Page 86 of Boss from Hell

“I know,” I said gently, “but when or if I do decide to get married, it will be a woman of my choice… not yours.”

“You’re surely not serious about that secretary of yours though, are you?” she asked unhappily.

“And if I am, will you stand in my way? Will you only be happy when I am as unhappy as you were in your marriage?”

I held her gaze until she shook her head in a defeated gesture. “No, I won’t stand in your way.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I’ve never told anyone this story, but your father was not my first choice.”

I moved forward in my chair. My mother was not a sentimental person and she definitely wasn’t given to reminiscing about her past so it was a rare thing when she opened up.

“I was in love with someone else.” Her features softened and a slow smile pulled at her lips. “His name was Alvin and I couldn’t wait to start my life with him. But my parents didn’t want him because, well… his family was not wealthy. They were a different class.

“Those things were important then. Anyway, they arranged for me to meet your father, who was their choice. Just one meeting, they said, and then I could refuse him if I didn’t like the look of him. I knew he had a reputation for charming the birds out of the trees, but I thought I was immune. I thought my deep love for Alvin would protect me. So I met your father.”

Her voice shook with sadness and regret as she continued, “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

My mother had always come across as emotionless and even cold. I saw her in totally a different light now. She was a woman who wore a mask to cover up the disappointment of a life not well lived.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and I almost went forward and hugged her, but I knew that would have embarrassed her and made her uncomfortable so I remained where I was.

I picked up a biscuit and bit into it.

“These biscuits are delicious,” I said, giving her a graceful way out of her moment of vulnerability.

She smiled gratefully at me. “They are homemade. Jacques bakes them. I’ll get Rosella to pack some for you.”

For a while there was silence, and then my mother spoke, her voice was forlorn. “I want you to be happy, Maximus. That’s important. Very important to me.”

“I am happy, Mother,” I lied.

She appeared to believe me. When I finished my tea I stood and bade her goodbye. I had intended to stay the night, but I found I didn’t want to sleep in my room without Lillian. I wanted to be back in the city, breathing the same air as her, as stupid as that sounded.

Chapter 50

Lillian

The office was too quiet and empty without Max. He’d asked me to take some time off too, but I preferred to work rather than sit alone in my apartment and drive myself crazy with my own runaway thoughts. Not that working was keeping my insecurities at bay. I tried to hold on to what Max had said.

That I was the one he wanted.

And over the next two days Mom, Rose, and I went to look at the cottage again and she confirmed that she indeed loved it. The next step was putting her home on the market after giving it a fresh coat of paint and getting it staged. I wanted to share the news with Max, but his phone was switched off.

On Wednesday, there was still no contact from Max, which had me worried. Even if he did not miss me or want to talk to me, he would have sent work through.

Desperate, I called Chris, but my call went straight to his voicemail. His playful recording said that he was on his honeymoon and unless it was a fire, he wasn’t returning any calls.

Frustrated, I sat on my desk and contemplated driving to his place, but that seemed like overstepping boundaries since he had not bothered to call me at all in the last two days. He could still be in Connecticut for all I knew.

My next best option was to call his mother. I finally worked up the courage and found her number from Max’s contacts list. She picked up on the first ring.

“Hello, Mrs. Frost, this is Lillian, Max’s PA.” It sounded so wrong to be so formal, but it was the truth. I was Max’s assistant.

“Yes?” she said in a voice that was, to my surprise, not cold. It was not warm, but it was definitely not cold.

“He hasn’t been to the office in three days… and I wondered if he was still in Connecticut.” Silence followed and I rushed to fill it. “I’m just a little worried because he didn’t send any work through and that’s not like him at all.”