Page 22 of Bossing My Holiday
“She’s our assistant. We can’t have this with her and have that and have them be separate.”
He snickers. “You’re so fucking rigid. Everything to you is black and white. She’s not Dianna. She’s not any of those women your mother is trying to set you up with. If she were, she would have taken the five hundred grand without batting an eye. You can have something real. We both can. And maybe, just maybe, she’s the one we can have it with.”
He stands, polishes off the last of his drink, and goes over to her cabin. Both of our curtains are open, and I watch as he talks to her for a minute, smiling and laughing and touching her cheek and hair. He says goodnight and kisses her forehead, and she blushes, her teeth sinking into her lip as he turns and walks away, only for her to realize I’m watching.
Her lips part, unlocking that plump bottom lip, and her eyes go wide.
“Are you good?” I ask, not addressing what I just saw or the fact that she knows I did.
“I’m good.”
“Are we good?”
She tilts her head. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”
I climb out of my seat and into her cabin and take the seat across from her, leaning forward and dropping my elbows to my thighs.
“Do you have questions for me?”
“So many I hardly know where to begin.”
I chuckle lightly, but it falls flat quickly. “I don’t know a lot about you.”
“Don’t worry. I know nearly everything about you. There isn’t a whole lot to my story. I grew up with my grandmother outside of Boston, went to school in Boston, graduated, bounced around between a few jobs in search of something that paid well, and found you.”
“What body lotion do you wear?”
“What?” she breathes.
“Body lotion. I know it’s not perfume. It’s vanilla, but it’s something else too.”
A light blush curls up her cheeks. “It’s called Sugared Fantasy.”
I smile. “I like it. Tell me something else.”
“I want your mom and grandmother to like me, but it wouldbe better if they didn’t. I’m worried they’ll think I’m a gold digger and not good enough.”
My chest pinches, and I climb out of my seat and drop to my knees in front of her. And because I need to get used to this and so does she, and fucking Brax just did it, I reach up and drag my fingertips along her cheek, taking in the beautiful lines of her face and studying her gray eyes and how they glow more silver in this light. Her breath hitches, and I inch closer, wanting more of it.
“The women my mother and grandmother are trying to set me up with? They’re the gold diggers. Not you. They’re not a tenth of you, and you are more than enough. You’re incredible.”
“I’m worried this will get complicated.”
“I’m worried about that too. We’ll need to communicate with each other. Not as Mr. Ouest and Waverly, my assistant, but as Waverly and Tristan. I’ll need you to be honest with me always, and no matter what, nothing you say or do will hurt your job.”
My fingers slide down the slope of her neck to her delicate collarbones.
“We should get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow, and jet lag can be no joke.”
She gulps and nods, her voice tremulous as she whispers, “Good night, Tristan.”
I lean in and brush my lips along the corner of hers up to her cheek. “Good night, Waverly.”
I rise and head to my cabin, closing the curtain and getting myself ready for sleep. I even manage a few hours, waking before they come around with breakfast trays and coffee.
The office is officially closed, but Christmas Eve isn’t until later this week. The Smithfield deal is under final arrangements, including our onsite visit to the lab and office. My attorney promises to have the contracts ready for signature by January second if we give him the go-ahead by the twenty-seventh. But once the deal is inked, that’s when all the work really begins. It’s an enormous undertaking to take control of an entire company. A large company at that. One that’s in Paris while we’re in Boston.
So I force myself to get some work done instead of thinking about what these next two weeks could be like.
