XOXO (The Calvettis of New York 3)

Because The Dick was being a dick.

Since we’re not the only two people in the break room, I keep my answer PG rated. “Mr. Calvetti needed to make a call to Italy.”

Chewing the last bite of the fry, she giggles. “What was your part in that? Holding his hand through it?”

I should laugh too, but I’ve wondered too many times what it would feel like to hold his hand or to feel his hands on me. They’re large. They look soft.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Bronwyn taps my wrist with her fingers. “Why did you have to come in early if he had to make a call?”

I shrug. “You know how he is.”

She picks up another fry. Using it to draw a line through the center of the blob of ketchup, she smiles. “I know he must be grateful to you for connecting him with Mrs. Blanchard.”

“He is,” I admit as I pop the plastic top back on my salad container. “He emailed me during my date last night to thank me for that.”

She stops mid-chew. “Your date?”

I didn’t lead into this conversation on purpose, but I won’t turn away from it. I know Bronwyn is curious, and sooner or later she’s bound to ask about my date. “I went out with Lowell last night.”

“Lowell,” she repeats his name. “He sounds...”

“Smart?”

Shaking her head, she leans closer to me. “Wealthy. You’re not dating a client, are you?”

I know the rules.

A personal relationship with a client is a big no-no for any employee of Modica. The only exceptions to the rule are Mr. Calvetti, Mr. Corning, and Mr. Lawton. The clients they know personally are all family members.

“He’s not a client.” I steal a fry and dot the end with ketchup. “We met on that dating app I was telling you about.”

“Was last night your first date?”

I nod while I chew.

“Well, tell me.” Her face brightens as she smiles. “Did he look like his pictures? Will there be a second date?”

“Yes, and tonight.”

“Tonight?” She questions with surprise in her tone. “That’s fast.”

It is. It’s too fast. I should have told Lowell tomorrow would be better. I don’t know if I can stay awake until seven. That’s when he’s scheduled to pick me up at my place.

“I’ll cover for you if you want to take a nap.” She laughs. “You can do it in Judd’s office. He’s out for the afternoon, and that couch in his office is way too comfortable.”

I raise a brow. “What?”

“I caught him asleep on it once, so he told me if I didn’t tell Dominick he was sleeping on the job, I could take a nap whenever I want.”

It’s tempting, but Mr. Calvetti is expecting me back at my desk in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll sneak in a short nap when I get home,” I say, hopeful that The Dick will leave early today so I can do the same.

“Rest up because tonight might be the night.” Bronwyn winks.

I inch forward on my chair, feeling the chafe of the lace against my core as I move.

I didn’t wear my pretty pink lace bra and panty set for Lowell yesterday. He won’t see it tonight. I have it on because I like knowing that under my clothing, hidden from everyone’s view, I’m wearing something that makes me feel beautiful in my own special way.

Scooping the salad container in my hand, I push to stand. “I’m going to trash this and get back to my desk.”

“I expect a full report on tonight’s antics on my desk by nine a.m. tomorrow,” she says in a low tone meant to mimic Dominick’s voice. She still can’t nail the gruffness. “Do everything I would do...and more.”

I laugh at that, not knowing what she’s done or would do. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“You can bank on it.”

***

An hour later, I have a cup of coffee in front of me and multiple spreadsheets open on my computer.

All of the numbers are running together in a jumbled maze in my mind.

I take another large sip of the hot coffee, hoping the caffeine will jolt me awake enough that I can finish my work.

Mr. Calvetti is still behind his desk. His gaze has been stuck on his laptop screen since I got back from my lunch break. Either he’s looking at something fascinating, or he can sleep with his eyes open.

My desk phone rings, sending a jolt through me.

I pick up the receiver. “Good afternoon. This is Arietta.”

“Arietta.” Bonnie’s soft voice carries over the line. “Clarice Blanchard is on her way up. She insisted on surprising you, but I’d thought I’d give you and Mr. Calvetti a two-minute warning.”

I glance into my boss’s office. He’s already on his feet, headed in my direction.

“Thank you,” I say with whatever cheer I can muster. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

By the time I hang up the phone, Mr. Calvetti is next to me. I don’t look in his direction because cock-a-doodle-do-me, the bulge in his pants is always there, and since I first noticed it, I have to fight not to stare at it.