbers when they were in season. In the mornings, Mr. McGee would drop off a bushel basket of cucumbers for Gram every couple of days so she could pickle. Amelia had yet to figure out why pickling was so important to her gram, only that it was. She had to keep fresh jars and lots of ingredients for her to pickle with, or else everyone would pay the price.
Later that day, she was in her room packing for the Cayman Islands, while Gram messed around in the kitchen. Mr. Delmonico had said six days, so she packed all three bathing suits, none of which she was looking forward to wearing. They were way skimpier than she was accustomed to. Also, she packed sun dresses, shorts, the pajamas the saleslady had picked out which were sexier than anything she owned, a formal gown, and blouses, including shoes for everything. Luckily she’d bought luggage to pack it all in. A matching set.
It was crazy how much her life had changed in the last few days. Yet, as she heard Gram puttering around in the kitchen, the comforting sounds of her singing to herself while she screwed lids onto jars reminded her it was all still essentially the same.
Just more expensive. The nurse was due here any moment, and she hoped the lady would get along with Gram. Charlie had texted this morning to let Amelia know to expect her.
He fixed problems. He was fixing her life. That’s when it dawned on her.
He’d paid her tax bill.
It had to be him. It all made sense. She’d been in a shitty job, in the lobby on display for the world to see. Mr. Delmonico had seen and for some reason, swooped in and given her a better job, paying her exponentially more money. He’d bought her all new clothes, promised her trips to exotic locations, gotten a nurse for Gram, and paid the tax bill that had been looming over her head.
What the hell?
What did he expect from her in return? She looked at the lacy, silky underwear the saleslady had insisted on, and it suddenly dawned on her.
Charlie Delmonico had bought her. Signed sealed and delivered.
And she’d signed the damn contract.
Suddenly furious, she tossed the luggage in the corner of her room, unable to look at it anymore. She pulled out the contract she’d so stupidly signed and read it back to front, multiple times.
There was nothing in there specifically about sex, but it did state “other duties as assigned” multiple times. Did that mean sex? She was supposed to act like his wife on this trip to the Cayman Islands. How much of a honeymooner was she supposed to be?
Tears of frustration leaked out of her eyes, and she brushed them away, pressing into her eyeballs hard, as if she could pry her eyeballs out of her head. She was so damn stupid.
She’d fallen for the rich man with the pretty face.
Like a naïve little girl.
He was probably laughing at her even now.
A knock at the door surprised her. She went to answer, and saw a woman wearing professional attire with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder looking back at her with an expectant smile.
“Can I help you?”
The woman was older, and as she studied her, Amelia realized her professional attire was all stretchy, as if she was prepared to do work. A sudden sinking in her belly almost doubled her over.
“My name is Nancy Schlesinger. Charlie sent me to look after your gram while you go on vacation.”
“He did, did he?” Of course he did. He was doing everything. He had said last night he would do this.
All the things Amelia couldn’t do for herself, Charlie was doing so she would sleep with him.
Buy her clothes. That didn’t work, so he paid her tax bill and paid for a nurse. Her jaw hurt from where she was clenching it so hard, but even as she registered the pain, she also told herself it wasn’t this woman’s fault.
“Come in.” Her own plans were pretty thin. She’d asked the neighbors at the corner to check in on Gram every day, but they were farmers, the people who supplied them with cucumbers for Gram’s pickles. They were busy and didn’t have the time or energy to look after Amelia’s responsibilities. She’d offered to pay them, but it wasn’t as much as it was worth to them, probably.
“I take it he didn’t tell you?” A knowing smile graced the nurse’s lips and Amelia shook her head, chagrined.
“He did, but I didn’t realize he was serious. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call him really quick. Wait here?”
She walked into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her before calling her boss. Of course, he didn’t answer.
She fired off a text message.
You win on the nurse. But I’m paying you back for that out of my future paychecks. We have to talk about the rest.
Then she sent it off and looked at it, chewing her lip. She decided it wasn’t enough.
I’m not happy about this.
There. That was professional and wo
uldn’t get her fired, but he would know she didn’t like it.
On the other hand, what choice did she have with the nurse thing?
Going back out to the living room, she pasted on a smile.
“Okay, let’s discuss her routines and your qualifications.”
She sighed.
It was a nice chat, and Nancy seemed to like her gram. They were chatting in Gram’s room when Amelia went to finish packing. She looked at the mess that was her room, checking her phone to see no new messages. But he had read hers.
This was going to be a long trip.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, she chose the least sexy professional clothes she had in her possession. A long flowing skirt and a pair of knee-high boots covered her legs, and a bulky, cowl-necked sweater covered everything else. The day was dreary, so her clothing choice sort of fit the weather. Still, that was just today. As she sat outside and waited for the driver to pick her up, she thought about all the skin that would show this weekend.
She was still angry when Luther picked her up, and angrier still as she answered emails on her phone for Mr. Delmonico on the way to work. He’d insisted she use his driver so she didn’t have to make the commute into the city herself. At first, she suspected it was to get more work done, and if that was what he was paying her for, she’d be glad to do it. However, she strongly suspected he was paying for more than her work, so each email she sent only made her angrier.
Pulling up to the curb in front of work, Amelia forced herself to look up at the building she had loved for so long. It looked like the Chrysler building on steroids, taller, wider, and more intimidating. The long, thin windows mirrored the shape of the building, and today reflected the white clouds that covered the sky. The way the windows mirrored the weather so beautifully echoed her mood. It wasn’t dark, just finally seeing the cloudy reality of her future.
Luther tipped a hat to her, offering her a kind word for her day, and she took a deep breath and walked inside the lobby. Brooke was sitting at her desk, staring at her. Her mouth was plastered into a fake smile, but her eyes slanted with displeasure.
“Miss Flores, good morning.” The words came out through gritted teeth, and Amelia flashed her a genuine smile. The woman’s anger only fueled her at this point. It was catty and childish, but Amelia didn’t care.
“Good morning,” she sing-songed, feeling fake but loving the look on Brooke’s face as she sailed by her to go around to the freight elevators.
Freight elevators weren’t fancy, and they were bigger than the regular glass elevators. It served to make her feel like she was in an actual room, instead of suspended above the lobby of the building. She was thankful to the delivery guy for showing them to her. It helped bolster herself for the confrontation she knew was coming.
At the office, Mr. Delmonico, as she was forcing herself to refer to him now—not Charlie—was already in his office, shirt sleeves rolled up. Part of her, the stupid part, wished she’d seen him as he got comfortable for his day, as she had fallen for the put-together man in the suit with the cufflinks, and only enjoyed the show as he undressed. But the rational part couldn’t stand to look at him in any way, since it only served to remind her why he wanted her to work for him.
So she got busy, confirming the appointments he had today, forwarding him emails, and then scanning documents.
They were leaving for the Cayman Islands this evening, and she was going to have a clean desk when she left.
The phone ringing interrupted her scanning, and she saw him watching her through the windows.
“Delmonico Enterprises, how may I help you?”
“I need an appointment for this morning, please.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Delmonico is full for this morning. All he has today is a three o’clock.”
“I don’t know if I can get everyone together for three…” The voice on the other end was a man who clearly hadn’t expected to not get what he called for. The attitude, so similar to Charlie’s … Mr. Delmonico’s was exactly what she needed. If she couldn’t lash out at him, she would put this client in his place. “Look, we are old friends. I’m sure if you told him Adam Beckett needed an appointment, he would make the time.”
She smiled. “I’m in charge of Mr. Delmonico’s appointments, and he’s booked. He will be out of town next week. Unless you want the week of the sixteenth, you’ll get them together for three o’clock today.”
“How about we make the appointment, and I’ll call if we can’t make it.” The man was dismissive, as if he were about to hang up.
“Mr. Delmonico’s time is valuable, sir, and we don’t make appointments on the off chance you show up. If you cancel, you will be charged a cancellation fee, and it’s almost triple the rate of actually showing up.”
The man sputtered on the other end of the line before acknowledging the terms she had just made up off the top of her head. He didn’t make an appointment. She was grinning as she settled the phone back in its cradle, feeling satisfied that she’d managed to get the best of someone today.
“Miss Flores, a moment please?” His voice was intense in its quiet. It was a bit scary, but she stood, squared her shoulders, and marched into his office.
His eyes scanned her body, not giving away any reaction. She wondered if he was noticing the unsexiness of her outfit choice today. Amelia quirked an eyebrow and settled a hand at her hip, waiting for him to speak.
“Is your gram okay?”
The topic of conversation threw her. She was expecting something else.
“Um, yeah. She’s fine.” Her hand fell off her hip, and she clasped them in front of her.
“Everything else fine?” His eyebrows were raised with concern.
“Of course.” Not really. She’d just figured out yesterday why she was really here.
Suddenly the concern left his face, and it was filled with something completely different. He stood behind his desk and planted his hands on the top, leaning toward her. She ignored the flex of his forearms with the movement.
“Then please explain to me, why you chased off a client?” His voice was a roar, and she flinched, bringing her arms up to her chest. They started knitting together, a nervous habit she had. Amelia tried to stop it, but that would require all her concentration, and he’d just asked her a question.
“Because your time is valuable, sir. They were being wishy-washy with it, and I didn’t think they’d actually show up. It was a judgment call, and I made it. If it was the wrong call, I apologize.”
“Did they give you a name?” Quieter, he was still angry, but he was watching her hands. She managed to clasp them behind her so if they started clutching at each other, at least he wouldn’t see.
“Adam Beckett, sir. He said it was four people and he wasn’t sure if they would all be available at three o’clock. I really thought—”
“I don’t pay you to think. You have a job that doesn’t require much thought at all. You simply do as I ask; do you understand?”
“Other duties as assigned,” she muttered, suddenly peeved.
“What?”
“The phrase used to trap me in the contract, sir. Yes, I understand completely.” Amelia’s voice was rising in pitch, as her entire body vibrated with the restraint of trying not to lose her shit with her boss.
He came around the side of the desk. Leaning on the front, he crossed his arms in front of him, but the gesture was anything but carefree. The tension radiated off him. She could cut the barely controlled restraint with a bread knife if she wanted to.
“You finally read it?” His mouth was a sneer. Still beautiful, but she felt it as it curled around her, covering her with his distaste.
“Yes, I read it. Several times. While you never actually said what you are paying for clearly in the papers, it’s plain to me what you are throwing money at me for. The nurse for Gram, my taxes, the sexy clothes, making sure I’m at your beck and call. Utterly dependent
on you. I get it. It’s what case studies are written for. I can see it.”
“Case studies?”
“Manipulators. Abusers.”
His face was suddenly washed in shock. “You think I’m abusing you?” Each word that came out of his mouth was increasingly angrier. Her stomach plummeted at his directing it at her, but she stood firm. She wasn’t going to back down.
“Isn’t that what your job is all about? Manipulation? All you do is manipulate people into doing what you want to make clients happy.” The look of angry disbelief on his face made her stop. “You have to see what you’re doing.”
He raked his hand through his hair and let out his breath in a whooshing noise. Finally, he stalked around the desk and dropped into the seat. Looking back up at her, he pierced her with the dark abyss of his eyes.
“That is all. I would offer you lunch, but I’m afraid any act of kindness at this point would be construed as manipulation, so I’ll leave you to your own devices.”
“Yes, sir.” Dismissed, she spun on her heel to retreat to her desk.
He seemed shocked, but expert manipulators were great actors, so she didn’t put too much credence in the action.
No matter how genuine he seemed.
Chapter Ten
Charlie sat at his desk, staring at Amelia through the glass of his office. He’d been doing this for hours. He couldn’t stop himself. She was beautiful in her anger. She was the type of woman who cried when she was mad, and he watched her shoulders rise with every sniffle. He was enraptured by the angry swipes at her face, knowing he wouldn’t see tears, but wishing he’d pushed her that much harder so he could.
Except she’d flinched, hadn’t she? He wasn’t into physically hurting women, unless they wanted it. And while the thought of raising that massive expanse of skirt she wore and spanking her ass until it was red was highly appealing, she had flinched when he’d strode toward her.
She was right. He manipulated people. Killed them when necessary, true.
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