Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,41
end.
In fact, I probably knew more about his mother’s last year than he did.
“You know that I stayed with them,” I said softly, hating that he tensed at my words. “Your mother—”
“Let’s not, Emily.”
Let’s not talk about the way I’d watch Lucille throw fits about nothing and disappear behind closed doors for days. The way my dad would stare at that closed door with clenched fists, and I would hide before he knew that I had seen it all. And why should we talk about the overheard whispers of friends’ parents and the way none of my friends had ever come to play at my house anymore? That unexplained shame had dulled and been forgotten under the much brighter embarrassment of my dad’s imprisonment.
For a moment I walked next to Daniel in silence, taking in the huge rooms with their bizarre decorations. They were named as well, like the Africa room, which was supposedly decorated like a farmhouse in Uganda. But the tension between Daniel and me was so thick, the topic so not talked about, that it was driving me crazy. He’d trusted me with intimate details of his business, of his hopes and dreams for his future. Why not trust me with this?
Except for the reason above all other reasons. I was an Anderson.
And the next reason down the list, this thing between us would inevitably end. Why share more than a bed?
“It’s beautiful here,” I said finally, drawing on that sliver of acting experience, trying to turn the atmosphere back to the arena in which we were comfortable. “Thank you for bringing me.”
We stopped our meanderings on the white-washed deck just beyond the living room. With the sound of the waves licking up onto the beach, and the feel of the balmy wind rushing through the trees, he turned to me. I watched that devastating mouth curve up into a wry smile. He knew exactly what I was doing. Of course, he was complicit in it.
“We have dinner reservations at eight. I have a few calls to make before then, but if you need anything, you’ve met the housekeeper.”
I nodded.
“Emily, I apologize for yesterday. It wasn’t really fair to throw all that on you. To ask you to give up your position … ”
“It’s all right. We both understand,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t ever meant to be permanent.” None of this was meant to be permanent.
He smiled more freely, as if the tension of a few minutes before were gone.
“From what Lance tells me, you could have had a great career in marketing.”
At that, I rolled my eyes, laughing. My laughter stopped abruptly when he slipped a slim, long case out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. I sucked in my breath at the implication of the blue velvet box.
“I wanted to give you this.”
As he handed it to me, heat washed over my body. My hands shook as I tried to open it. Then it opened with a sudden crack, the clamshell parting to reveal a bracelet that sparkled brilliantly in the late afternoon light. I wasn’t an expert but I was guessing topaz, yet the stones looked much lighter than what I thought topaz was.
“They’re yellow sapphires. I was imagining them on you when your hair is back to its natural state.”
I laughed, but at the same time, I felt too hot, my cheeks burning. I didn’t know what to say, how to accept the gift.
“Here.” He slipped it from the box and, mesmerized, I watched the stones dangle from his fingers. He laid the bracelet across my outstretched wrist, and I was surprised by its weight. The warmth of his fingers tempered the coolness of the gold as he worked on fastening the clasp. Then it was closed; my wrist was my own again, only, sapphires encircled it. Yellow sapphires.
I realized, bemusedly, that this too, receiving the gift of wildly expensive jewelry while on a decadent weekend away, was the sign of a mistress.
• • •
The master bedroom had two full separate bathrooms, and while both Daniel and I were getting ready, I developed an intense appreciation for the layout. I heard him across the room, the sound of his electric razor, the running of water and the sliding of clothes from the closet. It felt elegant and homey all at once. Playing house on a scale far larger than his Charles Street place.
As I dressed, I kept looking at my wrist, at the sapphires that sparkled with every movement of