Mistresses: After Hours With The Boss. Maisey Yates

himself under control. A reminder that passion had its price. That any loss of control had a cost.

      Nothing was free. Nothing was without consequence.

      The sting in his palm reminded him, for a moment, of her teeth grazing over his thumb. Of the reaction that faint pain had had on his body.

      He closed his eyes and hit the bedpost again, the hard wood pushing past flesh and making contact with the bone in his wrist. He lowered his hand and shook it.

      There was a timid knock on his door. “Come in.”

      “Oh, hi. I was wondering if you were ready?” Paige opened the door wide to reveal her and Ana. They were both dressed in pink. Paige in a bright, silk dress and Ana in pale pink one, her chubby legs swinging back and forth.

      “I am now,” he said, running his stinging hand over his hair.

      “Good, she’s almost here.” Paige turned and flitted out of the room and he followed her. Paige had adjusted Ana so that she was up against her chest, Ana’s bright eyes peeking over Paige’s shoulder. Looking right at him.

      He had no experience with babies, and no particular desire to become experienced with them. And this one, this tiny, perfectly formed human, seemed to look straight into him. As if she could see everything. And yet, her expression remained clear and bright. As if she saw it all, and it made no difference.

      He realized then that there was one thing that had been neglected. He and Paige were meant to present themselves as a couple, but he’d forgotten that Ana would be with them. That he would have to find some ease with her, as well.

      Suddenly, Ana’s little face crumpled and she let out a high-pitched whine. Paige stopped completely, adjusting the baby’s position, stroking her little cheek. It was amazing to see the effect Ana had on Paige. The little whirlwind of a woman was serene with her daughter in her arms. Her focus entirely on her.

      Ana squeaked again and Paige started to sing. A soft, sweet sound. A lullaby. Terror curled around his heart, terror he hadn’t anticipated, and couldn’t shake off.

      Paige bent forward, her necklace falling toward Ana as she continued to sing.

      Cold sweat broke out over his skin, a sick, heavy weight hitting him in the gut and just lying there in him.

      He knew one lullaby. And it was in Italian. If he closed his eyes, he could see his mother, leaning over his bed, her necklace hanging down, just as Paige’s was doing now. Singing softly, her hand comforting on his forehead.

      Stella, stellina,

       la notte si avvicina

      Star, little star, the night is approaching …

      He shook off the memory, but it tried to hold him, tried to make him see it all. His mother, first alive and so beautiful, and then …

      He swallowed hard and took in a breath. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice too rough, too harsh.

      Paige’s head snapped up and she looked at him with startled eyes. It made his heart twist. “Sorry,” she said.

      He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I am not myself today.”

      He wished that were true. Sadly, he feared he was more himself today than he ever usually allowed himself to be.

      “Well, get it together. If you blow this … if we blow this … I can’t lose her.”

      He looked at the little, fussing baby, and back at the woman who was, in every way that mattered, her mother.

      “I know,” he said, teeth gritted, heart pounding.

      They couldn’t blow it. Paige couldn’t lose Ana, he knew that. But more importantly, Ana couldn’t lose her. Because he knew, better than most, just how much of a loss it would be.

      “Did it go well? I think it went well.” Paige knew she was chattering, but she couldn’t help herself.

      The interview was over and they were out on the terrace on the second floor of the house. Dante’s housekeeper had barbecued for them, and they were sitting now, their plates empty, looking out at the ocean. Ana was lying happily on her stomach on a large cushion that had been placed out for her, rocking back and forth and flailing her hands and feet.

      “I think it went fine,” Dante said.

      There was no sign of the dark, angry man who had been in the hall earlier. There hadn’t been any sign of him from the moment Rebecca Addler had walked through the door.

      He’d charmed her, utterly. Clearly, the media’s stories about him hadn’t bothered her in the least or, if they had, Dante in the flesh had erased them in a moment.

      He had that effect, that ability to make everything seem fine and easy. He exuded total and complete confidence, no matter the situation. He certainly interviewed better than she did, which was galling, because it showed her just how faulty something like this could be. She was the one who loved Ana, with all of her heart, and yet, he was the one who had charmed the social worker.

      Thank God he was on her team.

      “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling confident.”

      “Why worry, Paige, the outcome will be the same either way.”

      “Easy for you to say. She’s … everything to me.”

      “I know,” he said, his tone serious. “And, I swear I will not let you lose her. Whatever it takes.”

      “Really? Why? Why would you … why would you do that?”

      “Because I know what it is to lose a mother,” he said, his tone cold. “I know what it is to drift from home to home, no one wanting you. That she is being spared the brunt of it, because of you … I will always have her be spared from it, and if I can help in any way then I will.”

      She looked over at Ana, and for the first time, she let the fear that was always ready to pounce on her, overtake her fully. “Can I do this? Am I really the best person?” She looked at Dante. “Tell me. Because I’m scared I’m going to mess it up.”

      He looked stunned for a moment. “I … I confess, I’m not the best person to judge how healthy a family is. But you love her. I remember love. I remember when I could feel it. I remember my mother. And the way you hold her, the way she feels when you’re near, that’s what it is.”

      A lump in her throat tried to block her words. “But I mess everything up,” she said. “Ask anyone. My family, my teachers, my friends. I always got such bad grades in school. In math and science and history. I liked to read. I did well in English and art. But the other stuff … I could hardly pass a class. I did so poorly that my parents wouldn’t help me get to college. And of course I couldn’t get a scholarship. And no one was surprised. Because they just … expect it from me.” She blinked back tears. “I have messed up about every major life moment a person has. First kisses, prom, getting into college. What if I screw this up, too?”

      “You haven’t messed everything in your life up,” he said, taking on that confident tone that was so familiar to her now. “You do well at your job. Exceedingly well. You lost your best friend and you carried on, both with work and with raising her child. Do you know how many people would have been content to simply let the State take over? So many, Paige. And you didn’t do that. You come through when it matters.”

      “But I’m scared to want it,” she said. “I’m scared of how much I care for her.”

      He frowned and looked out at the sea, the lines by his eyes deepening. “Emotion is the single most dangerous thing I can think of. The kind that controls you. Makes you do things you never thought you were capable of. But … I can see the way it pushes you with her. You told the social worker you were engaged to your boss. You were willing to do anything, take any risk, for her. There is power in that. And your love seems to have power for good. Trust that.”

      His