“Merry Christmas,” he says, and it finally clicks that this is for me. He got me something I’d like and now he’s giving it to me so I can wear it. Because he doesn’t care what I wear to a stupid party.
I don’t say anything, I just move, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing so tight I’m not sure he can breathe. I want him to know how grateful I am and how much this means to me. He returns the embrace, dropping the suit on the bed. His hand goes to the base of my spine whereas the other goes to the back of my neck, holding me tightly against him.
He’s married, I remind myself as I try not to react to the feel of his solid body against my own. It’s impossible. I feel connected to him right now on a level deeper than anything I’ve ever felt with anybody in my entire life.
His touch gets firmer, he brings me in closer and his face goes into my hair and neck. He inhales, his arms trapping me to his body so tight I can’t move at all. I’m not sure I want to.
But I have to.
I start to pull away, trying not to cry at his thoughtful gift and the moment we just shared.
“Merry Christmas, Ezra,” I breathe, pulling back completely, terrified that we’ll be caught in such an intimate embrace.
He lets me go and I see it in his eyes, longing. He doesn’t want to let me go any more than I wanted to make him.
He’s married, I remind myself again and reach for the suit.
I’m getting changed.
When I return to the party, Pax is waiting, looking around anxiously.
“What happened to the dress?” he asks, looking me up and down.
“That wasn’t a dress, it was a bikini in lace.” I’m mad at him because he should have been the one to make me feel how Ezra just made me feel.
He notices the look I cut him with and doesn’t argue. He does however glare at Mr. C who is talking to a group of men.
When he notices me looking, he waves me over and the two men and one woman look eager to meet me.
“I’ll be back,” I say to Pax and I’m grateful when he doesn’t follow me. I think he’s read my ire loud and clear.
Still wearing the shoes I wore to the party, I make my way to them, smiling and feeling a lot more confident than before.
“Father, this is my incredible PA, Rose,” Mr. C declares, introducing me to the well-dressed silver-haired man in the middle of the group. I stammer for a second on my breath because of how absolutely gorgeous he is, just like his son I suppose. Age has done him kind. “Rose, this is my father, the real Mr. Conti, and my mother…”
“It’s Izabella,” she finishes for him, kissing both of my cheeks. “And my husband, Mario. We’ve heard much about you.”
“Same,” I reply happily. “I’m the one who sends you gifts on your birthdays and anniversaries.”
“Hey,” Mr. C admonishes, smiling jokingly. “You’re not supposed to tell them that.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Too late now.”
“I like her,” Mario says, his older face cut with so many wrinkles you can tell he has smiled his entire life. “Maria talks of you fondly too.”
“She never stops.” Izabella exaggerates an eye roll. “I think she prefers you now to me.”
“I love her, she’s amazing. Such a sweet kid.”
“Do you have any children?” Izabella asks kindly.
“She’s too young to have children,” Mario puts in and I’m inclined to agree.
“No kids. I’m not even nearly ready for that. I don’t think I ever will be,” I admit with a crinkled nose. “I love kids but I’m not sure I could ever have my own. I like order too much.”
“She definitely likes order too much.” Mr. C says this with affection and no distain. He smiles down at me and winks, but I just can’t find the courage to meet his eyes. “It’s what makes her such a good PA.”
“I’m Bastion, by the way,” the older guy on Mario’s right says with a big grin. “Mario’s younger, more handsome brother.”
“Yeah, right,” Mario replies and Ezra chuckles along with him.
I shake his hand and kiss his cheek. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“How long have you been working with my son?” Mario asks.
“Almost a year. January eighth I think it was.”
Ezra nods his confirmation. “I just can’t believe how fast the year has gone. Maria is ten now. It’s crazy to me.”
“I wish you’d had more babies,” Izabella remarks sadly.
“Not now, Mom.”
They fall silent for a beat, nobody looking at anybody in particular.
Awkward…
“Where is our daughter-in-law?” Mario asks, looking over the heads of all the guests.
“She’s overseeing the party, she’ll come to us eventually.”
Izabella pats her son’s cheek. “Tell her it’ll be nice to see her.”
“I will.”
“Well, as thrilling as you men are, I think I’m going to commandeer your PA and discuss this fabulous suit she’s wearing. Very daring.” Izabella takes my arm in hers and guides me away. I don’t look at Mr. C, not directly. After what happened upstairs, I’m almost too scared to. “Do you like gin?”
“I prefer whiskey, but I rarely say no when gin is offered,” I reply as we make our way to the bar.
“I used to love whiskey back in the day but now it gives me a sore throat.”
We spend an hour together in the lounge, giggling over drinks, talking about work and life. She almost cries when I tell her about my past, being carted from foster home to foster home with nothing but a black bag full of clothes and one teddy bear that got stolen and ripped when I was twelve.
She pulls me in for a hug, rocking us from side to side. “You poor thing. I always considered fostering children, but I never had the time. Now I wish I’d made the time.”
“You’d have been amazing at it, I can tell,” I mutter.
When she pulls back, she’s smiling again albeit sadly, but at least she’s smiling. “Please tell me you have someone to spend Christmas with?”
“I usually spend it with my best friend, Laurie, and her parents.” I had spoken to Pax about it kind of, he’s going to Washington until the New Year so I won’t be seeing him and I haven’t spoken to Laurie. I think she assumes I’d be spending it with Pax. We’ve hardy spoken since Halloween, she’s in too deep with Kyle, the man from floor five.
Still, I’m not about to spend Christmas with a stranger. That’s weird.
“Well, you’re always welcome to come to our home if you enjoy eating excellent food with a bunch of old folks. My son spends the day with his own family now and they don’t usually join us until after dinner. A shame because Maria would love it but her mother prefers the company of her own family.”
I frown at that but don’t comment, it’s not my place. “Thank you so much for the offer, that’s really kind of you.”
“Then it’s settled…”
“Oh no, I meant——”
“You’ll come to our house. Oh, it’ll be so nice having the extra company and I know Erika will appreciate it too when she joins us.”
Oh shit. “Yay.”
Mario joins us finally and gives me a smile when his wife hugs him and drunkenly declares, “Excellent news, darling.”
“What’s that, dear?”
“Rose is spending Christmas with us.”
I smile cringe because what else can I do at this point?
“Oh how lovely,” Mario replies. “Do you play chess?”
“Monopoly?” she asks.
“I play chess or Monopoly; I can play most things.”
He leans closer. “Can you play an instrument?”
“Nope? Can you?”
“Nope.”
I laugh at how random he is and sip more of my drink.
We chat some more but I see Pax coming my way, eager to get my attention.
“I think it’s time for me to leave. Why don’t you call the office tomorrow with the
time and place and I’ll get back to you?” I suggest, knowing she’s probably just extending an offer based on the amount of alcohol she has consumed.
“Oh no, I’ll be sad when you leave,” Izabella whines like we’ve been best friends for years. “Must you?”
“I’m beat,” I mutter with a shrug of my shoulders. “And I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Our son working you hard?”
“Always,” I reply, smiling.
I hug Izabella and kiss Mario’s cheeks and turn to find Pax in the middle of a conversation with Ezra.
“You ready?” I ask him and he nods, his lips a thin line as he regards me.
Ezra looks between us both. “Thanks for coming.”
I pat his shoulder awkwardly because everyone is watching, and it felt like a good idea at the time.
“I don’t know why I did that,” I mutter to him and myself and he bites his lip to stifle his smile. “See you at work tomorrow, Mr. C.”
“See you tomorrow,” he replies, still smiling.
I leave their house with a skip in my step but that soon fades when we get to Pax’s car and he completely ignores me for the entire journey home.
My heart tingles and thumps in my chest, surrounded by painful spikes that stab me every time I try to make conversation and he ignores me.
My eyes burn.
I don’t know what I did.
“Please talk to me,” I beg him, hoping that he didn’t see me hug Mr. C.
No, it can’t be that, he talked to me after that.
Then what?
“Please,” I whisper, placing my hand on his thigh. “What did I do?”
“You fucking humiliated me,” he snaps when we pull up outside of my house.
I jump when he hits his hand against the steering wheel.
“You absolutely fucking humiliated me.”
“I…” I shake my head, lips parted, struggling to find something to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Because you don’t think of anybody but yourself.”
I look at him, still surprised by this. We’ve never argued before, not really. This is new. “I don’t know what I did, tell me what I did, and I’ll make sure to never do it again.”
“Forget it,” he hisses, leaning over me to open the door to the car. “Get out.”
“Are you… are you breaking up with me?” My heart clenches painfully, a thousand knives stabbing into it from all angles.
“I don’t know.” He keeps his eyes forward and his hands on the steering wheel. “Just go.”
“Please, Pax. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did but I swear I didn’t mean it. Sometimes I get stuck in my own head. Don’t leave me mad. Please.”
“Stop begging!” he yells, slamming his hand on the steering wheel again. “Stop fucking begging. You sound so pathetic.”
I sniffle and wipe my tears on my wrist as I climb out of the car. I don’t say anything else as I close the door and watch him peel away, tires skidding on the asphalt.
My hands tremble as I unlock the door to my apartment and I immediately pull up his number on my phone and try to call him.
The thought of him breaking up with me now is too much to bear. I thought we had a really good thing going.
I guess not.
Chapter Fifteen
He gives the most incredible hugs.
“Will you pay attention?” Mr. C yells at me, it was only a matter of time, I’ve been making stupid errors for the past couple of days. My head is not in it at all. “Late this morning and now your head is fuck knows where. I know you’re tired, trust me, I’m tired too but I need you on the ball today.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head to get me into it again. “I haven’t slept in days.”
“Are you sick?” he asks, his voice calmer now.
“No, it’s just Pax and I——"
He cuts me off and hisses, “Trust me, I don’t need to know about you and Pax. You’re like a couple of teenagers. Do you ever stop?”
“He broke up with me the night of your party, if that answers your question,” I mumble, yawning again. “And I know I shouldn’t let it affect my work but…” I shake my head. “Never mind… it doesn’t matter.”
With his hands on the desk and his eyes on me he sighs and then rubs his own eyes. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have known something was wrong, you’ve never been this scatterbrained in your entire employment.” He sits in the chair I usually sit in, his eyes dancing over me, a bit like we’ve danced around the topic of that embrace we shared in his marital bedroom. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it but I’m definitely not about to bring it up. “What happened?”
I raise my hands and let them fall. “I don’t know. He said I embarrassed him and then he left and hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“He’s an ass,” he growls. “You did nothing to embarrass him. He was probably drunk and——”
“He was driving, not drinking. You’re right, he’s just an ass. First he dragged me to that party in clothes I didn’t want to wear,” I glare, but not at Ezra, at the situation. “And then I’m like okay are you breaking up with me? And he said… I don’t know. And hasn’t called me since.”
“Is he in his office?”
“He’s visiting his family in Washington,” I flop onto the sofa and throw my arm over my eyes. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this stuff. I’m sorry. Let me have an hour nap and I’ll feel better afterwards.”
Shutting my eyes, I dangle one of my legs over the back of the couch and the other stretches along the seats.
I hear the lock on the door click and peek over my arm.
“What are you doing?” I ask and he moves to where I’m sprawled.
“If you’re having a nap, I’m having a nap.”
“Where are you going to nap? I’ve taken your spot and I’m not moving.”
He chuckles and lifts my legs, forcing me to move the one that I draped over the back. He sits where my legs were and shuffles down, resting his legs on the coffee table. I’m about to do the same when he places my legs over his thighs and rests his arm along the back of the couch.
“This is——”
“Nap, Rose.”
My lips clamp shut, and I try to ignore the tingling feeling spiraling through my legs.
I close my eyes, surprised I can even relax. I’m not sure this is appropriate. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it if anyone asks, but I don’t care. I really am tired, and this really is quite comfortable.
I fall asleep with too much ease.
When I wake up again, an hour has passed, the phone is ringing, and Mr. C is still asleep.
I slide my feet from his lap one at a time. He doesn’t stir.
I answer the phone and take the call as quietly as I can. It’s luckily nothing too important.
I get back on with the job I screwed up before my nap, feeling groggy but better than I did. I also call for coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
He stretches about twenty minutes later and his hand reaches out, patting the sofa to find me. When he realizes I’m gone he finds me at his desk and smiles softly.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod and puncture a hole in a sheet of paper before adding it to a large binder. “Much.”
“You still haven’t booked your annual leave and I’m starting to think you need it.”
“I’m starting to think you’re right.”
He laughs quietly and we work alongside each other in better moods now.
“Oh, by the way,” I say, smiling at him again as sweetly as I can muster. “I’m spending Christmas with your parents.”
“Of course you are,” he mutters, laughing again. “How did that happen?”
“Ask your mom. I don’t remember.”
He looks amused as he works, and every so often, he looks up at me and smiles.
We’re definitely in a better place again. I wish I could say the same about Pax.
“You’ll figure it out,” Ezra reassures me. “He’d be an idiot to let you go.”
“I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I jest, placing my hand over my heart.
“Shut up.”
Christmas comes and to say it has been an amazing day would be an understatement. I met with Erika who joined us with her husband, Steve, whose actual name is Lithuanian, and I couldn’t pronounce it so he’s letting me call him Steve.
The Conti family are incredibly warm, kind, and funny people.
I’m so glad I took a chance and came here.
After dinner is over, Maria arrives with her parents and she is so happy to see me. I hug her and listen to her ramble on about the gifts she got. To say she’s from a rich family, she didn’t get a lot. She hasn’t been spoiled with every gadget and gizmo money can buy. I love that.
I even have a conversation with Mrs. Conti, aka Ezra’s wife, without wanting to slap her around the face. She can be funny after wine. I might even like her if she’d never been my employer and I didn’t know what she was like with her staff.
I especially find it funny when Mario pulls faces at her behind her back, he’s not being mean, he’s just drunk and having a good time.
Maria joins in with her papa and I just sit as I listen to Mrs. Conti talk about her trip to Europe last year, trying not to insult her by laughing.
Mr. C sits beside her and plays with her hair as she speaks, and then her neck, and her shoulders. I watch him attentively touch her in front of us all as though he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m mesmerized for some reason, just watching his fingers move back and forth.
They do their Christmas ornament tradition, which is where they each hang their own ornament with their name on the tree and make a wish. It’s the sweetest thing and brings a tear to my eye. I wish I had that growing up.
“Who wants to play Monopoly?” Mario asks and everyone groans.
“I probably shouldn’t,” I reply, picking at a piece of lint on the knee of the pajamas the Contis got me as a last-minute Christmas gift. They’re festive, red and white pajamas with a glowing Rudolph on the T-shirt. I love them. I might never take them off. “I don’t do well with games.”
Becoming His Mistress Page 11