Falling For Her Boss

by Tracy Reed

  I looked at Phillippe and smiled.

  “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” He grabbed my hand and pulled me next to him. He wrapped his arm around me, rubbing my shoulder.

  “It’s so beautiful, and this is where you grew up?”

  “We divided our time between the city and my grandparents place in Bordeaux.”

  “Wow. I couldn’t imagine not living in the city. Each building is more amazing than the next.”

  “Let’s switch.”

  “What?”

  “Sit here.” He climbed over me and I slid closer to the door with a better view of the city. As we made our way into the city, Phillippe pointed out buildings and sights giving me a mini tour.

  “It’s all so beautiful.”

  Suddenly, the tour came to an end and we stopped at a beautiful building. “We’re here.” Phillippe got out of the car, walked around and helped me out while the driver handled the luggage. I looked up staring at the beautiful building. It looked like something out of an art book…grey, gothic details, and an amazing black metal and glass door.

  “Wow.” I tried not to sound like a tourist, but everything I said gave me away.

  He took my hand and we walked inside. I looked around and it looked like a grand mansion. The walls were black lacquer, with incredible art and antiques, mixed with contemporary furniture, beautiful flowers and funky, soulful music. It reminded me of Phillippe…classic, with a little contemporary edge.

  I looked around for the check-in desk, but never saw one. We bypassed all the lobby action and went to an elevator. That’s when it occurred to me this might not be a hotel. Maybe we’re meeting the realtor before going to our hotel. We rode up to the top floor and the elevator opened directly into the space. I looked around and the view was incredible.

  “Where are we?”

  Phillippe took off his jacket and placed it on the sofa. He turned and looked at me. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I put my bag down, took off my jacket, and handed it to Phillippe. “Where are we?”

  “Phillippe…”

  A petite woman appeared. “Marie.”

  “Comment était votre voyage?”

  “Our trip was perfect. Merci.” He looked at me. “This is Mademoiselle Townsend.”

  “Plaisir de vous rencontrer.” Marie extended her hand to me.

  “Pardonnez-moi, je ne parle pas bien Français. That’s the one phrase I made sure to learn.” I smiled. “Plus I got a translation app.”

  She smiled. “Forgive me. It is a pleasure to meet you. I apologize. Monsieur did mention that to me. I will try to speak only English.”

  “No, please…maybe while I am here you can teach me French.”

  “Oui, je peux le faire…until then, I will use English.”

  “Merci.” I smiled.

  “Bien.” She smiled. “Come with me and I will show you to your room.”

  “My room?”

  “Oui.”

  “Excuse me.” I turned to Phillippe. It was time to play the girlfriend card. “What is she talking about? I thought we were staying at a hotel.”

  “Mon amour, I…”

  “Phillippe, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we are, and what is going on.”

  “Un moment Marie, merci.”

  “Oui.”

  “Where are we?” I folded my arms in front of my chest.

  He stepped closer. “You said you didn’t trust yourself to be left alone with me.”

  “That’s not what…Phillippe, tell me where we are, or I’m headed to the nearest Holiday Inn or whatever they call it here.”

  He smiled. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “This is my apartment.”

  “Your apartment?” I looked around and back at him. “Is this why you told me you would handle the hotel in Paris?”

  “Yes. I knew if I told you we would be staying at my apartment, you would stress out or not come.”

  “This is my job. So I wouldn’t not come. I probably would have made…”

  “I see I have upset you.”

  “How many other women have stayed here?” He was silent. “I meant what I said Phillippe. I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know…maybe because we’re standing in your apartment…in Paris.”

  He crushed his lips against mine, and his tongue pushed past my tight lips, inside my mouth, shattering my defenses. My hands reached around his neck as he pulled me closer to his chest, and I slowly relaxed. His hands slid down my back pulling me deeper into his space, and at that moment I didn’t care where we were. All I wanted was more of his lips and body pressed against mine. He slowly pulled back, brushed his thumb along my bottom lip and smiled, hypnotizing me with his dimples.

  “I’m sorry, I should have told you we would be staying here. I thought you would be more comfortable here with Marie than alone in a hotel.”

  “Oh.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “I understand your apprehension. But I told you, nothing will happen that neither of us wants to happen.”

  “So, where are we?”

  “My building.”

  “Your building?”

  “This building belongs to my family.”

  “Your family?” This is the first mention of his family having money. I thought he only owned the restaurant. “Why do I get the impression there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The restaurant, now this building…what’s going on?”

  “I inherited some money and property when my father died.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then why does it feel like you don’t?”

  “Phillippe, your finances aren’t my business.”

  “But…”

  “Let me finish. I hope that as we get to know each other, you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m telling you the truth about the building.”

  “I believe you about the building, but I know there’s more to it.”

  “Mon amour, I…”

  I held up my hand. “The next time we talk about this building and the restaurant, you better be prepared to tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me. Tu comprends?” He looked surprised at my response.

  “Oui.”

  “Where’s Marie? I’d like to freshen up.”

  “Marie.” As quickly as she disappeared, she reappeared. “Please show Mademoiselle to her room, Merci.”

  “This way, Mademoiselle.”

  I started to walk away and he grabbed my hand. “Do I get a kiss?”

  “No.” Marie winked at me.

  * * *

  phillippe

  * * *

  I barely dodged that bullet. I have to remember Gabriella is very perceptive. I just knew I was going to have to come clean about everything when she asked about the apartment. I need to get through this trip and back to the states without her finding out the truth.

  I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, Gabriella was there. It would be so easy to go downstairs to her room and make love to her. The hold she has on both my conscious and sub-conscious is overwhelming. I have never been involved with a woman like her. The kicker is, we aren’t even sleeping together, and yet she’s controlling me.

  Her hold on me would make sense if we were physically involved, but we aren’t. All we’ve done is kiss. And, as my grandmother used to say, no inappropriate touching either. Although God knows, I would love to have her full breasts in my hands and feel her nipples brushing against my tongue. When I kiss her, the way she feels pressed against me, sends a charge straight to my…I am running out of things to think about to squash the arousal she ignites in me.

  I wonder what she sleeps in? Is it a little frilly gown or
pajamas? It’s probably something utilitarian, like a long cotton gown. Whatever it is, in my mind, she’s naked and the sheet is barely covering her beautiful mocha colored body. She’s lying on her stomach with the crisp white sheet just resting at the apex of her curvy behind. And when she turns over, her full breasts are swollen and ripe, just begging for my attention. Her hair is scattered on the pillow, and she has a beautiful smile on her face as a result of the delightful dream she’s having.

  I climbed out of bed and went down to the gym. I needed to release the lust I was feeling. When I went back upstairs, I was still worked up. I walked down the hall and stopped at Gabriella’s door. I placed my hand on the knob and thought one little look to confirm my fantasy might help me sleep. I turned the knob and started to push the door open and stopped.

  She’s not like the others. She’s different. You want this one to last. You can go the distance. You can be the man she thinks you are.

  I cursed into the towel, went upstairs to my room, took an ice cold shower and went to sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  gabriella

  * * *

  I walked into the kitchen and the incredible smells of French cooking traveled up my nose. I’m not sure who Marie is, but I know she and Phillippe have a special bond.

  “Bonjour, Marie.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Gabriella.”

  “Please, just Gabriella.” She didn’t seem happy with my request. “When it is just us, Gabriella will be fine, s’il vous plaît.”

  She smiled and nodded. “The other demoiselle was…”

  “The other?”

  She lowered her head and said something under her breath in French and then looked up at me. “The demoiselle that…”

  “Chantal?”

  “Oui. Elle n’était pas très plaisante. I’m sorry. I forget, only English.” She winked.

  “Merci.”

  She smiled. “We must begin your French lessons today. Monsieur Phillippe loves speaking in his other language.”

  “He does?”

  “Oui.” I sat down and she placed a large cup and saucer in front of me, and filled it with coffee. Then she placed a basket of croissants in front of me, along with butter and apricot jam. “Eat, I made this morning.”

  I took a croissant out of the basket and it was still warm. I broke it in half, spread a little butter and jam on it, and bit down. It was flakey, light and oozing with flavor. It was definitely not like those poor imitation croissants back home. “Marie, this is incredible.”

  “I have to teach you how to make.” Her French accent was beautiful and I appreciated her speaking in English.

  “S’il vous plaît.” I swallowed the delectable pastry and followed it with a sip of coffee. I’ve only been in Paris a few hours and my tastebuds are spoiled. “Mademoiselle Chantal?”

  “I don’t think she really care about Monsieur Phillippe. She only care about the money. When they come, deliveries, all the time they are here, deliveries…Dior, Chanel, Saint Laurent, Gucci, Vivier, Lanvin, LaPerla, Vuitton, Nina Ricci…they all make deliveries.”

  “Really?”

  “Monsieur Phillippe like nice things, but all she do is shop, shop, shop. She hurt him in the end.”

  “How?”

  “Bonjour.” Phillippe walked in, kissed me and then he kissed Marie on the cheek. “How did you sleep?” He walked back and stood next to me.

  “Well. How about you?”

  “I had a little difficulty falling asleep.”

  “If you want to stay in today, we…”

  He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me to his side. “No. I promised you three days of fun.”

  “Are you sure, because I can…”

  “Are you trying to back out on me?” he smiled.

  “No, but if you’re tired, we can start our three days tomorrow.”

  “Are you kidding? This is Paris. There’s too much to see.”

  “Okay. So what do you have planned for today?”

  “After breakfast, we are going to the Louvre, then lunch and do a little shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Of course! It’s Paris! You come here for the food, the museums and the fashion.”

  “I’ll only agree to the shopping, if you promise not to buy me anything.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “We discussed this.”

  “Excusez-moi.” Marie said as she started to walked away.

  “Marie, arrête.” Whatever he said made her stop moving. “You are my girlfriend, and you will not stop me from buying you gifts.” I folded my arms across my chest. We were at an impasse. He rubbed my arms. “I’m sorry. Why won’t you let me buy you anything? It’s only money.”

  “It’s not about the money.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Fine, if it makes you happy, we’ll go shopping.” I started to walk away but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back into his space. “Mon amour, what is it?”

  “I’m not a whore or some poor waif.” I saw the shocked look on Marie’s face when I made that statement. She quietly walked out of the kitchen.

  “Who called you a whore? ”

  “No one. I just don’t…I don’t want you to think I’m some whore stringing you along to get things, or some poor girl just looking to get ahead. And I’m definitely not a cliché, even though I’m dating my boss.”

  “First, let us address the whore comment. Did your mother call you a whore, is that why you have been a little distant?” I lowered my head. “Mon amour, look at me.”

  I raised my head and felt the tears gathering in my eyes. “She said I was being a cliché.”

  “A cliché?”

  I wiped the tear that escaped my eye. “She said you only want me as your bed buddy.” He exhaled and gritted his teeth. “And, that once you seduce me…”

  “Did you tell her what we discussed?”

  “No.”

  “So where did the whore comment come from?”

  “Cliché…whore…a woman who does anything to work her way up the corporate ladder.”

  He smiled and brushed the tear rolling down my cheek. “I know what a whore is, and you are definitely not a whore, or a cliché.” He sighed. “Is this why you don’t want me to meet your parents?”

  I nodded. “Partly.”

  “Now, let’s address your other comment. Poor waif? Do I make you feel like that?”

  I felt another tear sitting on my lower lid. “Sometimes I think you think I’m a little naive.”

  He gently brushed the side of my face and caught the tear that escaped my eye. “I’m sorry. It’s just, in the past, the women I was with were a little…they gravitated to certain things and expected me to provide them.”

  “I told you. I’m not like the other women.”

  “I thought that was your way of telling me you’re a virgin.” He smiled.

  “It was, but I also meant I’m not with you because you can buy me things or take me places. I am with you because I like you. I want to get to know you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You’re a virgin?” I smiled.

  “No.” He smiled and kissed me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. This is new for me. So I need you to be patient.” I nodded. “Forgive me in advance if I slip up and buy you a gift or three.” He brushed the tear away on my cheek. “Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “There is one thing I really want to do, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m taking you to Chanel and buying you a little something.”

  “Phillippe…”

  “No. You will not leave Paris without a little something from Chanel.”

  “You really want to do this?”

  “Oui.”

  “Très bien.”

  * * *

  phillippe

  * * *

  I finished my coffe
e while Gabriella finished getting ready.

  “Je l’aime.”

  I looked up at Marie. “I like her too.”

  “Huh.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Vous êtes dans l’amour.”

  I almost choked on my coffee. “I am not in love.” I wiped my mouth.

  “I see the way you look at her.” She topped off my coffee. “How was your late night work out?”

  “How do you…”

  “I saw you in the hall last night.”

  I tossed my head back, exhaled, and then looked at Marie. “I don’t know what it is about her. I close my eyes and she’s there. It’s like I can smell her parfum everywhere, even when she’s not around. I can deal with her in my mind, but it’s the dreams. She’s there doing and saying things and…I thought if we stayed here, it would be easier, but…”

  “So what were you going to do once you entered her room?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Lie.”

  “Tu me prends pour un menteur?”

  “Not a liar. Just lying to yourself. How do you feel about her? Until you admit how you really feel about her, you are going to have more restless nights.”

  “You’ve been talking to Tony.”

  “Antoine is a smart man, you should listen to him.” She picked up the empty plate. “Mademoiselle Gabriella is not like the last one you brought here.”

  “I know.”

  “I know you do. And that is why she is staying up here, and not downstairs in the guest apartment.”

  “That is not the reason.”

  “Really?” She smiled.

  “I did not think…I felt she would…we are also here on business and…”

  “All the more reason your employee should be in the guest apartment. You are in love.”

  “Attends une minute, what were you doing up at two o’clock?”

  “Checking on you.”

  “Moi?”

  “Oui. Antoine suggested I keep an eye on you.”

  “He did?”