Chrissy sighed and clicked on the call. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Well. I’m just reminding you of that little party you’re supposed to go to tomorrow night to meet the Rocco man.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Mom.”
“Good. Because it’s a point of family honor that you show, remember that.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Chrissy thought. “Don’t worry, Mom. Honor will be satisfied.”
“Do you have something to wear? Feminine, not like your work clothes?”
Chrissy banged her head on her desk several times before she answered.
SATURDAY MORNING BLAZED bright through her bedroom window. Chrissy woke with a sense of anticipation wrapped around her. She drew her knees to her chest, excitement filling her chest.
But not for the party her mother was so excited about.
The meeting with Mr. Walker and her boss was today. She hoped the job offer had a good-sized promotion, because she wanted a legit excuse to bow out of Pearson’s offer.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pearson,” she wanted to say, “but my current company is offering a sizable promotion, and it plays to my skill set exactly. I wish you luck in finding a new assistant.”
Because, she thought, that bastard’s going to need it.
Mistress of his life, indeed.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door and her sister walked in, not waiting for Chrissy’s response. “Hey, you up?” She paused. “You’re decent, right?”
“When did that ever stop you?” Chrissy wondered what her sister would say if a guy was in her bed. A man like Saks.
“Hah,” Gloria said, flouncing toward the bed with a garment bag slung over her shoulder.
“What’s that?” Chrissy asked with suspicion.
“Mom’s latest creation for you.”
“Oh no,” Chrissy groaned.
“Yeah, she worried you didn’t have something feminine enough to meet the Rocco man.”
“Please no,” she moaned.
“Stop sounding like you’re in pain. It’s quite pretty, actually.” Gloria drew the dress out of bag and hooked it on Chrissy’s closet door.
Chrissy blinked and rubbed her eyes. Okay. It was pretty. The top was a navy scalloped lace overlaying a fitted cream bodice, and the flared skirt was cream with a lace print that matched the lace on the bodice. But it was wholly inappropriate for a party at a dive bar like the Red Bull. She was planning on wearing a cardigan and her jeans. “You know I can’t wear that at the Red Bull.”
“I know it. But I had to deliver it, otherwise she wouldn’t start working on my wedding dress.”
“Wait? Did Marcus ask you?”
“No. But it takes months and months to sew a wedding dress, especially with the beading I want. And you’re doing such a good job of driving Marcus crazy that he might ask soon.”
Chrissy supposed that her devious sister already had a date picked out, had spoken with the priest about the church, and had the flowers pre-ordered and the baker on notice about what cake she wanted, too. All because Chrissy was driving Marcus crazy? She wondered how that worked.
“Me? How am I driving Marcus crazy?”
“Oh, I might have dropped some hints that you’re tired of being single, and look at this as an opportunity to marry. And that Papa would most likely look on the man as the son he never had.”
“You’re an evil, evil woman.”