Her red lips are glistening and parted as her breathing picks up. I can feel the charge of electricity bouncing between us. I wonder if she can too, but then I remember how breathless she seems, so I think it’s safe to say she does. That or this is just a little too close for comfort and she’s feeling worried or scared. I wish I could read her mind. Maybe then I’d know what to do. I’m torn between leaning in and kissing her, and pulling back and keeping this game going between us.
Part of me knows, though, that if I do lean in and kiss her, I won’t want to stop. And even if she lets it go on, we won’t make it to dinner. If she stops it, dinner will be unbearable until we can finally clear the air. So I clear my throat, breaking the moment between us. Her arms fall back to her sides and I’m finally allowed to take a step back.
“We should probably get going,” I say, holding out my elbow.
“Of course,” she breathes out, nodding her head. As we make our way to the door, it seems like she’s trying to keep herself under control. Her hands are shaking slightly and her legs are wobbly like they’re weak. I wonder if this is her natural reaction to being in my arms. The thought makes me smirk with pleasure. Maybe I’m not as far off from getting what I want after all.
Seven
Poppy
I don’t know what that was, but I nearly blew my cover. He presented me with the ring and I wanted to play along like it was a real engagement. I said yes and leapt into his arms. He laughed and hugged me tightly, but when he pulled away, I didn’t want to let go. Maybe I got caught up in the performance, but deep down I know it had nothing to do with that. My reaction was my natural reaction to him. Even though I’ve always been attracted to him, spending all this time together has only made that attraction grow. I guess if he brings it up, I could just play it off like it was just part of the game.
We get into the car and he addresses the issue more quickly than I thought he would. “What was that back there?”
“What was what?” I ask, pretending like I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“It . . . it seemed like you wanted me to kiss you.” His voice is soft, unsure, nervous. It’s so far off from the way he usually sounds—sure and full of authority.
I laugh it off. “It was just a quick thought. Caught up in the moment, ya know?”
“So you did want me to kiss you?” he asks, still confused.
“I mean, not for real. I was just thinking that it’s probably something we need to work on, you know? How will anyone buy us as a couple if we never touch or kiss? And if we do end up kissing in front of someone—you know, for the show of it all—they’ll know right away that we’re not really together if we have no chemistry and end up stumbling through our first kiss.”
“Oh, so it’s all in the name of research and practice then?”
“Well, what else would it be for? I mean, you hate me with a passion and I can’t stand you most days,” I lie. Well, I guess it’s only a half-lie. Before this arrangement, I couldn’t stand him most days, but now as we get closer, I find myself liking him more and more, especially after he asked his staff to donate the crystal. And it seems the more time we spend together, the more he’s working to control his tone of voice, his anger, and the way he words certain things. He hasn’t insulted me all day. That has to mean something, right? Thinking back on that almost-kiss, it seemed like for a split second, he wanted to kiss me too. But just as I was confused about it all, I think he was too.
We pull into the driveway of an unbelievably large house. This place has brick walls around it with an iron gate, a circle drive in front of the house, and a fountain in the center. The lawn is perfectly manicured and the walkways are lined with complementary flowers and shrubbery. Matthew pulls up to the front door and stops the car. I’m too busy staring up at the mansion.
“Poppy?” he says my name.
“Huh?” I ask, not pulling my gaze from the house. I’m almost expecting to see gargoyles perched on top. So his family does have a Bruce Wayne-style estate. Naturally.
“Poppy?” he says it again.
I turn my head toward him this time. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but seeing him in the darkness of the car, with the blue dash lights lighting up his face, he takes my breath away. His high cheekbones are prominent, his jaw sharp, and his lips plump and soft—teasing. His dark eyes are what really draw me in though. They’re wide and fully alert, but it’s like they hold so many secrets, and the only way to get answers is by diving into the murky water.
“I know you’re probably over there freaking out right now, but just try to relax. My father isn’t here tonight. It’s just my grandmother, and she’s always kind. Well, mostly. She can be a real spitfire when she needs to be,” he jokes, turning off the car and opening his door.
I’m momentarily lost. Did he just reassure me? That isn’t something he would’ve done a few days ago. Before, he would’ve enjoyed watching me worry and squirm. Something is changing between us, and more than anything, it worries me. What if I actually fall for this new guy he’s becoming?
He opens my door and the movement makes me jump after being so lost in my thoughts. He holds out his hand and I slide mine into it. His warm skin is there to greet me with comfort, and it causes a fire to spread from my hand to my lower belly.
Whoa, body. Chill the fuck out. This is only pretend.
He leads me to the door and presses the doorbell. Only seconds later, it’s being opened by a maid dressed in a black and white uniform. “Good evening,” she greets us.
“Good evening, Rose,” he replies, stepping inside and dragging me in with him.
He shrugs out of his coat then moves behind me to help with mine. He hands them both over to her. “Rose, this is my fiancée, Poppy. Poppy, this is Rose. She’s worked for my grandmother since I was just a boy.”
I hold out my hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She smiles and nods. “You too, dear.” She closes the front door. “Your grandmother is in the lounge.”
“Thank you, Rose.” Matthew takes my hand and wraps it around his elbow as he leads me to the lounge. We enter the room, and to my surprise, it’s just a living room. There are two couches facing each other, with a chair on either end of them and a table in the middle. There’s a warm and inviting fireplace with a fire burning inside, and a drink cart off to the side. There are also decorative pieces around the room, but I have a feeling the seating area is meant to be the focal point, meant purely for entertaining.
The old lady is sitting in the chair next to the fireplace and she looks to be about 200 years old. She’s a tiny thing—so small it looks like she won’t even be able to bear her own weight if she stands. Her graying hair is thinning on top, so much so that I can see her scalp, but she has it pulled back into a slick bun atop her head. She’s dressed in a long-sleeved black dress that’s probably as old as she is. She’s pale and looks to be nearly falling asleep—that is, until she notices us walking into the room. Her eyes pop wide open and a soft smile plays on her thin, dry lips.
“Good evening, Nan,” Matthew says, releasing my arm and going to lean over to press a kiss to her head. “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée. This is Poppy.”
I smile as I move closer with my hand outstretched, ready to shake.
“Fiancée?” she questions, looking up at him.
“That’s right,” he agrees.
“You’re getting married? Finally? Oh, this is good news.” She turns her attention to me now. “What a beautiful woman you are,” she says, raising her hand to shake.
I take it gently, almost afraid of hurting the woman. “Thank you,” I reply. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I know you already,” I lie.
She blushes as she tears her gaze from mine to look up at Matthew. “Matthew, you haven’t been telling this beautiful fiancée of yours lies about me, now have you?”
He chuckles as he walks around her to sit on the sofa, motio
ning for me to join him. “I may have told her a few things—but lies, no way.”
I take a seat next to him and cross my legs so my knees are pointing toward him. My right foot touches the back of his calf, and with her eyes on us, I feel like I need to sell this a little better. I run my foot up and down the back of his leg as I take his hand in mine.
“Well, your father can’t be here tonight, as usual. He will make brunch, though, on Sunday. Poppy, will you be joining us?”
I smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t been invited.”
“Well, dear. I’m inviting you. Ten sharp,” she insists. “This marriage will be a big family affair and you need to meet your soon-to-be father-in-law. James will be thrilled. Have you told him yet?”
“Not yet. I thought it best to do it in person. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be,” Matthew says, squeezing my hand.
“Of course he’ll be happy, Matthew. Have you set a date yet?” she asks, smoothing her gray hair back.
“Not yet,” I answer. “It only just happened and I need to hire a coordinator. We’ll send you a save-the-date card as soon as we have them. You’re first on the list.”
She offers a weak smile and nods.
I look for any sign that she’s unwell, but all I can see is that she’s old—really, really old. It makes me wonder if her body is shutting down rather than her actually being sick with something. Other than being tiny and weak-looking, she seems perfectly healthy to me, but I guess we can’t always see what’s going on behind the scenes.
“Dinner is ready, Mrs. Lewis,” the maid pops her head in and says.
“Well, looks like we’d better get up then.” She uncrosses her ankles and holds on to the arms of the chair. She pushes herself upward, but her knees give slightly and Matthew has to put his hand on her arm, helping her stand. Slowly, at her pace, we leave the lounge area and move into the formal dining room.
She takes her seat at the head of the table with Matthew and me on either side of her. The maid starts to bring the food from the kitchen, putting a serving on each of our plates as she makes her way around the table. By the time she’s done, I have a small side salad, roast with potatoes and carrots, a dinner roll, and some fancy-looking green beans. Wine is poured into a glass in front of me and I notice there’s no water or anything else to drink. Looks like I’ll be getting tipsy tonight. At least tomorrow is Saturday and I don’t have to work, but I do have a full spa and shopping day planned.
I stay as quiet as I can throughout dinner, letting Matthew have his time with his grandmother. I only ever talk if one of them asks me a direct question. I eat my dinner and have to wash it down with the wine. By the end of the glass, I already feel sparkly and happy. My face is warm and everything seems funny, but I know I have to control myself.
Our plates are cleared and I’m thinking we’ll finally get to head home, but no. More food is brought out and put in front of me—some kind of pudding that looks to be slightly toasted. There are graham crackers sticking out of it and it smells sweet and delicious. I can eat the dessert, no problem, but I’m concerned about the brandy glasses they’re now placing on the table. My eyes leap up to Matthew and he sees the panic written all over my face. However, he must have a quick flash back to his old self, because all he does is smile my way, knowing exactly how I feel.
Dessert starts and I dip my spoon into the pudding and take a small bite. It’s sweet, light, and fluffy. It’s not something I’ve had before, but it’s really good.
“Try it with the brandy, dear. It makes it all the better,” his grandmother insists.
I force a smile as I reach forward and pick up the glass. I take a sip and the alcohol burns my throat, but it brings out the sweetness in the pudding and it really does pull everything together. To my surprise, I eat the entire dessert and drink almost the whole glass of brandy.
Being this drunk and sitting this still is hard to do. I find myself spacing out as they talk—taking in the room more than paying attention to the conversation. I giggle to myself as I imagine the plates and candlesticks dancing around on the table singing “Be Our Guest.” This place could be straight out of Beauty and the Beast.
It feels like it takes forever, but dinner finally ends and the two of them stand in front of the table. My eyes jump up to Matthew. I cautiously push back my chair and stand, testing the strength of my legs as I hold on to the edge of the table. I turn and walk back toward the door slowly and carefully. At the end of the table, Matthew places his hand around my arm, steadying me.
He helps me to the door, keeping his hand on me to keep me steady. He helps me with my coat and we say our goodbyes to his grandmother. When the door closes behind us, I let out a long, dragged-out breath. He chuckles beside me.
“God, I thought it’d never end. What time is it?”
“Nine,” he answers without having to look at the time.
I look up at the moon. “How do you know that?” I’m trying to figure out if he can tell time by the sky like the ancient Romans did.
He laughs. “Dinner always ends at 9 p.m. You weren’t lying when you said you can’t handle your alcohol, were you?”
I laugh, a snort slipping out. “No, not at all. That was more than I’ve ever imbibed at once.”
“What? What did you do for your 21st birthday then?”
“I stayed home and hung out with some friends. I don’t drink,” I nearly slur. I thought standing would help sober me up, but it seems the more time that passes, the more drunk I become. He opens the door for me and helps me inside. The interior of the car is dark and warm and soothing. I lean my head back and my lids get heavy.
Eight
Matthew
She falls asleep before I even get out of the driveway. I can’t help but snicker at her head that’s lolled to the side, her lips parted with her deep, heavy breathing. I can’t believe she got so wasted off one glass of wine and a sip of brandy. Okay, maybe it was more than a sip, but it wasn’t what I would consider a glass. My grandmother is 80-something years old and she likes her brandy, but she also has a limit. What she served tonight was her limit. Dinner ends when it does because that’s how long it takes her to get drunk. When 9 p.m. hits, she wants to be buzzed and in bed. If Poppy wasn’t so drunk herself, she might have noticed it.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I see it’s Foster calling me. I slip my Bluetooth earbuds in and answer his call, “Hey man, what’s up?”
“Dude, where you been? You’ve blown off our last two poker nights and you missed Bret’s bachelor party.”
“Sorry, man, work has been crazy.” I glance over at Poppy and contemplate saying something about her, then decide against it.
“Well, I’m coming over tomorrow night and we’re catching up. I need to fill you in on what went down at Bret’s bachelor party. There was this strip—”
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt out before he can finish his statement. I don’t know why I blurted it out, but the cat’s out of the bag now.
“What the fuck? Well, spill,” he says.
“Not tonight, man, but we’ll go out soon. I promise.” We say goodbye and I try to figure out what I’m going to tell him about Poppy. Foster knows what it’s like to have certain expectations placed on you from birth. We were both raised by rich tyrant fathers—only his took things a step further and promised him to Bianca Harris before he was even born. According to his dad, it’s a way to merge their empires. Too bad his dad hasn’t even considered what Foster wants in life.
I finish the drive home and Poppy never wakes. When I pull into the garage, she still doesn’t stir. “Poppy, we’re here,” I say rather loudly, but she doesn’t move an inch.
I let out a deep breath as I shift into park and turn off the car. I get out, moving around the back and opening her door. “Poppy?” I try again, but nothing.
Not knowing what else to do, I reach in and pick her up against me. I push the door shut with my hip and walk with her in my arms to the e
levator. The ride is smooth and I take the moment to enjoy the weight and heat of her body against mine. As the doors slide open, I walk inside and move toward the couch to lay her down. I plan on moving her to her bedroom eventually, but I need to rest my arms for a moment first.
I go to lay her down and her eyes flicker open. I freeze as our eyes lock—painful arms now forgotten. Her eyes seem darker than usual and they’re drawing me into their depths. Her tongue comes out, wetting her lips and making them glisten with the fire burning in the fireplace. That charge of electricity is back and bouncing between us rapidly, drawing my lips closer to hers.
It happens so fast that I don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late. She closes the space between us, pressing her lips to mine. A sudden fire ignites in my lips and scorches them, making its way down my throat and to my belly, where an explosion happens. Her tongue tangles with mine as our lips move perfectly in sync. I breathe her in—the scent of lilac and jasmine mixing with the brandy on her breath creates a delicious mixture I could easily get lost in. As my body comes alive with this kiss, my arms feel like they’re about to fall off. I lay her down on the couch and cover her body with mine, never breaking the kiss.
Lying down only makes everything seem that much better. The soft kiss turns to one of passion as her arms wrap around my neck. Her legs part, moving to either side of my hips. I can feel the heat of her center radiating toward me, welcoming me like a thick wool blanket. My body comes alive in ways I haven’t felt in many years.
Sure, I’ve been with many women these last couple years, but none of them had her appeal. I never wanted them as badly as I want her. Every touch feels like an explosion on my skin. Every whimper is like a magical note that brings another part of my body to life.
I’m painfully hard and pressing against her core as we kiss. I find her hips moving up and down, stroking me through our clothing. My hand moves to her hip, stilling it—not knowing how far this will go but not wanting to make it any harder on myself when it ends. Stopping her hips only makes her hands unwind from my neck—moving down to my chest, unbuttoning my shirt. I don’t stop her. I don’t have the willpower. I’ve wanted this from the first moment my eyes landed on her.
Breaking up with My Boss: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance (Love You Forever Book 4) Page 5
