Page 67 of Corporate Escapades

“I’m not sure I actually deserve any of this.”

“Act like you do,” Mya replied with the shake of her finger. “Anyway, I have to go. I'm heading to a dinner meeting this evening at Cristo’s request.”

“Why?” asked Paris. “That's not normal, is it?”

“I don’t care to discuss it at this time,” Mya replied. “Watch your own bobber,” she said with a half smile.

“I know you think you’re being cute, but that doesn’t change my concern,” said Paris. “Before you go, what are the other condos like?”

“Chase and I have smaller balconies with loungers and a table and chair set—no hot tub. My apartment is navy blue, tan, and brown. Chase’s is in greys and blues. Our bathrooms are similar. So are the bedrooms. We have whirlpool tubs, but I’m sure a certain bestie will invite me over to sit in her hot tub. All of it’s a similar style, but size and colors vary. Vic’s place is just like yours, but his patio has a built-in grilling area and a small gas fire pit with Adirondack chairs surrounding it. The colors and décor, of course, are different as well. Oh, and his cabinets are solid mahogany without glass. Chase’s are the same style, but mine are like yours.”

“Cool,” replied Paris. “Okay, you can go, I guess.”

“We’ll chat later,” she said as she headed for the door. As Mya exited, she called over her shoulder. “Paris, I love you like a sister. Never forget.”

Paris smiled at Mya’s statement, then wandered back through her new home and flopped down on her settee. Her heart felt lighter because of the new apartment, but her brain reverted to thoughts about Vic and the situation with Tom. Feeling conflicted, she didn’t know who to trust.

“Good evening, Mya. You look lovely,” said Cristo. As requested, Mya presented herself

in a short black cocktail dress, short black gloves, black and white stiletto heels, and carried a black and white Gucci clutch, which Cristo had sent to her office as a gift earlier that day. She wore her straight red hair puffed and gathered at the back of her head with a silver floral clip.

Mya barely acknowledged Cristo as she climbed into the backseat of his long white stretch limo. Cristo climbed in behind her, and his driver closed them in. Scooting over, he situated himself across from her. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No. I’m good.” She watched him tentatively. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a green vest. His short blonde hair was spiked as usual. He noticed her staring. “I chose the green to match your eyes,” he admitted.

That particular bit of information made Mya feel slightly uncomfortable. What were they doing? “You know I don’t want to be here, right?” she asked. “We haven’t discussed things properly. I told you I wouldn’t be joining you for these intimate meetings. This goes against who I am.”

“Come on now,” he said with a light air. “Of course, you don’t mean that. We’ve worked together for many years and always without an issue. This is just a silly game between us.” He grinned. “I’m the cat. You’re the mouse. You say no, but you really mean yes. We do this all the time, you and I.”

“No, Cristo, we don’t. This is something entirely different. I can’t be with you the way you want me to,” she added and frowned back at him. “This is crossing a line.”

“This is our thing,” he replied adamantly. “Stop playing with me!” he snapped, and then more softly, “This is our thing.” Myathought his final statement was more to convince himself. She shook her head at him. “I need you to be on your best behavior,” he stated. “I need you to present yourself like a debutante, and hang on my every word because I need this client to see me in an adoring relationship, or they’ll leave the company. I assured them that I had an amazing partner and that she’d dazzle them. Please, just make me proud,” he begged. “This is simply a different type of game, okay?”

Arriving at the restaurant, Cristo and Mya exited the car and proceeded inside. Her arm in his, he guided her to the table, and pulling out her chair, he helped her get settled. The client was not yet there but would arrive at any moment. Cristo ordered himself a glass of sparkling wine, and Mya a sparkling water with strawberries and lemon.

Theresa and Marco Perez arrived five minutes later. They were a beautiful couple who clearly adored one another. They’d chosen a dinner meeting to further plan a quinceañera for their daughter, Amrita, which is why they wanted someone family-oriented heading up their account. Cristo had conveniently told them that he and Mya were expecting their first child. Mrs. Perez was ecstatic, and much to Mya’s dismay, the remainder of her evening was filled with all forms of ‘baby talk’ while the men discussed money and the different aspects of the party.

At the close of dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Perez thanked Cristo and Mya for a fantastic evening from the bottom of their hearts. Mrs. Perez added that she was pleased to have met Mya and that Mya would be an exceptional mother. Once the couple was out of sight, Mya could feel her face redden as she followed Cristo from the restaurant. She felt like a fraud.

“How could you do this to me?” she demanded. “How could you do this to them or the company? Lying to clients. You’ve stooped to a new low, Cristo.”

“You were wonderful this evening,” he replied, ignoring her angry outburst. “The evening went as anticipated.”

“This is not a game I want to be a part of.” It was possible she was angrier than warranted. But pretending they were together and with child? What was he thinking?

“You’re being dramatic,” he replied confidently. “There’s no harm in a little white lie now and then.”

“Cristo, this isn’t a white lie. It’s a major lie. Do you get that? It’s straight-up a lie.”

Cristo slid closer to her and reached for her hand. She yanked it away and scooted further from him. “Don’t be like that,” he said and moved closer. “I know you want this. I can feel that you do,” he said with confidence.

Mya wondered if he’d suffered a recent brain trauma. “Don’t you dare come any closer,” she replied. They were not a couple. He had no right to put her in such a compromised position.

“Or what?” he asked coyly. Reaching out, he touched her face.

“Apples!” she declared and slapped his hand away.

Cristo’s expression changed to shock. “You’re serious? Fine. You win.” He scooted away from her and said nothing the rest of the ride home, a distant look in his eyes and a frown creasing his lips.

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