The Boss's Fiance Box Set

by Amanda Horton

  But she couldn’t afford to feel that way about Lash Mancini.

  For one, he was her boss and completely out of her league. Second, a huge part of her was certain he was no different from all the guys she knew. They were only interested in sex. He probably didn’t like her anyway, but she doubted sex had any bias. If they could get it for free, chemistry could jump out the window. The dance he made her do at the audition was still fresh in her mind.

  “No, I have no interest in Lash Mancini whatsoever”, Ana convinced herself, even as the excited thrumming in her chest said otherwise.

  She made her way downstairs with a look of nonchalance in her face.

  “…Morning, Ana,” Lash greeted.

  “Oh… hi Lash. I didn’t know you were here,” Ana pretended.

  “Needed to discuss some things with Sophia,” Lash explained, and then added, “I’m headed for the studio. I can give you a lift. I need to pass by the foundation office first. If you’re willing to tag along, then let’s go.” Ana wondered what the foundation office was all about as she followed him outside to his car.

  They drove down a busy district and came to a stop before an edifice that looked like it was taken from Architectural Digest. It was modern but had an old-world charm about it. The whole structure appeared seamless although one could tell by the windows that took up entire walls that it was partitioned into smaller spaces inside. Just before the entrance was a memorial bust of a man. The inscription read, “In Memory of Dominic Mancini.”

  “Who’s that,” Ana asked.

  ‘My dad,” Lash said simply.

  They entered the premises and the centerpiece in the lobby immediately struck Ana. A covered wagon was in full display. Thinking it was a replica; she inched closer and realized it was the real thing.

  “That’s a Gypsy wagon called “vardos”. It’s similar to a car that gypsies use for travelling. With the top off it becomes a working vehicle but when you put the top back on it transforms to sleeping accommodations. Some of these wagons are lavishly furnished with velvet, satin, and silk furnishings they actually look like mini houses,” Ana gushed.

  Lash looked at her in surprise.

  Ana moved on to the next thing that caught her attention. On the wall were mounted various horse harnesses, painted with intricate designs. She was so enraptured she hardly noticed Lash was trailing after her. The various artifacts that greeted her enthralled Ana. The walls were filled with old photographs depicting the Gypsy way of life. There were life-size figurines of a family in traditional costumes around a campfire. She looked at Lash in bewilderment.

  “This whole place is about the Roma people and their culture?” she asked.

  Lash nodded.

  “Why?” Ana persisted.

  “Because I am half-Gypsy. My father was a Gypsy.

  Ana gaped. She never knew that. She looked at him excitedly and blurted, “So am I on my mom’s side.”

  Lash smiled. “It’s nice to know we have something in common, Ana.”

  Ana was ecstatic. Knowing they shared a common heritage was a welcome surprise, and this Foundation with all its artifacts was totally unexpected. Whatever barriers she had put up against him suddenly melted away. Then she noticed something that made her gasp. She approached it hesitantly, almost afraid to go near it yet was unable to resist.

  It was a crystal ball. She ran a finger across its smooth glass surface.

  “My mom used to own one of these,” she said softly, gazing at the multicolored quartz floating inside. “She gazed at it for hours. One time I asked if I could hold it. I thought I had asked something bad because she looked terrified. Then she made me promise never to touch it. One night while she was asleep, I crept into her bedroom and took it. She woke up. I got frightened and dropped it. It broke. I was just a child but I’ll never forget the look on her face. It was like she hated me. She wouldn’t speak to me for days. I cried and promised to find her another one so she’d love me again. But she brushed it aside and said it was not important.”

  Ana didn’t realize there was a pained look on her face as she continued, “Things were never the same. There was this wall between us, and I just couldn’t get through. It stayed that way until she died.”

  “Oh Ana, I’m sorry…” Lash said softly.

  Ana blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “My relationship with my mom had always been odd. She was ashamed about being a gypsy as if it were a curse or something. Funny thing, it was always I who felt I was missing something.”

  Ana was so engrossed in reminiscing, she almost forgot about Lash. She breathed deeply and said, “Enough about me. But… what about you. There must be a reason you have all these,” she waved an arm about her.

  “I never really understood my dad. I always thought he was eccentric, preferring to stay home while my mom worked her ass off. When you’re young you have this belief of what a father should be. He was unlike all the other dads I knew. It was my mom’s dying wish that I learn more about the Gypsy culture in the hope that I would see him differently. He had peculiarities that I didn’t understand. Dad had a separate bathroom that only he could use. And every month for as long as I could remember, there were days he didn’t sleep in the same bedroom. It was only when I started studying the Gypsy culture that I understood. Men and women never use the same bathrooms. And every month when my mom had her period, she was considered unclean. My mom was an astounding woman. She tried to explain the reason dad stayed home. It wasn’t because he was lazy. It was because he was protecting us from people who had this bias, people who would not take him seriously because of who he was. We would lose everything she worked for. Growing up, I hated that she gave in to his every whim. When I asked her why, she would simply say that she loved him.”

  “Do you think that after all these years, you now understand the person he was?” Ana asked.

  Lash shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know. After pouring millions of dollars into this Foundation, I’m still not certain whether I am doing this to honor my mom’s dying wish or just to ease my conscience for spending years hating him.”

  “Oh Lash, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “What about you, Ana? Have you come to terms with who you are?” Lash asked back.

  Ana sighed before she replied. “I’m not entirely sure. There are pieces of my mom’s past that have always been a mystery. I know that when she was young, she was kidnapped. But she never told us what happened. She refused to talk about it.”

  “Gypsy history is so steeped in persecution and bias. What makes the work of the Foundation so challenging is the lack of historical facts we can authenticate. We have gathered plenty of oral testimonies that we cannot verify. I have documents in the archives that may help, if you are interested,” Lash offered.

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Ana replied.

  Lash excused himself to answer a call. He returned with a frown on his face. “That was Jonathan. He’s moving rehearsals to this afternoon. He says there are some things he needs to fix.”

  “Oh…I can leave now if you need to work. I’ll get to rehearsals later,” Ana volunteered.

  Lash looked at her. “Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Ana wondered but followed him anyway. They walked down a narrow hallway that ended outside a door in solid wood with a rounded top. Lash pushed it open and ushered her into a room that resembled a small library. Suspended lamps from the ceiling cast halogen glow onto reading tables beneath them. Historical books with faded covers and thick folders lined the walls. An atlas sat on a pedestal. Rolled parchment scrolls were neatly stacked on another shelf. There was a musty smell of aged paper inside the cool interior.

  Lash headed for a particular shelf and pulled out a binder. He brought it to her.

  “You may want to take a look at this. These are testimonies made by witnesses about atrocities done to certain tribes of the Roma, the Gypsy race. As I said earlier, part of what the Foundation does
is verify the authenticity of these reports. I don’t know if these would help with regards to your mom. But it’s a start.”

  Ana sifted through the documents. Some of the testimonies were hard to read. Most were reports of unlawful crimes done to gypsies. Ana flipped a page. An annotation said it was an account of the kidnapping of a 16-year-old girl named Nathaliah from a village called Zafarraya.

  Ana’s heart skipped a beat as she sat there riveted. Something stirred in her memory. Zafarraya? Then she remembered. “Beautiful Zafarraya, your rolling plains and verdant hillsides are calling me home….”

  It was part of a lullaby her mother used to sing when she was a child.

  Could there be a connection? Then there was her mom’s name, Nathalie. Was it derived from the girl’s name in the document? Nathalie. Nathaliah. Ana began to read.

  Nathaliah was a beautiful Gypsy girl born to a poor family. Her parents owed a sum of money to the leader of a neighboring tribe. Unable to pay his obligation, her father promised the leader that he could have his daughter’s hand in marriage. Nathaliah refused angering the leader who was known to be powerful and ruthless. One night, Nathaliah disappeared. They searched everywhere but she was nowhere to be found. Everyone suspected the clan leader, but no one dared to confront him. Her father reported the incident. The local police refused to get involved. Nathaliah was found three days later. The girl was raped, bound and gagged, and left to die in a cave.

  Ana couldn’t believe what she was reading.

  The report said that Nathaliah was tied to a tree and lashed repeatedly. Honey was poured on her body attracting ants that feasted on her. Thinking she was dead, they cut her down and threw her in a cave. After three days, a dog of her father’s cousin found her. The cousin barely recognized her from all the cuts and ant bites that covered her entire body. Miraculously, Nathaliah survived but the girl refused to speak for months. The family eventually moved to another village and nothing more was heard from them.

  Ana didn’t even realize she had stopped breathing. Her mind was in a whirl. There was nothing to verify the document. But in her heart, she knew. Nathalie, her mom, was Nathaliah. Zafarraya was her hometown. She never talked about the kidnapping. It was her dark secret. If the account was true, then it was no surprise she refused to even talk about it. What stunned Ana was that the person who did this atrocity was another Gypsy--her own kind. Was that the reason her mother hated her race?

  “It had to be…It had to be the reason why,” Ana’s whole body was shaking.

  It made sense. She had no doubt she found her mother’s dark secret. She was sorry for her mom, sorry for what she had to go through at such a young age.

  “Oh mom,” Ana whimpered as she began to cry.

  An overwhelming sadness filled her. If she only knew then she could have done something. Anything. And she would have understood why her mom was cold and distant even to her father who was loyal and stood by her side till the end.

  “Ana, what’s wrong?” She heard Lash’s voice. She didn’t even realize she was no longer alone inside the room.

  Ana shook her head. Words failed her even as she handed him the document.

  Lash understood. “You think this was her?”

  Ana nodded. Lash sat down beside her, pulled her close, and took her in his arms.

  “I am so sorry, Ana,” he crooned.

  His empathy made her cry even harder. She sobbed into his chest. She wept for her mom whose fate treated her so unkindly. Suddenly the world seemed a darker place. But surprisingly, she felt safe in Lash’s embrace.

  Chapter SIX

  Ana donned her jazz pants. Rehearsal was about to start. The dressing room was empty except for a few stragglers who came in late, she included. Traffic was bad because of a sudden downpour in the city. She hurriedly tied her shoelaces and scrambled to her feet. If she were lucky, she’d still be able to do some warm-up stretches before rehearsals began.

  She rushed down the hallway leading to the studio then came to a stop. Most of the dancers were huddled together in the hallway chattering and giggling as they passed a magazine around. Ana joined the group.

  “What’s up?” she asked curiously.

  Someone handed her the magazine. “That’s Lash’s latest conquest. Lili Chong.”

  The pages were splashed with photos of a striking model in a lingerie pictorial. Ana scrutinized the face, unintentionally racking up pluses and minuses like she was looking at a precise equation. Lustrous jet-black hair, doe eyes in a unique shade of amber, a swan neck that she used to full advantage, breasts that were neither too big or too small, narrow hips that flowed down to legs that went on for ages. Perfect.

  There was no flaw that Ana could find. A green-eyed monster reared its head. She stomped it down immediately.

  “Are they committed?” Ana asked, feeling a lump in her throat.

  ‘’With Lash one can never tell,” someone replied.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been around long enough to know that the list is longer than his arm. But none has been lucky enough. The man is slippery as an eel,” another dancer testified.

  “He’s never fallen in love with anyone?” Ana asked.

  “I doubt he was ever serious with any of his exes. I think he uses them for sex then moves on to the next conquest.” A girl opined as laughter broke all around.

  “Maybe he just hasn’t found the right one yet,” Ana defended.

  She had been at the receiving end of his kindness and refused to believe he was heartless. Ana never let on to any of the girls where she was staying. These girls could be quite nasty. Then there was that morning she read about her mom’s abduction when he comforted her. That was a side of him she did not expect to find.

  “Well, he’ll never find the right one even if she were staring him in the face unless he stops fucking them first.” The girls howled with laughter. “I doubt he even has to woo any of them. They fall right into his arms. Then its sex, sex and more sex,” the girl added.

  “Lash can fuck me anytime. He won’t hear me complain,” the statement came from a dark-skinned dancer.

  Ana didn’t know what to say. She wanted to defend him. But what the girls said rung true. Men were more interested in sex than a meaningful relationship. Her own experience proved that. Lash couldn’t possibly be any different, Ana thought, remembering the day she auditioned. That was all about sex with dance as the variation.

  Even if he wasn’t what all the girls thought him to be, Ana knew deep in her heart he would never fall for someone like her. “She’s not good enough…” Lash said that to Jonathan when she overheard both men talking about her talent as a dancer.

  The girls had lost interest on the topic of Lash Mancini though they continued with their gossip.

  “Did you hear? Romina will be joining us today for rehearsals. Can you imagine that? The diva gracing us with her presence…”

  “We shouldn’t keep the bitch waiting then…”

  “I heard Jonathan is less than happy though…”

  “I wonder if Lash ever fucked her…”

  “Why do I even care?” Ana reprimanded herself. “I came to a new city to pursue a dream. I took a gamble and left my job to become a dancer. It’s only by chance that he owns the dance company that hired me. I should focus on that. I don’t give a fuck if Lash fucks every girl in New York City.”

  Ana joined the rest of the girls as they trooped outside. She was certain her brain was screwed on correctly. She vowed not to think about him or the fuzzy warm remembrance of being held in his arms.

  If Romina was joining them for rehearsals, Ana expected the day to be long. She was part of a group of 20 back-up dancers. Their purpose was to enhance Romina’s performance and give it more flair. It was also their role to adjust themselves around the star, never to crowd her so that her performance alone would stand out. Ana was confident. She had memorized her steps, and it felt safe being one among many. If she botched any of the steps it would simply go
unnoticed.

  But she wasn’t aiming to get lost among the many back-up dancers. The image of Lili Chong’s perfect magazine spread was still on her mind. It was annoying. “I may not be as pretty as she is, but I bet my ass she can’t dance the way I do,” Ana thought. She knew she was being silly for wanting to prove she was better than Lili.

  Ana was propelled by a weird sense of competition. She did the dance routines like her life depended on it. Her arms were more graceful, her hips more suggestive, her turns more precise. She carried her head like she was wearing a crown while she danced.

  Jonathan called for a break and praised her loudly. Even Lash looked at her appreciatively. Ana beamed because she knew he was impressed by her performance. And for a little while she knew she was better than Lili Chong.