Mistresses: After Hours With The Boss: Her Little White Lie / Their Most Forbidden Fling / An Inescapable Temptation

She was just … Paige. And it had always seemed like a pitifully small accomplishment, just being her. For most of her life, she’d accepted it. She’d just put on the image they’d applied to her and owned it. So much easier than trying to be anything else.

But there was a point, as she was pouring a cup of coffee for her fiftieth customer of the day, who asked her about her brother or sister, and not about her, that she couldn’t do it anymore.

A week later she’d moved. Just so she could be new to a place. So she had a hope of finding who she was apart from the painful averageness that marked her life.

It hadn’t been an instant transformation, no sudden rise to the top of the social heap. But she’d made a small group of friends. She’d found her job at Colson’s. That provided her with the first real sense of pride she’d ever had in a job.

They’d seen her raw talent and they’d hired her based on that, not based on classroom performance. Colson’s, and by extension, Dante, was her first experience with being believed in.

Strange.

She cast him a sideways glance. He was tall and … rigid in his tux. Each line of his suit jacket conforming to his physique with precision. Dante was never ruffled. She envied that a little bit. Or a lot of a bit, truth be told. She was captivated by it, really, his control. His perfection. His beauty. It was a dark, masculine beauty, nothing soft or traditionally pretty about him. It made her want to look at him, and keep looking.

The elevator doors slid open and they walked out of her apartment building and to the street. There was a black car parked against the curb, waiting for them, she assumed.

Dante opened the back door for her and she slid inside. She’d never ridden in a car with a driver before. Not even a taxi. She always drove her own seen-better-days car.

“It will be nice not being the one fighting traffic for a change,” she said when Dante got in on the other side and settled into the seat beside her.

“Mmm,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket and devoting his attention to checking his email.

And just like that, the hot guy wasn’t looking at her anymore. Typical.

She let her gaze wander to her left hand, to her still-bare ring finger. “Oh … didn’t you … you were going to give me a ring before tonight, weren’t you?”

He set his phone down. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re intent on spoiling the surprise.”

“Uh … because it’s not a surprise.”

“Perhaps I had something planned.”

She didn’t think he was serious. But with Dante it was hard to tell. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, to have a man like him do the get-down-on-one-knee thing and ask her to be his wife. To look at her with intensity in those dark eyes and …

“So, ring?” She held out her hand and tried to shut out the little fantasy that was playing in the back of her mind.

Forget a dream proposal. She should aim for a kiss that wasn’t a disaster first.

Her reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced a velvet box. “Be my wife, et cetera,” he said, opening the box, revealing a pear-shaped emerald surrounded by diamonds.

“It’s … wow.” Hard not to be completely floored when a gorgeous man was giving you a beautiful ring. “How did you know I liked green?”

“Your eye shadow,” he said.

She looked up, as if she could see it. “Oh.”

“And I thought the color and style would suit you. Sedate doesn’t seem to be your thing.”

“Uh … no. Not so much.”

“Put it on,” he said.

“What? Oh, yeah.” She looked down at the ring and a clawing sense of dread made her chest tighten. Was she really going to do this? To put on his ring and go all the way with this?

Yes. Yes, she was. She’d never believed in anything more in her whole life. She’d never been the goal-oriented one in her family. She’d never been the top achiever. She’d never wanted anything so much it made her ache.

That wasn’t the case now. Now there was Ana. And she made Paige want to be the best mother. Made her want to do everything she could to give her baby the best life possible. To encourage her, to love her as she was.

She took a deep breath and lifted the ring from its silken nest, sliding it onto her finger. “There. We’re engaged now,” she said.

He nodded slowly and leaned back in the seat. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If he was thinking.

“What?” she asked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was just wondering what you were thinking. I mean … this is weird.” She wondered if he was thinking of a beautiful blonde, or stunning, dark-haired beauty he would rather have given a ring to. The thought made her chest feel odd. Tight. “We don’t really know each other and … were you planning on getting married ever?”

“No,” he said, definitively. Decisively.

“Oh. Not even if you meet the right person?”

“There is no right person for me. Or at least not one who’s right for more than a couple of days. And nights.”

Dante watched Paige’s face, the confusion, the little bit of judgment. What he’d just said wasn’t true in the strictest sense. The part about marriage was true, but the way he’d spoken of his relationships made it sound like he and the women he slept with met and spent a few days locked in a passionate embrace.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He’d had arrangements with a few different women over the course of his adult life. Women who were just as busy and driven as he was. Women who were just as averse to relationships.

The women he usually took to the charity events, the models, the actresses … he didn’t sleep with them. They were the bit of flash, the ones who looked good in pictures and who wanted to be in them.

But they were too young, many of then. Too starry-eyed and not nearly cynical enough. The women he took to bed, all they wanted was a couple of hours and a couple of orgasms. They wanted what he wanted. They didn’t want forever and fireworks; they wanted a basic need to be met. And that’s what happened. Basic, simple pursuit of release.

Still, there was no way to explain that without making it sound even worse.

And when had he ever cared what anyone thought? Never. He’d come into the public eye amid speculation and criticism. The Italian orphan that had somehow weaseled his way into the Colson family. That had been named as the heir of a billion-dollar fortune. There had been endless speculation about him, about how it had happened. As if he, even at fourteen, had known some sort of dark secret about the older couple who had taken him into their home. Something that would have enticed them to take on such a sullen, angry child.

He had never once tried to correct the rumors.

But something about the look in Paige’s eyes made him want to clarify, to change her assumptions. Or at least make an excuse.

“What about you,” he asked, happy to redirect the focus of the conversation to her. “Do you want to get married? Beyond this, I mean.”

“Well, I wasn’t really at the point where I was thinking about it.”

“All women think about it.”

“That’s a gross generalization and there’s no way you can know that. Or rather, you can know that you’re wrong because I wasn’t. Not in a serious way.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been too busy discovering who I am. Apart from the small town I grew up in, I mean. I’ve been down here for about three years and I’ve been kind of … finding myself. Which sounds maybe a little bit geeky but it’s true. Back at home there were all these preconceived ideas about me. Who I was, what I was capable of. And when the town is as small as mine, those ideas don’t just come from your parents, they come from … everyone. I moved here and decided to really figure out who I would be if there was no one around expecting anything different.”

“A noble quest,” he said. And interesting, considering that he was doing the same thing, in a way. On a surface level, at least. He had no interest in finding himself, whatever that meant. But the idea of changing perceptions, that one grabbed him.

“Not really,” she said. “Just a desire to be seen as something other than a terminal dork.”

“I can’t imagine you being thought of as a … as that.”

“Well, I was. Scrub off the makeup, add a ponytail … I revert right back. Actually, I don’t think I’m evolved all that far beyond dork status—it’s just that I have a better handle on confusing people by presenting a more polished appearance.”

“Polished but flashy.”

“Distract them with something shiny, right?”

In some ways he understood that philosophy, too. Bring a beautiful, bubbly date and people might not notice how much he hated being at public events. Might not notice how little he smiled.

“Right,” he said, his eyes on her ring. He took her hand in his, ran his thumb over her smooth skin, to the gem that glittered on her finger. “This should do it,” he said, looking up, meeting her gaze.

Her eyes were round, her lips parted slightly and he knew that he could lean in and kiss her and she would kiss him back. The desire to do it, the need, tightened his gut. They would have to do it in public eventually. It would be perfectly reasonable to give it a try now. To press his lips to that soft, pink mouth. To dip his tongue inside and find out if she tasted as explosive as she looked.

He turned away from her sharply, putting his focus back on his phone. He wouldn’t kiss her. Not now. Not because he wanted to. Not because the desire, pumping hot and hard through his veins told him to. No, when there was a need for it, he would do it. Not before then.

He was in absolute control of his body, and his desires. Always. It would be no different with Paige. They were playing a game that bordered on dangerous, and that meant he had to be sure that he kept things tightly in line.

Paige cleared her throat. “Right. It certainly is … distracting.”

“Yes,” he said, clenching his teeth tight, “it is.”

You can’t have more champagne. You’ll make a total ass of yourself.

She’d already rolled her ankle twice while walking around the lavishly decorated ballroom and had stumbled obviously, teetering sharply to the right thanks to her three-inch heels.

She wasn’t exactly making the best appearance as Dante’s brand-new fiancée.

But this had all happened so fast she hadn’t had time to adjust. And that was one of the many reasons that alcohol felt slightly necessary.

The other was that moment in the car, just before they’d arrived, when Dante’s dark eyes had been focused on her mouth. When heat and desire had spread through her, flushing her skin, making her heart race. When she’d looked like a total fool, drooling over a man who didn’t have the slightest interest in her.

Yeah, there was that.

“Enjoying yourself, cara mia?” Dante appeared, holding two glasses of champagne. He offered her one, and she took it, in spite of herself.

“I’m not really sure,” she said.

“You aren’t sure?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know anyone here but you so I’m basically just standing next to you smiling and no one is really talking to me and … my cheeks hurt.”

“Your cheeks?”

“From the smiling.”

“Ah.” He frowned. “I must confess most of my dates aren’t here for conversation so I imagine the assumption has now been made about you.”

“What are they here for?” she asked. The obvious, she imagined. The pleasure of having Dante later.

“For the publicity,” he said, uprooting her previous assumption. “There will be several pictures of you, standing next to me and smiling, published in various places online and in print by tomorrow morning.”

“So, women date you to get their picture in the paper?”

“I’m not really vain, but I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

Paige’s heart slammed hard against her breastbone as she thought of all the other reasons women might date Dante. Oh, yeah, she could see that for sure. “Well, I mean … I’m sure your sparkling wit and effusive personality also net you a few dinner engagements.”

He laughed, a more genuine, rich laugh than she’d heard from him before. “I doubt it, somehow, but thank you for the confidence in me.”

“Or course,” she said. “It’s the least I can do considering what you’re doing for me.”

“I’m getting something in return.”

“You say that like you have to convince yourself you aren’t being altruistic,” she said, regretting the two glasses of champagne she’d already had, and the candor that came with them, the moment she said it.

“Because I never am.”

“So can never be?”

“Mr. Romani, and your lovely fiancée!” They were interrupted by an older woman with a broad smile.

Dante inclined his head. “Nice to see you again, Catherine, and please, call me Dante.”

“Dante, of course.” Catherine began regaling Dante with stories of her country club, gossip, both personal and business related. She noticed that Dante managed to appear vaguely interested, his expression politely pleasant.

And yet she could see something behind his eyes. Calculation. She could almost see him filtering out the unimportant, retaining bits about failing businesses and mistresses who might cause trouble in someone’s professional life.

Then he smiled, a smile that some might call warm, and bid the older woman goodbye.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“A friend of my … parents,” he said, the word coming out in a few, halting syllables.

“Oh.”

“I’ll confess, I don’t like these things, either,” he said. “But, you do hear interesting information. It’s worth it. So that about sums up my altruism, really. It’s for charity, which is nice. But I get something out of it, too. Nothing is purely altruistic.”

She thought of Ana, of how much joy Ana brought to her life. How much love and purpose. “I suppose not.”

“Does the purity of motivation really matter anyway? As long as no one is hurt. As long as people are cared for?”

“I always imagined it did.”

“Nobody gets points for good intentions.”

“I suppose not.” The champagne spoke for her again. “Does anyone hold bad intentions against you if you don’t act on them?”

“Speaking of yourself, or of me?”

She shrugged. “Just curious if it works both ways.”

“In my experience, intentions, and sometimes actions, don’t really matter at all. What matters is what people think.”

“Now that is true,” she said, sighing heavily, thinking back to how people had perceived her in her home town. Of how the social worker perceived her and her situation.

He lifted his glass. “To reinvention,” he said.

She lifted her glass in response but opted out of taking a sip. She needed to get her feet back on solid ground, needed to get her words back under control. And she really needed to get her thoughts in regards to Dante back under control.

“Perhaps when we’re through with this you and I will both be totally different people,” she said. “Or at least, in your case, people will think so.”

A smile curved his lips. Not a friendly smile. One that was dangerous. And, though it really shouldn’t have been, sexy. “Perhaps.”

CHAPTER FIVE

PAIGE took her latte off the counter and waved to her favorite barista as she walked out the door of the coffee shop.

She paused and put her sunglasses on, taking a sip of her drink while admiring the afternoon light filtering through the palm trees. It was a perfect day. The light glinted on her new engagement ring and it put a slight dent in her moment of zen.

There was a flash to her left and she turned to look. It was not a little flare of afternoon light. There was a photographer, standing there, holding his camera up, not even trying to be subtle.

“Uh … could you not do that?” she asked.

“Ms. Harper?”

“What?”

“When are you and Dante Romani getting married?”

She clutched her sequined purse to her side and strode down the sidewalk, away from the man with the camera, her heart pounding. She turned back to look and saw that he was still there, snapping off shots casually. Like she was a monkey in a zoo.

Her purse vibrated and she reached inside, casting another glance behind her as she retrieved her phone and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Ms. Harper, this is Rebecca Addler with child services. I wanted to speak to you about your case.”

She quickened her pace, heading back to the office building. Back to Ana. Back to Dante even. She could hide behind his broad chest. And she wasn’t even ashamed for wanting to hide behind him right now.

“Right. Great to hear from you. What about the case?” she asked, scurrying through the revolving door to the Colson’s corporate building and walking quickly to the elevators.

“We’re going to have to interview your fiancé. He’s going to be involved in the process, of course.”

“Well, of course.”

“And he’ll be adopting Ana, as well.”

Damn.

“So there will be paperwork for that,” she finished.

Paige had overlooked that bit. She’d overlooked it completely. “Of course,” she said, her throat dry. She took another sip of latte and scalded her mouth. She punched the up button on the wall and waited for an elevator.

She dashed inside as soon as the door opened.

“And we’ll want to do a parent interview with him.”

“Naturally. Dante will be delighted—” like Dante was ever delighted about anything “—to participate.”

“We’ll do a little meet-up this Friday if that works for you.”

“Of course it does!” she said, far too brightly.

The elevator reached her floor, and she stood inside, waffling. Then she hit the button that would take her to Dante’s floor and the door slid closed again.

She tapped her foot while she finalized the details of the appointment with Rebecca. She ended the phone call as quickly as possible and tapped her fingers on the wall, waiting for the elevator to stop. When it did, and the doors opened, she nearly ran out, past Trevor, and to Dante’s office.

She didn’t bother to knock.

“I just got my picture taken. Like … a hundred times by some photographer. And then Rebecca Addler called and said we need to start doing interviews as a couple. Oh, I just realized there will be a home study, and we’ll have to start over and do it at your house because as far as everyone is concerned that is where we’ll be living. And you’re going to adopt Ana legally. Which is sort of … obvious but I didn’t think of it until now and … and I’m officially panicking a little bit.”

“Don’t,” he said, standing from his position behind the desk, his large, masculine hands planted palms down on the pristine surface. He didn’t even have the decency to look surprised that she’d burst into his office. He just looked … smooth and calm and unaffected as ever.

It was just unfair, because her cage was well and truly rattled.

“Don’t panic?”

“No. There’s no need. When we divorce I’ll sign custody of Ana over to you. You have my word on that.”

“Oh.” She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in a rush. “That does make me feel better.”

“I thought it might.”

“Then there’s the home study.”

“You and Ana should move in with me. Soon.” That he said with a kind of grim determination that let her know exactly what he thought of it.

“I can see you’re completely thrilled at the idea.”

“I value my own space,” he said.

“Well, as you mentioned, it’s a big house. I’m sure we won’t be on top of each other.”

He lifted one dark brow, and horror crept over her as she realized the double meaning of her words. As she pictured just what it might be like to be on top of him.

Or to have him on top of her.

Her entire face heated, prickling awareness spreading over her skin. Her heart was racing and she was … turned on. And it was obvious. She was certain it was.

She was such a dork. A side effect of spending her school years as the funny one. She didn’t know how to be smooth; she knew how to go for a joke. Another side effect of that was that guys didn’t flirt with her.

Well, that might have also been because of the time Michael Weston had tried to make out with her at a party and had ended up cutting his tongue on her braces. No one had wanted to kiss her after that. Kissing her became a running joke, and very firmly kept her in her place as school screwup.

Well, after that someone had made her think he wanted to kiss her, and more than that. It had all been a gag, of course. Thinking about that reduced the horror of the situation a little bit, because nothing, nothing in the history of the world, was quite as bad as meeting a guy under the bleachers after prom to … to … and having the popular kids standing by, waiting for just the right moment, waiting for the top of her prom dress to come down, for her “date” to pull her out from beneath the bleachers onto the field so they could throw eggs at her. And laugh. And take pictures of her humiliation for posterity.

Yes, that put a woman off dating for a while.

As a result, she wasn’t great at handling men. Unless they were more like buddies. And Dante didn’t feel like a buddy. Not even a little.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“As for the parent interview …” He neatly sidestepped the moment.

“What about it?”

“I don’t see how it will be a problem.”

“You may have to grow a personality between now and then.”

“And you may want to tone yours down.”

“Why because a fun-loving, smiley person might not make a good parent? Do I need to be a bit more dour?”

“Are you calling me … dour?” he asked.

“If the scowl fits.”

“You’re going to have to keep yourself from taking shots at me in the presence of the social worker. Actually, you should probably keep yourself from taking shots at me because I’m your boss.”

She bit her lower lip. “Yeah. Okay, that could be …”

“And don’t bite your lip like that.” He leaned forward and extended his hand, putting his thumb on her chin, just beneath her mouth.

She slowly released her hold on her lip, her heart pounding heavily, butterflies taking flight in her stomach and crashing around, making her insides feel jittery.

She could only stare at him, at his incredibly handsome face, his dark, compelling eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” she said, not sure why she agreed with him. She should be annoyed that he was being so dictatorial, and yet she found she wasn’t. But that could be because he was touching her, and men didn’t make a habit of touching her.

It didn’t mean she didn’t want them to. It just hadn’t really happened for her for many and varied reasons. A huge reason being she was too afraid to let a moment like that happen. Because she was afraid to acknowledge she wanted it, for fear of it all being a joke again.

“Good. You’re also going to have to work on not blushing like a schoolgirl every time I get near you.”

“I don’t blush.” She could feel the heat creeping into her face, calling her bluff.

“You blush more than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m very pale. It’s hard to hide when you have no pigment to disguise it.”

“I imagine,” he said. “Even so, if we were truly engaged we would be well past the point where I could make you blush with just the casual brush of my hands. Unless…” he said, rounding the desk, coming to stand near her. “Unless you were thinking of all the things my hands have done for you.”

His voice changed, became rougher, more ragged. Something in his expression changed, too. Hardened. Never, ever, ever had a man looked at her like that before. Not even close.

She wanted to say something to defuse the tension. Something funny, or random, something to break the spell. But she couldn’t. A part of her didn’t want to. She wanted to stand there, and have Dante Romani look at her like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. She wanted to get closer to him, see if he was as hot as he looked. To see if the fire smoldering in his eyes would burn her.