The CEO's Contracted Mistress

Man of the House

The minute she’d gotten back to her hotel room, she’d sent Grady, Everly, and Prue a text revealing Olivier knew but begged them not to cut their nights short. He wasn’t going to do anything in front of the kids. If had been going to, he already would have. If he knew she had the kids alone, he’d leave her alone.

Grady had done an internet search on him Tuesday evening after the kids had been in bed and confirmed he did own the hotel. He allegedly owned the chain including one in Vegas where he spent a lot of time. He liked to gamble which was why he bought a resort in Vegas, and it had been the most scandalous thing Grady had been able to find.

Grady had pointedly shown her an interview Olivier’s sister had done where she’d described how he was an amazing uncle, and she couldn’t wait for the day he was a father.

There was no evidence of s*x trafficking in his online information. By all accounts, he was a genius with numbers and money and made shrewd investments.

The most exciting thing for Grady was the video posted, taken at a gala when Olivier had been thirty and his grandfather had approached him and demanded now, he was thirty, he do his duty and learn the ropes of Gael’s company to take it over. Olivier had laughed in the man’s face and said he’d rather be penniless and on the street than work for the crooked man.

Grady had fist pumped excitedly watching the video and Bobbie and Everly had made faces at him. Grady was convinced he’d been right all along, and the kids should know their father. Prue had agreed but the woman had been a family court judge for nearly twenty years and a family lawyer for fifteen years before that. When he’d been accused of s*x trafficking, they understood her reluctance but now he vehemently denied the allegations, they felt Bobbie was the one in the wrong. As Everly pointed out, that’s what family did. They told you when you were wrong. They weren’t taking pleasure in her pain, but they had to remind her there were two children who deserved the truth and a man who deserved the opportunity to make up for lost time.

Now, she sighed as she swirled melting ice cream around a boat shaped container, she knew he knew. She’d handled it badly and had pissed him off. Would he send lawyers after her? Fight her for custody? What if she lost them? According to Grady’s internet search, the man had almost as many dollars behind his name as Bill Gates. She made decent salary as a paralegal, but nobody could compete with his bank balance.

Every noise outside the room had made her jump with nerves. Was he going to come down and demand to talk and see his kids? She knew he’d overheard the conversation she had them all on her own tonight. Surely, he wasn’t this cold.

Her mind flitted back to the time she’d once heard him on the phone conducting a business transaction and the tone of his voice and how brusque he was had revealed to her he was not a man to trifle with. He was powerful and she’d known it then. With nearly nine more years of experience, he was likely far more successful and ruthless than he’d ever been before.

The hotel landline phone rang and intuitively she knew who it was. She reached out ignoring the confused look on Max’s face at the sound the device made and answered it.

“Hello.”

“Chérie,” his voice was authoritative and yet could melt her panties with a single word. “What are my children doing?”

She took a breath, “the four of us are watching Tangled. It’s a Disney version of Rapunzel.”

“I’ve seen it.” He replied. “I have three nieces.”

“Oh.”

“We need to have a discussion. How long are you babysitting the third child for?”

“Until morning.” She whispered into the receiver.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Max asked her.

“Tell him, chérie, tell him it’s his papa,” he mocked her, “I dare you.”

“Not like this Olivier,” she whispered. He said a word which made her make a face, “don’t curse at me.”

“Since when can you swear in French?” he asked with a bitter sound.

“Since I considered perhaps, I’d been discussed without my knowledge about my employment contract while I was in the room, and I’d never known. I’d been told a conversation on the phone had taken place the morning I left, and I never wanted to be in the position again. I took French lessons.”

“The man in the elevator was correct. Smart and beautiful,” he said dryly.

“You hit him.” She accused.

“He touched what is mine.”

“Not yours.”

“Ah, but you are. At the very least you owe me five nights,” at her surprised hiss his laugh was menacing, “but considering we have children, I’ll settle for every night for the rest of your life.”

“I’d sooner have a short life.”

“It can be arranged,” there was no humour in his dark words. “You purposefully kept my babies from me, Roberta. I am not a happy man.”

“You know why,” she protested feebly.

“You should have known better,” he raised his voice just slightly, but the anger was evident. “You spent two months in my bed every night. We spent day after day together. You said I never missed anything but neither did you. You are a smart woman. You knew better. You know I am not the sort of man to do such a thing.”

“I never would have guessed you the kind of man to pay for services like you did and yet,” she retorted bluntly.

“I paid your expenses because I made you quit your job. You weren’t a w***e. You were my mistress.”

“Semantics. I had an employment contract.”

“You had an NDA, not an employment contract.” He rebutted. “Did you even read what you signed back then?”

“Mom,” Max shook her leg, “who are you talking to?”

“A friend Max, I’m just talking to a friend.”

“Then why do you look mad and sad at the same time?” he squinted at her.

She looked at him and grimaced, “Maximillian, where are your glasses?”

“I don’t want to wear them.”

“You have to wear them. Go find them, put them on your face and stop interrupting me on the phone.”

“Can we open the candy?” He asked as he slid his glasses on with a sigh.

“No, it’s too late for candy. You’ll be up until dawn. Make popcorn in the microwave and don’t,” she pointed at him, “put anything other than the bag of popcorn in the microwave. No candies, no marshmallows, no chocolate. Just the popcorn.”

“Boring!” he sing-songed at her as he walked away.

The roar of laughter caught her ear, and she turned her attention back to the phone. “It’s not funny.”

“Has he put those things in the microwave before?”

“Last week while I was working at my home desk, they decided it would be a great idea to make their own rice cereal treats. They dumped two bags of marshmallows into my microwave without the use of a bowl, I might add, and then got carried away watching them explode. It couldn’t even be cleaned. It was lodged into the tiny little holes on the inside of the microwave, and it smelled of burning gelatin. I had to buy a new one.”

Olivier was roaring at her story, and she fought the tug on her lips at his laugh.

“Laugh it up Mister.” She sighed dramatically, “a month ago the three of them did the diet coke and mentos experiment and painted my kitchen ceiling with the mess. They also did a baking soda and vinegar experiment with food coloring in my toilet.”

“Do you not supervise them?”

She pictured him wiping tears of laughter off his cheeks, remembering how hard he could laugh. “Grady thought it would be a great idea to give Max a science experiment book as a Christmas gift. Ass. They out number me and they’re smarter at eight than I am at twenty-nine. We live immediately next door to my friends, and it means there are three kids together almost all the time. They plot. Pretty certain one day my corpse will be discovered following one of their science experiments gone horribly wrong. They’ll probably blow up my house.”

“Where do you live?”

The question was innocuous enough and she knew there was no point trying to hide from him, “gated community in Dallas.”

“Gated community? Not too expensive for a paralegal?”

“My friends helped me with my down p*****t. They wanted me close. It takes a village to raise a child and I had two. When they built their house, they helped me secure the funding to build my place right next door.”

“You have good friends,” he said quietly.

“The best,” she admitted, “though one of them is pissed with me right now. He’s team Olivier if you need to know.” Her voice was hushed against the openly eavesdropping child near the microwave.

“Good,” he sighed loudly, “though I would prefer we not have teams. I want us to be a united front for our children Bobbie. Now I know of them, it is not in me to walk away. I want the three of you.”

“I’m not part of the package.”

“You most assuredly are. Our children will not have two homes Bobbie.”

“We live in Dallas, not Houston.” She protested. “Visitation is one thing but I’m not uprooting –"

“Nobody has said you need to uproot anything. Calm your jets,” he interrupted angrily. “Chérie, I will come to you. Make no mistake, I will not be giving you any ammunition to keep me from my children. It’s bad enough you think me capable of being a s*x trafficker. Tearing children from everything they’ve ever known and loved is not what I’m capable of doing.”

“Mom,” Max interrupted again. “Can I add milk duds to my popcorn?”

She was frustrated with the way Olivier was backing her into a corner and her son was dancing on her last nerve, “Maximilian Olivier Caron if you interrupt me one more time on my call, I will take your popcorn and toss it in the trash, and you will have an early night. No candy! None.”

“Ugh,” he threw his arms up in protest at her words.

“Keep up the sass mister and I won’t hesitate. You know better.”

“Fine,” he flung himself back onto the sofa with the girls grumbling about the boring popcorn.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized to Olivier. He was silent. “Are you still there?” She rarely used a landline and without being able to see if the call were still connected and not hearing a dial tone she wondered if he’d hung up.

“You named him after me.”

“Both of them,” she grunted with embarrassment. “Olivia Rosamunde and Maximilian Olivier.”

“Thank you.”

“Pfft, don’t thank me yet. They’re assholes.”

All three heads turned to look in her direction and she laughed because they knew who she was talking about.

“Mom, you swore.” Ollie complained. “Why do you get to say those words and I can’t?”

“Because I’m old.” She retorted.

“Chérie, I want to meet them. Assholes or not.”

“I understand,” she grabbed her cell phone and snapped a picture of the kids staring at her. “Give me your cell number.” She plugged it into the phone and then sent the photo to him. “This is what they’re doing right now.”

“Thank you,” his voice was quiet as he evidently studied the photo.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Send me a selfie.” He ignored her comment.

“No, I will not,” she made a face.

“I’m not asking for nudes. I want to see what you’re doing right now.”

“Fine,” She held her phone up and took the photo and grimaced at the image. She looked like hell with no makeup, her glasses on and the ice cream container sitting on her chest in the photo. Screw it, she thought. If he were going to want to be around, he’d better understand she wasn’t going to be fancy, and all done up. She hit send and he was quiet.

“Ice cream in bed? Yet Max can’t have candy?”

“He already ate his ice cream and Larks’ too. It why he can’t have candy.” She argued, “don’t start spoiling already. It’s bad enough Grady does it.” She kept her words quiet praying the kids were no longer eavesdropping.

“Grady and I are going to get along great.”

“I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s the worst big brother in the world.”

“Given what I heard on the phone the other night, is the big brother the reason you don’t get laid more often.”

She bit back the snippy resort, “no.”

“I’m merely curious if your relationship is more than platonic.”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“You seem very close.”

“Again, we’re friends. We’ve all been through hell together and have all healed together. We take care of each other. They knew I had nobody left in this world and they made me part of their family.”

“Never considered a ménage à trois?”

“No. Oh my god. You’re nasty.”

“I simply remember you had as voracious an appetite as I did.”

“Nobody has such an appetite,” she scoffed bitterly.

“I remember differently,” he teased.

She closed her eyes against the huskiness of his voice, and she whispered, “I can’t do this.”

“You’ll have to figure it out,” his voice turned cold again. “Just because you’re scared doesn’t give you the right to keep them from me.”

“I won’t. I just don’t want to be part of it. We can arrange everything through lawyers.”

“Not an option,” he negated her request. “Enjoy your last little bit of being a single parent, Roberta. We’ll be married by the end of the week. Get over it.”

She sat up at his words, “like hell.”

This time there was no denying he had hung up as the dial tone blared in her ear. She slammed the phone down furiously. “Son of a b***h!”

“Mom?” Ollie called out quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she inhaled slowly and tried her best to get her emotions under control.

“Your face is really red.”

“Is it?” she asked tightly.

“Like the time we went hiking and Max spilled his water, and you gave him yours. It’s that red.”

“It’s fine, baby.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“An old friend,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“The man you were talking to at the pool?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Because your face was red then too.” Ollie was watching her instead of the movie.

“What time are we going to the Space Center?” Max interrupted Ollie, obviously done talking about his mother’s phone call.

“Nine. We’re going to go for breakfast early and then take the shuttle to the Space Center. Then we’re going to go to the park for the afternoon.”

“Everly said we can paint our nails and do a spa night tomorrow night.” Ollie said as Lark bounced with excitement beside her.

“I want green fingernails,” Max said.

“Sure,” she agreed absentmindedly. Would Olivier balk at knowing his son liked to have his nails painted?

“Mom, can I have green hair?” Max asked suddenly.

“No.” she shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because your hair is a very dark brown and the only way to make it green like you’re thinking is to bleach it first and there’s no bleach going in your hair until you’re a teenager. If you want a temporary green hair gel for your spikes, we can but we’re not dying your hair a full shade of green.”

“You won’t let me do anything!” he folded his arms furiously. “You wouldn’t let me have candy and you won’t let me dye my hair and you won’t let me sleep in the bed all by myself.”

“Max,” she stood up from the bed and dropped her ice cream container into the trash bin and turned to face her son. “I think you need to go wash up and brush your teeth for bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it is clear you are overtired.”

“Am not.”

“Max, bathroom now.”

“You’re mean,” he stomped off in the direction of the bathroom mumbling under his breath.

Both girls were watching him walk away and making faces at him behind his back.

She cleaned up around the hotel room and then when she had calmed down, she knocked on the bathroom door and lifted an eyebrow when Max yanked the door open and glared at her. He stood there with his toothbrush hanging in his mouth and his shirt off. She almost laughed at the absurdity of an eight-year-old having a temper tantrum to the point he’d removed his clothes, but she needed to stop the rebellion before it worsened.

“Hey,” she sat on the closed toilet seat and watched him brush his teeth. “Want to talk about why you’re being edgy with me?”

“Who was the man in the elevator? He stared at you, me and Ollie a lot. And then he called you.”

“It makes you angry?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” He glared at her.

“No,” she protested his question, “but what if he was?”

“You don’t need a boyfriend.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You have me, Mom. I’m the man of the house.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I see. Well, here’s the thing. Man of the house or not, you don’t get to speak to me the way you did out there. I don’t disrespect you. You don’t get to disrespect me.”

“I’m sorry Mom,” he whispered after spitting a glob of toothpaste into the sink. “I was just angry you were ignoring me to talk to him on the phone.”

“Sweetie, it doesn’t matter who I’m talking to on the phone, you don’t get to interrupt me and be rude.”

He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and sighed, “do you want a boyfriend?”

She smiled gently, “would it be bad if I had a boyfriend?”

“What if he hurt you like Sloane’s dad tried to do?”

“Ah,” she nodded and had instant insight into where they were headed. “You think because Sloane’s dad tried to kiss me when I didn’t want him to, all boyfriends do that?”

He looked away angrily.

She had gone on one date in all the time since she’d run away from Olivier. One. The man who was a single father to one of the kids’ classmates had been charming and persistent and she had finally agreed six months ago to go on a date with him. When he’d driven her home, he had wanted to come in for a drink. She had not felt any kind of connection with him, regardless of his aggressive flirting during dinner and she had declined to invite him in. He’d called her a tease and then pushed his way into the house. He’d shoved her against the door and tried to kiss her and had palmed her breast.

Grady had been coming back from his evening run and had seen the rough shove into her house from up the street and he’d raced to her house and threw the man out. He’d then proceeded to punch the hell out of him. Unfortunately, the kids had been up in Lark’s bedroom window watching the entire thing.

They had used the situation as a lesson on the right way to behave when someone says no, it meant no. She was understanding how Max felt she could get hurt if she had a boyfriend.

“Max, boyfriends aren’t meant to hurt their girlfriends. Did you know Grady was Everly’s boyfriend once?”

“He was?”

“He sure was. He took good care to make sure he respected her and was kind to her. It was why she fell in love with him. It’s important to be a good person and Mom doesn’t want a boyfriend who isn’t a good person.” She shrugged, “and until I find a man who can be a good person to me and be kind to me and my children, I don’t want a boyfriend. I like my life the way it is. It would be nice to have a person who loves me give me hugs when I’m having a bad day but,” she tapped his nose, “I would settle for a hug from my kiddos any day.”

She held her arms out and he stepped closer and hugged her tight. “I love you bud.”

“I love you too, Mom.” He wrinkled his face, “Lark said the man in the elevator was really handsome and she hoped when she got married her husband was gorgeous like him.”

She giggled at his words, “he was handsome but you’re handsomer.”

“I am?”

“Definitely,” she kissed his cheek. “Go tell the girls it’s their turn to come get ready for bed.”

As he walked away calling for his sister and Lark, she shook her head. If Max was annoyed already with Olivier, how was he going to feel when she told him the man was his father. She rubbed her forehead against the throbbing pain. What next?