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“Great to meet you again, Mrs. Rothschild. I’m Beth. I managed the charity function you held in D.C. a little while ago.” Her voice is strong, confident, and I feel the stress of the day already dissipating from my shoulders just from her tone. I relax knowing she is in charge of things, already holding her own in front of my mother. I wish I could say the same for some of my other staff members, all of whom usually walk the other way when they see her coming.
My trust in Beth comes easy. It throws me for a bit, because I don’t trust a lot of people. Not since my father made a fool of us all. I take my seat across from my mother, as I see Beth stretch out her hand to her. My mother doesn't move an inch and looks at her like she is diseased, and I grind my teeth together.
My mother wasn’t always the sour woman she has become. Before Dad died, she was the life of the party. Loved everyone and everything. But when he died of a heart attack a few years ago, the news got out pretty quickly about exactly how many women he had affairs with, and she plunged into a dark pit of hatred for any woman not on her best friends list. Unfortunately for Beth, she hasn’t made that list yet.
“Oh, really? I can’t recall,” she says in her condescending tone, waving her off like she is already bored. I watch as Beth's smile doesn’t waver, but I see the hurt in her eyes.
“This is Lilly,” Eddie says, making the introductions, and Lilly stays quiet, but shakes Beth's hand half-heartedly. But I am impressed, because despite the cool reception, Beth remains professional, giving Lilly a big smile before taking her seat next to me, opposite them. Eddie sits on the other side of her, both of us obviously aware we need to guard her against the onslaught that our mother will no doubt throw today.
“Let’s start. Mom, give us an overview.” She eyes me suspiciously before she starts telling us all about the event she has planned.
I sit back and listen to my mother talk through the logistics of the event, informing everyone about the venue, music, and catering, none of which I care too much for. I am here just to discuss the guest list. As she talks, Lilly is acting like her assistant, showcasing the various imagery and color palette. I have no idea what the hell is going on and why the two of them feel inclined to be so involved in my campaign, but I assume it is good for their image. I promised mom this one event and then that is it, so I grin and bear it, knowing it will all be over by next weekend and she can go back to long lunches at the country club or shopping and spending Dad’s millions.
As my mother drones on about steak or seafood, my nose starts to tickle, and I rub my eyes as they water. I grab my handkerchief just as I sneeze three times in quick succession.
“Seriously, Harrison, what has gotten into you?” My mothers voice irritates my spine, and I sit up to answer her, but before I can, Beth pipes up.
“It’s the flowers,” she says, not looking at anyone and making notes on her notepad.
“Excuse me?” my mother questions, rearing back like she has been slapped.
Beth stops what she is writing and looks up. Noticing that all eyes are on her, she continues.
“It’s the flower arrangement. You have baby’s breath in the arrangement, and it causes rhinitis. It is a flower often used by florists as a filler in arrangements like this one, but they give off a strong aroma, which can trigger the onslaught of allergies, even if you have never had allergies before. They are a beautiful flower, but for something so small, they really pack a punch. I steer clear of using them at events, otherwise the whole room will walk out within an hour,” she states, and we all look at her with a bit of shock.
As if to back up her point, Eddie then starts to sneeze, and I see Oscar brushing his nose. I push the intercom for Sandra.
“Sandra, come in and get rid of these flowers, please.” I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to be in the same room as them.
“But, these are the arrangements I have ordered!” my mother says, bewildered.
“Oh, the florist should be okay to tighten up the bouquet and just remove the baby’s breath. It won’t be a large change for them,” Beth says, answering my mother’s concern.
“How do you know so much about flowers?” Lilly asks Beth in a tone I do not like, as Sandra walks in and grabs the vase silently before walking out with them.
“Oh, I love flowers,” Beth says, smiling, and Lilly gives her a half smile in return. I decide to get this meeting back on track.
“What flowers, Beth?” I ask her, and her head flicks to face me in surprise. Her blue eyes widen, her lips part, and I start thinking things that I really shouldn’t be in this meeting.
“Oh, um...” She ponders for a moment, looking quickly at my mother’s deadly eyes and then back to me.
“Roses. Always roses,” she states confidently with a nod. My eyes remain on hers for a beat, the room quiet. She isn’t saying it as a question, like she is asking permission to have her opinion like most of my staff do. She says the words with finality. Like this is how it needs to be done. Like she is in charge. The first person in my life since my father to have that ability with me.
“Great. Swap them out for all roses, Mom. Next,” I say, my eyes not leaving hers. I break our stare and look at my mother when she doesn’t continue. I am getting impatient, my time better spent elsewhere, even though I would never leave Beth to deal with her alone. My eyes flick back to Beth who is still watching me, and my lips quirk when she glances away.
Mom huffs before clearing her throat and starts on the list of catering options, decorations, music, and gifts that we will give guests.
“And that's it,” Mom says as she finishes her rundown, and I see Beth's eyebrows raise.
“Beth?” I say, referring to her again. My opinions on this event are no longer mine to verbalize, but Beth’s. She already knows exactly what I need and when I need it.
I shuffle a little in my seat, my dick becoming aroused from having her this close to me. I wonder briefly what it would be like to clear the room and make her scream my name from this very boardroom table.
“Seriously, Harrison, I know how to throw a party, much better than Beth, I can assure you,” my mother retorts. I ignore her.
“Is there anything we are missing, Beth?” I ask again, prompting her to talk, and she gives me a look. I know without speaking to her that she has something to say.
Beth clears her throat. “This is all great…”
