The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  “I will not be a hypocrite and deny that I have an interest in taking on a bigger role in the company when the time is right,” he answered curtly. “But as for speaking as I did, I didn’t mean to imply that I already wished him dead because I don’t. I was getting very anxious and I rambled on. I would think, of all people, you would know what it’s like to blurt out something you didn’t really mean.”

  I studied the man.

  I couldn’t tell for sure whether he was being sincere or merely playing me. I didn’t know the man all that well and even though I was usually an excellent judge of character, I couldn’t be sure about Francis. There was a lot brewing underneath the surface but the remorse in his eyes was either real or the result of excellent acting.

  I sighed. “Yes, I can be a bit too candid sometimes but you know what I’m also really good at other than saying some outrageous things I don’t always mean? I apologize really well. Maybe you can try that.”

  He smiled smugly. “Are you hinting at me to apologize to you?”

  I raised my brows. “Why? For your rudeness? For your insults? I might be interested in your apologies if I actually care about what you said to me but I don’t, so save what few of them you can manage for when you really need them.”

  He was quiet for a moment as he deliberated what to say next. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be an apology to me which was fine because I meant what I told him.

  “I want to apologize to Martin,” he finally said.

  I stood up and tucked my hands into the pockets of my white denim cut offs. “I’ll take it up to Martin. If he wants to see you, you’ll know.”

  “Brandon isn’t going to allow that,” he said grimly.

  “Brandon isn’t Martin’s father so I don’t imagine his preference will not stop the old man if he wants to see you,” I assured him a small smile. “And maybe when you do see Brandon next time, you could roll out one of your apologies his way so you two could stop fighting like a pair of juveniles.”

  Francis laughed with no humor, his voice hollow and harsh. “Mine and Brandon’s issues go deeper than that, Charlotte. I don’t recommend asking him if you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  I smirked as I paused on my way out. “There is no good or bad side, Francis. There’s the truth and the lies. We all know what it’s like to do a reckless dance between the two.”

  I left before my own guilt could give me away.

  It used to be easier to do the right thing when I wasn’t living a lie myself but even with good intentions to dress them up, the truth about lies remained the same—they were dishonest and that made me feel like a terrible person.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and trying to shake off my negative thoughts. Yes, Brandon and I married to deceive Martin but if we hadn't done it, I wouldn’t really have this chance to look after him when everyone was too busy to do so. I kept reminding myself of the good we could do with the bad we’d already done.

  When Martin stirred shortly after, I told him about Francis’s visit. The old man didn’t seem keen on discussing his nephew. He simply reassured me that when he’s ready to deal with Francis, he will call him. As much as I itched to ask what was between the two cousins, I didn’t press. It wasn’t my business and I didn’t want to stress Martin more than the topic already had.

  At around five, Anna, Tessa and Mattie arrived, their arms loaded with take-out food. The sisters had been picking up their younger brother from school after they were done with their own classes and we would all keep Martin company and eat dinner together once Brandon arrived from the office. Jake usually made an appearance as well.

  Martin complained loudly about the temptation of the the food we were enjoying while he was stuck with his doctor-prescribed diet but we all knew he was secretly pleased having everyone around.

  “This isn’t quite working out like in the movies,” Tessa grumbled as she tried twisting off the cap of the sparkling apple juice bottle she’d been trying to open in the last five minutes. “Isn’t this supposed to just pop off and spray all over?”

  Jake, who had just tossed a piece of barbecued pork into his mouth, went over to her and took the bottle. “It won’t spray like champagne, silly. And I won’t attempt opening it with your bare hands, if I were you, because the edges can be sharp.”

  He grabbed a thick paper towel from one of the bags Anna was unloading and wrapped it around the bottle opening. “You gotta hold tight and twist without give or you’re just going to end up scraping your hand.”

  “Like this?” Tessa asked, holding up her scratched and slightly bleeding palm.

  Jake hissed an unintelligible curse before twisting the bottle open and setting it down quickly on the table. He grabbed Tessa’s hand and led her to the small sink by the kitchenette. He stuck her hand under the water and washed it with some soap while Tessa cringed and bit her lip, bravely enduring the sting of her wound.

  “You okay, Tessa?” I asked as I rummaged through a first aid kit mounted on the wall and found a band-aid with antiseptic on it already.

  “You could’ve just asked me, you know?” Jake gently scolded her before grabbing a paper towel and pressing it around her hand after turning off the water. “I would’ve taken care of it for you, Tess. But you can be such a stubborn brat.”

  Tessa glared at him. “Calling me a brat isn't convincing me to trust you to take care of things, Jake.”

  Jake took the band-aid I handed him and carefully pressed it over Tessa’s palm. “You can also trust me to point out to you when you’re being unnecessarily stubborn and unreasonable.”

  Anna, who came over to look in on her sister’s injury, just snorted a laugh. “And you can trust her to shove it right back at you, Jake. Just because Tessa doesn’t blabber all the time, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a good comeback to dish out to you.”

  I grinned at Anna. “Yup. You’ve got to be careful with these silent types.”

  Jake scowled at us after lowering Tessa’s freshly bandaged hand. “And you two aren’t helping. You’re just encouraging her to be as strong-willed as the two of you.”

  Tessa punched him in the arm with her uninjured hand. “I’ve always been strong-willed. I’m just not excessively talkative like you.”

  I wiggled my brows at Jake, fighting a laugh. “Burn. Now is a good time to shut up when you’ve got nothing else to say but stuff you’ll only regret later.”

  Jake opened his mouth as if to protest but between Tessa glowering and Anna and I giggling, he closed it and just shook his head before stomping away.

  “What’s going on?” Brandon said as he walked into the room and saw me and his sisters laughing.

  My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was in faded jeans and a gray V-neck shirt that snugly fit over his muscled build. The summer sun had brought out lighter streaks of his brown hair that they looked dark bronze in some angles.

  “I’m congratulating myself on not having sisters,” Jake grumbled from the table where he went back to snacking on food he shouldn’t even be touching yet.

  “I think the girls were ganging up on Jake here,” Martin said in amusement from his bed where Mattie sat with him with his homework.

  “I’d hardly cut my own hand just to gang up on him,” Tessa retorted, rolling her eyes as we all headed back to the table.

  Brandon smiled without sympathy for his friend as he made his way to me and lifted me slightly off the floor for a quick but hungry kiss.

  I’d missed him all day and I couldn’t help it when my arms went around his neck as I kissed him back. My injuries have been healing nicely in the past several days that I only felt a minor discomfort with some of my larger movements even though the bruise on my midsection now resembled the inside of an avocado.

  “I know it’s your honeymoon week but could you please wait until you get home and some of us have already eaten?” Anna grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “We aren’t exactly a captive audience, you know?”


  Brandon laughed and lowered me back on the floor. My own cheeks blazed when I realized that everyone was giving us amused glances, even Mattie who ducked his head back into his book. Jake had a resigned look on his face as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Fair enough,” Brandon said as he pulled me toward the table. “I’m starving for actual food, even if my wife looks like a feast.”

  I jabbed him on the side just as Jake groaned loudly.

  “Must you really ruin our appetite, Brand?” he complained crossly which only amused Brandon even more.

  “I think he’s intent on rubbing it in our faces just how sickeningly happy his married life is,” Tessa added with a smirk, handing us our plates and raising a brow at her brother. “We get it, you know?”

  I wasn’t really sure if anyone got it, whatever it was.

  We’ve been married almost a week but Brandon and I were yet to conclude what we started on our wedding night.

  Much of our time had been spent at the hospital in the last couple of days that by the time we get home late at night, we were so tired we just fell into each other’s arms and cuddled until we drifted off to sleep.

  The most we managed was some heavy kissing and touching and it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. Brandon seemed to have gotten a grip on his self-control and was intent on not pressuring me until I was ready.

  I felt uncomfortable saying the words out loud that I used my body to do more than suggest—such as straddling his hips when I was just in my panties and a thin tank top and pressing against his hot, hard length—but Brandon would lift me off of him and pull me to his side, gentling his kisses and resting his hand on my cheek where it was in no danger to rip my clothes off.

  I knew the effort cost him but he was so infuriatingly noble I made a secret decision to seduce him outright at the end of this week if he still hasn’t gotten over his misplaced principles by then. I had an entire trousseau of sexy, naughty lingerie as my ammunition. I had been reassured multiple times when they were being picked out for me, that they could take down a strong, powerful man like a snake bite.

  Let’s just hope a certain part of him stays up. If I’d known I was going to do this, I would’ve listened to Clyde’s sex education 101 more aptly than I did.

  “As much as I’d like to brag, I wouldn’t want to encourage you to get married just yet, Tess,” Brandon said as he reached out to ruffle his sister’s hair which earned him a smack on the arm from her. “For one, you’re still my baby sister and two, I haven’t met anyone yet that I approve of for you.”

  Anna snorted. “Tessa is as old as Charlotte so get off your high horse, Brand. And I didn’t realize we needed your approval.”

  Brandon gave her a meaningful look. “If you’d asked for it, you might have avoided certain men.”

  Anna blushed furiously and I rolled my eyes at Brandon who didn’t look the least remorseful at that jab at his sister.

  “Brand, leave Anna alone,” Martin said firmly from his bed. “A better brother offers advice and support, not I-told-you-so’s.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Brandon said, instantly looking sufficiently sheepish. He walked over to Anna and put an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, sis.”

  My heart swelled as I watched Brandon smile broadly at his sister until she couldn’t resist anymore and smiled back, laughing and smacking him playfully on the chest.

  Despite his occasional arrogance, Brandon was a good son and brother and his family was very lucky to have him.

  He’ll make a great husband and father. Some other lucky girl will agree with you someday.

  Pain clenched my heart and I quickly quelled the feeling away. I had a year with Brandon—a year I’d decided on our wedding night to make the most of including what we could have between the two of us—and I wasn’t going to waste any moment of it wondering about his future with someone else.

  It’s a risk for your heart but remember, he can fall in love with you just as you can fall in love with him. You just have to hope it happens to the both of you and preferably at the same time.

  I inwardly sighed at my thoughts.

  As much as I’d like to hope, there was a saying: the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

  ***

  Dinner had been a pleasant and relaxed affair.

  The food was great, the conversations were full of light banter and Mattie capped it off nicely with a new composition he played on his electronic keyboard which Brandon had brought over from Martin’s house.

  It was around seven in the evening when Martin told us to head home early. Tessa and Anna usually stayed with him in the evenings but Brandon and I had been lingering with them after dinner in the past couple of nights that we normally didn’t make it home until about ten.

  “Just showering, babe,” Brandon said as he dropped a kiss on my forehead on his way to the bathroom while I sat on the bed and turned the TV on to the vampire show I DVR’d.

  I didn’t have cable in my house before but since I moved into Brandon’s place—and into his bedroom—I’d been obsessing over the sudden luxury like crazy which Brandon only found mildly amusing even if I’d taken over his TV.

  Half an hour later, he emerged in dark blue cotton pajamas and a white shirt, his hair damp and messy as if he’d only combed through it with his fingers.

  He got a good look at my tear-streaked face and rushed over, putting his arms around me. “Charlotte, what’s wrong? Why are you cry—”

  I pointed to the TV where the scene had frozen on pause. “He was going to k-kill her—it was the only way to free him f-from the curse—and he stabbed his o-own heart instead. I just... It was so...”

  The sound that rumbled out of Brandon’s chest sounded like a mix of a sigh and a breathy laugh of relief as he pulled me against him, his fingers slowly stroking my hair. “I can’t believe you’re crying over a vampire show.”

  “It’s not just a vampire show,” I grumbled sulkily, sniffling as he brushed his thumbs across my sticky cheeks. “It’s true love.”

  “It’s true love on a vampire show,” he snorted softly. “Romeo and Juliet and necrophilia.”

  I thrust my lower lip out at him in disapproval—Why did he have to make fun of something I find incredibly romantic?—and he just laughed and kissed me on the forehead.

  He climbed over the bed and sat cross-legged behind me, his arms wrapped around my frame. He picked up the remote and played the scene again and for the next intense fifteen minutes, we watched the rest of the show. Even Brandon watched in rapt attention as the rest of the episode concluded with an inevitable, tragic and heart-breaking death that just ripped at the soul. A few more tears had continued to escape down my cheeks and when I’d started to whimper, Brandon’s arms tightened around me.

  “Whew,” he breathed a minute after the credits started rolling on the screen. “That had been unnecessarily traumatic.”

  I turned the TV off and rubbed at my cheeks. “I know but it was so worth it. I haven’t cried from a TV show like that in years.”

  He climbed off the bed after me and cupped my cheeks with each of his hand. “I’m supposed to make sure you don’t cry while married to me but I’m assuming this doesn’t count.”

  I gave him a wobbly smile. “It won’t as long as you don’t tell a soul about it. Now, I have to go shower because my face is all sticky with tears.”

  “And snot,” he teased, pinching my chin before I shoved him away. He just laughed and headed for the door. “I’ll be in my office working for a little bit. Come and get me when it’s time for bed, okay?”

  “Not if I decide you belong to the doghouse tonight,” I grumbled. “Remember that saying, happy wife, happy life, Brand? I’ve been told it’s very true.”

  He grinned and walked back to me, holding me by the shoulders and yanking me against him as his mouth descended on mine.

  His lips were soft but insistent as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking out mine playfully
as his hands slipped down to grab my shirt and pull it over my head, leaving me in my cut-offs and pale pink bra. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, pushing myself up on my toes as his hands went further down to fumble with my fly. In one deft move, he pushed my shorts over the curve of my butt, revealing the pink lace panties I had on. Armina had stocked me with a lot of lace panties when she built my wardrobe and I’d quickly developed a fondness for them. Brandon seemed to like them too if the patterns his hands were making over my butt were an indication.

  I gulped a lungful of air when he tore his mouth from mine for a moment.

  “Was that good?” he murmured, leaning in to suck on my lower lip briefly.

  I nodded wordlessly.

  A corner of his mouth turned up. “You happy?”

  I gave him another dumb nod.

  “Good. Mission accomplished.”

  He suddenly stepped away from me and spanked me on the butt. “Now, you’re undressed enough to get started on that shower. Go!”

  My fists clenched on my sides. Now that the air was fully back in my lungs, I yelled after him on his way out of the room. “Brandon, I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

  When his laughter floating down the hall was the only response I got, I added, “Payback’s a bitch!”

  I trudged to the shower, irritated by the physical frustration he left me in but reluctantly smiling at his antics.

  Once I was done, I slipped on a fresh pair of lacy boyleg panties, a loose tank top and a thick, white terry cloth bathrobe. I towel-dried my hair until it was only damp and combed the tangles out of the waves that I smoothed down my back.

  I put on my moisturizer and brushed my teeth before making my way barefoot to Brandon’s office.

  It was a large room with a massive oak desk flanked by two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on each side behind it. The only illumination in the room came from the light sconces on the walls and the city lights filtering through the large bay window behind the desk. My husband was sitting in his chair, his head bent and his attention focused on his computer screen.