Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maren
I don’t know if it was the two glasses of wine, or the fact that I could feel Keats’s breath skirting over my cheek, but I fell under a spell last night. That’s the only explanation I can think of for why I told my boss that I’d do anything to help him sign Fletcher.
After Keats paid the check and we said our goodbyes to the Newmans, I hurried out of Nova.
I needed air.
I walked into the restaurant expecting a buttoned-up business dinner. I walked out as Keats Morgan’s girlfriend. At least, that’s who I am to Fletcher Newman and his father.
There’s no way that this can end well.
Morning light brought a mild hangover along with a dash of reality. We can’t continue this ruse. If Keats signs a contract with Fletcher, it won’t take long before the Newmans realize that my relationship with Keats is business only.
“That’s the third outfit you’ve tried on,” Arietta says from the doorway of my bedroom. She’s still dressed in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. I’m not surprised since it’s not even seven a.m. yet.
Dudley is in her arms, wrapped in a pink blanket that was in the box with his things. It’s not that cold out. The puppy doesn’t need to be swaddled.
“Is he all right?” I point toward Dudley.
“He likes to snuggle in the morning.” Arietta plants a kiss next to his ear. “He crawls into bed with me before the break of dawn.”
That’s suspicious since I put him in his kennel each night and close the door.
“Don’t fall in love with him, Arietta,” I warn.
“I told you I don’t like my boss.” She rolls her eyes. “I admit he’s attractive, but when he opens his mouth, it’s all ugly from there. He’s bossy, which makes sense given he’s my boss, but it wouldn’t kill him to say something nice to me occasionally.”
Adjusting the front of the white blouse I’m wearing, I laugh. “I was talking about Dudley, but it’s good to know you think Dominick is hot.”
Her eyes widen behind her glasses. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” I wink. “I won’t tell him.”
Shaking her head, she half-laughs. “Promise?”
“If you help me with my makeup, I promise never to tell Mr. Calvetti that you have a crush on him.”
“I don’t,” she states with a grin. “And I will help with your makeup, but I’m curious about something.”
I save her the trouble of asking by explaining why I’m putting so much effort into getting ready for work today. “That baseball player I told you about last night is coming by the office today with his dad.”
Arietta gently places Dudley in the center of my bed, tucking the pink blanket under his chin to make a small pillow. He lowers his head down as he watches her cross the room toward me.
“So do you like the ballplayer or his dad?” she questions as she nears me.
“Neither.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is it Mr. Morgan? Do you want to look extra nice for him?”
I stare at her reflection in the mirror we’re facing. “You’ve always told me that getting involved with your boss is a bad idea, Arietta.”
I haven’t told her that I know from personal experience, that it’s a fucking terrible idea.
She rests a hand on my forearm. “That’s because my boss is a tyrant. I sense that Keats isn’t like that.”
I hold back a smile. “I wouldn’t call him a tyrant.”
Arietta takes a half-step to the left so she’s standing side-by-side with me. She tugs on the bottom of her sweatshirt. “Would you call him handsome?”
“He’s average.”
Her face lights up with a megawatt smile. “Average? I saw a few pictures of him online, Maren. He’s not average.”
I turn to face her. “You think he’s handsome?”
She reaches to straighten the waistband of the red pencil skirt I’m wearing. “So do you. Admit it.”
I can’t deny it so I nod. “He’s good-looking.”
“You’re blushing.” She circles a finger in front of my face. “You like him, don’t you?”
I ignore that and drop my hands to my hips. “If I wear my red heels, is this the winner?”
She rakes me from head-to-toe. “It’s the winner and if Keats Morgan is the man for you, this outfit is going to knock his pants off.”
“Socks off,” I correct her.
“No.” Shaking her head, she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “The other two outfits you tried on would have knocked his socks off. This will knock his pants off.”
I tilt my head as I stare at my reflection. “I’ll go with this.”
“Take a seat on the chair, and I’ll work my makeup magic.” Arietta gestures to a gray armchair in the corner of my bedroom. “Mr. Morgan is about to be wowed by his assistant.”