Page 47 of Bossing My Holiday
BRAXTON
I’m kind of secretly dying a bit. I can’t stop smiling. And occasionally laughing. Waverly has been blushing all through breakfast, hardly able to meet Tristan’s mom’s gaze. What that woman was doing coming into Tristan’s apartment, I have no clue. And I couldn’t help or intercept her, even when I heard the front door open and close and her heels on the herringbone floor.
After all, I was naked in my bed with my dick in my hand, listening across the apartment to Tristan fuck Waverly.
Waverly also has trouble meeting my eyes. I can tell she doesn’t know what to make of the situation she’s found herself in, and though Tristan and I have both hinted at it, we haven’t fully explained ourselves to her either. That needs to change.
But for now…
“I’m simply saying we understand what grown-ups do in their bedrooms during their private time,” his mother says as she lathers a baguette with jam. “It’s perfectly normal.”
“Though in my day, we waited until marriage for such things,” his grand-mère picks up between hits of oxygen.
“Yes, well, it’s a bit too soon for all of that,” his father states emphatically.
“I don’t see why. Tristan needs to be married, and if they’re already having sex, then marriage should be part of the discussion,” Grand-mère argues.
Waverly is staring at her plate, looking like she’s about to throw up. Tristan has his hand over his eyes as he sips his coffee.
“This is ridiculous,” Tristan grumbles. “We’re not discussing marriage or my sex life. I’m thirty-four. Thirty-four-year-old men have sex. And furthermore, they don’t have their mothers walking into their apartment at seven thirty in the morning.”
“I was simply coming in to see if you were going to want breakfast with us.”
“That’s what phones are for.”
“You didn’t pick up because you were busy.”
“Then a text would have been sufficient, and I would have called you back.”
“Waverly is lovely, but they haven’t been together all that long, and she’s American,” his father states flatly.
“So am I,” his mother retorts.
“Yes, my darling, but you moved to Paris. I don’t believe Waverly is looking to do that. This can’t be more than a fling for him when he knows Ouest Hotels is based here in Paris and he’s looking to expand his company here as well.”
If I thought Waverly was blushing before, that has nothing on her now.
“Stop talking about this, or we’ll leave and stay elsewhere,” Tristan exclaims.
“Not over Christmas, you won’t,” his grandmother deadpans before she says something in French I only catch half of. My French is good but not great, and that woman speaks fast when she’s upset. Something along the lines of there being noopen hotel rooms in the city and that he should propose to Waverly.
“Sex and marriage are perfectly natural things to talk about, dear,” his mother declares.
“Not over breakfast and not with my parents and grandmother and not with my girlfriend present. You’re embarrassing her, not to mention disrespectful, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m fine,” Waverly offers softly.
Tristan leans over and whispers something in her ear that I can’t hear, but it makes her grin and giggle lightly.
I slip my hand beneath the table and rest my palm on her thigh. She’s wearing a skirt, which is a dangerous weapon since we’re set to meet the Smithfield team in an hour. If we weren’t, Tristan and I wouldn’t make it out of the building with her.
Her gaze pulls up to me. The worry in her brow is unmistakable, and it does something wild and protective to my insides. I learned at a young age that love isn’t always beautiful. It has the power to rip out your insides and leave you hollow. And when it does that to you, especially at a young age, you turn your back on it.
There’s no trust in love. Not after it betrays you like that.
That’s how I’ve lived my life.
Then two years ago a woman with dark hair and silver eyes walked into my office, and it was like Cupid took aim and made a direct hit. I fought it for two years. She worked for Tristan, and I kept my distance for the most part, watching and interacting and flirting only when I got to the point of desperation and needed a fix.
