I take a breath. I’ve been so focused on work that I hadn’t even considered this side of things.
“No,” I eventually say. “Get in touch with Brock. Send him out to talk with them. I just don’t have the time to deal with the media right now. Jeez, between this and rags like TMZ still hounding me about you, I’ve had enough of the media for a lifetime.”
At the mention of the gossip website, she pales noticeably.
This is all still new for her, I shouldn’t forget that.
“Seriously, Tess, do you promise me that this was all that was bothering you?” I ask. “There’s nothing else you wanted to talk to me about? If you’ve got a problem, then I want you to share it with me. Communication is important in a marriage, remember?”
I expect to see her cute, little, annoyed nose-flare at that quip, but she just gives a wan smile. Weird.
“No, nothing else,” Tessa says, shaking her head unconvincingly. “I’m just getting stressed with the work, it’s kind of an adjustment getting used to all this pressure.”
I pull her into a quick hug and plant a tender kiss on her forehead. “You can handle it, I know you can. I’ve got your back. And if it’s really too much for you, let me know. I’ll get you an assistant or something.”
“An assistant for your assistant?” She laughs. “What is this, assistant-ception? No, I’ll deal. I can handle it. Sorry for being all dramatic.”
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I take it out and glance at the screen.
“It’s Brock,” I say. “I’ve had my mandated five minute break, and my ballbuster-in-chief is going to start sending out search parties if I don’t get back. Or, even worse, call my old man and tell him I’m slacking.” I shudder at the idea.
“It’s fine.” Tessa smiles. “You go do your CEO stuff. I’ll get back to work.”
Before I leave, I remember something. A little surprise for her.
I lead her to my office, careful not to touch her in front of people. I pull out a little black box from my desk drawer and hand it to her.
“To say sorry, for being an absent husband.” I shoot her a grin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
She glances from the box, then back up to me. “Okay. Seven. Got it.”
Her voice sounds a little strangled, and she still doesn’t show any signs of annoyance at my bad joke.
Before I can ask any more questions, Tessa turns around and rushes off—without saying goodbye—in the general direction of the women’s restrooms.
I just watch her go, puzzled. What on earth is with her? Is it bizzaro day or something?
Women. I’ll never understand them.
It could just be that she doesn’t want the gossip to spread, what with us spending time alone in a private space together, even if it’s my office and she’s my PA. I guess I can understand that.
I don’t give a crap. I’ve grown in the public eye and people are always going to talk. I learned to tune all that shit out a long time ago. I couldn’t have survived in this business if I didn’t.
I’m looking forward to tonight. We’re having another meal with my parents—something I would’ve told Tessa had she asked.
My parents are back in the country for a little while before they jet off on their next adventure. They’re keen to meet Tessa again, but I still haven’t told them the truth about our marriage. Although, maybe I won’t need to now? Tess has really backed off with the annulment talk recently, and what with the sex, maybe she’s forgetting about it?
The item in the box will look absolutely stunning on her, and I can’t wait to see her wear it.
I walk back into the boardroom, where Brock is practically foaming at the mouth.
“Where the hell were you?” he asks with exasperation.
I take a deep breath and prepare for another long afternoon.
Tessa
The box sits in my pocket for the rest of the day.
I resist the urge to open it at work. The last thing I need is Paula looking over my shoulder and starting more tongues wagging.
It’s burning a hole in my pocket, though, and as soon I get home I fling everything else on the floor and pull out the box.
Holding my breath, I open it. And I’m utterly blown away.
It’s a necklace. But not just any necklace—it glitters like a clear night sky. There must be dozens upon dozens of diamonds on it.
“Holy. Shit.” I say aloud, my voice echoing in my mostly empty apartment.
I take it out of the box reverently and put it around my neck, standing in front of the mirror to admire it. It suits me . . . but hell, this thing would suit anybody. It’s freaking stunning.
And it probably cost more than I make a year. No, scratch that. It definitely cost more than I make in a year.