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I peek beneath the covers. I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday, minus the cardigan and my slippers.
He put me to bed, then.
I groan, pulling the comforter over my head. He was sick and still he’d done that.
I’m in over my head.
He’d given me something last night I never thought I’d get. An apology and an insight into why he is the way he is.
I think of him traveling alone with his grandfather to cities all around the world, and then left to his own devices while meetings were being held. I think of a man who had no idea how to raise a grieving grandson, but stepped up to do his best. A son who lost everything and learned to play by his grandfather’s rules.
I take a quick shower beneath the rainfall showerhead and wrap my fluffy purple robe around myself. I look in the mirror and see bright eyes, clean skin, and wet, towel-dried hair.
And then I plod out to the hallway in search of my sick, CEO husband.
He’s not in his bedroom. The door is half-open and I peek inside, but it’s empty, the bed made in exact precision.
He’s not downstairs either. Not in his office, not in the gym, not on the balcony. I even check the two spare guest bedrooms. But nothing.
I grab my phone. The last text I’d sent had been the address to Nadine’s gallery for the opening. It feels like ages ago.
We’d been two completely different people then.
Cecilia:Don’t you dare tell me you’re at work. With how sick you were last night, you should be in bed.
I don’t expect a response, but the words need to be said. So I’m surprised when my phone chimes ten minutes later.
Victor:You know, you’re considerably more bossy than I used to think.
It’s easy to imagine the glint in his blue eyes when he wrote those words. He’s flirting back with me.
Cecilia:You’re deflecting. And thank you. Seeing as how I’m now my own boss, I take that as a compliment.
Victor:You should. Yes, I’m at work. I had a number of meetings that couldn’t be changed and I felt better this morning.
Thirty seconds later, my phone chimes again, and this time I chuckle.
Victor:I also don’t know why I’m justifying my actions to you. If you’re your own boss, then so am I. Get to work changing those numbers, Myers.
Cecilia:You sound like you need to pet a cow.
Victor:I can think of much better ways to relieve stress.
My stomach clenches at the innocent string of words. I imagine them in his voice, the dark, low tone that brokers no discussion. The way he’d spoken to me in the backseat of our car.
Cecilia:A shame you didn’t choose to work from home, then. I took a shower before I went looking for you… and I’m only in my robe.
Victor:Great.Now I’m hard, and I have a meeting with Japanese investors in five minutes.
Heat blooms inside. Imagining him, tall and imposing and in a suit, sitting in his office. I’ve seen him like that hundreds of times. Every day I worked for him.
But the mental image of him reaching beneath his desk and readjusting himself because of me…
I do something I’ve never done before.
I shimmy my bathrobe down my shoulders and tighten the tie around my waist. My modest cleavage looks tantalizing in the camera on my phone. No nipples, just the tops of my breasts and the dip of my cleavage disappearing down into my robe.
I take a picture and hit send, heart pounding.
