Dirty Boss (Dirty Rich 2)

The door shuts behind us, locking us into our own little world.

He nods to a bottle of champagne in the ice bucket. "The same one you liked at the party."

"The party where we had our joyful engagement?"

"Don't say things like that."

"Why? We're alone. This is the part that's real. That's what you told me."

He stares at me. "Fine. Get it out of your system now."

If I didn't know better, I'd swear I'd hurt his feelings. "That's okay."

The car starts and pulls out of the parking garage. Once we're on the street, its movements become one comfortable blur. No wonder rich people take these things everywhere. You really do forget you're in transit.

He shifts. We're on different bench seats. They're perpendicular. I have to turn if I really want a good look at Blake.

There's so much to his face. The strong jaw, the sharp line of his nose, the gorgeous blue eyes.

That bit about eyes being the windows to the soul—total bullshit. They're not the windows to Blake's soul. I stare into those eyes and come up with nothing. I don't have a clue what he's thinking or feeling.

If only I could crack that gorgeous head open and pry into his brain. It shouldn't interest me this much. He's closer to a boss than to a boyfriend.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I bite my tongue. That's a terrible line. And it's cheesy as hell.

His expression stays neutral. "We need to announce our wedding date tonight."

"Already?" My palms get clammy. This whole marriage thing is still a weight on my chest. I can do it. I will. But it makes me feel sick."

"The last Friday in April. I booked a ballroom at the Plaza. Very exclusive."

"I'm not getting married in a hotel ballroom."

Surprise fills his blue eyes. "Why not?"

"It's awful and stuffy and not at all my taste."

"What's the difference?"

"You want people to believe this or not?" I smooth my dress. "I'm getting married in a park."

"It will be cold in late April."

"I'll get a dress with sleeves."

"It might rain."

"Then it will rain," I say. "And since the season lines up, I'd like a park with cherry blossom trees."

He smiles. "You like them?"

"No, I want to get married there because I hate them." The sentence leaves me out of breath. Talking to him is impossible. Sarcasm isn't helping. It's not my strong suit. "Of course I like them. They're gorgeous."

It's not like our last ride in this limo. I trust him to understand.

"Before the accident, we would go to DC for a weekend every April just to look at the trees. My parents got all sweet and romantic. I thought it was gross back then, Mom and Dad kissing under the flowers. And I didn't understand my mom's lecture either. Every time, it was the same. 'Life is short. You need to take time to enjoy it.'" I press my back into the seat. Move my eyes to the floor. "I was a stupid teenager. Life felt long. I couldn't wait until I'd finally graduate high school, then college. I couldn't wait to be independent. Funny how quickly I became independent."

A tear wells up inside me. I squeeze my eyelids together until it retreats. This is waterproof makeup, but I'm not crying in front of Blake. He's all walls and defenses. I can't let down mine.

"It must be hard being the woman of the house." His voice is steady but there's a certain sweetness to it. Almost affection.

"Everything worth doing is hard." I meet his gaze. Smile. "I'm getting married under the damn cherry blossoms. You won't stop me."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather save that for your real wedding?"

"Positive." Tension flares between my shoulder blades. "We'll be legally married. Our families will attend. I'm sure I'll be in a very expensive dress. That's plenty real."

"I'll get Ashleigh on finding you a dress. Tell her what you like and she'll find something for you." He looks at something on his phone. "She'll text you about setting up an appointment."

"I want to bring Lizzy."

He nods. "You should."

"Good." It feels like a victory, him suggesting my sister support me.

"Will she be your maid of honor?"

"Of course. And your best man?"

"I don't want one."

"No?"

He shakes his head. "I don't trust anyone enough."

"That's weird."

"And I'm not."

"You're a control freak."

"True."

"I, um… with the wedding, we need to make sure we find a way to agree on things. Compromise is the key to any healthy relationship. Even a fake one."

His lips spread into a full-blown smile. Then, I can't believe it. He laughs. His entire face lights up. His eyes are bright. He's always been attractive as all hell, but that laugh, those bright eyes.

Somehow, he's even more gorgeous when he smiles.

"Noted," he says.

"Who are we inviting?"

"My family. Your family."

"That's it?"

His expression softens. He moves closer. "You object?"

"No. That's perfect. I just expected a big show from you after last time."

"This is for Meryl, not for anyone else."

It's sweet, really. A big fat lie for his dying mother.

Chapter Fifteen

The house is more modest than I imagined. Two stories. Four bedrooms. A walkway lined with rosebushes.

I squeeze Blake's hand as we move towards the door.

My heart is racing. My stomach is flip-flopping. I'm not sure I've ever been this nervous. Lying at a party is one thing. But sitting down with his mom and lying to her face?

I'm still not sure if I'm capable.

Blake squeezes back. It's too sweet, too comforting. I need to banish all the ideas floating through my head, the ones about this being real.

The door is open. He turns the handle and motions after you.

I step inside. It's warm. And it's beautiful. Pictures line the staircase, pillows decorate the couch, books overflow from a shelf against the wall.

We move into the kitchen. Meryl is nursing a glass of wine. Fiona is sitting with a man in a suit. He's in his 30s and he's not really here. His attention is all on his shiny iPhone.

He's the picture of a Wall Street guy. Similar attire, but he's so different from Blake.

It's hard to explain. This guy radiates a certain self-importance. Blake is arrogant, but there's a kindness behind his eyes.

Blake takes my coat and hangs it, and his, on a rack. He greets his family with a nod. "Kat, this is Trey, Fiona's husband."

Oh. Of course. That explains a lot. I'd doubt the possibility of marriage for love if this guy was my husband.

Trey looks up from his phone for a split second. He nods. "Nice to meet you."

Meryl catches my gaze. She shakes her head as she nods to Trey. "What are you two drinking? And don't say you're driving. I saw the limo pull away. What does the poor driver do while you're here?"

"Earn his salary." Blake plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "I'll get drinks."

Meryl holds up her mostly empty glass. "Wine is on the counter."

Blake frowns but takes her glass. I guess there's no sense of objecting to drinking harming her health. Not if she's dy

ing.

My stomach drops. I force my lips into a smile. Half my thoughts go to the warmth on my cheek. I can still feel his lips. The other half go running in the other direction. The stop getting caught up in your own lie direction.

"Have a seat, sweetie," Meryl says. "I remember working in a restaurant. I was always desperate to get off my feet."

I sit. "Actually, I'm not working at the restaurant anymore."

Fiona smiles. "Oh?"

"I quit. To focus on my art." Sort of.

Fiona nods like she understands. "It was the same when I started my clothing line. I had to leave my purchasing job at Saks."

Meryl smiles at her daughter. "I'm sure you could help Kat. Teach her about running her own business."

"I don't know anything about art." She offers me a remorseful smile.

I can't really get a read on her. Does she actually want to help me? Or is she reveling in being withholding?

Everything falls from Fiona's expression as Trey's phone rings.

He nods to his cell. "Excuse me."

She fights her frown, but she doesn't quite get there. She watches her husband leave the room like he's taking her heart with him.

I get the feeling this isn't the first time he's bailed on a conversation for a call. Even the first time tonight.

"My son is a lot of trouble. I hope he's making it up to you," Meryl says.

Right on cue, Blake returns with drinks. Wine for Meryl. Whiskey for him. Gin and tonic for me.

His fingers brush mine as he hands over the glass.

It's the same. My body buzzes with desire. Already, I want to be alone with him.

I take a long sip of my gin and tonic. It's delicious, but it isn't refreshing.

Blake shoots his mother a really look. "That isn't appropriate dinner table conversation."

"Oh, please. You know I wouldn't mind." Meryl looks to me with a smile. "Dinner should be ready shortly. But if you're hungry, there are snacks in the fridge."

"I'm fine, thank you." I finish half my drink. It warms my throat and pushes away the you shouldn't do this voice in my head.

Fiona stares at her half-full glass of wine. "I'm surprised Blake hasn't offered to help you." She looks to Trey's empty seat. "Trey is the one who offered the seed money for my clothing line. He was very supportive."

Regret streaks her expression. The guy taking a call outside is clearly not supportive. He's one of those wealthy guys who writes a check instead of tending to his wife's emotional needs.