Page 62 of Becoming His Mistress

“He’s so drunk,” Robert whispers as I lean over him, ready to somehow get back on my feet.

“Aren’t we all?”

“True.”

“You’re real pretty, Ms. Sinclair.” He grabs my head and I squeal when his lips hit mine.

I rip away, panting and staring at him wide-eyed. Trying to find reasons as to why this is a bad idea. I count six reasons why this might actually be a good idea and then remind myself that when I’m sober this guy repulses me with his arrogance.

He tries to kiss me again, but I shake my head and nod at Ezra’s snoring form.

“Worried he’ll see?”

“He’s my boss.”

“Not tonight he’s not,” he breathes and kisses me again. This time I allow it and he rolls me over on the rug, deepening it further. “I’m not him.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not him, I get it, I see the way you look at him.”

“I don’t know——”

“It’s okay, I don’t care but just know he’s never going to look at you the same. He loves his wife.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Let’s have some fun, me and you, I’ll even let you call me Ezra.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper hiss, definitely laughing now. “You’re an idiot, Robert Butler.”

“You’re not denying it.”

I shake my head at him, still laughing and shove him off my body. I owe him no explanations, he’s going to believe what he wants no matter what I say. “Come on. Let’s cover him up and go.”

I wake up to a loud banging noise at my hotel room door. So does Robert. Though he’s more startled than I am.

“What the fuck?” he asks breathlessly, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dark.

“You get it,” I grumble, hoping there’s not a fire because I’m not moving for anything. My head is spinning, and the sun is shining through a crack in the curtains. I’m not going anywhere today.

I hear his feet thud on the ground as he approaches the door.

When it swings open there’s silence.

“Oh shit,” Robert mutters.

I sit up, holding the blanket tight to my body because I’m only in a bra and thong. I peer at the door, shielding my eyes from the light with my hand, and connect with the livid gray eyes of Mr. C.

“Pack, we’re going home!” he snarls, his hands in tight fists by his sides.

“But we’re supposed to be spending another night here,” I whine. I was so looking forward to seeing NYC.

“I said pack.” He stomps away and my chest flutters painfully.

“What’s his problem?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes as Robert approaches his pile of clothes and starts to pull them on.

“That’s exactly what I’m wondering,” Robert murmurs so quietly I only just hear him with strained effort. He looks me up and down, a curious glint in his eye. “You’re not fucking him, are you?”

I give him a disgusted look. “Are you kidding me? He’s married.”

“Right…” He shrugs his shoulders. “Thanks for letting me crash in here last night.”

“Whatever, I still don’t like you.”

Laughing, he leaves my room and I shower, brush my teeth, and try not to die.

When I leave my room and ready myself to knock on Mr. Conti’s to let him know I’m good to go, it opens and the same livid gray eyes that scowled at me earlier are still full force.

“You ready?” he asks, and I nod, shaking my suitcase by the handle. “Where’s Robert?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fun night?”

I feel like the way he asked is a trick question. No matter what I say is going to be bad. “The best. Yours?”

“Shit.”

“Why are you mad all of a sudden?” I ask, grabbing his arm.

“Because people don’t live up to my inflated opinion of them.” His reply is as cryptical as his anger.

“Who? Me? What did I do?”

He doesn’t reply, just goes on ahead. I twist my damp hair around my hand, wishing Robert would hurry up and not leave me alone with this moody asshole.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I didn’t answer!” he yells, turning on me suddenly. “Remember who pays who here. I’m your boss, you’re my employee. Act like it and shut up when I don’t want you to speak.”

The reasonable me that I left back in LA would have shut up and been a good employee. The unreasonable me that NYC has brought out in me, sits on the floor, crosses her legs, and refuses to move.

“Get up, I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Nope.”

“I said get up.”

I look up at him, feeling hungry, tired, and hungover. “I. Said. Nope.”

“I will fire you if you don’t move your ass.”

I smile at him, leaning back against the wall. “Fire me then.”

He opens and closes his mouth.

I just called his bluff and now I’m starting to realize the pattern to this madness.

“I’m waiting. Say the words. Tell me I’m fired.”

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