Beautiful Mistakes: Contemporary Romance Boxset Books 1-4

by Victoria Snow

  Bella was the opposite. Her long thick hair was straight and so dark it was almost ebony. Her eyes were blue, but a dark hue, like sapphires. Her skin was pale which made her rosy cheeks and pink lips stand out. And her body was lush with curves.

  I shook my head as I rode in the car back to my penthouse apartment on the upper west side of Manhattan. I had no business thinking of Bella like that. Or Danica. But my response to Bella baffled me. I hoped to hell it was an anomaly and wouldn’t happen again. With the France deal coming together, we’d be spending lots of time together and I didn’t need my hormones wreaking havoc.

  I arrived home ready to be a dad instead of a CEO.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Alexander.” Mrs. Douglas greeted me at the door. She was a stout sixty-something woman with thick bluish-gray curls. She’d lost her husband around the time my wife died and she needed something to fill her time since her children were all grown. I needed help with Lily, so it turned out to be an ideal situation for all. “Are you hungry? I’ve got food warming.”

  “I’ll have it later. Is Lily in bed?” It was after eight-thirty, which was my five-year-old daughter’s bedtime.

  “She is. She’s waiting for a bedtime story.”

  “Thank you for staying late tonight.” I meant it. Having Mrs. Douglas had been a God-send. Lily was a shy child, struggling to adjust to school, but Mrs. Douglas was patient and kind with her. And she was nearly always available in a pinch, like tonight when I had to work late.

  “My pleasure. Will there be anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  She got her purse and coat from the hooks in the entryway. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  When she left, I locked the door for the night and headed to Lily’s room. It was exactly as a child’s room should be: filled with color and everything she needed to indulge her imagination.

  “Hey Lilybug.”

  “Daddy.” Her smile filled my heart and made me forget the long day. She held her arms out to me and I sat on her bed to hug her.

  “Where’d you go today?” I asked her.

  Her eyes, so much like her mother’s, sparkled with excitement. “To the moon. Mrs. Dougie and I made a rocket. See?” She pointed to the other side of her room where a large refrigerator box stood decorated with the US flag and a window. It always amazed me how Mrs. Douglas could find and repurpose anything.

  “Did you find the cheese?”

  “Daddy, there’s no cheese on the moon.”

  “No?”

  She laughed. “No. Will you read me the story about the mouse?”

  “Yes.” I reached over on her bedside table for the book that explained what would happen if you give a mouse a cookie. When the story was finished, I kissed her goodnight. She closed her eyes and settled into her bed to sleep. I watched for a minute, feeling so damn grateful to have her, while feeling a twinge of sadness that her mother wasn’t here to see Lily grow and blossom. She was about to finish kindergarten and I knew Joanna would have been so proud of her. She probably would have been able to better help Lily adjust to school.

  Joanna and I had planned to have several children. Once the business was on solid financial ground, we decided to start a family. By then we’d been married for nearly ten years. For years, we were unsuccessful. When we went to a fertility specialist, they diagnosed Joanna with cancer. But after treatment, she went into remission. The next year, Lily was born and we couldn’t have been happier.

  Two years later, we tried again. At thirty-seven, Joanna felt like she was running out of childbearing years. We were so happy when she missed her period, a sure sign we’d been successful at creating a sibling for Lily. But weeks later, the diagnosis was cancer, not pregnancy.

  Joanna battled like a trooper, but within a year, she was gone, leaving me heartbroken, with only the company and Lily to remind me of all the hopes and dreams we’d planned as poor college kids.

  “Promise me you’ll live, Blake,” she said to me in the last week of her life. She was emaciated and in a great deal of pain, and yet she was still trying to nurture us.

  I promised I would, even though I didn’t know how I could live without her.

  “Don’t be afraid to love again.”

  I shook my head. Tears dripped down my face. “I can’t. You’re my love.” She was the only woman I’d ever loved. It was ridiculous to think I’d ever love anyone again.

  She squeezed my hand. “Don’t close yourself off and hide. Live and love and be happy. I need you to show Lily how to seize life.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Of the two of us, Joanna was the vibrant, full of life person. She was the one that should be showing Lily how to seize life, not me.

  She gave me a look of pity. The one that said she knew I wanted to make her wish come true, but that she didn’t think I’d be able to.

  She wasn’t wrong to think that. I was an introvert at heart. And with Joanna’s death, any passion I had for life died with her. But I fucking tried to give Joanna what she asked. Lily lived and loved and was happy, even if she was shy and anxious at school. I certainly didn’t need another woman in my life to give Lily what she needed. And Lily didn’t need a mother-figure. She had Mrs. Douglas and Joanna’s mother.

  Giving Lily another kiss on the forehead, I left her room, closing the door and going to my room. I showered, wanting to wash away the day’s fatigue.

  Thinking of Joanna made me wonder what she’d think of my reaction to Bella today. In my mind, it was a betrayal to have a physical response to a woman who wasn’t my wife. I had one wife who I vowed to love and honor forever. Fuck the til’ death do us part. As far as I was concerned, I was still married.

  But knowing Joanna, she’d think it was funny that I got a hard-on while my assistant straightened my tie. She’d always thought I was a little too serious and strait-laced, something she’d spent fifteen years trying to cure me of.

  I pressed my palms to the shower tile and ducked my head under the water. A shower and a good night’s sleep were all I needed to get my bearings straight again.

  Out of the shower, I toweled off, slipped on boxers and climbed into bed. I still slept on the right side of the bed, and, occasionally woke up expecting Joanna to be there. Those mornings were hard.

  I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come. I drifted, feeling light and a sense of peace.

  “Can I help you?”

  I looked into her face, into her blue eyes. A vanilla scent mixed with flowers filled my senses as she moved to me. My body flushed, my blood turning thick and hot as it moved through my veins. An aching need grew inside me.

  “Can I help you?” She dropped to her knees, her blue eyes sparkling as they looked up at me.

  I started down at her, my dick, thick and long with arousal, zeroed in on her mouth.

  “Can I help you?” Her pink lips wrapped around my dick, she sucked and tiny explosions went off in my brain.

  “Can I help you?” Her hot wet mouth worked my dick until I felt like I was in a frenzy. My hips bucked, fucking her mouth, deeper and deeper.

  “Can I help you?”

  Ah, fuck! My entire body felt on fire as a blast of white-hot energy shot from my dick outward. I continued to thrust, coming and coming and…

  I bolted upright in bed. My breath came in harsh gasps. My body was hot and damp with perspiration. My dick… oh fuck.

  I lifted my sheet. My dick was flaccid but coated in my cum. I fell back in bed a mixture of revulsion and guilt making me sick. For the first time in twenty years, I’d had an orgasm by a woman other than my wife.

  3

  Bella

  I decided that the electric moment with my boss was a figment of my imagination. It was embarrassing how I turned the simple act of straightening his tie into something sensual. I really needed to get a better grip on my hormones.

  He clearly thought nothing of it. Over the next few days, he’d barely said two words to me. Even when I’d served as
the interpreter for his call to France, he said nothing more than “Thank you, Ms. Hanson.”

  By Friday morning, I brushed off the incident in the elevator as a flight of fancy brought on by a long day and too much coffee. Now that was out of the way, I focused on what I’d always done: being a great assistant.

  I hadn’t set out to be an assistant. I’d wanted to be an executive, maybe the CEO of a French company or one that had dealings with France. But when my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I focused on spending as much time with her as I could. Since I was organized and had my Bachelors in business administration, I found freelance work as a virtual assistant, and ultimately started my own virtual assistant business. For the situation I was in, it was ideal as it allowed me the flexibility to care for my mother and still earn an income.

  My mother’s illness was terminal and she told me to use the inheritance I’d receive when she passed to go back to school and earn my MBA. But losing her last year was devastating. She was all I had in the world. I never knew my father. I didn’t have siblings or aunts, uncles, or grandparents. Because my life with her was all encompassing, I didn’t have friends, and working from home meant I didn’t have coworkers. When she died, I was alone.

  Being alone in the world terrified me. At first, I hid in our little apartment, unable to do anything. As a result, my virtual assistant business faltered and I ended up having to refer my clients to other virtual assistants and close down my business.

  “You’ve got so much to give in this world, my Bella. Go out and experience it all. Do it for me.”

  Her words rang in my head day after day as I wallowed in bed and eventually, they motivated me to go out and get a job. I was hired as an administrative assistant to a low-level manager in JoXander Cosmetics. A few months later, quite by accident, I’d heard Mr. Alexander was hiring a new executive assistant. Although I had the experience, I didn’t think I’d even get an interview. I was fairly new at the company and young, much younger than the assistant I’d be replacing, who was retiring. But then I learned Mr. Alexander was hoping to expand his business’ market into France. My mother was a French teacher and had raised me to be bilingual. I put my fluency in French at the top of my resume, which got me the interview, and eventually the job. Hot interlude in the elevator or not, I believed Mr. Alexander thought I did good work.

  Merci, Mama. I thanked my mother for giving me a skill that would get me a job that allowed me to stay in New York City, and close to my original goal of working in business.

  Today, though, I found doing my work extremely difficult. Today was the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. I’d thought about taking the day off, knowing it would be hard. But her words that encouraged me to live my life drove me out of bed and to work.

  Like a machine, I threw myself into my long to-do list, using work to distract myself. But at moments I wasn’t engaged in a task, grief overwhelmed me. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I spent a lot of time in the restroom weeping and then washing the signs of my tears from my face.

  By the end of the day, I looked like a worn-out dishrag. After my latest crying jag, I returned to my office to complete one final email for the day. I hit the send button and prepared to shut my computer down.

  My phone beeped with an alert, so I checked to see what it was in case Mr. Alexander needed something. It was a text from a teacher my mother used to work with.

  Bella: Thinking of your mom today made me think of you. I hope you’re doing well.

  I burst into tears again. I’d learned to live my life, but without her, it was lonely. I had a few friends from work, but no one I was close to. I dedicated my life to helping Mr. Alexander build his business and binge-watching Netflix on the weekends.

  Geez, I wasn’t really living at all, which brought on a bigger deluge of tears.

  “Ms. Hanson?”

  I jerked up at the deep masculine voice coming from my door. “Oh… Mr. Alexander… I’m sorry…” I reached for my tissues but my box was empty.

  “What’s the matter?” His dark brows pulled together in concern as he came into my office.

  I worked to rein in my tears and pain. “I’m sorry… I’m alright.”

  “No, you’re not.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.

  I reluctantly took it. I didn’t want to get my snot on his hanky.

  “Do you need something?” he asked.

  “No. I’ll be okay, really.” I dabbed his handkerchief on my eyes.

  He frowned. “Did something happen?”

  I took a deep breath, getting my tears under control. “It’s just a difficult day.”

  “Do you often cry from a hard day at work?” He sat on the corner of my desk looking down at me in my chair.

  I gave a small laugh. “No. I’m tougher than that.”

  He didn’t buy my attempt at levity.

  Finally, I gave in and told him the truth. “Today is the first anniversary of my mother’s death. It caught me a little off guard.” I sniffed and tried to hold back the new wave of tears that threatened to fall.

  “I’m sorry. You could have taken the day off.”

  I nodded. “I thought about it, but then I figured the distraction of work would be good. Plus, there’s the French deal.” I started to sort through the files on my desk to give him my latest report. “I have some new data here—”

  “Don’t worry about that now.” His intense eyes studied me. “Anniversaries can be difficult. And birthdays and the holidays.”

  I nodded. Of course, he’d understand. He’d lost his wife. “Yes. Christmas was hard.” I didn’t get out of bed on Christmas.

  “Do you have some family you can spend time with?” he asked.

  “I’ll be okay. I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It’s very unprofessional.”

  “Hey.” He reached out and touched my shoulder. “We’re not automatons here. You can have human emotions.”

  “Thank you.” I wanted to lean into his hand for comfort. But he was my boss. He was being helpful and supportive, but I couldn’t forget that I worked for him.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Is there someone you can be with?”

  I didn’t need my boss feeling sorry for me. “I’ll just go home—”

  “Ms. Hanson… Bella.”

  I looked up at him using my first name. He’d never done that before.

  “You shouldn’t be alone.” He watched me for a moment and then said, “Why don’t we go get some dinner. You can tell me about your mom.”

  God, I wanted to do that. I wanted to do that more than anything. “Mr. Alexander, I appreciate you trying to help me, but I know you have Lily—”

  “She’s with her grandparents this weekend. Come on.” He stood and extended his hand toward the door. “Do you like Italian? Oh wait, how about French food?”

  I managed a smile. “French would be nice… my mom was a French teacher.”

  His smile was warm. “I guess that’s where you learned it. Good thing, because I can’t read French menus.”

  Most French restaurants were expensive, but he insisted on going and the truth was, I didn’t want to be alone. Who better to spend some time with than my boss who knew all about losing a loved one?

  The restaurant was a small place that my mom and I would go to when we had extra money to splurge. We ordered escargot, yes, snails with garlic and butter as an appetizer. He ordered duck while I ordered my favorite, the veal. He also ordered a bottle of wine. I wasn’t sure I should drink it. I wasn’t much of a drinker and the last thing I needed was to embarrass myself in front of my boss.

  But after the first glass, my worries lessened and after the second one, I felt very relaxed.

  “So, your mom taught French and made you learn too?” he asked as he poured me a third glass of wine. We’d finished the first bottle and were now on the second. Wine was another thing I never really understood. Sure it was okay, but how there was a whole science arou
nd it didn’t make sense. Now I was beginning to understand it a little bit because the expensive wine Mr. Alexander chose was delicious.

  “She raised me to be bilingual. For a long time, my sentences had both French and English.”

  He smiled and it was spectacular. “Like what?”

  I sat for a moment, sifting through the wine fog to remember one of my ‘Franglaise’ sentences. “I’d say things like, ‘Mama, je veux ice cream,’ which is Mom, I want ice cream.”

  “Was it hard to learn both together?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was what it was. I imagine it was easier than trying to learn a language later. Do you speak another language?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have a knack for it. I wonder though if I should have Lily learning one.”

  “The younger you are, the easier it is to learn, I think.” I lifted my glass. “To my mom. Je t’aime mama.”

  He lifted his glass and clicked with mine. “To your mom.”

  “Did your wife speak a second language?”

  The light in his eyes dimmed and I felt bad for bringing her up. But wasn’t that why we came here? To celebrate the family we’d lost?

  “She knew enough Spanish to get us lost in Spain.”

  I started to laugh, but then reined it in.

  He smiled. “It’s true and it is funny.”

  “It isn’t fair, is it Mr. Alexander, that the people we love so much were taken so early?”

  He gulped down his wine. “No. And please, call me Blake.”

  I couldn’t do that. He was my boss. “Okay, Blake.” But, oh how I enjoyed saying it.

  “Is Bella a French name?” he asked.

  “Belle is. It means beautiful. I think Bella means the same in Italian.”

  He stared at me for a moment. “It suits you.”

  My cheeks felt warm and there was no doubt they were full on red from blushing.

  “Another bottle, monsieur?” The waiter asked Blake.

  “How about champagne?” he asked. “Bella and I are celebrating.”

  “Oh?” The waiter looked at me and then him. “Birthday? Engagement perhaps.”