The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  “Hi!” I flashed the forty-something woman a big smile as she stood up to help me with my shopping bag and the food. “I'm so glad you were here when I called, Marissa, or I would’ve had to sit out on the front steps until Brandon was done with his meeting.”

  “I actually had just stepped out when you called. He didn’t mention you were coming so I hadn’t been expecting you,” she told me as she and I set the food down on a small side table. “But I just checked with him and he confirmed it. He’s just distracted. It’s been a long meeting.”

  I stood back after everything was set down on the table and looked around, flexing my aching arms and admiring the large, airy office and the large glass windows that were filled with the view of downtown. “I was in the area so I thought I’d stop by. I’ve never been here before. It looks great!”

  “That’s Brandon’s office there,” she said, pointing to a closed, heavy oak door. “You can go in and freshen up or wait for him there. It’s up to you. His meeting is in a conference room just down the next hall.”

  “I was hoping to serve the pizza,” I told Marissa as I propped one box open. “If it’s too much food, we can leave some here and whoever else wants some can have it. Brand said he was starving.”

  “We did serve lunch earlier but that was about three and a half hours ago and it was mostly just light sandwiches,” Marissa admitted. “Well, we can grab both boxes and the drinks and go knock on the door. At this point, they might be grateful for the reprieve.”

  The thing that I liked Marissa, even though I had only interacted with her once or twice, was that nothing perturbed her. She never looked at me in confusion or thought that I was crazy or something.

  Together, we toted the pizza boxes and the soft drinks down the hall.

  “Maybe you should let me go first in case he gets totally pissed and blows up for the interruption,” I told her as we paused by the door. “I can take the full impact.”

  A rare smile curved on the woman’s lips. “I have no problem with that.”

  I knocked but before I gave anyone a chance to answer the door, I pushed the knob open and poked my head in.

  Seven heads sporting scowls turned my way.

  I grinned and waved. “Hello!”

  Brandon was sitting at the head of the table, looking up at a wiry, older man who was in the middle of a presentation.

  When our eyes met, his expression softened and he smiled so broadly, I felt the tremors of its potent power all the way to my toes wiggling inside my sneakers.

  “Charlotte!” he said, rising to his feet and coming toward me.

  Murmurs filled the room at the greeting but I barely noticed because Brandon grabbed me by my shoulders and planted a quick kiss on my lips even if he had to lean over the pizza box I was still holding between us.

  “I missed you,” he murmured faintly against my ear before he straightened and turned to his staff. “Ladies, gentlemen. Please meet my wife, Charlotte. It looks like she came to rescue us with some food. What do you all say? Fifteen-minute break?”

  “I could certainly use it,” the man who was doing the presentation said dryly, smiling at us. “That pizza smells good.”

  Brandon helped me and Marissa set the pizza and drinks down before grabbing a slice and a drink for himself.

  In the most rushed five minutes I had ever witnessed, Brandon introduced me to the other people in the meeting before dragging me out of the conference room and down the hall, heading straight for his office.

  “I’ve barely said hi to anyone there,” I complained as Brandon slammed shut the door of his office behind me. “They seemed really nice and—umph.”

  Brandon’s mouth slanted over mine, smothering the rest of my ramblings as he wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up. My legs wrapped around his hips as he us walked backwards until we suddenly fell back on a large and comfy leather love seat.

  I giggled and kissed him some more, straddling his hips and enjoying the sweet root beer taste of his mouth.

  Why does this feel like the best pick-me-up in the world? I feel a hundred times better because he smiled at me and kissed me like we haven’t seen each other in forever when at eight this morning, he had been kissing me just as hungrily?

  “Thank you for the food and for dragging me out of that meeting,” Brandon said after we finally broke away to catch our breaths. He leaned his head against the backrest of the seat and placed his hands on each side of my hips.

  “I believe you were the one doing the dragging,” I said with a smile as I tugged at the moss green tie he had on with his crisp white shirt and dark gray business suit. “Long day, huh?”

  Brandon sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “Uh-huh. With Dad being pretty much hands-off now on the executive board, a lot of the decision-making is left up to me. I’ve been sitting there so bored out of my mind already. All I kept thinking about was coming home to see you.”

  My heart gave a fierce kick at his words. It became a mad thrashing when he softly smiled at me as he nudged aside a curly lock of my hair and brushed my cheek with his thumb. “You know, I never used to be bored at work.”

  I shrugged casually. “Must be a sign of your age. You don’t find being a young, powerhouse executive as exciting as it used to be.”

  Brandon laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hmm. I don’t know if it’s my age considering I’m not that old. Maybe I’m just excited by other things.”

  His hands slid past my hips and cupped my butt, his knuckles brushing the edge of my sneakers in the process.

  He gave me a confused look as he twisted to the side to look behind me. “Did you wear these sneakers to the tea party?”

  At the mention of the epic fail of a tea party, my heart sank.

  I lowered my head. “No. I bought these after the tea party. I went shoe shopping.”

  “Shoe shopping?” Brandon echoed, his hazel eyes bright with amusement. “Is this it or do you have a whole cart of shoes stowed away somewhere?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “No, this is it.”

  “You went shoe shopping and bought a pair of Converse sneakers?” he asked, chuckling. “You have money to spend and that’s all you got?”

  “What should I spend my money on? Hookers and blow?”

  Brandon’s eyes widened but he just laughed harder. “Charlotte, I swear, you’re killing me.”

  “I can kill you for real, if you’d like,” I snapped, glaring at him.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I thought I would never hear myself say this but I actually adore you in these sneakers. It’s just that when my sisters used to tell Dad they went shoe shopping before, I would always see him break out into cold sweat a little bit.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut before burying my face in my hands. “They’re my comfort shoes, okay? Felicity said shoe shopping always makes her feel better so I figured she meant she would buy her favorite pair of shoes—kind of like when you eat your favorite comfort food to feel better.”

  Brandon’s laughter stopped abruptly and he frowned at me. “If you needed to feel better, it means you weren’t feeling great to begin with. What happened, Charlotte?”

  Your weak-spined ex and her evil witch friend ganged up on me and ruined whatever chance I had with the Championettes. I will never be one now nor do I care to be but I know that a Mrs. Maxfield should be. I feel small even though I know I shouldn’t and I just want to forget about it.

  I just shook my head and sagged against Brandon’s chest. “Nothing.”

  “Charlotte...”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Brand,” I murmured against his shirt.

  Brandon cupped my shoulders and gently pushed me back up so he could look at me. His expression was tender and kind. “Baby, what’s wrong? Tell me what happened. Please.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I deliberated on what to say.

  Exhaling a sharp breath, I gripped the lapels of Brandon’s suit and
muttered, “The Society and I have mutually decided that it is not in either of our best interests to work together.”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed. “Was Simone there? Did she do anything to you?”

  I let out a dry, ironic laugh. “Oh, she was there but she did nothing.”

  “Was it Layla?”

  I shook my head firmly. “It doesn’t matter who it is, Brand. The Society as a whole just isn’t really the right kind of place for me so I’m sorry that you’re not getting a Mrs. Maxfield on that board. I’m afraid I just can’t do it.”

  “I don’t care if you get on that board or not,” he replied, scowling. “I hope you didn’t push yourself with this thinking that you owe it to me to join the Championettes. I thought maybe spending time with those women will help you navigate this world better and gain you some friends but if they’re only going to make you miserable, I would take you out of the group myself.”

  I gave my husband a tremulous smile but he wasn’t done yet. His expression was fierce and his hazel eyes were flashing angrily. “In fact, I’ll make sure we don’t associate with them completely. Let them see just how much they needed the Maxfields.”

  The Maxfields. Like the two of us. God, I love this man.

  “It’s alright, Brand,” I told him gently, putting a placating hand on his chest. “Don’t withdraw your support from meaningful charity work just for my defense. I’m afraid that I didn’t try very hard to resolve the issue myself either. I might have gotten a little mouthy with them. In the end, I was just happy to get out of there. The long walk gave me a lot of time to think about it.”

  “You walked? From Clifton House to here?”

  I winced at the appalled look on his face. “Yes. I used to walk all the time! It was in the middle of the day and it was just around downtown. I’m perfectly fine, aren’t I?”

  Brandon groaned and let his head roll back as he kneaded his temples. “Felicity and Gilles have no idea you’re here, do they?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I’ll call them in a bit. I was just having a bad day. I thought I’d come see you.”

  Brandon opened his eyes and our gazes held for a moment before he sat up straight and pulled me close, our foreheads touching. “Whenever you’re having a bad day, baby, you come and see me, okay?”

  I giggled. “Can’t just be whenever, silly. I know you’re busy sometimes.”

  “I will never be busy enough not to spend some time with you and cheer you up,” he said, tilting up my chin. “Promise me, Charlotte.”

  “I promise,” I said with a nod, sliding my arms around his neck and leaning in for a hug. “Thank you, Brand. I do feel much better.”

  He rubbed the small of my back. “Not good enough but it’ll do for the moment. I’ll get back to that meeting and wrap up and then we’re going to go. We’ll go somewhere, do something, eat whatever you’d like for dinner—it’s totally up to you.”

  I beamed at him as he lifted me up with him when he rose from the seat. “Okay.”

  He kissed my forehead and lowered me back on the floor. “Stay here if you like or go exploring but bring your phone. I’ll probably only be just another half hour.”

  “No rush, hotshot,” I reassured him as I spanked him playfully on the butt on his way out. “I understand that there are multi-million-dollar mergers still to be made. I can wait.”

  “Stay out of trouble!” was Brandon’s parting shot before he closed the door behind him. As soon as silence filled the room, I went and stood by the large glass window that overlooked the city, marvelling at the beauty of it and wondering if I’d ever seen it from this height.

  Everything looks different from up here. Including your life.

  Today’s Championette catastrophe was my first real obstacle in being a true Mrs. Maxfield as Brandon had envisioned. Well, I already knew I wasn’t going to fit the exact formula but I had at least hoped that I wouldn’t fail him in the more worthwhile aspects of being his wife.

  Sure, I caught the attention of the media and the public at first because of my ‘Cinderella’ story but to some of the crustier members of the upper crust, I would always be a plebeian even decked out in pastels and pearls and tagged with an esteemed and powerful last name.

  When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Those who think it’s too ordinary can stay thirsty.

  Reflecting on Brandon’s furious reaction when I gave him a watered-down summary of what had happened, I had nothing to worry about with him. Championette or not, he wasn’t going to cast me out—at least not while we remained married. In the end, that was all that really mattered to me. I could do some good without being part of some silly club. I may refuse ever repeating this to anyone but I sought Brandon’s approval.

  Thank the Lord it’s not conditional on my being a Stepford wife.

  At first, it might have been. Brandon definitely wanted to buy the perfectly coiffed, impeccably dressed, socially adept and completely docile wife for a million dollars.

  Somewhere along the way, after having to make do with the bargain he got, he doesn’t seem that concerned that you are everything but the trophy wife he hadn’t even been shopping for.

  I smiled at the sight of Brandon’s determined expression when he declared we would avoid the Championettes, my heart feeling all kinds of warm, gooey emotions.

  “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, fill a tall glass, hold it up and say cheers,” I mumbled with a firm nod at my resolve before turning away from the window and heading out of the office.

  I grabbed my clutch and texted Felicity about my whereabouts before stepping out. I assured Marissa that I would stay out of people’s way while looking around and popped into the elevator.

  Ten minutes and with directions from a couple of random employees later, I found myself in the rec room. It was just off the main cafeteria on the first floor and apart from a scattering of bean bag chairs and sofas, it also featured an epic big screen TV, an assortment of video game consoles, an arcade basketball station, a ping-pong table and a foosball table.

  A handful of people had been hanging out there when I came in, mostly guys from IT. According to them, most people in the building worked a nine-to-five day but there were some departments who worked around the clock such as IT, operations, security and the company’s own call center which took up four floors.

  I was taking my turn shooting hoops while the guys stood behind me when Liam came up next to me and put an arm around my shoulders.

  “I’ve got to get back to work, sweet pea, but I can certainly hang out with you again later,” he said in typical attempt at a smooth maneuver, winking at me. He’d been blatantly flirting with me since I first approached their group with some mild interest in conversation and despite the others' constant jeering of him and my own dismissal of him, he still didn’t seem capable of taking a hint.

  “Er, no, thanks,” I said with a shake of my head. “I told you I’m just waiting for my hus—”

  “Why don’t you give me your number and we can get together?” he asked, oozing extra charm on his over-practiced smile as I tried to wiggle away from him without causing a scene.

  “Why don’t you take your arm off my wife and I let you keep your job and the arm?”

  All our heads rotated to the side at the sound of the gruff, menacing voice and found Brandon standing there a few feet away from us, jacket-less with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his eyes blazing and his jaw taut from the scowl he wore.

  Liam yanked his arm away from me as if the contact burned him. From the way his eyes bugged out with recognition as he stared agape at Brandon, I figured he felt like he was about to be raked over the coals.

  “M-Mr. uh... Mr. Maxfield, I, uh...”

  “You are seriously dead, man,” one of the other guys muttered.

  “No one’s going to die or lose a limb,” I interrupted with a small laugh, trying to lighten up the sudden and awkward tension that fell over the group. I went over to Brandon and sq
ueezed his hand out of the fist he’d curled it into. “I was just passing some time waiting for you and the guys were nice enough to include me in the game.”

  And since rambling was my default reaction to a tense moment, I proceeded to do the introductions as if Brandon cared one way or another.

  While I sputtered on with the names, he had slinked his arm behind my waist and pulled me not so subtly against his side.

  “...so yeah, great game, guys. See ya! Toodles!” I inwardly cringed at the last word which I picked up from Felicity—it left no room for any other response because seriously, who even really knew what the word meant?

  But instead of standing around, I topped off my parting shot with a big smile and practically pulled Brandon out of the room, and trust me, he was dragging his heels.

  “Why didn’t you tell them you were married to me?” he finally demanded in a low, sulky tone, his lips pressing together into a tight line.

  He’d stopped in the middle of the front lobby where a few employees milling about had turned to look.

  I hate grumps. I hate grumps who look hot while being grumpy even more—especially when they’re grumpy because they’re jealous.

  “The last thing I wanted was to be regarded as someone completely unapproachable because I felt it important enough to point out to them that I was married to the boss,” I told him with an indulgent smile, my fingers catching the sides of his white shirt as I tiptoed closer to him. “Don’t worry about it, Brand. No one crossed the line. Even that guy Liam didn’t get far enough. I was about thirty seconds from introducing him to my elbow.”

  His brows furrowed as he studied me for a moment. “Are you sure they didn’t do anything terrible?”

  “Oh, they did,” I said with a shrug and a mock-serious expression. “They called me all sorts of rude names because I was kicking their butts. But I sympathize with sour grapes, you know? Since they can’t have what they want, I let them have their misery at the very least. I’m generous that way.”

  A second passed before Brandon broke into a grin that cleared the clouds from his expression.

  “You’re trouble but you’re my trouble,” he said as he shook his head and slung his arm around me, steering us toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go.”