Dirty Little Promise (Forbidden Desires #2)

Emma

Placing my hand on the doorknob outside my office, I held my breath, bracing myself for what I knew was waiting for me on the other side. Ignoring the slight ache in my ribs, I pushed the door open and instantly gasped at the sight of my desk.

It was clean—spotless, even. The last time I’d been here, there was a pile of paperwork the size of an algebra textbook in the middle of my desk. I quickly walked behind the desk and started opening drawers, rummaging through each one to see if the cleaning staff had accidentally moved the pile and forgotten to put it back when they were done.

Just as I was starting to get frantic, a soft knock at the door broke me out of my panic. I turned to find Bethany standing there, giving me that mischievous smile I’d come to expect from her.

“Missing something?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Listen, Bethany, if this is some kind of practical joke, I’m really not in the mood. We’re still waiting on a shipment from New York, and if those books don’t get here soon, I’ll have some really angry old ladies to deal with,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck in a mix of worry and frustration.

“I took care of it,” Bethany chirped, her eyes brightening even more.

I stared at her for a moment and then looked back at my empty desk. “All of it? But that pile was so huge—”

“It’s all been handled,” she replied, waving her hands in the air as if she were brushing the paperwork away. “Once I knew you’d be okay, I couldn’t stand the idea of you defying death by hit-and-run only to drown in a sea of paperwork.”

“That was really sweet, but you really didn’t have to—”

Bethany cut me off with a hug so tight, I had to keep myself from wincing. “Oh God, your ribs. I’m so sorry!”

She quickly released me and patted my shoulder instead. I smiled and shook my head, taking in a deep breath to ignore the pain in my side.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’m just so happy you’re back.” She smiled at me so big, you’d think I’d just survived a shark attack.

“Me too,” I said, looking back at my computer.

“I do have some bad news, though.”

A serious look swept over her face. My stomach sank, and I steeled myself for whatever came next.

“Code Brown.” She winked. “And it’s your turn to handle it.”

I sighed and used the rubber band around my wrist to pull my hair back into a ponytail. This wasn’t exactly my vision for my triumphant return to work, but hey, at least it was business as usual.

Well, sort of.

Since the death threat and the hit-and-run, Gavin had been more protective than ever. And honestly? It was fucking hot that he’d hired a private investigator to figure out who was behind it all, as well as a driver to take me everywhere I needed to go.

I’d told him that he was overreacting, that I didn’t need so much of his time and energy focused on making sure I was safe. The first part was true. Sure, the death threat and the accident were suspiciously timed, but I hardly thought I was important enough for someone to really be out to kill me. The second part, on the other hand, about not needing so much of his time and energy?

That was a dirty lie.

I loved seeing this new side of him, the one that answered my every beck and call, that made me feel like the most important person on the entire planet. Knowing he had this kind of affectionate side to him made me realize there could be a future for us. A real future. If business Gavin wasn’t already sexy enough—even despite his need for control—then this new Gavin with a soft side was a freaking fairy tale.

Once I’d finished up the last of my work for the day, I closed up my office and made my way to the parking lot. The private car Gavin arranged for me still felt a little excessive, but it was nice to get home so quickly after a long day at work.

When we arrived at my place, I thanked my driver, nodding as he reminded me that he’d be by in the morning to pick me up. At the door of my beloved brownstone, I reached for the doorknob and was shocked when the door immediately swung open.

Standing inside was a woman about my height, her wavy salt-and-pepper hair just long enough to brush the bottom of her earlobes. She smiled broadly at me, her eyes crinkling softly in the corners, and held her arms out wide to pull me in for a hug.

Oh shit.

“Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie!” My mother squealed, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing so tight, I had to bite my lip to keep from yelping out loud. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Gingerly, I hugged her back, patting the space between her shoulders. “Yeah, me too,” I said, doing my best to match the enthusiasm in her voice.

After a solid minute, she finally released me, moving her hands to my upper arms and gripping tightly, scanning me like a book she’d just pulled off the shelf. I smiled awkwardly and waited for her to be done searching for any sign of unhappiness or lack of well-being.

“You cut your hair,” she said, still giving me that same broad smile.

“I got a trim a few weeks ago, yeah.” I nodded, still unsure if she’d ever let me go. “You know, Mom, I always love seeing you. I just wish you would have—” I began, but the crestfallen look on her face cut me off.

“You forgot,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides.

Shit, shit, shit.

With all the craziness that had happened in the past few days, I completely forgot that my mom was coming over for dinner tonight. I felt stupid for forgetting, and then frustrated that all that silliness in the hospital had thrown me off so much.

There was no way I could tell her I’d just been in the hospital. If being her only child wasn’t bad enough, everything that had happened with Nathan had made her somehow even more protective. My only option was to lie and pretend that things were just crazy at work. Knowing her only daughter had forgotten about their monthly dinner date would hurt my mother, but finding out that someone had hit me with their car? That would just about kill her.

“No, Mom, of course I didn’t forget. Things have just been so insane at work, and what with the restorations going on here, I just . . . It slipped my mind, that’s all,” I said, fumbling my way through the lie.

My mother stared at me for a moment, squinting like she was searching for a diamond earring in a shag carpet. She could tell something was off—I could feel it in her stare—so I smiled and slipped my arm around her waist to lead her to the kitchen.

“Lucky for you,” I said, flipping on the light and heading straight for the fridge, “I have all the ingredients for personal pizzas, if you’re up for that.”

At that, my mother’s eyes lit up. Personal pizzas had been a family tradition since I was old enough to sprinkle cheese, and it was the perfect way to smooth things over. I hope.

I turned the oven on and pulled out all the ingredients, smiling as my mom opened a can of black olives, her favorite topping. After popping open the jar of sauce, I sliced up mushrooms, another classic topping on the Bells’ famous pizzas. The air between us calmed as my mom and I fell into our familiar routine, and we got right to chatting about everything going on in our lives.

After talking about her new “rosé and romance” book club for a solid ten minutes, my mom turned to give me a quizzical look, raising her eyebrow and suppressing a smile. Before she even said it, I knew what was coming.

“So, sweetie,” she said, grating the fresh mozzarella, “what’s going on with you? Any new flames I should know about?” Before things had gone south with Nathan, she’d spent months pressing me for grandkids. Apparently, it had been long enough since the end of that relationship for her to start pressing me again.

“Um . . .” I hesitated, unsure how to explain what I had with Gavin—or if I even wanted to.

It was one thing to tell Bethany about every twist and turn in my new roller-coaster relationship. She was worried for me, to be sure, but in the end, she was always supportive of what I wanted. My mom, on the other hand? She had absolutely no qualms about letting me know when she thought I was making a huge mistake.

In that moment, I wished I’d had more time to prepare for this conversation, to practice what I wanted to say. Because, dear God, how did you explain someone like Gavin to your mom?

“Oh, there is someone, isn’t there? I can see it on your face. Who’s the lucky guy, sweetheart? Where did you two meet?” My mom put the mozzarella down at that point, preparing herself for the prospect of grandchildren.

Shit, shit, shit.