Page 28 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

“Your brother got here earlier. He and Natasha wanted to go over a few details for their wedding.”

“I was working, Mother,” Rome replied. “I came as soon as I could.”

It struck me that he was answering a comment she hadn’t voiced out loud. I could sense the strain in his voice, and I noticed the way he tapped his index finger against his thumb in a rhythmic, unconscious motion.

Despite myself, a bit more sympathy was wrung out of the dry husk of my heart for him. He was an ass, but maybe in this particular situation, I could be sympathetic. I knew what it was like to ride the undercurrents of parental relationships.

“The hotel at Lake Como has confirmed they can accommodate three hundred and fifty guests,” his mother continued, not acknowledging what her son had said. “Your father is pleased.”

I arched a brow. I wondered if Rome’s father cared at all, or if it was Joanne herself who was satisfied by the venue choice. I had the distinct sense I was walking into a booby-trapped room. Words had no meaning and conversations happened on multiple levels simultaneously. I had to tread carefully.

Rome’s fingers kept tapping against each other as his mother led us deeper into the home. The ceilings were high, with gorgeous chandeliers throwing glittering light over every surface. The rugs under our feet were thick and richly patterned. Artwork hung in nooks that we passed at regular intervals.

We came to a stop outside a door, and another black-clad staff member nodded to Mrs. Blakely before opening the door.

I stole a glance at my boss. His fingers had stilled, but his breathing was heavy and his frown deep. I touched his elbow and arched my brows.Are you okay?my look asked.

His shoulders eased and he dipped his chin.

Then we walked into a sumptuously decorated sitting room.

“Rome brought a friend. Nicola, was it?” Mrs. Blakely asked, her piercing gaze coming to rest on me.

“Nikita, but you can call me Nikki,” I said, nodding to the people in the room. There were three staff members trying to be inconspicuous at the edges of the room, along with an older man, a younger man, and a young woman. I used my vast powers of deduction to figure out that they were Rome’s father, brother, and soon-to-be sister-in-law. Rome grunted out a greeting and dropped into a sofa to our left. I perched on the edge of the cushion next to him.

Mrs. Blakely waved a hand at staff members, who jumped to offer us a drink. Rome asked for wine, and I decided I wanted my wits about me, so I asked for sparkling water.

“Have you knocked her up already?” the young man called out, chortling, from the sofa across from ours. He had his arm around a gorgeous blonde dressed almost identically to me, except her pantsuit was a deep navy blue, and she’d skipped the lipstick.

“Fuck off, Will.”

“Don’t speak to your brother that way.”

The sharp rebuke from his mother made Rome’s arm stiffen next to me. I cleared my throat and gave the other man my best smile. “Congratulations on the wedding,” I interjected.

The woman—Natasha, Mrs. Blakely had named her—smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’re thrilled,” she said, sounding anything but.

“It sounds lovely. Have you been to Lake Como before?”

The blonde laughed. “Of course. I summer there every year. My uncle helped us secure the venue. He knows the owners of the hotel. Haven’t you been?”

My smile felt a little forced, but I gave it my best. My cheeks would be sore by the end of the night. I shook my head. “Not yet. It’s on my list.”

“On your list,” Natasha replied, baring her teeth at me. “That’s cute.”

“Natasha, be nice,” Will said, glancing at his wife-to-be with a look that wasn’t exactly loving.

“Your uncle is a gem,” Mrs. Blakely interjected, giving her son a quick, significant look.

Undercurrents abounded. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat; my pants were itchy. I cleared my throat and smiled at the waiter who presented me with a glass of cut crystal full of delicately bubbling water. A perfect, juicy crescent of lemon perched on the impossibly thin edge of the glass. “Thank you,” I said as he placed a coaster and a little cocktail napkin down on the side table.

The man nodded and drifted away.

“So how did you two meet?” This came from Will, who flicked his fingers at one of the staff and pointed to his near-empty glass. The waitress jumped to obey him, and Will’s eyes came back to rest on me.

“Well, funny story,” I started, thinking just the thing this party needed was a story about a giant perfume-filled penis and a trip to the emergency room, but Rome just said, “We met through colleagues.”

“Colleagues!” Will repeated, delighted. “Dipping your pen into company ink.” He gave me a lascivious grin before leering at Rome again. “Naughty boy.”

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