Page 61 of Mistletoe Missus
“Get your fucking hands off me. Right. Now,” my father spat with rage as his nostrils flared, and he grabbed my hands to force them from his collar.
Cyprus smoothed his jacket. He didn’t look at me and I got ready to throw a punch. The motherfucker deserved a fat lip after all this time, but his voice stopped me.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he questioned me as he stepped forward and leaned in close. “A man wouldn’t buy his bride for convenience a wedding gown, a ring, and lavish her with expensive gifts.”
Fuck. Dad had been on to me. I had to cover my tracks.
“I told you that was all for show. To make Tinsley not question anything until after we arrived back in the city and I revealed the truth,” I whispered.
I tried to mask the tremble in my tone, but the goddamn fear I held for Tinsley was far too great. My father couldn’t gain a hint of the affection I had for her. But I was far past frightened. I was too fucking late.
Cyprus, the father I hated, stared me dead in the eyes. “This was a message for you, Son. Don’t get too close because I can easily destroy Tinsley’s life.”
My dad patted my shoulder and vanished into the crowd.
THIRTY-THREE
Free Fall
Tinsley
Days had passed by since the Black-Tie Charity Event, and everything had been a raging success. The night made front-page headlines. We raised millions of dollars, and everyone in New York City raved about me. My spirits were soaring high, and my business had a full schedule for the next two years. I had to hire extra help, arrange multiple meetings, and manage tasks I had only dreamed of. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, but I wasn’t born with a horseshoe stuck up my ass, and I knew why I was in this position.
My husband.
If Mitt hadn’t exceeded expectations that evening, everything would have disappeared. My dream career had taken off ten times over thanks to the man I met under the mistletoe and kissed until I was breathless. He had changed my life, not to mention he had toned down his grumpy side to the point he scared me.
Mitt was acting strangely. He kept me closer than normal, called me to check in, and kept Albert at my side when he wasn’t there. His chauffeur followed me around like he was my biggest fan. Except Mitt paid him for his time. This new side to my husband threw me for a loop, but his added affection mademy heart swoon, and I couldn’t deny how much I loved all the attention.
Today, Mitt wanted to come with me to shop. It had been a long day, and I needed some retail therapy after the shift I had pulled. Nothing cured a hard day at work like Chanel, Prada, and Gucci.
“I want you to come somewhere with me,” Mitt said as he glanced down at his wristwatch and back at me.
“Where?” I asked curiously.
Mitt replied, “A restaurant about another block from here.”
We had already been to several stores, and Mitt had carried all the bags. The trunk was almost full, but I still had more places I wanted to go. I didn’t want to stop, but it was half past noon, and my stomach was rumbling. I guess I could use a bite to eat.
“All right,” I agreed as I sped up at the green light and glanced at Mitt. “They better have something good on the menu.”
My husband sat in the passenger seat of my brand-new Rolls-Royce and let me take the steering wheel. The car was far too nice to speed in, and I had maintained the speed limit through the streets. I loved the way the engine purred but was silent when at a complete stop. The vehicle drove like a dream, and I was thankful he let me keep it.
“Oh, I think you will be happy with their selection,” Mitt breathed as he smiled at me and pointed ahead. “It’s just up here on your side, but park at the curve in this direction.”
“So, many orders, Mr. Morgan,” I teased him with a grin. “I almost missed your constant demands this week.”
Mitt chuckled.
The deep sound was rich and filled my ears. He touched my arm, resting on the central console with a storage compartment underneath the fine leather material. The pad of his thumb caressed the sleeve of my jacket and even with the fabric in theway, I got goosebumps. He moved down toward my wrist, where he flipped over my hand and stroked my palm. Shivers of want sizzled through me, and I had the urge to pull over. I wanted to kiss him silly, but I refrained since I was only a minute away from our next destination.
Slowly, I inched the car forward with my indicator on to signal my need to pull over while Mitt instructed me on where to park. I let go of his hand because I needed to concentrate on the road, and he distracted me. I might end up in the snowbank.
The snowfall had let up after a storm had rolled through the night before and piles of shoveled snow were on the sidewalk. Sunshine had showed up, grazing the skyline and melting some of the icy snow. The street was bustling with lots of people out for lunch, and I placed my hand on the door handle, ready to get out.
Mitt squeezed my arm. “Wait. Roll down your window.”
Another instruction.
