Becoming His Mistress

by Murphy, A. E.

  He relaxes and his closest friend and executive recruiter, Robert Butler, who I’ve met many times over the past year, looks at my hand and then at me. I remove it before he can speculate.

  “She’s right, it’s in the bag,” Robert agrees, stretching and groaning.

  “And I’ve got all of the info in here.” I tap my head. “So, don’t worry about losing your place. We practiced the cues. I’ve got you.”

  “Have you got me too?” Robert asks, openly flirting with me. He’s a natural flirt with any woman he considers pretty. Which means he used to completely ignore me before. “I need somebody to hold my hand.”

  “Ask your dick,” I retort, making him laugh.

  “Ask it if you’re allowed to hold it? Certainly.”

  “Robert,” Mr. C snaps, giving him a pointed look.

  Robert’s smile doesn’t fade, and his hazel eyes linger on me for a beat longer.

  Robert was a last-minute addition to this short trip. Robert thought it best to have somebody else who knows the tech they’re pimping out as well as Mr. C does and eventually convinced him to bring him along. It makes sense but I can’t deny the fact I’m disappointed that it’s not going to be just us two.

  I need to get a grip.

  Mr. Conti is married, and my brain is blurring lines between us all on its own. I don’t know why or how, but it is, and I know better than that.

  Although, to be honest, me wanting him alone could just be because I like how Mr. C and I move around each other. We don’t demand each other’s attention and he’s always happy for me to do my own thing so long as I do my job. Whereas Robert can be insufferable. He drives me insane.

  I start clicking my pen in sixes until Mr. Conti takes it from my hand and puts it in his pocket.

  I rest back, rubbing my thighs with my hands, listening to the men practice their pitches on each other. Normally I do this with Mr. C but he’s found a replacement for this trip.

  When Ezra heads to the restroom, Robert stares at me, smiling wryly.

  “So,” Robert directs at me. “Tell me… what happened to you to make you super-hot all of a sudden?”

  I blink slowly at him. I cannot believe he just said that.

  “Does speaking like that to women really get you laid?”

  “For the most part, yep.” He’s so unfazed by everything and anything, including my ire towards him. “Some women dig the attitude.”

  “Not me,” I reply, my tone strong and firm. “Stop speaking to me like I’m beneath you because I have a vagina.”

  “What if I want you beneath me because you have a vagina?”

  “You’re gross.”

  “Nah, I’m just forward. You’re single, I’m single… we’re spending two nights in the same hotel.”

  I smile flatly at him. “I’d rather set myself on fire.”

  “Baby, I could totally do that for you,” he jests, and I find my lips twitching because I totally lined that up for him. “See? I’m charming and funny, who can resist?”

  “Stop talking.”

  His smile broadens, showing slightly crooked front teeth which only add to his charm. I can see why the ladies fancy him. It’s a shame I don’t. I imagine he’d do a great one-night stand. He’s got the type of arrogance where you just know they’re good in bed and it’s not just for show until the shit finale.

  “Everything alright?” Mr. C asks, his eyes flickering between us when he makes his approach and slides past me to reclaim his seat.

  “Just working things out with Rose,” Robert replies, grinning, his eyes still on me. “She’s offered me her room for the night.”

  “Ewww,” I respond and cringe smile. “I’d rather eat my uterus than let you anywhere near it.”

  Mr. C laughs and yanks on my dark braid. “Good girl.” He then glares at his friend. “What did we talk about?”

  Robert, still smiling, sits back and stares at me some more. Not in a creepy way, just a forward way. I know that if I told him to back off and meant it, he would. But there’s something about this situation that entices me. Maybe a fuck you to Pax. Maybe even a fuck you to Mr. C.

  Maybe I should consider his offer, it might help me sleep tonight.

  “Anybody else hungry?” Robert asks and we all nod our heads in tandem.

  * * *

  We wait, Robert and me, outside of the room where Mr. C is now discussing business with Hiro, the head of Denki No Corp.

  They’ve done their pitch, we’ve given them the tour, I’ve answered any questions Rob and Ezra couldn’t, and now we wait.

  It’s so nerve wracking.

  If Mr. Conti gets this contract it’ll mean so much for the future of this company and solar energy in general. We’re talking solar phone screens, solar cars, solar houses… solar everything. The more people buy and the more the tech is made, the cheaper the products become and the more widespread they will be used. The less of a negative footprint on the world. We’ll be one step closer to stopping the increase of pollution.

  I know how much this means to Mr. C.

  To everyone in the company.

  We all hold our breath when the door opens and Hiro walks out, talking on the phone. His team of people say something, Hiro replies, and they all cheer.

  They bid us goodbye and I’m terrified because Mr. C hasn’t come out of the boardroom yet.

  Is this bad news?

  When they’re gone, I creep inside with Robert hot on my heels.

  Mr. C is sitting on the table edge, gripping it with both hands, his head hanging forward.

  Oh shit.

  “Hey,” Robert starts, squeezing Ezra’s shoulder. “Next time we——”

  “We got it,” Mr. C says, slowly looking up and finding my eyes. My heart starts to accelerate, adrenaline pumps through my veins. “We got the contract.”

  “What?” I breathe, feeling my mouth fall open and stay open.

  “Fuck me,” Robert whispers.

  Mr. C hugs me with his arms under mine and around my back. He spins me twice, drops me and cups my cheeks. “WE FUCKING GOT IT!”

  We start screaming, all three of us, and I start jumping, just because my excitement can’t be expressed by simply standing.

  I even hug Robert because I’m too excited to not hug people.

  “Let’s get drunk!” Robert cries and I agree loudly.

  We head to a nightclub, drinking champagne that I arranged with the car service for this very moment. I figured either way we’d be drinking to drown our sorrows or celebrate.

  I pull my bun free, mess up my thick hair, and reapply my matte red lipstick. I get rid of my blazer and pop open the top few buttons of my white shirt.

  “Good to go?” I ask nobody in particular.

  Both men confirm at the exact same time, “Good to go.”

  I take the glass offered and down it. Robert pours me more. Mr. C swigs straight from the bottle.

  “WE FUCKING DID IT!” he yells again after opening the window, I’ve never seen him so animated.

  I like it.

  I sit between them as we drive, singing songs together I’m not sure they know the words to.

  I’m relieved when we reach a nightclub that’s busy, almost glad that the meeting took so long and ended so late because, if it hadn’t, we’d be in drunken limbo.

  That’s where you get too drunk too early and can’t go anywhere because nowhere is open yet.

  We almost fall out of the car and then Mr. C slings his arm around my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing the bottle into the chest of the bouncer as we walk in. Robert has connections. Wherever we are now already knew we were coming because we are taken straight to a VIP suite in the corner, complete with tablet to order drinks from the bar.

  “This is awesome,” I say, playing on the tablet built into the table center to figure out what cocktail I want. I order my drink and theirs, smiling at them both as they chat excitedly about the company’s future and theirs. />
  Our drinks are brought over but it’s not long before we’re ordering more.

  “Do you dance?” Robert asks me.

  I nod. “Hell yeah, I do. Not well, though.”

  He holds out his hand and points to the dance floor. “Dance with me.” It’s not a question or a request, it’s an order.

  “Only if we all go.” I glance at Mr. C who is already standing. “I guess we’re all going then.”

  Buzzed, happy, and hopeful for the future, we all hit the crowded dance floor in our business attire and laugh as we move around each other. I’m spun under arms, hugged into chests. At one point I’m practically tag teamed from both angles but it’s all good fun.

  We don’t stop until we’re sweating and we’re so drunk there’s no choice but to go back to the hotel. Such a shame.

  The ride back we’re even more obnoxious and loud than we were on the way. It’s so funny, seeing two fully grown men acting like teenage boys. Although Robert is the more sober one out of the three of us, he’s still the louder one.

  I manage to get them to shush as we head to our rooms, so we don’t get kicked out. This is a really fancy hotel.

  “The party’s not over yet,” Mr. C declares as Robert opens the door and I carry our second bottle of champagne in. They’re both wearing my red lipstick because they’ve both been drinking out of the same bottle as me. Something sober me would never do.

  Drunk me is an animal.

  Robert connects his phone to a speaker and plays music, I drink more champagne, still dancing drunkenly just because.

  “LET’S BOUNCE!” I cry and kick off my shoes before diving onto Mr. C’s bed. I go up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and… shit I lose count.

  “Fuck yeah, I love bouncing on beds,” Robert declares and joins me, when he goes up, I come down. It’s so funny. I can’t stop laughing.

  Mr. C joins us, and I’m surprised the bed doesn’t break with all three of us on it.

  Robert tries to jump from the bed to the sofa about four meters away, but he falls halfway, landing facedown on the floor.

  I have never laughed so hard in my life. I have tears streaming down my face. I can’t breathe.

  I get down off the bed to check on him as Ezra flops back onto it, mumbling about how drunk he is.

  I crawl over to Robert and roll him over, wondering if he’s fallen asleep or died. He’s laughing silently when I see his face. I slap his chest for worrying me.

  “Asshole,” I mutter, and look at Mr. C’s foot hanging over the end of the bed.

  We both hear a soft snore come from him and I laugh into Robert’s shoulder. Pressing my forehead to the fabric of his shirt.

  “He’s so drunk,” Robert whispers as I lean over him, ready to somehow get back on my feet.

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “True.”

  “You’re real pretty, Ms. Sinclair.” He grabs my head and I squeal when his lips hit mine.

  I rip away, panting and staring at him wide-eyed. Trying to find reasons as to why this is a bad idea. I count six reasons why this might actually be a good idea and then remind myself that when I’m sober this guy repulses me with his arrogance.

  He tries to kiss me again, but I shake my head and nod at Ezra’s snoring form.

  “Worried he’ll see?”

  “He’s my boss.”

  “Not tonight he’s not,” he breathes and kisses me again. This time I allow it and he rolls me over on the rug, deepening it further. “I’m not him.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m not him, I get it, I see the way you look at him.”

  “I don’t know——”

  “It’s okay, I don’t care but just know he’s never going to look at you the same. He loves his wife.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “Let’s have some fun, me and you, I’ll even let you call me Ezra.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper hiss, definitely laughing now. “You’re an idiot, Robert Butler.”

  “You’re not denying it.”

  I shake my head at him, still laughing and shove him off my body. I owe him no explanations, he’s going to believe what he wants no matter what I say. “Come on. Let’s cover him up and go.”

  * * *

  I wake up to a loud banging noise at my hotel room door. So does Robert. Though he’s more startled than I am.

  “What the fuck?” he asks breathlessly, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dark.

  “You get it,” I grumble, hoping there’s not a fire because I’m not moving for anything. My head is spinning, and the sun is shining through a crack in the curtains. I’m not going anywhere today.

  I hear his feet thud on the ground as he approaches the door.

  When it swings open there’s silence.

  “Oh shit,” Robert mutters.

  I sit up, holding the blanket tight to my body because I’m only in a bra and thong. I peer at the door, shielding my eyes from the light with my hand, and connect with the livid gray eyes of Mr. C.

  “Pack, we’re going home!” he snarls, his hands in tight fists by his sides.

  “But we’re supposed to be spending another night here,” I whine. I was so looking forward to seeing NYC.

  “I said pack.” He stomps away and my chest flutters painfully.

  “What’s his problem?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes as Robert approaches his pile of clothes and starts to pull them on.

  “That’s exactly what I’m wondering,” Robert murmurs so quietly I only just hear him with strained effort. He looks me up and down, a curious glint in his eye. “You’re not fucking him, are you?”

  I give him a disgusted look. “Are you kidding me? He’s married.”

  “Right…” He shrugs his shoulders. “Thanks for letting me crash in here last night.”

  “Whatever, I still don’t like you.”

  Laughing, he leaves my room and I shower, brush my teeth, and try not to die.

  When I leave my room and ready myself to knock on Mr. Conti’s to let him know I’m good to go, it opens and the same livid gray eyes that scowled at me earlier are still full force.

  “You ready?” he asks, and I nod, shaking my suitcase by the handle. “Where’s Robert?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fun night?”

  I feel like the way he asked is a trick question. No matter what I say is going to be bad. “The best. Yours?”

  “Shit.”

  “Why are you mad all of a sudden?” I ask, grabbing his arm.

  “Because people don’t live up to my inflated opinion of them.” His reply is as cryptical as his anger.

  “Who? Me? What did I do?”

  He doesn’t reply, just goes on ahead. I twist my damp hair around my hand, wishing Robert would hurry up and not leave me alone with this moody asshole.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “And I didn’t answer!” he yells, turning on me suddenly. “Remember who pays who here. I’m your boss, you’re my employee. Act like it and shut up when I don’t want you to speak.”

  The reasonable me that I left back in LA would have shut up and been a good employee. The unreasonable me that NYC has brought out in me, sits on the floor, crosses her legs, and refuses to move.

  “Get up, I’m not in the mood for this.”

  “Nope.”

  “I said get up.”

  I look up at him, feeling hungry, tired, and hungover. “I. Said. Nope.”

  “I will fire you if you don’t move your ass.”

  I smile at him, leaning back against the wall. “Fire me then.”

  He opens and closes his mouth.

  I just called his bluff and now I’m starting to realize the pattern to this madness.

  “I’m waiting. Say the words. Tell me I’m fired.”

  He’s even more livid now than he was before. “I’m not kidding around.”

 
“Prove it.”

  “I don’t want to fire you. You’re forcing my hand.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Well I’m not moving until you’ve calmed down and apologize.”

  “Me? I should apologize?”

  “Yes, or stop playing games like Pax and tell me what the fuck I did wrong so I can apologize!”

  He winces, obviously not liking the fact I compared him to my ex. This seems to calm him down immensely, the anger leaves his eyes, but a harshness remains in the creases. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No,” he grits, sitting down beside me. “It’s me. I just need to go home and be with my family.”

  “Why? We’re supposed to be celebrating, remember?”

  He looks at me and I look at him. “I don’t feel like celebrating anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I had some… bad news.” He rubs his eyes and looks away, his profile emanates so much sadness and frustration.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it won’t change anything.”

  “Fine, but I’m here if you need me. Even when you’re being an ass.” I lean forward and go to press my lips to his cheek but he turns his head at the last second and I capture his soft lips instead. I jolt back, surprised and anxious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to——”

  I squeak, letting out a high-pitched noise from my throat when he grabs my hair and crushes his lips to mine. His minty tongue licks the seam of my lips but I just can’t.

  I can’t even entertain this right now.

  What is he doing?

  This is going to ruin everything.

  His hand grips tighter, his kiss gets stronger.

  I rip my head to the side and pull free so hard I fall away from him. “What are you doing?” I shriek, tears filling my eyes as I scramble to my feet and he follows.

  “I…” he stammers, trying to find the right words, eyes panicked, desperate.

  When he doesn’t find them, he yanks me to him again and tries for another kiss.

  This is Mr. Conti… my boss… my friend… a married man… father to a little girl I adore. Yes, I’ve had weird dreams and fantasies about him, but what he’s asking of me right now is to play a part in ruining his marriage.