Boss Daddy (Hot Bosses Book 3) Page 5

  “Come in!” I call out, walking into the main room.

  The door opens just a couple of inches, and Winnie pops her head through.

  “I apologize for disturbing you, but a package arrived for you today, while you were out.” Winnie holds a medium sized box out towards me. I ordered some art supplies for my lessons with Ella, that must be what it is.

  “Oh, thank you Winnie! You’re never a disturbance.” I set the box down on my writing desk, resolving to deal with it later. For now, I have a date.

  Winnie passes me a small smile before excusing herself, closing the door once more behind her. It is time to get dressed.

  I run my palm along the hangers and hangers of soft clothes, hanging in my walk-in closet. Despite my many, many protests, Winnie has made it a habit to continue to fill the ridiculously large room. The clothes I brought to the estate are quickly becoming the minority among the racks and shelves, but right now I’m looking for one dress in particular.

  I bought it shortly after I moved to New York. At the time, I couldn't really afford it, and I had nowhere to wear it, but over the years with Bonnie, it’s seen a couple nights out. The thick crushed velvet fabric clings to my curves better than it ever has before. It is the most exquisite shade of cerulean blue, accented with deep navy hues just at the root of the small fringes. If I took my contacts out, the color would match my eyes perfectly. The fabric encases me, from my knees all the way up to the top of my cleavage. It cinches slightly at my waist, and splits into a high slit, from the top of my knee to the top of my right thigh. I pair it with translucent black tights, and black heels, perfectly matching the wool pea coat that I wrap around my shoulders. It isn’t as warm as I would be if I were wearing jeans and a sweater, but it’s something.

  With a couple swipes of mascara and lip gloss, I am ready. I don’t bother doing anything further than a good brushing with my hair. From the way Fitz kept twisting the stray strands around his fingers today, I can tell he likes it down.

  Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I am off to find Fitz. But when I arrive in the foyer, he is nowhere to be found. I stand there, waiting, for a few minutes before resolving to go look for him. I am almost positive he was ready before I was.

  Peaking in on Ella, I see no sign of him. Only a very loud showing of Frozen.

  I check the kitchen, and his suite, to no avail. I am on my way to his office when I finally bump into him, waiting patiently by the back door.

  “I couldn’t find you.” I tell him, regaining my balance after literally slamming right into his turned back, on my quest towards his office. Fitz doesn’t acknowledge my words; I’m not even sure he hears them. His eyes are glued to my lips, traveling slowly downward, as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of me in my blue dress.

  “You’re beautiful.” He breathes the compliment at me, his hands reaching into my coat to brush the sides of my waist through the cool velvet. My glossed lips spread into a grin.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I tell him. Though, frankly, that is an understatement. Fitz is more than even just handsome. He’s mouthwatering.

  He’s wearing a plain black and white suit, sans a tie, with the top button of his crisp white dress shirt left hanging open. I’m sure the suit must be more expensive than my previous rent was. With matte leather oxfords, and a long form fitting coat, he is the picture of male perfection. My mind escapes me for a moment, thinking about all the many reasons I want to skip dinner right now.

  Fitz holds out his elbow to me, motioning to the back door.

  “Are you ready?” He asks, already opening the door for me.

  “We’re eating in the garden?” My question comes out almost incredulous. Don’t get me wrong, that sounds wonderfully romantic, but maybe not practical in the cold. It’d be better off serving as a spring, or summer date.

  Fitz chuckles at me, an amused mischief swirling in the depths of his hurricane eyes. “Not exactly.” He tells me.

  I am about to question him, when he abruptly pulls me around a sharp corner, just off the deck.

  I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth in shock. How had I never noticed this before? There, resting just off the west side of the estate, sits a helicopter, on its very own helicopter pad.

  “We’re taking this?” I question him, breathless in my surprise. I’ve never been on a helicopter before, I wonder how safe it is? But then again, Fitz would never let me get on it if he didn’t think it was perfectly safe.

  “Is John flying?” I ask him, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the pilot’s seat. But when it comes into view, it is empty. I look at Fitz, waiting for an explanation.

  He grants me a lopsided smile. It is boyish, and carefree, with just a hint of mischief.

  “No.” Fitz tells me, silently waiting for me to understand. Fitz is flying?

  “You know how to fly one of these things?” I ask, sounding a bit more dumbfounded than I would have liked, admittedly.

  “Of course I do. I learned in the service.” Fitz hoists me up, helping me climb into the large deathtrap.

  I thought he was in the Marines?

  “You were in the Air Force?” I ask him, slightly confused. Mike was definitely in the Marines. I thought.

  “Not exactly.” Settling into his pilot’s seat, Fitz leans over to strap me in, pulling on the loose end of the seat buckle until he is satisfied with my security.

  “I had my own special team.” He explains, slowly, gauging my reaction. I mull over the words for a moment before it occurs to me.

  “Black ops? You were black ops? That's a real thing?”

  Fitz laughs, glancing at me in his peripheral as he nods.

  “Yes, Alex, it’s a real thing.”

  “I thought that only existed in movies.” I mutter to myself instinctively. I was hoping he hadn’t heard the dumb comment, of course, he had. Fitz chuckles to himself as he flips the switches in front of him, pulling on a lever as the blades of the chopper spring to life.

  “Huh.” I mutter, mulling over the idea of Fitz as some sort of G.I. Joe. There’s part of me that can picture it; Fitz, in all black, going on covert missions. But there’s another part of me, the part that's seen him sipping hot chocolate and building snowmen will Ella, that thinks it’s ludicrous.

  “Wait!” I suddenly realize, “does that mean Mike was too?”

  There’s no way Bonnie knows; she would have told me immediately. Bonnie has many, many wonderful qualities. The ability to keep secrets is not one of them. Fitz nods, smirking at my obvious shock in the revelation. Now that, I can't picture at all.

  “Wow.” I lament over the discovery for a moment before shaking it from my head. I’ll pepper him with questions about it later. For now, “where are we going?”

  I change the subject. Fitz doesn't take his eyes off of the sky in front of us, while I, on the other hand, am doing everything I can not to look.

  “To the city,” Fitz laughs, “you know, if you keep tensing up like that I might crash from pure distraction.”

  Reaching across the empty space, Fitz grips my hand, giving it a couple of tight, reassuring squeezes. I force my shoulders to relax, not wanting him to think that I don’t trust him.

  “You’re safe with me, Alex.” Fitz’s voice turns heavy, his eyes tearing from the sky to gaze at me, willing me to believe him. And I do. We’re suspended in the air, thousands of feet from the ground, and Fitz isn’t even paying attention to the sky in front of us, but I do.

  Chapter 11

  Alex

  When we finally arrive in the city, Fitz lands the helicopter at the top of one of the high rises. As the wind whips around us, I ask him quietly how he knew he could land here. Fitz just smirks at me, handing something off to one of the men in reflective yellow vests that greets us as we step out into the night. Suspicious, I think.

  Right inside the roof door is the entrance to a large industrial elevator. Fitz presses the button, opening it for us, and we step on. I expect the
other men to follow us, but they don’t. Instead, they hold back, attending the helicopter, passing shocked glances at Fitz, then to one another. When we step into the elevator, the logo that's painted on the far wall takes me by surprise. Simmons Enterprises.

  “Simmons?” I ask him, my attention plastered to the logo. He looks at me almost incredulously.

  “Didn’t you ever wonder where my money came from?”

  I turn back around to him. Huh. I guess I didn’t. I suppose that explains the stranger at the snow lodge, who wanted to take Fitz’s picture.

  “You own this?” I make a broad motion with my arms, referring to the building, and the company.

  “My grandfather founded it. Left it to my father, who left it to me. One day, it will all be Ella’s. I tend to work from home.”

  I scoff at him. Tend to? I don’t think I’ve ever been aware of him making a trip into the city, but then again, before a few nights ago he was never really vocal about his daily plans and whereabouts.

  “I’m kind of surprised. I thought you would have googled me by now.” Fitz jokes, nudging my shoulder. We laugh in unison, he’s right. I’d thought about it a couple times, but I’d hate for him to learn about my past from the internet, so I wanted to give him the same courtesy.

  “I wanted to hear about your life from you, not from gossip magazines.”

  “Well, I don’t know how many gossip magazines I’ve been in, it’s mostly just the business section. Although, I’m sure that picture from today will make its way around.”

  The thought strikes me. What does he mean by around? Could it make it all the way to Virginia? Even if it did, would anyone even recognize me? I tell myself they wouldn’t. I barely recognize me anymore.

  Fitz studies me so intently; I swear he can see the wheels turning in my head. I open my mouth to say something. What, I don’t know. I feel like I should come clean, tell him the truth. But I don’t know if I should risk it, and even if I wanted to, I don't think I could force the words out of my mouth anyway.

  As if he could read my mind, Fitz wraps his arm around me, his hand resting on the small of my back, and leans in to whisper in my ear as the elevator doors glide open in front of us.

  “We’ll both learn everything we need to know in time. For now, let’s just be here.”

  His words are hot on my neck, warming away the previous chill that resided there, a remnant of the night.

  I nod at him, grateful. Stepping out of the lift, Fitz navigates us through the storage room and out a secret door into the lobby.

  It is then, that I realize where we are. I thought Fitz was wealthy, but now I see that doesn’t quite cover it. His building sits right in front of Rockefeller Center. Through the large windows of the lobby, I can see hundreds of people gathered to see the tree.

  My walk slows, my neck instinctively craning as I strain to catch a glimpse of the magnificent tree.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll come back to it.” Fitz assures me.

  “Sorry, I just wanted a peek.” I giggle, my face going slightly red with his seemingly uncanny ability to read my thoughts. “So where are we going now?” I ask.

  “Well, I did invite you to dinner. I thought it might be rather rude if I don’t end up actually feeding you.” I chuckle at his sarcastic response, amazed. I search his face, but there isn’t a single trace of the man that I met the day I came to interview. This man is light, and sweet.

  “It is the customary thing to do.”

  Chapter 12

  Fitz

  I lead Alex down a couple of dimly lit side streets, to my favorite restaurant in the city. The little hole in the wall café opened here when I had just graduated college. I was living in the city for the first time, and barely ever had time to leave the office. Thank god they delivered.

  When we step through the nondescript French doors, the familiar smell attacks my senses, making my mouth water in anticipation.

  “Fitz Simmons is that you!” Marie, one of the owners, exclaims from the back of the restaurant. Marie was like a mother to me when I was younger, always peppering me with questions about my love life and asking if I’d been eating enough. I spent more family dinners at her house, than I ever did at my own. She has a habit of rolling my name together as one, always making quips about my parents and their obscure naming tactics. A pang of regret hits me, I haven’t been here since Jo.

  Releasing Alex’s hand, I bend down to pull Marie into a long hug.

  “It’s been too long,” I tell her, “how are you?”

  “Ah!” Marie’s thick Italian accent pours from her lips intentionally over dramatic, “I might be a bit better, huh, if my son would come to visit me more often?”

  I laugh, despite my guilt, and squeeze her closer to me.

  “Son?” Alex asks, clear confusion plastered on her face.

  “Oh and who is this? You’re a pretty one?” Marie grips Alex’s soft cheeks in her hands, squeezing them for punctuation, eliciting a bright smile from those perfect lips.

  “Alex, this is Marie.” I motion towards the short woman, currently grabbing her face, “she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mom. Mom, this is Alex.”

  I stop myself mid-sentence – would Alex think it was weird if I called her my girlfriend? I’ve been out of the dating game for a while now, but I’m sure I have to formally ask, right?

  “It’s lovely to meet you.” Alex grins at Marie, taking her hand as she leads us to our table.

  When Alex is seated, Marie pinches my arm, and I lean down to hear whatever it is she wants to whisper.

  “The most private seat in the house. Hold on to this one tight, yes? She’s beautiful.” I laugh, passing a short thank you and a kiss on the cheek to the bold woman, before taking my seat beside Alex.

  In the small corner booth, our thighs brush together under the table, teasing me. Alex has discarded her jacket now, and despite the respectably high cut of her dress, the outline of her chest makes my heart beat faster. I long to touch her skin, with nothing separating us.

  “She’s sweet.” Alex comments lightly, clearly hoping for more of a explanation.

  “My mother left my father when I was really young. Until I met Marie, I had never known what it was like to have a Mom.” I explain, “she hasn’t met Ella yet.”

  Alex narrows her eyes at me, not chastising, but instead scrutinizing. I know that she wants to know more about Jo, but I’m just not ready to talk about it yet, and she wouldn’t want me to. I asked John to stop digging into her past, and he did, but something tells me that, whatever she’s running from, she understands the desire to bury your past.

  We move to lighter topics, Ella, the snowy weather, the city versus the country. It’s been so long since I’ve done this, I thought I might be out of practice, hell, I definitely am. But with Alex, none of that matters.

  The conversation flows freely, with only the occasional comfortable silence mowing over the table. By the time we have finished our meal, I feel like I’ve known her for years, and her me. There’s just something about her, something so warm. It makes me want to wrap myself in her, and live there forever. And I fully intend to do that. Night has fallen heavy over the city, and it’s time for her surprise.

  I pay, making sure to leave a generous tip, and kiss Marie goodbye. She only let me leave with the promise that I will come back with Ella sometime soon. Alex and her suspiciously exchanged numbers; I wanted to intervene, but they seemed so warm around each other, I couldn’t. Though, with Marie’s pension for storytelling, I’m sure that will come back to bite me in the ass later. I have more than my fair share of embarrassing memories from my twenties.

  Resting my palm on the soft curve of Alex’s back, we step out into the night.

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  Dinner was absolutely incredible. The authentic Italian dishes were only punctuated more so by Marie. As we left, she passed me her number and made me promise to call. The promise wasn’t necessary though, I
definitely would be calling. The way Fitz glanced back and forth between the two of us, pure, unfiltered horror on his beautiful face, I’m sure Marie has many embarrassing stories stored in her brain.

  But the food, and the new friends, were nothing compared to Fitz. There’s an air about him. Something so commanding, but sweet. Fitz’s strength doesn’t intimidate me; it makes me feel safe. Like I know he’ll protect me from anything.

  Now, we are walking through Rockefeller Center, back into the lobby of his building. Fitz doesn’t bother scanning in, instead nodding to the security guard as we pass through the metal detectors unstopped.

  “It’s late enough that no one will be in the offices. Come on, I want to show you something.” Fitz pulls me into one of the main elevators, pressing a button to close the door.

  I am suddenly very aware of just how alone we are. His eyes are glued to me, and in them dances something dark and mischievous. Fitz lazily runs a stray finger up and down my ribcage, tracing the seam of my dress.

  I shift on my feet, unsure what to say, or if I should say anything at all.

  As if on cue, the elevator dings, signaling we have reached our destination. Fitz steps out, turning to hold the door open, but blocks my way as I try to follow him.

  “First,” he says, “you have to close your eyes.”

  “What, why?” Old familiar nerves rise in me for a split second before I shake them away, reminding myself that this is Fitz. He would never do anything to hurt me. I comply, without waiting for him to answer my question. Fitz wraps an arm around me, guiding me while my eyes are pinched shut.