Page 6 of Unwrapped

Even seeing only her profile was all it took to take my breath away, but I kept on walking, determined not to take another look for fear of what I’d find. But less than a minute later, I locked eyes with her again and came dangerously close to rubbing against her as I stepped inside the ballroom. She smelled incredible, and her brown skin looked flawless and smooth.

I shake the thought out of my head. I’m not looking for a woman, and even if I was, I sure as fuck would not be looking for one at this party. Besides, that woman, whoever she is, is not my type. With her smooth brown skin, straight nose, and full lips, she’s absolutely not for me. She also looks young. Very young. No, my type is white women who don’t look like jailbait. Blondes preferred.

The bartender finally hands me a cognac. I down it in one gulp and quickly order another. The drinks help, but unfortunately, time seems to stand still because I’ve only been at this party for less than five minutes.

The job itself is straightforward. Uncle Joe keeps immaculate records, and I was able to jump right in. With my background as an architect, it was a natural fit for me, and I’ve gotten Bain Construction approved for three project bids starting next year.

Surprisingly, I’ve been enjoying the work. What I don’t enjoy are the hostile employees, especially one Mona Moore, who seems to hate me more than most. I agree, I was not on my best behavior the morning we met. I arranged breakfast and lunch for the office the next day to make amends for my behavior the day before, but her hostility has not waned an inch.

Whatever I do seems to offend her. She took umbrage when I requested to look at the accounts. When I asked her to explain her job to me, something I did with everyone at the office, she pursed her lips so tight as she stared at me, I thought she might have misheard what I said. When she finally sat down, I expected her to be combative, but what I got instead was an exercise in patience. Every question I asked was met with a one or two-word answer. After about an hour, she finally left my office, but she left me with a headache.

The next morning, things only got worse. We were both in the kitchen at the same time. She was reaching into the cabinet, grabbing a roll of paper towels. When she turned and saw me in the kitchen, the air turned cold enough to keep a snowman from melting. No words were exchanged. Not a good morning. Not a hello. I continued to the coffee machine only to slip on something. I caught the counter to keep from falling, but when I did, I knocked a mug over, and it shattered on the tile floor upon impact.

Mona’s eyes widened, and she came running to me. If I thought she was coming to my aid, I was sorely mistaken. She dropped to the floor, each hand on her head as she let out a loud scream.

“No, no, no, no.” She kept muttering the same words as she picked up the broken pieces of the mug. Finally, I stood up and look down at her.

“My son made this for me when he was in the second grade. My son, Mr. Bain! The same son I hardly get to see because he’s halfway across the world fighting for your freedom. Fighting for your right to come in here and destroy my property!” She’d huffed as she continued to pick up the pieces. When she stood up, she’d turned to me, her eyes like small slits and her lips formed into a straight line. She then turned her back on me and slammed the broken pieces into the trash, causing a loud crashing sound. Then, she ran out of the kitchen like a teen girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend, her sobbing fading with each second.

My attempts at apologizing fell on deaf ears. Since then, we’ve only communicated through emails.

The others around the office are better, but not by much. If I step into the kitchen while they are in there, all conversation ceases until I leave, then the whispering starts. Unfortunately for them, I don’t give a fuck what they think. I’m here to do a job for my uncle, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Their opinion of me is irrelevant. If I agree to what my uncle is proposing, I’ll be part owner instead of temporary boss.

I can already imagine the hate in her eyes being replaced by fear, but Mona knows she’s untouchable. For now. She’s a great employee. Her records are immaculate, and she knows all our vendors and recruiting companies. She’s charming and liked by everyone. Everyone except me.

As I get closer to Uncle Joe, I see a group of employees congregating around him. I don’t bother to smile at them when they notice me, and neither do they at me. If I had my way, I would have canceled this damn party and had a catered lunch in the office instead. They know that, too.

I made those sentiments clear to my uncle after I signed off on the final invoice to the hotel, but he told me how much the employees and their families look forward to this. In fact, I think Mona overheard the conversation and ran her mouth to everyone else because they’ve been even more hostile than before.

I’m not a soft touch like Uncle Joe. I don’t waste time with pleasantries. I couldn’t give two shits about weekend plans, new additions to families, or the health of the family pet. It’s a goddamn workplace, not happy hour at a bar.

I check my phone again, and it’s as if time refuses to march on. It might feel like days, but I haven’t been in the building ten minutes yet. When I look up from my watch, I find the same perfect ass from a few minutes ago. It’s like she’s here tonight only to torture me. I could have sworn when I looked at her last, she was walking to the bar, but here she is in front of me again.

I stand back to admire her figure again, this time taking my time. Despite the high heels on her feet, she’s on the short side as she stands close to my uncle, smiling at him. I walk to them, telling myself that it’s only because the clock is ticking, not because I need to get closer to her again so that I can hear her voice, or if I’m lucky, feel her touch.

It’s not until I’m right next to her that I see Mona standing on the other side of my uncle, holding onto his hand as if it’s a life raft while she holds a glass of wine in another. Her smile slips when she sees me, but she catches herself. To mess with her head, I give her the most genuine smile I can muster. As expected, her eyes narrow, not buying my sudden bout of politeness.

“Nicky!” Uncle Joe says. This causes the mystery beauty to turn in my direction. She turns just as I approach, and when she turns, it is directly into me.

A pair of small hands land on my chest as she tries to steady herself. I hear a whoosh sound coming out of her and I feel her warm breath on my skin. I look down and see my hands on the same red dress I saw earlier. Slowly, I look up and almost drown in the most beautiful pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen. We both stare at each other, neither of us saying a word or attempting to move away.

I study her face, and she’s even younger than I initially thought. Her lips fuller. Her skin smoother. Her smell more intoxicating. Everything about her is better than I thought.

It takes seeing her again for me to realize where I know the face from. No, she does not work for Bain Construction, but her mother does.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Of course, I’ve seen her face before. I see it every day because she’s in a family photo in Mona’s small office. I can’t remember how anyone else in the photo looks, but she’s completely changed since that picture was taken. Gone is the chubby teenager with acne and a mouth full of metal. The picture is obviously several years old because it’s a beautiful woman standing in front of me now, not the awkward teenager in the picture.

Her hands linger on my chest, but then she must catch herself because she mutters, “excuse me,” drops them as if I’ve burned her, and all too soon her touch is gone. I’m in big fucking trouble. She’s young. Really young. She’s even more beautiful than she was a minute ago as I take note of her long eyelashes surrounding those big, brown eyes. Innocent looking brown eyes.

“Nick, meet Mona’s daughter, Miranda. Miranda, this is my nephew, Nick.”

Miranda. Like in the Tempest, she looks naïve and innocent, but I know there is no way I’ll get the chance to find out anything else about her. I can’t. I won’t.

She blushes and turns to her mother before turning back to look at me. I don’t smile. I stare into those brown eyes as I extend my hand. Her hand drowns in mine, and when I press my lips to her warm skin, she exhales loudly. It was fast, and anyone else would have missed it. She snatches her hand from mine and does her best to try to rub my kiss away.

“I was just telling Miranda and Mona what a great job you’ve been doing, and how lucky we are to have you back in Boston for good. Miranda, dear, are you still working at the call center while you finish school?”

I continue to look down at her, eager to hear her voice.

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