The Boss's Son Box Set
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “Anyway, we’re unloading the bastard boss, so that’s a good thing.”
“Here’s a picture of the dress...” Britt pulled up a photo of the dress she’d bought for their dinner.
“It’s stunning.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“I bet he rips it off of you.”
“Highly doubtful.”
She sighed. “Yeah, we are talking about Kevin here.”
***
When Kevin called to ask her to meet him at Tamarind, so he didn’t have to drive back across town just to pick her up, Britt told herself he was remarkably practical. He would probably get there first, secure a romantic table with a waterfront view and order her favorite wine so it would be waiting for her. She parked, got out of the car and smoothed the hem of her new dress. It was a little daring for her taste, but the saleslady said it was sexy. It was a deep eggplant purple, fitted and off the shoulder. It hugged her curves in all the right places, and she’d worn long silver earrings with it, a plummy pink lipstick and smoky eye makeup. She felt more glamorous than she ever had, more ready to be a real, grown-ass woman who made a commitment and lived with her partner.
Chapter 2
As she swept into the restaurant, past its sleek brushed stainless steel bar and along the sandblasted floor out onto the waterfront terrace. There, in the flicker of candlelight, sat Kevin. He sat at a table at the back of the terrace, not near the water. There was no wine. He was playing with his phone. Shrugging, she approached the table. He didn’t stand, pull out her chair or even compliment her unusually glamorous and sexy dress. When she spoke, he looked up, gave her a nod, and returned his attention to his phone.
Britt perused the menu and settled on the shrimp. The night air was warm and fresh, and the scene was beautiful. She tried to ignore her irritation at his attitude. She pulled the folder of property printouts from her bag and set it on the table. They placed their orders and she piped up, requesting a bottle of chilled wine.
“Did you have a good day at the office?” she asked cheerfully.
“It was fine. Busy.”
“I can’t wait for Freeman to retire. He can go to the nursing home for lecherous antiques,” she giggled. He didn’t laugh.
“Would you like to—” She started to open the folder but his phone beeped, and he returned to it, tapping away.
He laid it aside again, and she continued patiently.
“Since we’ve been together six months as of last week, we’re right on schedule to look at an apartment together. Isn’t that...the timetable you mentioned?” She heard her voice rise uncertainly at the end of the sentence when he gave her no nod of encouragement, no indication of interest. His shuttered expression remained, and they sat in silence, awkwardly. The wine arrived, and she sipped it without tasting it.
“Now, Brittney,” he began rather sternly.
Kevin’s phone beeped and he reached for it. She covered his hand with hers, trying to seem like it was affection and not almighty aggravation.
“Could you leave that thing alone long enough to finish a sentence?” she asked tensely.
He tugged his hand and phone back and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, genuinely concerned.
“Corinne just wanted to know if it was over.”
“Wha
t’s over?”
“This dinner.”
“Who is Corinne?”
“That’s what we need to discuss. I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now and we’re pretty hot and heavy. I never meant for any of it to happen, obviously. She just showed up with the dry cleaning one day at the office and I couldn’t help myself.”
Britt clutched at her stomach, feeling that sip of wine roiling with panic.