“Didn’t your father help out or notice what was going on?”
“He worked a lot back then. A lot. I know there was a huge building boom for several years, but I think part of the reason he stayed away so much was because my mother was even more of a bitch to live with than usual. She never, ever let him forget that it was his idea to have another baby, that he forced this on her. I think he stayed away as much as possible because he didn’t want to fight with her constantly.”
Nick shook his head in disgust. “I can maybe understand your mother feeling resentful at first about having another baby at her age, about being angry at your dad for forcing the decision on her. But to take her anger and frustration out on an innocent child – Christ, she wasn’t a first time mom, after all, or a young girl. She should have been able to put aside her own needs and take care of her baby, for God’s sake.”
Angela gave him a sad smile. “That’s almost exactly what Carla told her when I was about three years old. They had a huge falling out about it, though they’d already been drifting apart for years. My mom was resentful of the fact that Carla had been brave enough to defy her family and live the life she wanted. And when Carla dared to criticize the way I was being brought up, that was the final straw and things have been completely strained between them since.”
“Sounds to me like your mother is a very unhappy woman. A jealous one, too.”
“Yes.” Angela nodded. “In fact, Carla was convinced my mom was jealous of me. First because my father would have chosen me over her – would have divorced her if she’d gone through with the abortion. And second because – well, because I looked so much like my other grandmother – my father’s mother. Apparently Mom did not like Nonna Isabella at all.”
“Dare I ask why?”
“I don’t remember much about her – she died when I was around six – but I know from what I was told that she didn’t like the way Mom treated my father – how she bossed him around, belittled him, would never let him speak up for himself. There was always tension between the two women and my mother refused to have much to do with her.”
Nick squeezed her shoulder. “And you look like her? Your grandmother?”
“A lot. She was tall, like I am, like my dad. And beautiful, really, really striking. I have a picture of her somewhere around, where she was all dressed up, her hair and makeup all glam, and she looked almost exactly like Sophia Loren.”
“I’d like to see that picture sometime. I can just imagine how much you must resemble her.” He brushed his lips against her cheek tenderly. “In fact, that’s how I want to dress you one of these nights – like a sexy, voluptuous Italian screen goddess.”
She grinned. “I’d need another ten pounds on me – at least – before I could be considered voluptuous. But don’t get any ideas. This is the most I’ve ever weighed in my life right now and I really don’t want to gain another pound.”
“Okay, we’ll settle for sexy Italian screen goddess only. Does this mean your sisters didn’t take after Isabella?”
“Not even a little. They look exactly like my mom – short, kind of plump, wavy brown hair – the three of them could be triplets. So of course I really stick out like a sore thumb when I’m with them. By the time I was nine years old I was already taller than they were.”
“Did your sisters play sports like you did?”
Angela snorted. “God, no! Marisa would have had a fit if she got dirty or her hair got mussed, while Deanna would have cried if a ball hit her or someone shoved her too hard. Plus, my mother didn’t think it was ladylike for girls to play sports, so they got pushed into taking ballet instead. My sisters got bossed around just like my dad, and now history is repeating itself because they’re treating their husbands and kids the exact same way.” She shuddered. “It’s an awful thing to see unfold. And there is no possible way I’ll ever have that messed up kind of marriage. If I ever get married at all, that is.”
Nick fell silent for long moments and she mentally kicked herself for even mentioning the evil “M” word – marriage. But he didn’t seem annoyed or angry, just thoughtful.
“What about kids?” he finally asked. “Do you want a family someday?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she admitted. “I had such a screwed-up childhood – dumped off at daycare or with a sitter or at a relative’s – and then virtually ignored by my mother when she couldn’t find anyone else to leave me with – that I don’t have much of a role model to emulate, you know? I don’t think I’d know the first thing about raising a child. And given my lousy genes, I’d probably screw things up big time.”
“I doubt that,” replied Nick somberly. “I think you have a great capacity for love and compassion, Angel. I think you’d be the complete opposite of the cold hearted bitch your mother was to you.”
“Maybe. But it’s not something I even want to consider for a long time yet. Unlike my mother, I haven’t let anything stand in the way of realizing my dreams. I went to college, played on an Olympic team, got a job in my chosen field.”
“Are they proud of you?”
“I doubt it. Oh, my dad probably is, but he keeps everything bottled up inside, isn’t very good at expressing himself. But none of them ever gushed when I got into Stanford, or called to congratulate me when the team won the gold medal.”
He frowned. “Called you? Weren’t they there at the Olympics to watch the games in person?”
She shook her head, glancing away so he wouldn’t see the hurt she knew would be so evident in her eyes. “No. I’m not even sure any of them watched it on TV. My parents had already booked a cruise to the Greek Islands, and there’s no way either of my sisters would have made the trip to the games without their husbands and kids in tow. Lauren wanted to go but she got offered this once in a lifetime internship that summer and I forced her to accept it.”
Nick slid a hand into her hair, tilting her face up as he kissed away her tears. “If I’d known you then,” he whispered, “I would have moved heaven and earth to be there, cheering you on, celebrating with you. You would have been far more important than a stupid vacation.”
Angela clung to him then, burying her face against his neck as the tears began to fall unchecked. “I wish I had known you back then, too,” she breathed. “These past two months with you – they’ve been the – well, they’ve been amazing.”
She’d been about to blurt out that her time with him had been the absolute best two months of her life. But she knew that, despite his uncharacteristic kindness and tenderness this evening, that he wouldn’t appreciate hearing such sentimental drivel, and so, as usual, she kept her feelings tightly bottled up.
He rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, it’s been a good time, Angel, no complaints here.” He sifted a long, silky strand of her hair between his fingers as he fell silent again for a time. She closed her eyes and tried to quell the turbulent emotions that all this talk had stirred up. She’d never spoken to anyone this way about her family, not even the twins. Lauren and Julia knew that her mother had always been a cold, distant bitch, but she’d never actually confessed the real truth to them – that Rita Del Carlo had been within twenty four hours of aborting her youngest daughter, stopped only by the threat of divorce. It had been too shameful, too hurtful, to admit to anyone, even her best friends. After all, Lauren and Julia had been blessed with two warm, loving parents and they would have been horrified at the very idea that Angela’s own mother had been so eager to get rid of her.
But Angela had sensed that such a revelation wouldn’t bother Nick the same way, and the words had poured out automatically And even though he’d never chosen to confide even one personal fact about himself to her, even though he continued to keep these impenetrable emotional barriers up between them, and that she knew it would only be a matter of time before he left her for good, she also knew he would be the only person in her life that she would ever entrust these secrets to. Perhaps it was simply because she suspected that his own childhood
had been as equally screwed up as hers, even if he’d never spoken about it.
He was quiet so long that she had almost begun to fall asleep. When he spoke again, his words seemed stilted and carefully chosen.
“So, I’m curious,” he began. “Everything you told me about your mother – how she didn’t want you, didn’t pay attention to you, how she pawned you off on everyone else. When she was with you, was she strict? Did she discipline you, enforce rules?”
Angela gave a rather undignified snort. “Hah! You have to actually pay attention to someone in order to do that, and when my mother was forced to look after me herself she never seemed to give a damn what I did. And, naturally, to get her attention I acted out all the time – breaking things, getting dirty, refusing to eat, disappearing for hours at a time when I got older. She never even blinked, never even seemed to notice. After awhile I stopped trying. I mean, where’s the fun in being a brat or breaking rules if nobody even bothers to react?”
Nick nodded. “That’s sort of what I thought. And it explains a great deal.”
She turned her head to gaze up at him, puzzled. “Like what?”
He tumbled her back onto the pillows, rising above her as he drew her arms over her head, shackling her wrists in one hand. “Like why you agreed to obey me, follow my rules,” he murmured. “It was the first time in your life that anyone even tried to do so, wasn’t it? And it’s why you like it so much.”
She thought of denying it, was almost ashamed to admit he was right, but knew she was incapable of lying to him. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly why.”
Nick ran his tongue along the side of her neck, then bit down sharply on her earlobe. “Lucky me,” he purred.
And then he was securing her wrists to the bedpost with a pair of fleece-lined leather cuffs, and whispering exactly what rules he expected her to obey tonight.
Chapter Nine
March
“Well, Angela, I have to say you’re certainly doing your best to light the world on fire. I see you opened ten new accounts just last week, and brought in almost twenty million in new assets. Not only are you the star of your training class but you’ve even surpassed other brokers who’ve been in production for two years. You’re more than fulfilling your potential, young lady, you’re sending it to the moon. Keep up the fantastic work now, okay?”
Angela beamed at Lloyd Raskin, the office sales manager and her direct supervisor. “Thanks. I’m just trying to do my best. And while I have been working hard, I have to admit to catching a few breaks, too. Three of those accounts I opened last week were actually unsolicited, apparent referrals though none of them actually came out and told me from who. I, ah, suspect they were sent my way via a fellow Stanford alum that I’ve, um, kept in touch with.”
She conveniently left out the part that the aforementioned alumni was most likely Nick Manning. She’d suspected for several weeks, in fact, that he was quietly sending business her way, though she didn’t dare ask him directly and knew he’d deny it even if she could work up the guts to inquire. They rarely discussed business, and definitely not his own practices or methods, but she’d heard via the office gossip mill that Nick had very strict standards when it came to accepting new clients. Any potential new accounts were required to have a minimum net worth in the multi-millions, and be willing to invest a good portion of those assets. In addition, word had it that Nick demanded total and absolute control over each client’s investment strategy, and unless a client was willing to give him almost complete discretion over their portfolio, then he wouldn’t take the account.
Ever since she’d passed her exam and been granted her brokerage license in December, Angela had not only met all of the goals she’d set for herself up to this point, but had exceeded them well beyond her wildest expectations. She’d already moved to a much larger and better furnished cubicle, and Lloyd had very recently promised that if she continued to exceed her goals he would move her into the next available private office. Angela knew these sorts of perks were almost unheard of for someone as young and inexperienced as she was, but also knew how hard she had worked to earn such rewards – albeit with some unconfirmed help from her uber successful lover.
Lloyd waved a hand in dismissal. “Does it matter where the accounts came from or who may or may not have referred them? There’s no denying how hard you work, Angela. I know you put in far more hours than any of your contemporaries, and it certainly shows. And let’s not forget that getting the client is one thing. Keeping them happy and investing for them responsibly and successfully is all up to you. So if these accounts did come to you as a little bonus from an old friend, that’s no reason for you to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She nodded, even though in all honesty she wasn’t terribly comfortable with the idea that Nick was very likely acting the part of puppet master with her career, and without either her knowledge or consent.
“You’re right, Lloyd,” she agreed quietly. “And whoever might be referring these clients to me, I’m definitely grateful. And extremely committed to taking very good care of their accounts. Especially,” she added with a grin, “since I plan on asking all of them for referrals when the chance arises.”
Lloyd grinned. “Now that’s the kind of attitude your co-workers need to adopt more often!” He sighed. “Unfortunately, more than half of your training class is already falling well short of their thresholds. But I guess it’s not really fair to compare you to them. I’ve rarely seen someone as young as yourself who has such an intense work ethic.”
She gave her watch a discreet peek – not the horrendously expensive Piaget that Nick had casually presented her with but a much more affordable Anne Klein that she kept for everyday use. She and Nick had agreed months ago that it would be unwise and indiscreet for her to wear any of the pricey designer clothing or jewelry he’d given her to the office. The very last thing she wanted was to have to dream up an explanation to her co-workers about how she could afford an Armani suit or Manolo Blahnik pumps.
“Speaking of which, I’m supposed to be calling a client in about ten minutes and I want to review my notes first. That is – if we’re done here for now?” she inquired politely.
Lloyd nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m just happy there’s at least one of you I don’t have to worry about or keep pushing. Oh, by the way, Angela.”
She paused, one hand on the doorknob of his office. “Yes?”
Lloyd winked at her conspiratorially. “That office I mentioned to you recently – please don’t say a word just yet, but I think you should start preparing for another move within the next week or so.”
Angela couldn’t hold back the answering grin she gave him. “Wow. I never thought it would be this soon. But I’ll try not to get my hopes up just yet. You know, the old ‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ attitude?”
Lloyd chuckled. “I get it. Though in this particular case you should really start believing. Go on now, we’ll talk again next week. And keep batting a thousand there, slugger.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she walked back to her desk. It was very obvious from all of the San Francisco Giants memorabilia cluttering up Lloyd’s office that he was a diehard baseball fan. As if that wasn’t enough, he frequently talked about the sport to anyone he could get to listen, even those who had no real interest in the game. And he often used baseball metaphors when he was making presentations or giving pep talks. Still, he was a good manager – supportive without being smothering – and Angela knew he was extremely impressed by the success she’d had thus far.
Even without Nick’s covert maneuvers to sweeten the pot for her, Angela was confident she’d still be at the top of her training class just with the accounts she’d brought in on her own. She knew the others from her class were all struggling, some of them barely hanging on to a job at this point, and she felt badly for them. But she also knew that most of them didn’t arrive in to work until almost two hours after she did, took well over an hour f
or lunch each day while she brown bagged it at her desk, and were usually done for the day before five p.m. while she continued to plug away. This realization helped to assuage some of the guilt she felt about the accounts she knew – just knew – that Nick had sent her way.
But Lloyd was quite right, she told herself firmly. Getting the account was one thing – retaining it, keeping the client happy, and making sure their investments paid off – well, that was all up to her now and she would only have herself to blame if things didn’t work out. On the other hand, when the clients were happy and chose to send even more business her way – well, then she’d have only herself to credit. Besides, she consoled herself, it certainly wasn’t as though she’d ever asked Nick to help out. In fact, doing so would have been the very last thing she’d have dared to do.
As she began to look over the notes she’d prepared to discuss with her client, Angela paused for a moment to contemplate the current state of her relationship with Nick. She continued to be in disbelief that they were still together at this point – more than six months after that first night. She had never allowed herself to hope that he would still be interested in her, wouldn’t have moved on long ago or grown tired of having a steady relationship with the same person for this amount of time.
Though to call what they had a relationship would be a stretch of anyone’s imagination. What they had, in brutal honesty, was far more of a master/slave relationship, though not the sort generally thought of in BDSM circles. Instead, it was more a case of Angela being at his beck and call, of permitting him to call all the shots, and of molding herself into the sort of woman he wanted her to be at all times. He continued to choose her clothes, though by now she had an extensive wardrobe and knew exactly how he liked her to dress. Nick accompanied her when she got her hair cut – at a salon he’d picked out – and actually oversaw how much the stylist trimmed at one time. She had a thrice weekly session with a personal trainer that Nick had selected for her, at a very private, exclusive gym that he’d also chosen. He ordered her food and drinks when they dined out, and always chose the restaurant. And he kept a very diligent eye on her weight to make sure she didn’t lose any of the twelve pounds she’d packed on at his insistence.
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