Mad About You: A Box Set

by Pamela Ann

  “Is that so?” he mused with a sexy tilt of his head.

  “Like you, I can’t help it if you’re an easy target.”

  He let out a boisterous laugh. “Touché.” When he sobered up, his twinkling eyes danced before me, spreading heat all over my body. We shared a moment. Jared cleared his throat, breaking the spell that he and I had been under a second ago.

  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up so I can shower, too,” he offered, seemingly serious all of a sudden.

  Licking my lips, I eyed him incredulously, challenging him. “What’s wrong with sharing it with me?”

  His throat bobbed, and his blue eyes darkened before dropping below, ogling my bosom with unconcealed hunger. “I don’t trust myself to be naked around you.”

  “Yet you have no reservations of stripping me as if you have every right to do so.”

  “I do have every right…” he cheekily stated before giving my ass a loud whacking. I yelped before I felt him begin to wash my hair. Then he proceeded to the rest of my body. He was careful not to touch me intimately. He was soaked, as were his pants. His blatant arousal was prominent between us, but he kept to his word. He didn’t undress until I was out of the shower. But before I walked out of the bathroom, I took a quick peek at his magnificent member. And I wished I hadn’t. It only reminded me of what Rose was enjoying.

  We found a common ground, teasing and joking after yesterday’s strenuous argument. I supposed last night’s embrace was his version of apologizing. And I’d rather have this with him…It was less threatening.

  Yeah, it was definitely better this way.

  My hair wrapped in a towel, I donned another slip before reclining back on the bed and beginning to eat my breakfast. Instead of enjoying butter on my toast, I opted for the fresh black currant jam.

  It was right after my first sip of coffee when Jared emerged from the bathroom with merely a towel wrapped around his hips to cover his crown jewels. His hair was wet, as if he barely took any effort in drying it.

  “Do you want me to get another towel to dry your hair?”

  He shook his head. “I love the feeling of water evaporating off my skin.” Instead of going back to his bedroom to change, he copied my position and sat on the bed before he stole my toast. He ate it in one bite.

  “Ugh, you stole my food!”

  “Bite me,” he muttered, provoking me further. “Can you make me another?” he asked before he took a sip of my coffee.

  I glared at him, trying not to smile before I did as he asked. “If you’d told me you were hungry, I could’ve asked them to bring more food.”

  “Nah, no need.” He shrugged. “I can always eat off yours.”

  Fuck, why is he so fucking sexy? I wanted him—all of him. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?”

  He winked at me.

  I almost died.

  “You’re going on a date with him. Again,” he stated in a matter of fact tone. His jovial demeanor shifted to analyzing. “Things are getting serious?”

  “Not in the way you mean. Don’t spy on me when I go. It makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I have to watch what I say.”

  His deadpan expression was trained on me, compromising. “I won’t have to if you give me updates of your location.”

  “Is that really necessary? Aren’t you going over the top?”

  “Like I said, when it comes to you, I take everything seriously.” He downed the rest of my coffee. “Time to head to the basement. Your father wants to go over something with our new project. Can I expect to see you at lunch?”

  I nodded while gazing at him adoringly.

  “Thanks for breakfast, wife.” He grinned. The kind where it shifted my axis and no one else mattered but him.

  I sighed. “Anytime.”

  Chapter 14

  Gisele

  Things with Jared became less tense from then on. We’d bait and banter. Our friendly banters sometimes could get messy, but we’d end up laughing our butts off. I admitted it was nice having him in my life, though not in the way I had once imagined. Still, I appreciated him all the same. When the sun set and the night set in, he’d continuously sleep holding me close, never releasing me until it was time to head to work. He never explained why he did it, so I chose to ignore it as well. We were adjusting, and I supposed I was simply relieved that the arguments had ceased for the time being. Anything to keep the peace, I was all for it. So, when he came home late or if I spotted a lipstick stain on the back of his neck, I dared not voice out anything because I didn’t want to rock the calm environment we currently shared. In some ways, my silence was a huge sign I was slowly letting him go, too.

  Every night, once my father finished discussing work with Jared, we’d spend about an hour before he rested. A couple of those nights were spent stargazing on the balcony, but once it got too cold for him, we stayed indoors. After the past nights I spent with him, I simply couldn’t skip these cherished moments, so I figured we’d pursue something that we both enjoyed but without needing him to participate. The Fountain by Darren Aronofsky was one of our favored books. I read to him like I used to when I suffered from severe stuttering. My father was a devout believer of practice makes perfect, so I sat across his work table every night without fail. The reading sessions went on for an hour. It took a whole year until my speech disorder slowly disappeared.

  “You brought so much love and happiness to our lives, my little one. Never forget me or your mom. Remember the great memories we shared. I love you, my darling girl,” he softly murmured before closing his eyes.

  “I love you, too, Papa.”

  He couldn’t stay awake past chapter two before exhaustion finally set in. My heart ached each time my eyes grazed his pallor. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I could vividly picture him so full of life, bouncing off ideas to the next person, lecturing me about the importance of purpose and finding’s one’s passion. Life worked in such mysterious ways; one couldn’t fully know what tomorrow might bring. And even though his time was numbered, my father lived a brilliant life, the way he envisioned it.

  Little did I realize it was the last time I’d get to spend time with him. My father peacefully passed away in his sleep. He died with a smile on his face, as if relieved to be free from carrying the burden on his shoulders.

  Seeing the peaceful smile on his pale face was like a balm for the heavy pang in my heart. Upon learning the news, Blair and Vivienne immediately came home to be with me. We rallied once one of us needed love and protection. Without their silent strength keeping me together, I wasn’t sure how I’d have managed going through the private memorial and burial.

  Jared deflected the attention from the grieving only daughter to the new head of the company. He also succeeded in limiting the media coverage by keeping my pictures from being plastered anywhere. He simply took charge without needing to be told, and for that, I was forever grateful.

  Jared and Thomas worked together to arrange everything without troubling me. My input would’ve been appreciated, but I couldn’t for the life of me muster enough brain energy to figure out what food we should serve the guests.

  Most of my father’s colleagues and the particular ones he mentored shed a lot of tears. Jared, who seemed composed all the time, had moisture in his eyes. Though he hadn’t openly spoken about it, I knew Peter Weber was the closest thing he had to a father, too. But unlike me, he was functional and could efficiently mobilize by taking charge.

  Wyatt Rinaldi was also in attendance, but it was so hectic I barely had the chance to properly speak to him. Besides, with Blair around, I couldn’t risk drawing attention towards us. His sister was perceptive, and she was too sharp not to pick on the tension I had with him.

  A childhood friend unexpectedly showed up. Dexter Berg graduated from Harvard and was home to jumpstart his own law firm. Seeing a friendly face amongst the sea of strangers was a welcome sight. However, after an hour’s worth of polite sentiments, sympathies and condolences, I quietly
retreated to my bedroom, selfishly leaving Jared, Thomas, Vivienne, and Blair to take care of the guests.

  I couldn’t stand there any longer, enduring their pitying stares or fake notions of friendship. Some even had the audacity to wonder how much of my father’s estate I’d be inheriting. Why should I withstand their presence when I could barely stand my own company?

  It was the second night after the funeral. School was in five days, and for the life of me, my addled brain was too unfocused to even fathom going to Stanford. I was majoring in Computer Science, minoring in Psychology, but at the rate my brain fog was progressing, I doubted anything could register and absorb in my head. Heck, it was so beyond disconcerting that even reading a nutrition label felt as though I was deciphering morse code. The idea of overloading my mind with database systems, algorithms, and software engineering would unquestionably overload my seemingly incapacitated brain. Aggravating, it guaranteed setting off all the stressors in my body.

  Then again, as much as I dreaded the thought of school, I knew my father would be highly disappointed if I used his death as an excuse to miss classes. He rarely demanded things from me, but missing school triggered his wrath. My father never raised his voice even when furious. Instead of yelling, Peter Weber would properly use a chilling voice—one encumbered with silent threats—successfully implementing it with a cutting glare, shriveling any happiness in me. I comprehended since first grade that pretending to have a fever wouldn’t cut it with my parents. Unless I was close to dying, missing a school day was out of the question. According to my father, it was as good as betrayal could get for him. Rather unconventional, but he disciplined me not to surrender when the going got tough.

  Five days to train my mind. Surely, the timeframe was enough to accomplish such a task, right?

  “You really need to start eating, Gisele.” Jared’s concerned tone broke me out of my reverie.

  I blinked a few times.

  “I’m trying,” I said without glancing at him. The formal dining area felt too barren of warmth. He rigidly sat across from me. My father’s empty chair left a gaping hole in our little dynamic. It sucked the energy out from between us. And I knew we simply couldn’t go on like this. Something had to be done. Tomorrow, I’d like to suggest to Thomas that I’d truly appreciate it if we could dine in the kitchen, instead. He’d be displeased; he loathed impropriety, but what the hell? It was either that or I’d request a tray in my room. The latter did not appeal to me at all.

  “You had a bite of a sandwich all day. That’s hardly considered a meal,” he grumbled. Nothing ever escaped his hawkish attention to detail.

  “You can’t force me to eat.” Eyeing him waspishly, I was about to blow my gasket when his worried face truly dawned on me. Did he believe I intended to kill myself through starvation?

  I’m in mourning, not suicidal!

  For the first time in days, cerulean blues sparked fire again. “I won’t have to. I’ll bring in the big guns to force feed you.”

  Big guns? Yeah, nice try, Aussie man. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Try me.” His menacing eyes didn’t waver from my sullen appearance. “I’ll warn Blair and Vivienne if you don’t finish half of your dinner.”

  Big guns, ha. He was beginning to grasp the simple makings of my life. He knew my friends meant the world to me. And he understood after spending time with them that they could be downright insufferable when given leverage. They’d been pestering me, and Jared’s call for emergency assistance would only fuel their over-the-top smothering.

  Halfheartedly, I began to lift the fork, pierced a piece of lamb chop, and brought it to my mouth. The thought of food made me want to hurl, but if I didn’t get my act together, Jared surely would exhibit how he could easily make my life hell. Not that I didn’t love my friends, but I could do with some solitude and much needed silence.

  “Good girl.” His pleased tone merely grated on my nerves.

  “You’re annoying me.”

  “Call me whatever you like. As long as you eat, I honestly don’t care.” He threw me an arresting smile, loving the irritated look on me as I grudgingly chewed another bite of lamb.

  I inwardly sighed. Even when vexed, his gorgeous smiles still made me feel faint. Grieving or not, Jared’s effect hadn’t dissipated. It was strong as ever. “You think you can throw me a gorgeous smile and it would make me less annoyed? You can think again.”

  His maddening grin widened before he guffawed. “Gorgeous you say?” he intoned. It made his Australian accent much more pronounced. “If you think you can flirt your way out of this, you can also think again. You’re cute, but I’d rather have you cute and satisfied.” His face lit up, and for a second, he and I shared a moment, one that said we were grateful to have each other to console with.

  My inner bitch began to dissolve. Pacified by faith, I trusted everything would eventually fall into place. Then the heavy ache in my heart would ultimately vanish, and I’d learn how to be ecstatic again.

  “I forgot to say thank you for everything you’ve done. I hope you don’t deem me ungrateful. There’s been a lot on my mind...It’s been tough.”

  Jared cast a thoughtful gaze. “I don’t need your thanks, Gisele. You’re family. We’re a unit. We’re business partners as well as friends. And at the end of the day, I’m also your husband. It’s my obligation to catch you when you fall. When you’re blinded with pain, it’s my duty to be your pillar of strength. Ours is unconventional, but the last few days led me to believe we’ll do fine. We have a legacy to uphold, a company to protect, and I won’t be able to accomplish that without you. Once you find your footing, I hope you’ll try to come twice a week so I can show you what our purpose is. There’s a mammoth task ahead of us. But so long as we’re on the same page, we can conquer whatever difficulties are headed our way.”

  I merely nodded, understanding his plight. Jared would be in my life through thick and thin, through heaven and hell. Come what may, we were going to work together. His positivity somehow made me feel less down and out. He showed me a glimpse of a future, one that entailed I actually be a part of my father’s company. Why hadn’t that thought truly entered my mind? Maybe it was due to my father. He never did broach such a subject with me. Well, apparently Jared thought otherwise. The idea of being a part of their world, my father and Jared’s, made me feel as though I could somehow feel my father’s presence. The brightness of hope, of the future, and I craved more of it.

  After dinner, I headed upstairs to shower before bed while Jared went into the library for a quick conference call to our Hong Kong headquarters. The hot shower calmed my nerves. Once finished, I changed into a slip before lighting a candle. The scent of plumeria was heaven to my deprived senses.

  Feeling quite satisfied, I padded across the room and slid under the comforter. I made use of my time responding to messages. A couple of them included Wyatt and Dexter Berg.

  After quickly replying to Wyatt’s inquiry about my present sad state, I hastily read Dexter’s message. His conveyed the same sentiment as Wyatt’s, but it added how glad he was to be back and how he hoped to see me soon. We were childhood friends, but after the rift between our fathers, I only saw him through social gatherings and private parties through friends we had in common.

  I pondered a moment before finally deciding that it was best to respond to him tomorrow. The thought of entertaining old friends so soon after my father’s passing was just too much to comprehend for the time being. Carefully placing the phone back on the side table, I heard Jared enter the bedroom.

  “I hope you’ve dried your hair this time,” I muttered my blatant protest of his wet hair dripping on the back of my neck. The man had a habit of loving to put his wet hair on my skin after he showered in his suite, one that I wasn’t such a huge fan of.

  “Why do you do this to me, woman?” he groaned in the background, making me secretly smile. Though he wasn’t thrilled, I could hear him towel his hair dry in the bathroom. “You’re b
ecoming a nightmare,” he loudly mused upon joining me in bed before gathering me in his arms. An action he’d freely indulged in on a nightly basis. At first, it was rather odd, but as the nights wore on, it became a normal thing between us.

  “What the hell!” A deafening shriek escaped me when he audaciously rubbed his cold damp hair on the back of my neck. I tried to get away from his tightened grasp, but he was way too strong for me. His roaring laughter so close to my ear sent goosebumps all over me. “What is wrong with you? I was so looking forward to sleep, but I’m wide awake now. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep even if I tried.”

  “Apologies…” he murmured before he imparted a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Want to talk about it?” His breath teased the skin where he just planted his lips.

  “Not really.”

  The sudden intimacy between us made me beyond dizzy. Sure, he’d slept with his arms around me, but we never shared this…whatever this was.

  What is he doing? I nervously thought when his lips brushed against the back of my neck. Again. Fuck!!! Alarm bells rang in my ears. If he thought of toying with me, tonight wasn’t the best time. Our emotions were so highly strung. My defenses were down, and baiting him surely was out of the question. Biting the bottom of my lip, I shut my eyes and commanded myself to breathe evenly. It lasted for a few seconds until I felt his hand, which normally didn’t touch my stomach, had actually pressed against it as if drawing me closer to him.

  “You can comfort yourself that he’s ecstatic to be with your mother,” he said mesmerizingly. The notorious hand on my stomach began to mindlessly circle about my abdomen. “Your father was devastated when Edna died. He’s where he wants to be, Gisele. We can’t begrudge him his happiness, even though I blew up when he confessed he’d abandoned all notions of treatment. For the past years, he quietly began to set a plan in motion. I was with him almost on a daily basis. How’d you think I felt when he told me of his fatal illness? My failure to unravel his secret is a burden I no longer carry. Peter made sure I forgave myself before he died. He’s with your mom where he belongs. And instead of wallowing, we should be grateful for the time we had with him.”