Page 53 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

My heart wilted the tiniest bit. He didn’t actually want to know about me; he was just doing this because he thought it would help his cause. But I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he wouldn’t open the door at his back until I spoke.

“My mom grieved my dad’s death for a long time. She’s still in the thick of it, and it’s been two decades. The way she grieved was by letting everything around her collapse. Our house was a mess unless I cleaned it up. She lost her job. She did the bare minimum to feed and wash herself.” I stared at Rome’s tie, not wanting to see his face. “So when I started putting more effort into my appearance, she took it as a personal insult. She thought it meant I didn’t care about my dad.”

“Because you wore nice clothes?”

I lifted my gaze to his, smiling sadly. “My dad’s passing really messed her up. Messed both of us up. I think she became incapable of seeing me as my own person. Everything I did was interpreted through the lens of her experience and her opinion. My clothing choices had nothing to do with her, but she still had something to say. That made me rebel. Our relationship deteriorated from there.”

Rome held my gaze for a long moment, then dipped his chin. “I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

He huffed, and for a few moments, I felt a connection with him that I hadn’t felt with anyone else. He also knew what it meant to be alone in his family. He had fraught relationships with parents who were supposed to take care of him but hadn’t.

My dad’s death broke my mother. I no longer blamed her, but the truth was that she had failed me. I’d been alone from the moment he passed until now.

Rome knew how that felt. I believed that to my core.

He pushed the door open to reveal the helipad and helicopter beyond. “Ready?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and straightened. “Let’s do this.”

TWENTY

NIKKI

I’d never beento the Hamptons, so I didn’t know what to expect. When the helicopter landed on a lawn at the back of a five-acre estate, it took me a minute to realize that the mansion and both other small guest houses were all part of the same property. A tennis court took up the entire backyard of one of the guest houses, lined with perfectly trimmed bushes and trees that had lost most of their leaves. The main mansion was right on the white sand beach, with the water and sky the same color of overcast gray.

This place would be spectacular in the summer and early fall.

As it was, there were tons of staff milling around to greet us, lots of guests already lounging on a covered porch with heat lamps, and more people inside the home. One of the lawns next to the mansion was set up with tables and fairy lights, and I guessed we’d be out there for a cocktail hour tonight.

“Raphael Garcia has exploded in the last few years. He just showed his fourth haute couture collection and is expanding into cosmetics.”

I nodded at Rome’s quiet words. “Hence the importance of the perfume launch.”

“We need to salvage the relationship this weekend. His feathers are ruffled, and by Monday I want him to feel confident we can deliver.”

“Roger,” I said, nodding.

A staff member led us to the grand entrance at the end of the drive, then swept open the front door just as Raphael Garcia came floating down the wide hallway toward us. He was a bald man with a perfectly trimmed beard and round glasses.

“Blakely!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms, gaze shifting to me. “And guest!”

I painted a smile on my lips, even though I felt a twinge in my chest. It was a good reminder of where exactly I stood, though. I was the placeholder, the plus-one. I was, “and guest.” Rome might ask me personal questions, and he might even kiss me in a dark room at the back of an event, but I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t one of these people, even in my vintage Balmain dress.

“Raph, this is Nikita,” Rome said, his hand sliding down my spine. Despite my mental reminder, the touch sent warmth spiraling through my core.

Raphael studied me. He was a tall man with sharp blue eyes that watched me from behind his round glasses. He wore a perfectly tailored button-down with a subtle embroidered pattern which was half-tucked at the front of his relaxed slacks. The look could have been sloppy but for the clear luxury of the fabrics and their perfect cut. He looked easy and relaxed and rich.

I felt like an impostor. Which wasn’t a great surprise since that’s exactly what I was. “Thank you for having us,” I said, widening my smile. “Your property is gorgeous.”

“Oh, this old place?” he said lightly, then he frowned at me. Well, more specifically, he frowned at my dress. I gulped and tried not to fidget. Had I misjudged? Should I have gone for easy and breezy? I went through the mental catalog of the clothing I’d brought and began frantically planning my outfits for the weekend.

Then Raphael rubbed his chin. “You,” he said, “have a point of view.”

His eyes rose to meet mine. I blinked. “Don’t we all?”

His expression turned wry. “Darling. Don’t be ridiculous.” Whirling, he called out, “Come! Let me give you a tour. Marcia! Where are the welcome drinks!”

---