She nods. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I received a call from my mother, and I couldn’t get her to hang up. I tried to tell her I was on a date, but she wanted to know all about you, so I had to chat a little bit. I didn’t take too long, did I?”
She’s lucky she’s pretty. She was late for our date, and she ditched me for several minutes to talk on the phone with her mother. Attractive people get away with a lot of things. “It’s fine, Rebecca. I don’t mind. I ordered your drink for you.”
She pats my hand. “Thank you so much. You are so sweet.”
She told me when we first met that she’s twenty-two years old, working on her Masters in Public Relations at UCLA, and she models part-time. I ask why she’s interested in PR, and just as she’s about to launch into her spiel about how it’s been her dream job since she was a little girl, a hand grabs my shoulder.
“There you are,” says a cool feminine voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “I thought that was you. How fucking dare you?”
I pick up my drink and swallow a big mouthful before turning to face my assistant. She’s no longer wearing her work attire; instead, she’s dressed in a black off-the-shoulder blouse that shows off her prominent collar bones, partnered with a pair of skin-tight black leather leggings. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her hair is pulled away from her face in an up-do that gives her a sexy, studious look even without the glasses. The red of her lips bring out the caramel undertones of her skin, and her makeup emphasizes the cat-like shape of her eyes.
“I’m sorry, what–”
“You said never again, Vincenzo.” She brings up her fist to her mouth and sobs. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
Next to me, my date clears her throat. “Vince, do you know this person?”
A squeak of distress escapes my assistant. “I should hope so. We’ve been married for eleven years and have two little ones at home with my mother.” She puts both of her hands on my shoulders. “Vincenzo, how can you do this again? You swore last time that you wouldn’t….”
Has Ms. Jessica Lee lost her damn mind? Is this payback for me yelling at her this afternoon? What the hell is she doing? A couple of concerned servers see what’s happening and start to approach, but I hold out my hand to stop them. It’s not like I can’t deny this woman is my wife, call her crazy, and have her carted off by security. Fuck, I don’t want to lose her as an employee, even though she’s acting a little psychotic, or is she drunk?.
“I…” I tug at my necktie and face my date with burning cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I misled you. This woman… She's my wife.”
Rebecca’s mouth drops open. “You’re a pig.” She picks up my drink and tosses the contents in my face before grabbing her things and storming out of the restaurant.
Monsieur Renault, the maêtre d’, dashes up to our table and asks if he could assist us in any way.
I’m trying to control my breathing, so I don’t reach out and strangle my secretary, who is now sitting in the chair my date previously occupied, and drying her crocodile tears on a dinner napkin.
“I apologize for this dramatic scene, Monsieur Renault,” I say through gritted teeth. “I didn’t tell my wife I was having dinner with a business colleague tonight, and I’m afraid she misunderstood.” I look at her. “Did you hack into my phone again?”
She shrugs, shame-faced, her head lowered as if she realizes the enormity of what she’s done and doesn’t know what to do next.
“Don’t worry about it, Monsieur San Giovanni. The drinks are on the house. Would you like me to call your driver and let him know you’re ready to go home, or will you be staying for dinner?”
I clutch my head. “I’ve had a little too much to drink, I think, Monsieur. I have a suite on the sixty-ninth floor. Will you inform the hotel staff that I’ll be staying in tonight with my wife?”
“Certainly, sir.” The maêtre d’ bows before us and makes himself scarce.
Once we’re alone again, I turn to my lovely assistant. “What the hell is going on, wife? Care to explain why you felt you had to make a scene?”
Her eyes widen, and she looks around as though she’s suddenly not sure about where she is or how she got here. “What am I… doing here? Boss? What’s going on?”
I snort and pick up my dinner napkin to wipe my dripping face. Great. Now I smell like gin. “Come off it, Ms. Lee. What was it? Were you jealous I was on a date with another woman? Is that why you lost your damn mind?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Totally. Not like I was trying to save your life or anything,” she mumbles.
“What was that?” I grab her arm.
She tries to shake off my hold, but my fingers clamp down. “Your date looked like a crazy person. I thought she was this woman I saw last week on America’s Deadliest Women.” She’s still not meeting my eyes.
“Why are you spying on me?”
“I’m not spying on you. A couple of girls from work felt like eating cajun food and wanted to go fancy, so we ended up here. I just forgot this is where I booked your date, that’s all. Get over yourself. Why would I spy on you?”
As much as I try to stop it, a smirk curls my upper lip. “Because you’re madly in love with me, and you’ve been in love with me for the past six years? Seeing me with that woman made you snap?”
She raises one eyebrow as one corner of her luscious mouth quirks up in a half-sneer. “Yeah, I'm all about the cliche, bossman. Give me a break." She picks up my drink and downs what remained in the glass after my date showered me with it. "Well, it's been real. Laterz." She makes a move to get up, but I wrap my fingers around her wrist again.