Page 54 of Mistletoe Missus
Everything heightened. All my senses screamed at me that this was my husband. Mitt Morgan, the man I had first met before everything changed, and I knew he’d come back to me. I wanted him so badly to stay, and I reached out to touch his face. His whiskers rough against the graze of my fingertips, and I couldn’t help the tears blurring my vision.
“Finally...” I whispered with a smile. “The man I first met has come back.”
Suddenly, my words stopped Mitt cold, and he pushed my hand away. He forced me out of his lap but grabbed my cheeks and puckered them together. I gasped with surprise as he pulled me close, and I stared back at the grumpy man, who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.
“That man is only in your fucked up fantasy, Tinsley. He never existed and you need to forget him because this is your husband.” Mitt pressed his lips against mine in a harsh kiss, and his teeth bit into my bottom lip until he pulled back. “Stone cold, ruthless, and strictly business.”
My lip throbbed. The pain he had served me hurt.
“I hate you.” I glared at Mitt through tears and yanked my face away.
“Good. That makes two of us,” Mitt hissed and went back to eating his breakfast. “Now sit down and eat your food.”
I wanted to run, to flee and hide from the monster who’d made a comeback. The sweet side of Mitt had only come out for a brief appearance, or maybe it was all in my damn head. A screwed up imaginary husband I had made up, and he was right. I needed to forget him because that side of Mitt Morgan wasn’t real. Unfortunately for me, this crabby man was my husband, and there was a big event I expected him to attend this evening.
The tears in my eyes blinked away in a matter of seconds, and I went to the opposite end of the table. I wasn’t hungry, but I’d sit to appease him because if I didn’t, I knew the consequences. My event planning business would go up in smoke, and I needed the Black-Tie Charity Ball to go off with no problems, but unfortunately, I required my husband to be there. The press would surely make an appearance and Mitt not being by my side wasn’t an option. Ihadto stroll in on his arm, and he was on theguest list along with multiple eligible billionaires who’d donate a big check to a good cause.
“The Black-Tie Charity Ball is tonight,” I announced.
A moment of silence ticked by, and Mitt piqued my anger. I held the emotion at bay even though I wanted to lunge across the table and strangle him. He continued eating and wouldn’t even glance up from his plate while he shoved food down his throat.
I added, “I’m the event planner for the event.”
Mitt’s eyes shot up, and he glared down the table at me. “Who hired you?”
“Why do you care?” I snapped.
“Because you’re my wife.”
I ignored his grumpiness and showed my pride.
“It was a woman. Mrs. Chambers. She brought the opportunity to my attention after we tied the knot, and I couldn’t pass up such a wonderful opportunity,” I explained, even though I didn’t want to.
“I already had plans to attend with my father, but I didn’t know you’d be in charge of such an elaborate event,” Mitt admitted as he dropped his fork and stood up from his seat.
“Neither did I, and the offer quite surprised me. Mrs. Chambers offered it to me because the previous event planner ended up in an unfortunate accident,” I said as I watched Mitt fix his suit’s tie and move in my direction. “I guess my name came up after making headlines, and they wanted me last minute.”
Mitt stopped in front of me as his broad figure loomed over me. He sat against the edge of the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He studied me for an entire minute and turned his head away. His intense eyes peered straight ahead. Something was on his mind, and he appeared uneasy. Once again, Mitt perplexed me because not even ten minutes ago he pushed me away, and now he was closer, as if nothing had happened.
“Mrs. Chambers?” Mitt questioned, as he uncrossed his arms and tapped a finger against the table.
“Yes. She was lovely,” I breathed with a shrug and chewed on a piece of buttered toast. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Mitt pushed himself off the table. “No. It’s nothing. I’ll be there and ready to escort you to the ball.”
Before I could utter a thank you, Mitt headed out of the dining room and didn’t turn back. He left me speechless because he didn’t argue. His grumpy attitude diminished, and he agreed to take me. On the outside, I was excited. The event I had been planning in secret was off to a good start, but inside, I was screaming. Nothing could go wrong. Everything had to go as I had planned or else the career I had spent my adult life perfecting was over.
TWENTY-NINE
Black-Tie Charity Ball
Tinsley
Aperfect bun held my hair back, and snowflake earrings dangled from my earlobes. Bright red lipstick matched my ruby Chanel dress. The ball gown was strapless with a puffy material that sparkled with the light and made me feel like a queen draped on Mitt’s arm. My husband should be my king, but we were at odds, and our perfect appearance as a happily married couple was flawed.
Mitt smiled at the press as we strolled past. He was handsome—far too sharp in a light gray tuxedo with a modern fit and a black-collared jacket. The darkened pocket square in the breast pocket of his blazer matched the color of his dress pants. He was sleek, timeless, and completely drool worthy. He had combed back his dark hair, and his intense eyes skimmed through the crowd. Only to peer down at me with a dashing smile and cause my cheeks to blush, but I reminded myself this was all for show—an act for the clicking cameras and the flashing lights. None of this was for me but for his bitter ego and his overbearing father.
“The event is lovely, Tinsley,” Cyprus said from beside me as he joined us at the charity ball’s entrance.
