by M. S. Parker
Hands behind my back, I stared outside, but I didn’t see the skyline of the city where I’d lived all my life and I couldn’t admire the view I’d chosen to make my own when I’d set up my offices.
No, mentally, I was seeing two women.
Two beautiful women.
The one I’d just escorted from my office and the one who was only a few feet away, in my outer office.
One, I couldn’t stand. I could barely tolerate Penelope’s presence. She was shallow and vapid and vain and could hardly hold a conversation that didn’t revolve around fashion and society, which was pathetic, because I knew she had excelled in college, but she’d focused all that brainpower on things she felt mattered. Clothing and the charities she felt were worthy of attention…I think right now it had something to do with a rare orchid I’d never heard of. Last year, it was knitting sweaters for penguins. When I’d asked her about the penguins, she’d stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
The next time I asked her about the orchids, I had no doubt it would be the same.
She’d asked once if her family and mine could work together on a charitable cause and I’d said I’d consider it, then I mentioned I was looking into partnering with a group I’d heard of in Africa. I’d showed her some of the information I’d had. Her face had tightened.
Starving children with bloated bellies was too unseemly for Penelope Rittenour. She’d asked if perhaps I’d be interested in arctic foxes.
No. I hadn't been interested in arctic foxes.
Penelope Rittenour was beautiful and from one of the most powerful families in the northeast. The Rittenour’s could trace their roots back for centuries, and she was happy to tell you that.
She’d make the perfect society wife.
A faint laugh echoed from the outer office and I closed my eyes. Bracing my forearm against the window, I rested my brow against it and let my thoughts wander to the other beautiful woman…the one I couldn’t stop thinking about. The one just a few feet away. The one I was coming to crave like a drug. The one I wanted to see bent over before me, stretched out beneath me, standing in front of me with her arms bound overhead.
Aleena.
I could come to need her—was already so close to it.
I’d forced myself to keep my distance this week and it hadn’t lessened that need at all. I’d dealt with it, tolerated it. I’d even visited my club briefly, although it had done nothing for me. The boredom I’d felt too often these days had only intensified and even the thought of touching one of the Subs who visited, looking for a brief visit from an unattached Dom like myself, had left me feeling faintly disgusted.
“Stop it. You don’t owe her a damn thing,” I said, anger burning inside me.
I couldn’t owe her. That would mean I’d committed or let myself come to need her or care more than I’d let myself allow. We called it a relationship, but we hadn't set any terms.
There was a knock at the door and I lowered my arm, took a moment to smooth my suit—and my expression.
Without turning to the door, I said, “Come in.”
“Dominic?”
“Yes, Ms. Davison?”
There was a pause and I heard the stiffness in her tone when she responded, “Mr. Kim is on the phone. He wanted to thank—”
“Please send the call on through, Ms. Davison.” I turned toward the desk and flicked her a look. “I’m having dinner with my mother tomorrow. There’s a wine she enjoys…I can’t remember the name. Fawna might have it in her notes. If she doesn’t, give her a call. She’ll remember it.”
I reached for the phone.
“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice was quiet but steady. “You told me I had to be honest with you. Don't I deserve the same courtesy?”
I should have known better than to get involved with her. She wouldn’t cling. I already knew that. But she wasn’t going to quietly fade back into the background, either. She would call me on my shit.
Fawna had warned me about getting involved, but the warning had come too late. I'd already been in too deep.
“No, Ms…” I sighed and looked at her, saw the dull flush of color on her cheeks, the pain flashing across her eyes. “No, Aleena. My mother wants to make amends. And things are complicated. I need to think.”
“Of course, Mr. Snow.” She inclined her head and turned to go. There was no animosity in her words, but no warmth either.
She knew I wasn't being completely honest.
“Aleena—”
“Mr. Kim is waiting,” she said. Then she closed the door.
Chapter 11
Aleena
I’d found the wine Dominic had requested.
He’d taken it with him when he left for the office that morning and I’d stayed home to work in the home office.
We’d fallen into something of a routine and Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays were the days I normally went into the office with him unless there was something specific going on and he requested that I go in too.
Since he hadn’t made that request, I’d already busied myself at my desk, dressed in my ‘home’ work attire, hoping he wouldn’t make any changes to our ‘routine’ and he hadn’t.
I was glad.
When the door shut behind him, I kept working a good twenty minutes, what I considered my safety zone, because he sometimes forgot things when I didn’t go in with him. No, he often forgot things.
It hadn't taken me long to understand just why the man had a personal assistant. He was sharp as a whip, but he had too many thoughts inside his head and no sense of organization. I’d once mentioned it and he’d shrugged it off. That’s why I had Fawna…and now, you. I'd known enough kids back in Iowa who had ADHD to figure that was probably the case.
Once those twenty minutes ticked away, I let myself breathe out a quiet sigh of relief and leaned back, covering my face with my hands.
I hadn’t been able to drop my guard at all since he’d made that announcement yesterday.
His mother wanted to make amends?
“Like hell.” The waspish note in my voice didn’t go unnoticed by me, but fuck it. I figured I had every right to feel waspish. And bitchy. And pissed off. Maybe she did want to, but that wasn't the reason Dominic was acting so stand-offish. He wasn't being honest with me. Even after he'd made me promise to be that way with him.
Feeling like I was going to come out of my skin, I got up and started to pace. Back and forth, I went across the office.
There was work waiting for me on the desk, but I’d been unable to sleep most of the night, so I’d taken care of probably a third of the things in my inbox already. Dominic’s ridiculous social calendar was now updated, save for a few things I needed to confirm with him. I knew better than email over those.
The phone rang and I drifted over to look at it, considered not answering it, but I had come to take my job too seriously. I couldn't let my personal life interfere. With a sigh, I picked it up.
“Snow residence, this is Aleena. How may I help you?”
There was a faint pause, followed by a sniff.
I rolled my eyes. Spare me.
“Aleena.”
The way the woman drew my name out told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t even look at the caller ID to see if I was correct. I did, however, hit the button that would allow me to record the conversation. Call me suspicious, but I didn’t trust her.
“Ms. Rittenour. How are you?”
She didn’t even have the courtesy to respond.
“Fetch Dominic.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I sat down in his chair and fought the urge to breathe in the scent that immediately surrounded me. Picking up a pen, I started to sketch out Penelope Rittenour—as an Afghan hound. The long, gleaming coat…er…hair, the elegant long face…
She’d make a lovely Afghan hound, and she’d probably be more pleasant too. Those were beautiful and very sweet dogs.
“I need to speak to Dominic,” she snapped. “Put him o
n the phone now or I’ll have your fucking job.”
I pulled the receiver away and eyed it narrowly. Then I put it back to my ear. “I’m uncertain as to how you can have me fired simply because Mr. Snow isn’t here at the same time you called, Ms. Rittenour. I’d be happy to take a message though.”
Her hiss of breath was audible. Then, coolly, she said, “Give me his cell phone.”
“Now that would likely get me fired. I’m afraid I can’t pass out personal information without Mr. Snow giving me the authorization first.”
“I’m a close personal friend.”
“Then I’m certain you understand that he’s a very private man. Once he tells me it’s okay to give you his cell phone number, I’ll be happy to do so, Ms. Rittenour.” I added a little diamond collar to the dog’s neck and diamond earrings. She had Penelope’s big eyes and thick eyelashes and maybe I was being catty, but I made sure that snide light shown in her eyes. I used to love to do caricatures, but I never had the time anymore. This was fun.
“Dominic is going to hear of your rudeness…what was it, Aleena?”
“Yes, Ms. Rittenour. If you like, I’d be happy to call him as soon as we hang up and let him know about our discussion.” I paused and then added, “His home office is set up to record all incoming calls. Shall I play the conversation back for him to ensure he knows everything we discussed?”
There was a long, weighted pause and then she said, “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“Of course not, Ms. Rittenour. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
She hung up.
I leaned back, stared at my image of Penelope as an Afghan hound. If I were trying to be accurate, I would have drawn her as a succubus. Out to drain the life out of whatever man she’d set her sights on, and it so happened to be Dominic she’d chosen as her prey. I shouldn't care, not after he was making it clear that, no matter what we'd said, he was going to keep me at arm’s length.
I pulled the sheet of paper free, and then, to be safe, I tugged out the next two and put them in the cross-cut shredder.
That done, I sent a text to Dominic.
Ms. Rittenour called. She would like to speak with you and she’d also like your cellphone number. I’m afraid she’s not happy with me. I wouldn’t give her the number without your permission and that made her angry. Shall I give her the number? Please advise.
I double-checked to make sure the phone call had been recorded. I’d told a white lie. He didn’t record all calls. I think it was illegal to record things without permission, but he did get a lot of business calls—those he did get permission for and it was simply because he didn’t like forgetting details.
I suspected he also had less than pleasant phone calls. Perhaps calls like mine, where people tried to levy threats against him, although I don’t know who’d be stupid enough to threaten a man like Dominic. Blackmail, maybe. The ability to record anybody that stupid would be useful.
I’d never asked. I hoped he wouldn’t be mad, but if he was…
I sighed.
His response came back before I made it back to my desk.
Don’t worry about Penelope. I’ll get back with her when I see her or she can call the office and leave a message here. And no, please don’t give her my number. You did the right thing. Thank you.
Biting my lip, I considered it a moment and then sent him one more message.
She tells me that she going to have me fired since I didn’t give her the number. She’ll be sure to tell you how rude I was. She was even more pissed off when I mentioned that you have your phone set up to record incoming calls. I might have told a little white lie there. I’m sorry.
This time, the response was immediate.
Good thinking and don’t be sorry. Don’t worry, either. You’re not fired, Aleena. Why don’t you take the day off? You could probably use a break. You’ve done nothing but work all week. Take the day off. Go see Molly. Go shopping. I’ll deal with Penelope.
I blew out a relieved breath. If he’d been angry, he would have said something. He was holding back, but he wasn't being rude.
I responded with a quick thank you and then studied my pile of work. I could always put in a few hours tomorrow, but I really could use a break. I had been working a lot lately.
Chapter 12
Dominic
“Really, Dominic. You let your employee talk that way to friends?”
I looked up over the rim of my wineglass toward my mother. Slowly, I put it down and then got up, heading over the bar. I poured myself a double of Macallan. It was twenty-one years old and I brought it to my nose, breathed it in and forced my shoulders to relax for a moment as I took one small sip.
“Dominic…”
At my mother’s chiding voice, I turned to face her.
Mom was sitting next to Penelope and I had to fight not to clench my jaw at the sight of her. They'd both been there waiting when I arrived and I’d almost left.
My mother had set this up. I had no doubt about it.
I looked back at Penelope to answer her question even though it was probably meant to be rhetorical. “Well, my mother talks to my employees in a far worse manner,” I said, shrugging. “All Aleena did was follow my instructions and not give out my personal information without my permission.”
I took a small sip of scotch as my mother’s face went red, then white. While she struggled to come up with a response, I added, “Should I discipline her for it, Mother?”
Her eyes widened and, for a moment, I thought she was going to choke on her drink.
Penelope, unaware of the double meaning, laid a hand on my mother’s arm. “Jacqueline, I’m sure the girl didn’t mean to be so rude,” she said, a gentle—and completely false—smile on her face.
“She wasn’t.” Tired of the bullshit, I headed back to the table and eyed the remains of the dinner. Étienne, my mother’s chef, had prepared a wonderful meal. He always did. But it had tasted like sawdust and it now sat like a rock in my stomach. Slumping in the chair, I eyed Penelope for a moment. I was too pissed off at my mother’s obvious machinations, and Penelope’s manipulations, to care if she decided to fuck with Trouver L'Amour. If she did, I’d just deal with it. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to play the game too. I was sure most people wouldn't have a problem seeing Penelope as a conniving jealous bitch.
When Penelope started to argue, I cut her off. “I listened to your phone call, Penelope. You called, demanded to speak with me and she said she couldn’t put me on the phone. You told her to either do it or you’d have her fucking job. She said she couldn’t get me on the phone since I wasn’t there and, rightly, it wasn’t likely she could be fired over that. Then you demanded my phone number and when she wouldn’t give it to you, you yelled at her again.”
With a cold smile, I added, “She texted me right away to let me know you’d called and asked if she should give you my number.”
“Tattling on me, is she?” Penelope’s cheeks were pale, save for two red spots riding high on her cheeks.
Now it was my mother’s turn to reach over and pat Penelope’s hand. “Simply covering herself. That’s what girls…”
My gaze left Penelope and went straight to my mother.
Jacqueline cleared her throat. “That’s what a professional is supposed to do in this case, Penelope. Check with her superior and make sure she’d taken the right steps. Isn’t that right, Dominic?”
“Yes.”
Penelope continued to stare at me. “Then why didn’t she contact me back with your phone number?”
“Because I told her not to.” I tossed the rest of my Macallan back and debated on another. I wanted it. Almost craved it. And because I did, I deliberately pushed the glass away. Self-control. Denial. Always.
“But I…” She licked her lips and, for the first time that evening, she looked uncertain. Her gaze fell away and she stared at the window that faced out over the elegance of the gardens. They were lit with small white bulbs threade
d through the trees and carefully placed lights on the ground. “Dominic, I wanted to speak with you.”
“Then you could have called the office or left a message. I’m a busy man, Penelope. I don’t have time for idle chit-chat. Surely you know that.”
My mother’s laugh, light and practiced, broke the strained silence. “Of course you’re a busy man. Penelope, Dominic…this is all such a silly matter, and over a new personal assistant.” Her gaze darted to me and then away. “I’m sure Aleena is doing the best she can and she handled the matter as she felt was best, yes?”
“Of course.” Penelope gave me a tremulous smile.
I didn’t smile back.
The way Mom acted, you’d think I had.
She clapped her hands. “Wonderful. We won’t speak of it again. Why don’t we retire to the drawing room?”
I managed not to roll my eyes.
The drawing room…where she could have another drink without looking like she was tossing it back.
***
“I am sorry, Dominic.”
Mother spoke to me softly as Penelope played the piano.
I didn’t look at her. “Are you?”
“You know I am.” She laid a hand on my arm. “I hate to have anything come between us and this has.”
“Then why are you apologizing to me instead of the woman you insulted?” Now I turned my head and stared at her.
“I…” Her hand fluttered up to her throat, then back down to her drink. Finally, she took a sip of her cognac and sat there, head cocked as she listened to the lovely strains drifting from the piano.
It might have been Beethoven. I liked music well enough, but I’d never focused on it as much as my parents would have liked.
“Lovely,” she called out as Penelope brought the music to a close. “Can you play another?”
Yes, don’t overhear something unpleasant, Penelope. I smirked and settled more comfortably into the couch, staring up at the mural painted on the ceiling.
“How did I insult her, Dominic? Surely she realizes you’re from different worlds.”
