Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “Shoeless solidarity,” he said as he stuffed his socks into his shoes and stood up.

  He stopped where he stood, stepping in place.

  “You’re right,” he said. “This is kind of nice.”

  Another warm smile, one that made the rest of the world melt away around me.

  “And good to know you’re fine with all sorts of shoe mishaps,” he said. “Broken heels, mismatched pairs…”

  I let out another laugh, remembering how I’d been dressed when we’d met.

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “I’m still so embarrassed about that.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “One red and one green was very fitting for the holiday.”

  It felt good to know he saw the humor in it, but man was I still cringing.

  “Frantic morning out the door, I suppose,” I said.

  “It happens to the best of us.”

  I glanced down at Adam’s feet as we continued on, trying to imagine him heading out the door with a pair of mismatched shoes. I couldn’t do it—the man was too well-put-together. Just seeing him barefoot like that, a giant rip down the side of his expensive shirt, was already weird enough. Adam seemed like the kind of man who’d come out of the womb wearing a suit.

  We continued on, and my mental image of baby Adam dressed to the nines stayed in my head. I had to suppress a smile—I didn’t want him to think anything else about him was making me chuckle. I’d given the guy enough of the business for one day. Then again, he hadn’t been scared to give it right back. And I loved it.

  But then I was thinking about his family. What kind of upbringing had he had? He knew about mine, but I knew very little about his. The wine was still in my head, and I could feel my curiosity growing by the second.

  Off in the distance the soft sounds of music drifted toward us.

  “Hear that?” he asked. “Sounds like Christmas carols. Want to check it out before we head back?”

  “Sounds great,” I said with a smile.

  We continued on toward the music, which appeared to be coming from the other side of the row of buildings ahead of us, and soon arrived at a large plaza with a crowd gathered, a large fountain in the center surrounded by statues of serious-looking men in military outfits.

  “Must be the town square,” he said. “Probably one of the oldest places in the city by the looks of it. Come on.”

  The crowd was gathered in front of several rows of children, all no older than their early teens. And sure enough, they were singing Christmas carols. They were all in Portuguese, of course, but I was so familiar with them that no interpretation was necessary.

  Adam and I sat on a stone bench a little off in the distance, saying nothing for a time as we watched the children sing a lovely rendition of “Silent Night.” It was so strange—despite the distance from home and the warm air and everything else, at that moment it really, truly felt like Christmas.

  And my curiosity about Adam still lingered.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He turned his attention toward me.

  “Sure,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “How come you’re not with family for the holiday?”

  I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I’d been so blunt that I couldn’t believe it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was a really personal question to ask. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

  “No,” he said. “It’s fine. And it’s only fair. I sort of grilled you about your family, right?”

  He did have a point.

  “But just because I’m okay talking with it doesn’t mean you are,” I said. “I don’t want to pry.”

  “Not prying,” he said. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

  He turned his attention back to the carolers, that same thoughtful expression returning to his face. I had the sense he was trying to figure out where to begin.

  “I’m like you,” he said. “I lost family at a young age.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said by reflex.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “But unlike you I didn’t lose both parents. Though it certainly felt like it at the time.”

  I was curious as to what he meant by that. But I said nothing.

  “My father died when I was ten. Heart attack. The doctors said it was a rare condition, but if you ask me, it was because the man spent nearly every waking moment at work. I don’t hold this against him, though. I knew he cared about nothing more than taking care of my mother and me and that was his way of showing it.”

  He went on.

  “My mother took his death hard. And she coped with it in a way that I wasn’t comfortable with in the slightest—by remarrying after no more than a few months had passed.”

  “That must’ve been hard for you,” I said. “One moment your dad’s with you, the next there’s someone new.”

  He nodded.

  “Exactly. Mom said it was because I needed a male figure in my life, tried to act as though she was only doing it for me. But even then I knew it was because it was her way of refusing to cope with what had happened. She tried to fill the void as quickly as possible.”

  “Your stepfather,” I said. “Was he a good man?”

  “He was a hard man,” he said, not missing a beat. “Military background. Didn’t believe in a ‘soft touch’ when it came to raising boys. Nothing abusive, mind you, but nothing loving in the slightest. It was his way of toughening me up, as he said.”

  “But you still had your mom,” I said. “That’s something.”

  “True,” he said. “But because she’d refused to cope with the loss of my father, she devoted all her energy into making sure her new man would never leave. Meaning all of her attention was on him—all she cared about was getting him to stick around. And before too long this meant that I was nothing more than a distraction from that.”

  “What happened?” I asked, knowing he was likely about to get to it but too curious to stop myself.

  “My stepfather went to a military academy when he was younger, thought this was the best place for a boy to grow up. So, when I turned thirteen, I was shipped off.”

  Adam in military school. It was hard to imagine at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made a certain kind of sense. Maybe that’s where he’d learned how to be so in control?

  “They were good years,” he said. “I made some friends, had a good education. But I couldn’t shake the idea that I’d been cast aside in some way. So, I channeled my frustration into school, getting top grades, and staying busy with sports and other extracurricular activities until I went off to college.”

  He turned his attention back to the carolers once again, as if gathering his energy.

  “After that I decided to make my fortune in Silicon Valley. Made my first million at twenty-four, and then all the rest followed.”

  “And what about your mom?” I asked. “Is she proud of you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. Her life is still all about my stepfather, and the two of them spend most of their time jet-setting across the globe. I call her maybe twice a year, once on Mother’s Day and once on her birthday. The conversations rarely last more than a couple minutes.”

  “So that’s why you said it felt like you’d lost both parents?”

  He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips that suggested he was pleased that I understood.

  “I don’t blame her or hold any bitterness, of course. My dad died so suddenly, and I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for her. She didn’t cope in the best way, but she’s only human. We all are.”

  He took a long, slow breath, as if letting out the tension of the topic.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said.

  At that moment I noticed something, something warm in my hand. I glanced down and saw with shock that I had, without thinking, taken Adam’s hand as he’d been speaking. I let out a gasp and pulled my
hand away at the sight.

  “Sorry,” I said, mortified. “Just, um, force of habit whenever a friend is telling me something personal and difficult.”

  If he was bothered at all, he sure didn’t show it.

  “It’s fine,” he said with a smile. “Now, you ready to head back?”

  I was, and after a few more moments of watching the carolers, we were off, the warmth of his skin against mine as fresh and present as the warm air around me.

  Chapter 13

  Isla

  The rest of the walk passed in silence. But it was a good silence, the kind you can share with someone you’re comfortable enough with to not feel as though you have to fill the air with words. I couldn’t help but shake the idea that there was a closeness between Adam and me, one that had happened more quickly than either of us had imagined.

  Then again, maybe it was all in my head. Maybe Adam was only being accommodating and respectful and friendly. But on the other hand, I had the distinct impression that he didn’t tell just anyone about his past.

  Still, I knew it was something that I really shouldn’t have been dwelling on. The day after tomorrow we’d be back in California, him on the top floor me and me on mine, maybe the two of us sharing a chat if we happened to end up on the same elevator together—hopefully with me wearing matching shoes this time.

  “How’re you feeling?” asked Adam as we stepped into the lobby.

  “Good,” I said. “Actually, really good. This has been a really, really nice night. Thanks.”

  “Same here,” he said, smiling. “As relaxing as it might’ve been to spend Christmas Eve at home with some spiked eggnog and cheesy movies, this could very well have it beat.”

  I’d told myself to be measured about it all, but I couldn’t help but let my heart warm at these words.

  We stepped into the elevator, the doors closing and opening moments later on our floor.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said.

  I smiled gratefully. My room was only down the hall from his, but I appreciated the thought nonetheless.

  “Well, Ms. Marten,” he said once we’d arrived. “Thanks for the great evening. I really enjoyed myself.”

  “You’re thanking me?” I asked. “But you’re the one who treated.”

  “Sure,” he said. “But you’re what made it special.”

  I worried that I might melt right then and there. Standing in front of Adam, looking up into his big green eyes, there was only one thing I could think about.

  His kiss.

  I wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on mine, to have him hold me in those thick, strong arms. Sure, he looked a little silly in his torn shirt, and I looked the same in my bare feet, but I didn’t care about that in the slightest. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and close my eyes and have him know without me saying a word what I wanted.

  But I didn’t, of course. I knew better. He was my boss, and I was his subordinate. It’d be messy and complicated and unprofessional, and that was assuming he actually would’ve kissed me. There was still the distinct possibility that I’d pucker up and he’d answer with a crisp “Uh, Ms. Marten—what are you doing?”

  So I kept my feelings to myself.

  Even though I wasn’t going to try to get him to kiss me. There was still something on my mind. It was something bold, something I wanted but was worried to ask about.

  “You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” he said.

  The man was good. He already knew how to read me.

  “There is,” I said. “Something I want to ask you. But it’s totally okay if you say no.”

  He cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Well…I was just thinking about how much fun we had today, and how neither of us has any plans for tomorrow, and how it’s Christmas, and how we’re both in a place that we don’t know, and neither of us speaks the language, and…”

  I was babbling, maybe some silly effort to hold off on actually asking the question on my mind. But Adam stopped me with one of those killer smiles of his, one that let me know he was right there with me.

  “You want to spend the day together?” he asked.

  There it was, the million-dollar question. Only he had to be the one to actually ask it.

  I took a deep breath and gave an affirmative nod.

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m asking.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend the holiday with.”

  I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. Me, of all people?

  “You…mean that?”

  The words coming out of my mouth sounded more like a kid had spoken them.

  “I do,” he said. “No one other than you, Ms. Marten.”

  He used my name formally, but there was still something…intimate about it. Adam continued to regard me with that same smile, my heart thudding in my chest as he looked down at me.

  Was he going to do it? Was he going to kiss me? At that moment it sure felt like it. It was one of those moments where it seemed as though the rest of the world had melted away and only the two of us remained.

  “Good night, Isla,” he said.

  One more smile and then he turned and was on his way. I watched him step slowly down the hall, and I turned at the moment he reached his door so he wouldn’t catch me staring. Then I opened my door and was soon inside my suite, feeling at once like I was walking on air and about to explode.

  “All right!” I said out loud to my empty room, as if speaking to the city in the distance. “I did it!”

  Sure, he’d had to help me with the last few steps of asking, but it’d been done. I’d asked him out on…a date?

  I made my way to the bathroom as I thought.

  “No,” I considered. “It’s not a date. Just like tonight wasn’t a date, tomorrow isn’t either. It’s only two people alone in a different country spending Christmas together.”

  I turned on the shower, stripped down, and stepped in, the water feeling heavenly against my skin as I washed off the sweat and dirt from my little mule adventure.

  “No expectations,” I thought. “We’ll get some food, maybe check out the town, and that’ll be that. Before you know it, you’ll be back on the plane to San Francisco, all of this in the process of becoming a fond memory.”

  Once I was done I dried off, put on my pajamas, and climbed into bed. And as I turned off the lights and prepared to sleep, I couldn’t help but smile at what Christmas Day might hold.

  Chapter 14

  Adam

  I couldn’t believe myself.

  Had I seriously almost done it?

  Part of me was ready with the self-forgiveness, ready to accept that there was simply no other way to act around a woman like her.

  The other part was ready with the scolding, ready to tell me that I’d very, very nearly screwed up in an extremely serious way, one that could’ve jeopardized my career at Corliss.

  Either way, I had to come to terms with the reality of what had happened—or almost happened.

  I’d nearly kissed Isla.

  As much as I’d like to convince myself that it wasn’t true, it was. Her standing in front of me, her brown eyes wide as she tripped over her words in the process of asking me if I wanted to spend the holiday together… I’d almost been unable to resist. I’d almost lost control, leaned in, wrapped my arm around her slender waist and planted one right on that gorgeous mouth of hers.

  And the scary part was that even though I knew it would’ve been a terrible, awful idea, all I could think about was how much I still wanted to do it.

  Sure, I couldn’t guarantee that she’d accept my kiss, but there was nothing stopping me from heading over to her room, knocking on her door, and laying it on her as soon as she opened.

  I paced slowly in my room, my hands clasped behind my back. Talking myself out of it would’ve been the right idea—not simply out of
kissing her that night, but out of the whole thing. If I were smart, I’d have been coming up with reason after reason why the two of us doing anything beyond the bounds of friendship was a bad call.

  But God, I couldn’t help it. Why was it that I couldn’t stop thinking about her? How was it that I’d only known Isla for a couple of days and she’d already burned herself into my mind in a way that no woman had before?

  As I paced I considered a summer years back, one that I’d spent with an Italian model in Sicily. She and I had spent nearly every day together, but when the time had come for me to come back to America, I simply…left. Sure, I’d had a fondness for her, and she was a lovely girl, but there was nothing resonant and emotional and real.

  Nothing like what I’d somehow been able to feel for Isla after a fraction of the time.

  “She’s off-limits,” I muttered, trying to talk some sense into myself. “You’re under strict orders to not get involved with any subordinates, and that’s making you want her—a forbidden fruit kind of thing.”

  Sounded right…but I knew that wasn’t it. I had thousands of women below me, and if it was simply a matter of wanting to rebel against Corliss’s fraternization rule, every single one of them should’ve been inspiring the same feelings.

  But they didn’t—only Isla did.

  My reasoning was flimsy and I knew it. There was something special about her, something undeniable. Hell, she’d gotten me to open up about my childhood. How? She hadn’t pressed or pried or otherwise forced it out of me, and it wasn’t exactly a subject I liked to discuss. But she’d simply asked, and I’d spoken.

  My gaze flicked over to the minibar. For a moment I considered grabbing something, maybe a small drink of whiskey, and tossing it back so I could at least calm my mind down. But I recognized right away that it would be a very bad idea. I was still feeling loose from the wine, and one more drink might be just the thing to remove what few inhibitions I had left and head over to Isla’s room.