Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Ben
Over the past few weeks, I never expected to end up like this… on my knees in Antonia Cole’s office.
The first time I walked in here, it was for funding. For money to build a retreat in honor of my dead wife. What’s transpired since then is just… jaw-dropping. The board is due in ten minutes, but right now neither of us is particularly concerned about that.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve been grabbing every opportunity we can—in her office, at the retreat, a stolen moment between school drop-off and pick-up if I’m not working.
When we’re not juggling oncology, clinical trials, and funds that seem to be running out quicker than we can raise them, we’re together.
But it’s been fun.
It’s been the most fun I’ve had in years.
I feel like a university student, stealing kisses with a girl I’m probably not meant to date. The strangest part is that Antonia Cole—the most controlled woman I’ve ever met—seems to enjoy it just as much as I do.
“Again,” she murmurs. “You’ve got ten minutes to take me again.”
I laugh. “Are you sure? And if I don’t, what’s the punishment?”
She snorts. “Well, the shareholders will get a show, won’t they,” she says, “and see that your talents lie beyond oncology and retreat funding.”
She gasps, her breath catching sharply as the office door swings open, and Clara walks in. She stops dead. Antonia freezes beneath my tongue, her eyes widening in pure horror. I pull away, releasing her legs.
For a moment, none of us move, eyes darting between one another. Then, Clara slowly raises an eyebrow.
“Well,” she says calmly, taking in the scene. “Do you want me to make up the sofa bed? Though I’m not sure we’ve got enough pillows.”
Antonia groans and drops her head back against the desk. “Clara.”
Clara shrugs, completely unfazed.
“I’m just trying to be helpful.” She glances between us again, the corner of her mouth twitching. “About time, frankly.”
Antonia’s legs kick briefly in the air as she scrambles down off the desk. I rise to my feet, trying hard not to laugh. Embarrassed, sure. Everything’s heated. But it’s funny all the same. Clara’s reaction more so.
Antonia straightens her skirt, rolls her shoulders back, and stares her assistant directly in the eye. “Clara, can you ensure the notes for the shareholders’ meeting are ready?”
It’s Clara’s turn to snort. “Seriously? Are you going to try to recover from that? Being caught with your boyfriend in your office?” She shakes her head. “Come on, Antonia.”
She struts back out again.
“Maybe making up the sofa bed wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We’ve still got…” I check my watch. “Five minutes. And I still owe you one.”
“I had one,” she says, shaking her red hair over her back.
She wears it down a lot more these days.
It was always tied tight in a ponytail. But since…
I don’t know. Us. This. Whatever it is. Now it’s loose around her shoulders.
And I swear it makes it twice as hard to remember we’re meant to be working.
There’s color in her cheeks. Antonia’s just different. Good different, though. More relaxed. Happier. Not as resolutely CEO. There’s less black in her wardrobe and more color in her eyes, in her smile.
And I like that part of her.
The CEO part is impressive. She’s always impressive. She impressed me from the minute I walked into this office all those months ago, when I knew she was the woman who could help me. I never expected her to be helping me this way, though.
Personally. Privately.
We have a lot of fun. A lot of laughs.
My kids have noticed it too. The change in me. The lightness when I talk and laugh. I’m more relaxed. Calmer. I’m home later, leaving earlier.
They keep asking what’s going on. I tell them it’s casual. We’re just dating. Nothing serious. But Liam’s look tells me he doesn’t believe me.
Ollie’s not that interested. Once he knew I had a girlfriend, that was it. He just liked being proved right.
Savannah, however, hasn’t been so positive, which surprises me.
Being the oldest, she’s not really here anymore.
When I told her I was seeing someone, she went silent.
Quiet. Which isn’t like her. Normally, she has an opinion on everything.
And I mean, it can’t be the timeframe. It’s been nearly six years since I lost Bex, and she’d been pushing me to move on.
But when I told her a bit of the background—what Antonia’s been through and who she is—she said nothing. Which means she was thinking. Which usually meant she didn’t agree.
I’m not sure what about her she wouldn’t have liked. She hasn’t told me yet, but I’m sure she will when the time’s right.
Rose, however, was highly amused. She wanted all the gory details. I told her it wasn’t appropriate. I’m her father, not her friend.
“Dad, I’m an adult,” she said. “I live halfway across the world. What harm is there in telling me?”
I still refused. She told me she’d just make it up herself.
Antonia’s fingers brush my cheek, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I’d best get ready for our meeting,” she says, those white teeth bright in her smile.
“Sure, Miss,” I reply. “Whatever you say.”
Suddenly, there’s a hive of conversation outside the door, male voices, Clara cutting in every so often, telling them they’re stupid. Then comes the knock at the door. Antonia straightens the papers on her desk, gathers a file, and steps forward just as Julian walks in. “Are we ready?”
Antonia nods, all professional again, though I don’t think I’ll ever see her the same way.
“We are. We’ll follow you,” she says.
Julian stalks out of the room, and Clara peeks in behind him, a smug smile on her face. “Ladies first,” I say, holding my hand forward, gesturing toward the door. Antonia smiles, just a little, the professional mask slipping for a fraction of a second.
I let her walk ahead, following behind her like the good boy I am.