Boss Daddy (Hot Bosses Book 3) Page 3

  “Tell him I say hi!” The call cuts off in the middle of my sentence, oh well. I’ll try again tomorrow.

  Bonnie has been calling me every night since I got here, checking in, giving me updates on Mike and Luke, and how boring the city is without me. As much as I adore her for staying in touch, the calls always leave me feeling sad and left out, wishing I could be back in my tiny apartment, five minutes away from my friends.

  I’ve been swimming every night to pass the time, and to stave of the jitters that come with living in the quiet countryside.

  Tossing my cell phone on the bed, I tie the sash of my concealing fuzzy robe and take off towards the pool room.

  The warm water eases my muscles as I step into it, seeping into the thick peach colored fabric of my bikini with each inch I descend into the clear blue warmth. There’s something so peaceful about being under water; like you’ve entered a whole other world, one that's entirely your own.

  I open my eyes from beneath the surface, just in time to see a tall figure jump into the deep end, rippling the water around me. Pushing off the bottom, I break the surface, rising to identify the intruder.

  His thick black hair is water-slicked backwards, giving me an unobstructed view of his eyes in the glow of the pool lights. From my proximity, I can see they’re actually gray. Deep, swirling gray; like a hurricane at night.

  “Fitz! I’m sorry, I didn’t think anybody would be in here.” Wiping the chlorine water from my eyes, I sputter the words, suddenly very aware of our mutual lack of clothing.

  He lets out a short laugh, the sound feeling unfamiliar in my ears. “It felt like a good night for a swim. Sorry to disturb you.”

  “No, it’s no disturbance, really.” Though I mutter the platitude, I am at a loss for words. A pointed silence falls over the room; if he feels the tension, though, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he wades towards me, a small smile spread on his full lips.

  “I’m glad I found you, actually,” Fitz mutters, his eyes falling to my lips. I lick them instinctively, paddling backwards just enough so that my feet hit the bottom of the pool.

  “Why?” The question tumbles from my lips, and I study him intently, waiting for him to answer.

  Fitz is silent for a moment, his eyes lingering on my pouted lips for a few impossibly long seconds before reluctantly rising to meet my own. He doesn’t answer my question, instead asking one of his own.

  “Would you like to accompany me for a walk?”

  “A walk?” I am dumbfounded. This is the longest conversation we’ve had since the day I interviewed, why does he want me to go on a walk with him?

  “Okay,” my mouth agrees before my mind finishes mulling over the idea, “I just have to change first. I don’t want to freeze.” I tell him.

  Fitz nods his agreement, his wet locks dripping down his barely wrinkled face.

  “Meet me in the foyer, in twenty?”

  I nod at his request, swimming towards the edge of the pool to lift myself out of the warm depths. As I do, I am acutely aware of his eyes on me. I’m not stupid, or oblivious. I know the way the thin fabric of the bathing suit clings to my wet skin. I suddenly feel out of place in my own body, wanting to squirm and cover up. Instead, I force myself to move at a slow and steady pace as I retrieve my towel, wrapping it around my body. I don’t want him to see my discomfort. It is only after he is fully finished observing my revealing exit from the water, that Fitz follows suit, his strong arms pulling him onto the concrete in one swift move.

  I turn back once before exiting the steamy pool room, meeting Fitz’s dark eyes. They are glinting with some undecipherable emotion. It is somewhere between mischief and adoration. My whole body burns beneath the piercing gaze.

  Chapter 6

  Fitz

  Watching Alex pull herself from the pool nearly fucking killed me. Honestly.

  The light peach, barely-there fabric of her swimsuit became translucent and wrinkled under the weight of the warm water, leaving only the smallest trace of her to my imagination.

  I waited a few moments after her exit to make my own, trying desperately to keep the evidence of my affections out of sight. As I watched her, I could see that almost imperceptible flash of discomfort on her face, her smooth skin raising in goosebumps under the cold air and my burning gaze. She never wavered, though. Her chin remained high, and her shoulders squared.

  I didn’t think I’d come to feel so strongly for this mystery woman. Initially, I was just curious. I wanted to help the sweet teacher who was running from her past. Over the last few weeks, that desire grew into something else; something a bit more selfish.

  Seeing the way Ella lights up when Alex is in the room, and vice versa, I can’t help but swell with adoration for Alex. Ella is different with her, unlike she is with anyone else – there’s an ease in her laughter that I’ve never noticed before. It isn’t just that, though. It’s Alex herself – or Emily, or whatever her name is.

  She brings a light to my somber home, that hasn’t been here since Jo died. It’s tangible. Even Rosemary and Winnie act slightly different; like they’re no longer worried, buckling under the weight of our collective grief. I’ve avoided Alex as much as I can bear to, not wanting to complicate our relationship or risk her leaving, but yesterday when I saw her in the hallway, I couldn’t help myself. After I caught her checking me out, I figured one little walk couldn’t drastically change things, right?

  Rounding one of the corners off of the main hallway, I turn into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. My hair is already starting to dry, but I need to change into much warmer clothing if I want to show Alex everything I’ve prepared for her.

  Throwing on a simple all black outfit of jeans and a sweater, I shrug a wool coat over my shoulders before heading down to the foyer, my chest bubbling in excitement to see her again.

  Chapter 7

  Alex

  I stop dead in my tracks when I see Fitz. He arrived in the foyer just a moment before I did. From my hidden place around the corner of the far wall, I can safely take him in without fear of being caught like yesterday.

  He is exquisite, really. Like something I’d pulled straight out of “GQ” or “Vogue.” His all black outfit stretches and clings to his impossibly muscular figure, tempting my rogue fingers to reach out and caress him. I wonder briefly what his skin would feel like beneath my own. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for whatever he has planned on this walk.

  “Shall we?” Fitz’s smile lights up when he sees me, his eyes washing over me slowly, deliberately. We almost match, save for the fact that my jeans are blue, and his are black.

  “You’ll freeze like that, hold on.” Motioning to my ungloved hands, Fitz raises a finger to me, approaching a small closet off the foyer I hadn’t notice until now. He disappears through the doorway, rooting around for a moment before reappearing with a full winter set, hat, gloves, and a scarf. Were they his wife’s?

  I reach out to grab them from him, but he ignores the gesture. Instead, he approaches me, only stopping when he is close enough that our chests brush together with each breath I take. Fitz wraps the thick, cable knit scarf around my neck, tucking it to cover every inch of the sensitive exposed skin there.

  “Hands.” He orders me gently, holding out one glove, then the next, slipping them over my small hands in smooth practiced motions. Did he used to do this for his wife?

  Finally, he pulls the knit hat over my head, laughing a bit at the ridiculously oversized pom-pom that adorns the top. Tugging on the edges, to make sure my ears are cover, Fitz lets out a thick sigh, satisfied with a job well done.

  “I think that should be good.” I smile, thanking him for the winter wear, looping my arm around his own offered elbow. This should feel weird, I think to myself, but it doesn’t.

  For early December the night is cold in a shocking sort of way, the kind where it just hits you and it doesn't stop. The wind rouses the dead leaves around my feet, swirling them in the snowy air as we pass d
own the slate–paved deck towards the ornately landscaped grounds. The deep black sky consumed the stars like it was hungry, leaving us illuminated in only the moonlight as we walk further down the path. I don’t mind. Letting my eyes drift closed, I breath in the cool air, marveling at the feeling of the cool snowflakes landing on my exposed cheeks. There is something so refreshing about the cold. I can feel my fingers slowly chilling to the point where it’s painful to move them; curling them into my palm, I drift closer to Fitz. He is watching me intently, his pace slowed from its normal haste to match my own.

  “Don’t you just love the snow?” I ask. It was one of those questions that isn't really a question, I was trying to break the silence, to coax some explanation from his lips. Why are we out here?

  As we descend the last set of stairs, we are left standing just at the edge of the large and posh garden. Letting go of my arm, Fitz motions for me to hold on for a moment. He disappears behind the rail of the stairs, playing with something along the wall.

  I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but before the words can form on my tongue, the answer illuminates me, literally.

  Slipping a plug into an outside socket, hidden in the stone wall, Fitz lights up the entire garden. Each bush, tree, and path is wrapped in thick golden-white string lights, reflecting off the crisp, undisturbed snow like something out of a movie. Down the path, in the center of the display, is one of the biggest Christmas trees I’ve ever seen. Its entire height is wrapped with lights of all colors, twinkling in the golden light. At the top sits a giant star that is just as grand as any star that has ever appeared on the tree in Rockefeller Center.

  A low gasp escapes my lips as my jaw goes slack and my eyes widen. I can feel him watching me. I know I should turn and thank him, but I can’t get myself to tear my eyes away from the sight before me. It is exquisite.

  “You did all this for me?” The sentence comes out somewhere between a question and a statement, sheer disbelief coating the words.

  “I want you to feel at home here. I don’t want you longing for somewhere else.” Fitz explains, his eyes boring into me, and his chest swelling with obvious pride. He is referring to our conversation from yesterday. I finally manage to pull my gaze away from the festive and romantic display, turning to meet his eyes.

  “Fitz I—“ I am at a loss for words. How do I even begin to thank him? “This is incredible. I love it. Thank you.”

  My eyes begin to well without permission. I quickly turn back towards the lights, hoping that he didn't see the unexpected reaction. Taking a few steps forward, I twirl around impulsively, a carefree laugh gracing the air around me. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so freely. Fitz’s own laughter joins mine as he approaches me, gripping my hand in his own and twirling me around through the snow filled air. I crash into his hard grip, melting into him like cold ice on a warm day. His grip lowers to my waist and we sway like this, quasi dancing, for several minutes, our eyes locked.

  Fitz leans towards me in a long-suspended moment, his grey orbs landing on my pinkened lips, a silent request. I don’t answer him, instead rising on my tippy toes to meet him halfway.

  His lips brush mine with impossibly light pressure. I am almost unsure if it’s him, or just more snowflakes. After a short moment of hesitation, he deepens the kiss, pulling me into his flat muscled body. Despite the cold, his lips are warm and smooth, expertly coaxing me more and more into him.

  I allow my hands to drift up, my fingers tangling in his thick hair, massaging his scalp as I try desperately to pull him closer into me.

  Panting, Fitz pulls away from me for a moment. He rests his forehead on mine, the skin between his brows furrowing into a deeply pained expression. That tugs on my heart more than I would have thought.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just… I haven’t since my wife.” Fitz explains in a low voice, murmuring to me as his hands rise to caress the skin behind my ears. I grip his wrists in an ensuring embrace.

  “It’s okay, Fitz.”

  A ghost of a smile graces his lips.

  “Call me that again.” He orders.

  “Fitz.” I comply, his name coming out like a whisper on my lips, sweet and light. Fitz’s chest heaves against my own.

  “I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

  “I like the taste of your name on my lips.” I’m not sure what spurred my bold response, but it felt right. It was true. I like the taste of him, period. His name is just the cherry on top. Fitz groans at my admission, pulling me into him once more, in a bruising kiss. It is different from the last one, less inquisitive. This kiss is desperate. Hard and slow, the way doomed lovers kiss before death.

  “I should be a gentleman. Walk you to your room, say goodnight.” Fitz declares. I can’t tell if he’s explaining to me, or trying to convince himself. I nod at him for a moment, our breath mixing in the cool air.

  “You don’t have to be.”

  Fitz’s eyes meet my own in a moment of pure wonderment, before they fill with steely resolve.

  “Perhaps tomorrow we could have dinner together? After Ella goes to bed?”

  “That sounds lovely.” I agree, knowing that I’ve lost tonight’s battle. Fitz is going to be a gentleman. I have a feeling he is always a gentleman.

  Holding out his elbow to me once more, he brushes a light and innocent kiss at my temple, before leading the way back to the house.

  My fingers and toes tingle and burn under the stark change in temperature as we walk through the double French doors at the back of the house. We don’t bother being polite and putting our winter gear away, instead both kicking off our thick boots and dropping our other effects on the bench at the back door. I make a mental note to myself to try to wake up before Winnie tomorrow, so I can get to them and clean the evidence away before she realizes what happened.

  Fitz leads me up the two grand staircases that lead to my suite, and down the hallway. He comes to a hard stop just outside my door. I want to ask him to come inside, but I know that it is pointless.

  “Tonight was amazing,” I tell him. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”

  The admission comes out sounding smaller than I’d expected. The words fill my heart with a familiar, deep shame. Will Fitz still want me when he finds out the truth?

  His brow furrows, clearly not pleased to hear it. “It was my pleasure Alex. You deserved it.”

  I lift my gaze, meeting his eyes. I am sure he can see the shock and curiosity in my own. What makes him think that? I don’t utter the question, though I am suddenly dying for an answer. Fitz presses a kiss to my forehead, and bids me goodnight.

  “Goodnight, Fitz.” I respond to him, twisting the handle behind me and disappearing into my suite quickly, so that I don’t have to watch him walk away.

  Chapter 8

  Alex

  The rain falls heavy from the sky, pelting the windshield with unforgiving, thick droplets. Her headlights do almost nothing to illuminate the twists and turns of the wooded backroads she takes away from their home. Her front seat is littered with forgotten items from the years past. She really should have sent someone else to pick them up, after she’d made her escape. After she was nothing to him, but a whisper in the wind. The skin over her knuckles turns a pale white as she tightens her ten-and-two grip on the wheel. His voice was like boiled honey when he yelled, accused her of misdeeds and mistruths. Afterwards, he let her lay there, for a while, before sitting on the floor beside her, drunkenly slurring. His apathetic tone gave away his hollow apologies, filled with entitlement. It was as if he was baffled she hadn’t forgiven him yet. The potency of her anger clouds her other senses as she flies across the slick asphalt. She’s going fast. Too fast. Somewhere off in the distance, there’s a loud and threatening vibration. He’s calling out to her, trying to get to her. He knows. A screech, a crash, and a flip. She is upside down.

  Her body felt impossibly heavy as she tried to adjust to the sudden shift in orientation. Her ears
rang impossibly loud. Lips trembling, and eyes burning, she tried to keep her tears at bay. She could hear her phone vibrating somewhere in the car, but she couldn't find it through her obscured vision. Then, sirens. Muffled by the ringing but there all the same. Still suspended, she craned her neck, the muscles stretched and screamed at her. Her eyes blurred with tears but sure enough there was a mirage of flashing colored lights, somewhere on the blurry stretch of road, coming for her, just like he was.

  I wake with a heavy start, my eyes forcing open despite my tiredness. Forcing their way out of the torturous dream. It is warm, too warm. I can feel the familiar sting of sunshine on my bare skin. My eyes begrudgingly drift open, dry and resentful that the day has already arrived. I desperately want to go back to sleep, but my skin is slicked with sweat from the heat of the sunshine protruding through the large window directly across from my bed. I still haven’t quite figured out how to fix that minor inconvenience, instead resigning to every other day sheet changes, and morning showers.

  As I adjust to the morning light, I try to shake the remnants of the dream away from me. It isn’t real anymore. It will never happen again. But the weight on my chest does not subside, and with my sudden consciousness settles the new, uneasy feeling that filled me as soon as Fitz disappeared down the hall last night. Had I made a mistake? Did I cross a line? What will happen when Fitz learns the truth?

  As much as I hadn’t expected to love it here, I really do. Ella and I have grown inseparable, and I don’t want to risk losing her. What if Fitz and I start something, and it doesn’t work out?

  As much as I want to lay in bed and ignore the world, and overthink for the rest of the day, I can't ignore my bladder.

  After a while, I wriggle out from under the plush duvet cover, making my way towards the bathroom. The room quickly earned its place as my favorite in the entire house. I’ve spent most nights here soaking in the lavish tub before retiring to bed. The slate tile floors are heated on a timer, and they are warm against my forever cold feet as I enter the threshold, closing the sliding doors behind me.