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Chrissy was just starting to shop for groceries when her phone rang. Debating the various types of bacon, she didn’t look at the screen—otherwise, she wouldn’t have answered.
“Chrissy,” her mother said. “Where are you?”
Shit. “Oh hi, Mom.” Chrissy hefted a package of thick-sliced pepper bacon from the display into her basket. “What’s up?”
“Where’ve you been?”
“I was at home. I’m grocery shopping now.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“What’s this third degree for?”
“Why? Why? Madonna, what have I done to deserve such an ungrateful child?”
She took a deep breath. “What’re you going on about, Mom?”
“Didn’t I raise you better than this?”
“You’re right. I was ridiculous. But it’s all okay now.”
“What are you talking about? How can it be okay?”
“If you calm down—”
“Calm down!” Her mother’s next words were a bitter string of Italian words spoken too fast for Chrissy to follow.
“Mama, Mama, everything’s fine with Saks.”
“Saks! Who’s this Saks person!”
“Anthony Parks, the Rocco man. His club name is Saks.” Chrissy stood in front of the frozen fries, deciding whether to get hash browns or tater tots. She always had a bit of problem browning the hash browns correctly, and tater tots seemed too childish. When she hit upon the tater coins, she tossed those into the cart.
“Club? What club?”
“A motorcycle club, Mama.”
“What!” Her mother sounded horrified. “The Rocco advances a degenerate biker as someone to marry you? I won’t hear of it.”
Chrissy came to the eggs and pulled a half dozen from the shelf. “Whoa, Mom. Saks is a perfectly nice man. In fact,” she said, readying to stretch a point, “he’s totally forgiven me. I’m making breakfast for him. That’s why I’m at the store.”
“You. Making breakfast?” Her voice communicated her total disbelief.
“I think I can put together same eggs and bacon.” Chrissy passed by a display of English muffins, stopped, and tossed a package in the cart.
“And why are you making breakfast?”
“Please, Mom. It’s the twenty-first century.”
“Madonna!” Her mother spit out another string of Italian words, but this time Chrissy caught the gist of it this time. “Non sarà una vergine il giorno del matrimonio.”
Vergine. Virgin. Chrissy rolled her eyes. This is what her mother worried about? That she wasn’t a virgin? Oh, for Heaven’s sake. She almost spit out that she wasn’t one before she met Saks, but that wouldn’t be politic. She decided it was best that she pretend her mother’s words went over her head.
But at the mention of ‘virgin’, Chrissy debated the merits of getting a small bottle of olive oil. Perhaps Saks didn’t have any.
“Mom. I have to go. I’m at the cash register.” She wasn’t. She was still hunting for the ketchup to go with the tater coins and hadn’t made a decision on the olive oil yet.
“Chrissy! Don’t you hang up this phone.”
“I love you, Mom. ‘Bye.” She found the ketchup and olive oil in the same aisle. She tossed in a small bottle, then thought about lunch. If she was going to spend the day with him, she should probably have all the food necessary so she wouldn’t have to go out again.
What about dinner?
But the time she finished she had a hundred dollars’ worth of food in the cart: Italian meats and cheeses for the grinders she’d make for lunch, pickles, condiments, and then steak and fries for dinner. At least she could feed him well.
Then, for the hell of it, she bought a six-pack of beer. She figured her big bad biker would appreciate the gesture even if he couldn’t have much of it. She checked her watch and saw she’d wasted an hour at the store. She groaned. So much for getting back as fast as possible. She checked out at the cash register, only fainting slightly at the sticker shock. She could well afford it, or usually could if she was sure of her employment—which she wasn’t. Chrissy had told off Mr.-I’d-Like-To-Know-You-Better CEO Drummond Walker by announcing she had another job offer. That was job, if not career, suicide. Instead of shopping, she should be sending out a flurry of résumés right now.
Or seriously consider James Pearson’s offer. At three quarters of a mil yearly salary, no one in their right mind would say no, right? Except, in Chrissy’s heart-of-hearts, she didn’t like James Pearson, his smug arrogance, or his flippant way of handling potential employees. Test her? The ass-hat was lucky she didn’t toss her plate of expensive lobster salad at him.
Instead of dumping Eggs Benedict on poor Saks who, Chrissy admitted, she treated badly. Except she remembered that Saks, despite his panty-melting ways, was an opportunistic carogna who’d agreed to marry a woman he’d never met.
This last thought curled in her stomach. Chrissy hefted the groceries into her car as she considered all the strange turns her life. Forget one-woman demolition derby, she garnered the dubious honor of becoming an entire wrecking crew. She’d burned two jobs and strained her relationship with her family. Include a blazing-hot affair with a man her family expected her to marry but normally she never would, and she good and well fucked over her life.
She lowered the last bag of groceries into the trunk of her car and shook her head at the haul. What was she thinking? It looked like she was setting up housekeeping with Saks. She’d certainly spent more money than if they ordered out during the day. And more than one day’s worth of food filled the trunk.
Chrissy sighed and climbed into her car. Her head was running at a million thoughts per second. It was crazy. Her phone rang, and she pressed speaker without looking for it. “This is Chrissy.”
“Chrissy, where are you?” Charles Grayson, her headhunter, or rather the man who’d set her up with James Pearson, purred over the line, like a cat watching its prey.
“Not at the office. What’s up, Charles?”
“Mr. Pearson was expecting your answer today.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake! How many times did ‘no’ not mean ‘no’? Chrissy may not have tossed her lobster salad on his über expensive Italian suit, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. It wasn’t her fault that Pearson thought her lack of enthusiasm was a bargaining ploy. “Charles, what did he say to you?”
“Well, he hesitated to okay the private jet, but he authorized a New York apartment as a base of operations. Chrissy, you could live in New York rent-free!”
Charles’ excitement threatened to melt her phone. She didn’t know what to say, and the silence from her end grew uncomfortably tense.
“Chrissy?”
“I don’t like him,” she said finally. “He’s insufferable and he’ll drive me insane inside a year.”
“You don’t have to marry him, darling. Just take his job offer. Hell, work it three months, and if it doesn’t work out I’ll help you get out of the contract.”
That commission must be heftier than she thought. And it appeared that neither Charles nor Pearson wouldn’t give up. Better to throw them something that Pearson would never agree to. “I tell you what. Get him to agree, in writing, to a three-month probationary period. If I don’t like the position, I can leave free and clear at the end of ninety days.”
“Chrissy,” her headhunter said in a warning tone. “He might not go for that.”
“In three months you can find someone else to replace me.”
“I don’t know. There’s no money in that.”
“One commission will have you set for six months.”
“Three,” admitted Charles, “but you’ll cut that to one if you insist on a three-month probationary period.”
“Don’t be so greedy. If you want me to take the deal, you’ll make it happen.”
“You’re impossible!” He hesitated a moment. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Charles. You’re awesome.”
With that call done she settled into the ride toward Saks’ apartment. But when the phone rang again, it jolted Chrissy out of her thoughts. “Charles! He got back to you that quickly?”
“Who the hell is Charles? Chrissy,” rumbled her grandfather, “I didn’t see you at dinner last night.”
Oh, shit. She needed to check her caller ID before picking up. “That’s right, Grandpa.” She ignored the first question. “I spent the night with Saks in the hospital.”
“Saks? Who is this Saks?”
Chrissy held in her exasperation. “Anthony Parks, the Rocco man you wanted me to meet.”
“Parks,” hissed her grandfather. “They didn’t tell me it was a Parks.”
“So, you’re familiar with that part of the family?”
“Ach,” he spit. “That bastard was an associate of Vits. This is unacceptable.”
“What the hell? You pulled me into this mess. Now it’s unacceptable?”
“What your mouth, young lady.”
“Sorry, Grandpa, but I don’t understand. First you... encouraged me to get to know him. Now it’s unacceptable?” Hadn’t the two men met?! Was she blind? How could he not know Saks’ last name was Parks.
“It was a mistake. I should’ve been more careful. I understood the Parks side of the family wasn’t that involved with the business. But you never know. Don’t you worry about it anymore. The deal is off.”
Off? Off? Chrissy’s head was spinning. First, she didn’t understand how her grandfather could get things so wrong. She didn’t want to meet the Rocco man in the first place and now that she had, she didn’t want to stay away from him. Saks may not be the kind of man she dreamed off, but the way he loved her was the stuff of dreams. “Grandpa, I’ve met Saks. He’s nice. I’d... I’d actually like to get to know him.”
Her grandfather snorted. “I’m telling you, Christina Maria Serafini, if that man goes near you again it will end badly for him.”
