by Emma Hart
“No!” I said, a little too loudly. “Jade, these people are rich. It’s not a casual mixer where you can wear jeans and heels—it’s a fucking formal one,” I lowered my tone considerably. “It’s business. She steamrolled right over me. She may as well have held a chloroform rag over my face and kidnapped me.”
“Okay, okay, calm your tits.” The line cracked with her heavy exhale. “How fancy are we talking?”
“At least a cocktail dress.”
“Okay. You have one of those. You have that red one that makes your boobs look really good.”
I frowned. “The one with the flirty skirt?”
“Yep. That counts. It has just enough of a scooped neckline to be like, “Hi, boys,” but not so, “I’m charging fifty bucks an hour for this.””
“You have such a special way with words.”
“I know. Wear that one with a nice necklace and your favorite black heels. They’re broken in, and you know you can walk in them.”
“What about a jacket?”
“Wear a blazer. You have, like, fifty. If it’s business, you need to be sexy but smart.”
“Jesus, I may as well just get some glasses and study up on physics.”
I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
“Listen to me, Mallory. If you ever bang this guy and you make a good impression now, you’re in with his mom. Big win. Moms are hard to impress.”
“You have got to give it up with the banging my boss thing. It isn’t going to happen. But I’ll wear the red dress,” I said begrudgingly. “Thanks. I have to go. I don’t know when Cameron’s getting back and I’m not supposed to be on the phone with you.”
“You got it. Go to work, and don’t panic. I’ll come to do your hair and make-up for you. Let’s have lunch tomorrow and figure it out.”
I blew out a long breath. “Thanks. Okay, see you tomorrow.” I hung up and put my cell down.
With Jade’s help, I had half a chance at looking good. Between her and my mom, the possibility was slightly better than half. Before my dad had retired and sold off the majority of their construction business, she’d been used to going to things like this and wandering around, simpering up to people with money who could invest.
My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, seeing that the message was from Cameron.
Cameron: I just got back to the car. What’s wrong? Is there a problem at the office?
At the office, on your phone line, inside my head—take your pick, boss.
Me: Your mom called.
Cameron: Nothing good ever comes of that.
Me: I see that. She wanted me to remind you about the mixer at her house tomorrow night.
Cameron: Shit. Is that the problem?
Me: No.
Cameron: Then what’s wrong?
Me: She invited me. And I’m not sure how it happened because I don’t remember agreeing, but now I’m coming, too.
Cameron: Shit.
Me: Exactly.
CHAPTER TWELVE – CAMERON
“Mother!” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I paced my kitchen. “Why did you invite Mallory to the mixer tomorrow?”
She calmly stirred her tea, not bothering to look up from the cup. It was a teacup and saucer I kept exclusively for her, and she tapped her spoon on the edge of the cup, sending an ear-wrenching clink through the entire room.
“I was being polite, sweetie,” she said without batting an eyelid. Her hair was as perfect as ever, without a strand out of place, but that didn’t stop her swiping a hand up the back of her bun to push imaginary hairs back into place. “She wasn’t invited, and if we open another office, she’ll be involved as your assistant.”
“How? We work here, not in Denver, and I’m not moving to Denver.”
“I didn’t say you had to, Cameron. But if we open another office—and it’s high time we did—you’ll be in control of it and managing. She’ll be integral in helping you manage two offices.”
I ground my teeth. “You weren’t sold on her the other day.”
“Well, I spoke her to her, and she called me ‘ma’am.’”
“You hate being called ma’am.”
“I know, but I like that she was polite enough to do so.” She shrugged one shoulder and sipped her tea before delicately setting it back down onto the saucer. “I know that you’re trying to put me off inviting her, but I think it’s the right thing to do. I’d like to meet her and see if she’s up to the job.”
Jesus. After the last two days, I wasn’t sure Hurricane Mallory was cut out for my mom’s kind of mixers. She was exactly how she’d said Jade had described her—a catastrophe queen.
She didn’t find disaster. Disaster found her.
“You’re not her boss,” I reminded her. “I’m her boss. It matters if I think she’s up to the job, not you.”
Mom waved her hand. “Of course, but we still own the company, darling.”
I tried not to grind my teeth so hard that I literally wore them down, but it was damn right. “Yes, but you signed over control of the office to me when Dad stepped down. My office. My assistant. My choice.”
Mom sighed. “I’m not trying to change your choices—”
“You just said you want to see if she’s up to the job. You can’t decide that in a business mixer where she’s not actually doing her damn job. If you want to see that, stop by for a day and see how damn good she is at it.”
When she’s not spilling coffee or getting the window stuck and wearing bright yellow rubber gloves.
Mom sipped her tea again, not bothered for a second by my words. “Look, I felt rude asking her to pass on the message to you without inviting her. I’d like to meet her, so it kills two birds with one stone.”
“She’s been there less than a week. You can’t expect her to go to the mixer and act like she’s been with me for a year.”
“I’m not at all. She’ll be introduced as your new assistant, but Casey did things like this all the time.”
“Casey was born into this job. She was handed the Saturday job as soon as she turned sixteen.” I leaned against the island. “She’s been in the job for four days. Have you lost your damn mind?”
Mom wasn’t bothered at all by my words. “No. I’m quite in control of my faculties, thank you, Cameron.”
She could have fooled me.
“Mother. You invited my assistant of less than a week to a fancy, formal, business mixer. I’d like to argue about the control of your faculties.”
“Do you not trust her?”
About as much as I’d trust a landslide in a town center.
“Of course I do,” I replied without blinking. “But she’s just getting settled. Have you considered that it might be too much for her? She’s not as used to this as we are. You have to understand that you can be quiet overbearing sometimes.”
Mom paused, turning her eagle eyes on me with disapproval glaring in them. “Does she not want to come?”
“I didn’t say that.” My words were quick. I didn’t want to get Mallory in any trouble, but she also needed to know that she’d overstepped a little. “She’s happy to come, but I don’t want you putting any pressure on her. She’s the best assistant I’ve had since Casey left, and I don’t want to lose her because of this.”
Silence reigned for the longest time until she finally sighed. She dropped her shoulders the tiniest moment. “Fine. I understand what you’re saying. I advise that you keep her by your side the entire night and lead her in what to do.”
“Are you suggesting we throwback to when women were to be seen and not heard?”
“Do you know me at all?”
I quit.
“Support her, Cameron. Professionally, she is your employee, but personally, you are equals.” Mom daintily took a drink from her teacup, using both hands to steady the cup. “Show her the ropes. Give her respect. Allow her to speak without overshadowing her.”
“Be her boyfriend,” I said dryly.
“If that’s
what it takes to help her through the night, yes. But with less touching.”
“Emotion wouldn’t kill you,” I noted, grabbing my coffee mug to keep me grounded. The woman was a nightmare. “Understanding that she doesn’t come from money and isn’t used to your soirees would do you well, Mother.”
“I know she isn’t from money. I did a thorough background check of her when Casey approved her application.” Again, another sip from that damn teacup. “She’s more than qualified for her position, but is she qualified for this business?”
I slammed my mug down, letting the hot liquid inside splash out onto the island counter, and steeled my gaze against her. “You put me in charge. I say if she’s qualified, not you. Even if you say she isn’t, it doesn’t matter. She’s my fucking assistant, and that’s all there is to it.”
Mom’s lips curled up. “I know, I just like hearing you say it.”
I’d kill her one day. I could swear it. “Mallory is my assistant. She’ll be there, and she’ll do good, even if she has to attach herself to my side.”
“I don’t want her to attach herself to your side, Cam. I want her to prove she can work for you.”
I hit my mom with a darker look than I ever thought I would. “Leave it,” I said in a firm tone, a wave of protectiveness washing over me. “Stop controlling everything. It’s not your office anymore.”
At that, Mom looked at me, holding my gaze for a long moment. She finished her tea, set the teacup back in the saucer with expert precision, and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling. With Mallory.”
“You will,” I said tightly. “Can’t wait.”
***
The tie around my neck was itchy.
I wore them every day for work, but tonight’s tie seemed tighter than ever. It felt as though it was trying to strangle me, but that was just my mother in my head. She basically had a summer house there, and I shuddered as the sleek black car she’d hired to take us to the mixer pulled up outside Mallory’s house.
It was beautiful. The realtor in me couldn’t help but admire the perfect white trimmings of the windows and doors and the matching garage door. The drive and path to the front door were a lovely gray paving that matched perfectly to the white and gray stone façade of the house.
Flowers adorned the yard in the front, and I got out of the car immediately enjoying the scent of the late summer blooms.
Adjusting my tie one more time, I knocked on the door three times and stepped back.
The door swung open, revealing a short woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun. Her beady eyes explored every inch of me until she sniffed and said through bright pink lips, “Who the damn are you?”
Well, shit. Was this the aunt? Or was she an associate of the President? Because that’s how she was looking at me—like she was a secret service agent or something.
“Cameron Reid, ma’am. I’m Mallory’s boss.” I held my hand out for her to shake, but she ignored it, so I dropped it down like a scolded child.
She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes even more. “You look too young to be a boss. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Are you single?”
I swallowed. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry?”
She straightened up and smacked her lips. “You’re young. You’re rich. You’re handsome. What’s wrong with you?”
“Aunt Grace.” A woman who held a remarkable resemblance to Mallory appeared over the older woman’s shoulder and rested her hands on her upper arms. “Why don’t you go and sit down in the living room? The poor young man doesn’t want to be interrogated on the doorstep.”
“I was just seeing if he was boyfriend material.”
“Yes. The entire neighborhood heard you. Go inside.” She physically turned the old woman around and directed her into another room before coming back to me. She smiled, and I noted that her eyes were the exact same shade as Mallory’s. “I’m so sorry,” she said, clasping her hands to her chest.
I smiled. “It’s fine. Cameron Reid. Mallory’s boss.” I held my hand out to her, and she took it, giving it a firm shake.
“Helen Harper, Mallory’s mom. She’s just finishing up now. Would you like to come in and wait?”
I hesitated.
“Don’t worry. My aunt will be off sulking somewhere now that I’ve told her off.”
I cracked a smile. “Sure.” I followed her inside the house, admiring the minimalistic décor of the hallway. It was all done in cream, and I paused until I realized the floor was wooden, not carpet. “Would you like me to take off my shoes, Mrs. Harper?”
“Honey, call me Helen. And you keep those shoes on—she’ll only be a minute.” She beamed at me. “Would you like a drink while you wait?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I tugged at my tie again and loosened it just a little.
The old lady shuffled into the kitchen, clasping an empty whiskey glass. She eyed me before she grabbed a whiskey bottle from the counter and poured a generous helping of it.
Then, without a word, she left again.
Helen stared at her retreating back and winced as she looked at me. “I’m so sorry about her. She’s incredibly grumpy today.”
“It’s fine. My grandma was the same. Whiskey and cigarettes and that was her sorted.” I shrugged. “She drank a bottle a week and smoked a pack a day, and the woman was never sick.”
“Huh. Maybe I should take away the whiskey and see if the cigarettes finish her off,” she muttered, grabbing her own glass. She sipped. “Sorry. It’s a rough week.”
“Don’t worry about it. If I had to live with my elderly relatives, I’d drink, too.” I grinned and leaned against the table.
She tipped the glass toward me. “I like you. If you weren’t her boss, I’d take you as a son-in-law.”
“Mom!”
I burst out laughing as Helen winked at me. “She’s fine. You should have heard what your aunt was saying.” I turned to look at Mallory and paused.
Holy shit.
Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in loose curls. Her blue eyes seemed brighter than usual, thanks to the dark colors that were swept over her eyelids, and her full lips were painted a bright shade of red that perfectly matched her dress.
A dress that hugged her body from her breasts to her knees, revealing curves I didn’t know she had.
I knew she was beautiful, but right now, she was downright sexy.
And a part of me wanted to rip the dress right off her.
“I don’t want to know,” she said, fiddling with a button on her blazer. She peered up through long eyelashes, pausing when she saw me looking at her. “Hi.” Her voice was a little squeakier than normal. “Do I look okay? Your mom was vague on the details, and honestly, I was too busy wondering how not to fall over in my heels when you told me. If it’s too much, I can go change or—”
I smiled slowly. “You look beautiful. It’s perfect.”
“Oh.” Shock flashed in her eyes. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as she briefly dropped her eyes. “Thank you.”
Her mom watched the entire exchange with a smile from behind her glass—one that quickly dropped as an elderly man joined us in the kitchen.
He looked over Mallory before turning to me. “Who are you and why are you giving my granddaughter bedroom eyes?”
“Dad!” Helen gasped.
“And that’s our cue,” Mallory said, reaching for me. She grabbed my arm and tugged, dragging me toward the front door. “Bye, Mom, Grandad, see ya, bye, don’t wait up!”
She literally yanked me through the door and slammed it behind us. Her sigh was heavy, and she met my eyes with a resigned look. “I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I touched her arm. “I was totally giving you bedroom eyes for a second there.”
Her jaw dropped.
Laughing, I touched her back and guided her to the car. “
Come on. Let’s go before we’re late and Mom loses her mind at me.”
“You were giving me bedroom eyes?” She stared at me.
I stopped us a few feet from the car. “Eyes on where you’re walking. I watched you trip on the rug this morning. I don’t want to be responsible for you breaking your ankle in those heels.”
She shoved me in the arm with a half-smile. “I was focusing on not spilling your coffee.”
“True.” I released her to open the car door. “And somehow, you managed not to.”
“Exactly. Give me some credit.” She grinned and got into the car.
I closed the door behind her then walked around to the other side and got in myself. “Let’s go, shall we?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – MALLORY
I was not cut out for this.
That much was painstakingly obvious.
I hadn’t even stepped foot in the vast, wooden double doors that were apparently the entrance to this huge-ass house, and I already knew I’d stick out like a sore thumb.
Agreeing to this was a mistake.
That didn’t even take into account that this little adventure had started off as a total nightmare. First with Aunt Grace answering the door—I still had no desire to learn what she’d said—then my mom, then Grandpa, and Cameron himself admitting he’d given me bedroom eyes.
I was fairly sure he’d been teasing me, but he had given me a long, good look when he’d turned around. It wasn’t like I was an expert at flirting. I always looked a little out of my depth when I actually tried, and that included eyeing people up.
Jade once told me I looked like I was plotting a guy’s murder, and unless you’re a serial killer, it’s probably not that sexy.
So maybe Cameron had been giving me bedroom eyes.
That just made this an even worse idea than it already was.
I hesitated as Cameron reached for the door. Nerves fluttered in my stomach, mostly because I wasn’t sure I was ready to meet his parents. At least, not in a formal setting like this.
