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Time held its breath. Somewhere in the hall, a guffaw rang out. The timing was purely coincidental, but even still the humiliation hit him like a bucket of ice water. Dammit, what the fuck was going on? He couldn’t believe this was happening. He needed to think, to get some air before this got any worse and his boss decided to whip out her phone to immortalise the moment.
Contrary to being impeded, however, the realisation he’d been caught only had Richard’s cock stiffening to full mast against its confinement. To his enormous relief, no one else appeared to notice.
Scarlet’s eyes widened, her smile faltering to form a perfect ‘O’. “Oh… my!”
Well-aware of what had caught her attention, Richard turned his eyes up to the hall’s plain white ceiling and ornamental brass chandelier-style lights draped with tinsel, desperate to look at something, anything, but the woman eyeing his dick. To his enormous relief, no one else appeared to have noticed. He felt like a little Robin red breast that had spotted a cat stalking it in the grass and taken flight, rising high on a wing of elation and the adrenaline of escaping death. Only to be swatted from the sky and brought crashing back down, its last moment consumed by the image of the sleek feline body arching into the sky, hooked claws reaching out and fangs bared. I tawt I taw a puddy tat, indeed.
“Have you heard anything about your promotion?” he asked without thinking, studying the interlaced webs of gold, red and green tinsel that enveloped the nearest light.
“Y-yes…” For all her customary swagger, the silky soft voice sounded breathless and the shaky timbre drew his gaze irresistibly back to her. Scarlet glared back at him. Her eyes narrowed and cheeks tinged a faint shade of pink. She seemed to be musing about whether to say more, searching for a trap behind the question, and the uncertainty reflected in those bright blue irises had him blowing out a slow breath that released all the tension from his body.
Scarlet obviously sensed, or noticed, the change in him, however, because the gleam of predatory amusement returned to her eyes. She’d play whatever game he had in mind, and she’d play to win. “Daddy says the job’s mine if I want it, but first I need to get my house in order. He’s starting to think we might have a loose cannon on deck.” She leant casually back against the refreshments table with her hands gripping the edges to distribute her weight and back, curving just enough to emphasise her breasts. It was a pose that would have put many magazine centrefolds to shame. “But let’s not talk shop. This is a party, after all. How is your son, Alex, isn’t it? I saw the pictures on your desk. He must be nearly two now?”
Richard held her gaze, refusing to take the bait even as his eyes were instinctively drawn to the slopes of her breasts. “Almost sixteen months, yes.” He swallowed, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat, not liking the way this conversation was turning. “And he’s fine, hasn’t quite got the hang of walking yet. Can’t quite find his feet, so he’s always losing his balance mid-step. We’ve had a lot of scuffs and tears, but he keeps getting back up.” He couldn’t quite keep the pride from his voice. So many kids would burst into a fit of tears whenever they fell over and refuse to move until their parents picked them up, but Alex never stopped. Even in tears, he would push himself up and keep crawling to where he wanted to go.
“And you and Alice are coping well?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. A curl of locks fell out of place, but Scarlet didn’t brush it aside, her eyes searching his. “I doubt it could have been easy starting a family so soon after losing your job. Your career taking such a huge step back and having to pack up your lives to move here. Not many marriages could weather the storm so well. Maybe you two should write one of those self-help books. Money woes and job lows - A couple’s survival guide.” She chuckled, the sound dry and mocking.
Forcing a small smile, Richard resisted the impulse to give her the finger. I prefer Don’t Let the Tarts Get You Down. “We’re Fine.” Of course, it was a half-truth. They fought, sometimes like cats and dogs, over nothing at all, and other times they fought to avoid the very real issues looming over them. There had been many of those recently, but he wasn’t about to discuss that with Scarlet.
“I see.” With that, she pushed away from the table and fingered the stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “Tell me, Dick, would you consider it cheating to kiss me under the mistletoe?” She said it casually, as if it was as every day as asking about the weather.
Already on edge and walking on eggshells, the broadside caught Richard completely by surprise and had him almost doubling over in a fit of dry, heaving coughs so violent it was a marvel he didn’t choke. “Ex-ex-excuse me?” he stammered, certain he must have misheard her.
Smiling teasingly, she stepped closer so that as she looked up; they were almost nose-to-nose. “It was a perfectly simple question.” A hand tipped by baby blue nails reached out, taking the cup from his grasp and placing it on the refreshment table before tracing her finger up along the lapel of his jacket and along the line of his jaw. “Would you consider kissing another woman under the mistletoe as being unfaithful to your wife?”
Her eyes flickered to the ceiling overhead and, pressing firmly on his chin, she tilted his head back. Too stunned to resist, he followed her gaze skyward to where three leaves of mistletoe were hanging off a scrap of crimson silk dangling above their heads.
Richard’s chest constricted. “I…I…”
“Cat got your tongue?”
Richard wheeled, the pit falling out of his stomach as the all too familiar voice asked and brought a frosty blast of reality. Alice Serena Martin stood not three steps away with her arms crossed and glaring at her husband. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked icily.
“Darling,” Richard tried to make the greeting sound reassuring, but the rush of fear and arousal the sight of her provoked in him at that moment made it hard to do anything. Even after all the years they’d been married, the sight of her could still leave him speechless. Pale as milk and utterly gorgeous, she wore only the smallest amount of makeup and a sultry, backless evening gown of black satin that moulded perfectly to her hourglass figure. A slit from thigh to hem flashed a glimpse of smooth, flawlessly toned legs that seemed to go forever as she walked. Though shorter than most, her tiny stature barely scraping five feet when propped up by the stilettos she’d worn for the party, his wife was a downright knockout with her sharp, pronounced bone structure, hair that ran down her back in a long wash of silken mahogany, and intense grey-blue eyes.
Yet now her beauty had been contorted into a twisted mask that gave her the hard face of a hawk. Eyes that had stared up at him with such love and devotion, now piercing with accusation. That look cut deeper than steel. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but, somehow, a line like ‘it’s not what it looks like’ just didn’t seem it.
“Ahh, Alice!” Scarlet stepped around Richard, into the older woman’s sights. She beamed, her eyes alight with wicked delight. “There you are. We were just talking about you.”
Alice’s cool gaze shifted to the blonde, her lips pursing into a fine line “Indeed.”
“In fact, Dick was just telling me about your son. He’s such a handsome little boy, you must be very proud.
“Yes.”
Scarlet gave Richard a slow, appraising look, then smiled knowingly. “He’s the spitting image of his father. Good luck keeping the girls away. You’ll have to beat them off with a big pole.” Dread’s cold fingers crept down Richard’s spine at Scarlet’s added emphasis. Dammit, was she going to try and start a fight?
Though the women had only met on a handful of occasions, exchanging barely more than a handful of words each time, for whatever instinctive, irrational reason, the atmosphere had crackled around them. He could feel it building, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and knew that rather than finding salvation in his wife, he’d jumped straight out of the frying pan, into the fire.
“Well, I’ll manage.” Missing nothing, Alice’s gaze narrowed momentarily on her husband, who couldn’t help shifting guiltily on the balls of his feet under the hawk-like stare, before returning to the younger woman. “But I’m sure you can give me a few pointers sometime. Dick tells me you’ve handled lots of woodwork around the firm.” She forced a wry smile. Richard, of course, had never said anything of the sort, but he wasn’t about to contradict her. “Your father must be very proud that you're treating his staff so well after he gave you a job?”
For all of a moment, Scarlet’s eyes widened in surprise. Then she recovered her composure and her smile melted away into a small, derisive twist. “What can I say? I like to keep the men under me satisfied. Dick’s never has any complaints.” Alice’s nostrils flared and the fingers that had been creeping down Richard’s spine closed around his gut, but Scarlet appeared not to notice. She shrugged, her eyes trailing over Alice from head to toe, scrutinising her like she would a document that came across her desk. “That’s such a lovely dress, Alice. Is it new?”
Oh, fuck! Richard didn’t need to look at his wife to know that, if Scarlet was trying to pick a fight, then she’d just hit her mark. He knew he should step in, but Alice shot a look that warned him to stay out of it. The corner of her lip rose just enough to reveal the glint of white teeth, something she only did when she meant business and had him glancing nervously around the room.
Fortunately, no one seemed interested in taking advantage of the buffet or paying the confrontation any notice, yet.
“You deserve to treat yourself.” Scarlet pushed on, her voice laced with a sympathetic tone that was all pity and mocking. “Was it hard to find one in your new size? It would be just awful after you worked so hard to shed the last of that pesky baby weight, but I guess some things just can’t be helped...”
