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The routine of it all is comforting. It’s something that was sorely lacking in my childhood. Between my mother constantly getting evicted, bouncing around different shitty relationships, and forgetting she had a kid half the time, my life was anything but stable.
Finishing the last of my morning drink, I straighten my tie and fasten my cufflinks before securing the top button of my suit jacket. I have exactly one look–Navy blue Armani slim fit suit with Dior leather Oxfords. Eleven identical suits hang in my closet, along with eleven white dress shirts.
The predictability of my schedule and habits soothes me and reminds me I didn’t turn out like my mother. It took a lot of growing up and seizing the right opportunities, but I managed to break the cycle of poverty.
That’s not to say I didn’t have help along the way. After my mother was caught writing bad checks from a stolen checkbook and sent to jail, I was a bit lost. I had zero life skills, a high school diploma, and just enough money to put down a deposit on a shitty studio apartment.
I found myself running errands for the Di Salvo family at nineteen. Being tangentially associated with one of the most feared mafia families in the city might not sound like the best career move, but trust me when I say there are worse fates for those who find themselves in desperate situations.
Romeo Di Salvo was just a few years older than me at the time, and he was poised to take over the family when his father either stepped down or was killed. Harsh, but it’s the reality of that lifestyle. Since I have Italian in my blood, Romeo offered me a more permanent position with the promise of upward mobility. I didn’t want to be a made man, however. I wanted to be the one in charge. And now I am.
Yes, dirty money may have given me my start in life and paid for my degrees in business and financing, but I run Castillo Real Estate and Investments one hundred percent above board. At thirty-seven, being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company isn’t too shabby. Finding my routine was a vital part of that process.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been so unsettled lately. Having Harlow around the office instead of Alice is taking a bit of time to get used to. I’ve had a tightness in my chest since Harlow’s first day working for me. I’ve avoided her as much as possible this last week by sending her on errands across the city, but still, every time our eyes meet, my entire body vibrates with something dangerously close to desire.
I can’t believe I forgot that Allen asked me if his daughter could be my assistant while Alice was out. If I knew how…distractingshe would be, I would never have agreed.
Then you never would have met her, the voice in the back of my head unhelpfully points out. Try as I might to convince myself my life was better before Harlow showed up, the ache in my chest every time those golden eyes meet mine tells me otherwise.
The lights on the south side of the floor flicker on, letting me know the first of the real estate agents are showing up for the day. It’s just as well. I don’t need to waste any more time thinking about the too-young, too-gorgeous, and far-too-innocent Harlow Pierce. She’ll be gone at the end of the month, and that will be that.
Ice seeps into my veins, causing a shiver to rattle my spine. I don’t like thinking about Harlow leaving, though it makes no sense. I hardly know her.
My phone alerts me to a text, and I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. Looking at my phone, I roll my eyes when I see it’s from my mother. Wonderful.
Mom:Hi, sweetie. Do you have plans for Christmas? I was thinking we could rent a little cabin outside the city.
Oh, hell no. The only thing that could make the holidays more insufferable would be spending them with my mother. I know how that makes me sound, but I won’t take it back.
Of course, I don’t say that, but the thought crosses my mind.
Bishop:You know this time of year is always busy for me.
It’s true, but it’s a hollow excuse.
Mom:I won’t be a bother. Instead of getting a cabin, I can just stay with you for a few weeks. I’ll cook dinner, and we can spend the evenings together. Wouldn’t that be nice?
If by nice she means tortuous, then sure.
Bishop:I’ll have to check my schedule.
Mom:And we can decorate the tree with popcorn like we used to when you were young!
I stare at my phone, wondering what the hell she’s remembering because it certainly wasn’t any Christmas I ever experienced. Then again, my mother is a champion at gaslighting and rewriting history.
Bishop:I can’t commit to anything right now.
Mom:Fine.
Mom:I’ll drop it for now, but this discussion isn’t over.
Not bothering to respond, I toss my phone on my desk and rub my temples. How can she be indignant about inviting herself over to stay with me? For weeks, might I add?
A soft knock sounds from my door a second before Harlow waltzes into my office. Just what I need. Another woman taking up my precious work time.
“The point of knocking is to wait until the person on the other side of the door says it’s okay to come in,” I mutter, getting my first good look at her all day. I almost regret my harsh words and tone, but then Harlow grins at me.
My heart does some sort of flip in my chest as an unfamiliar feeling crawls down my neck. That smile of hers is messing with me, especially when paired with her caramel eyes.
