From Bully To Beloved

I’m not nervous about the dinner, not even antsy. Sure, investors have it in their heads that they get a say in what happens with the business because their money is involved. On a certain level, that’s true, of course. I know how shrewd Osborn can be. But my ideas and plans are solid, and I’m more than capable and ready to present them accordingly. I don’t foresee any problems tonight.

Actually, after observing Sera in that black dress, I’m more interested in what’s going to happenafterthe dinner party. When I said I was a patient man, that was about seventy percent true. Patience goes out the window when the object of my fantasies wears a tiny dress that I can easily rip off her curvy body.

With that thought in mind, my shower is quick-and on the cold side. I change into black jeans and a white shirt, gray tie, my sleeves rolled up. I don’t mind dressing for the occasion, but I’m going to be as comfortable as possible in my own home.

I return to the kitchen just as Sera is pulling the ribs out of the oven. They look mouth-watering. And this time, Iamtalking about the food.

“Jesus, Sera.” I move to stand by her side. “You could get a top-paying chef job in any one of the five-star restaurants in the city.”

“Oh, stop.” She lifts her head, giving me a radiant smile.

“I’m serious. You’reone of a kind.”

Her cheeks are red, and I know it’s not from the heat of the oven. This time, it travels down her neck and across her bare shoulders before it disappears beneath the tightness of that fucking dress.

“Thanks. With my food and your appeal, we have this dinner in the bag.”

“Damn right we do.”

As we stand in the kitchen, there’s a palpable shift of energy passing through the air between us. Her body is so close, I smell that damn vanilla scent drifting off her in waves. It’s intoxicating and reminds me of when we kissed, and her body was wrapped around mine. But it’s not just the physiColtoncloseness. Something about her saying “we” gets under my skin. Not in a bad way. I like it.

The doorbell rings, and the moment is broken.

Sera smiles, patting my shoulder. “You should get that.”

“Showtime.”

Andrew Osborn is a tall, thin man, with sharp features and a mop of gray hair that’s slicked back from his face. His suit is Armani. It’s evident, even without noting the label. His black shoes are polished and spotless. His wife is equally as thin, with maroon hair that’s cut into a short bob.

“Colton, it’s great to see you,” Mr. Osborn says in his booming voice, holding his hand out for me to shake as he crosses the threshold. “I can’t wait to talk business. It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you.”

“Welcome. Yes, I’ve been wrapping things up in San Francisco, but I’m happy to be back home. Charlotte, thank you for coming, you look lovely.”

Charlotte Osborn giggles and swats at my arm playfully. “Oh, Mr. Ashton, such a charmer. We brought you a little something.”

She hands me a bottle of wine, and a quick glance at the label reveals it’s an old-world wine from France, a classic that matured in a traditional family cellar stemming from a long history of winemaking.

“Please, come in.” Sera emerges from the dining room, and I slip my arm around her waist. “I’d like to introduce you both to my wife, Sera.” I sense her excitement at my words. I add, “Sera, meet Mr. and Mrs. Osborn.”

With a bright smile, Sera steps forward and extends her hand. “Welcome to our home,” she greets them. “I hope you brought your appetites.”

“Sera, it issowonderful to meet you. Please, call me Charlotte,” Mrs. Osborn says, pulling her into a hug and giving air kisses on either cheek. Sera’s eyes widen, but she accepts the sudden contact with a friendly smile.

Mr. Osborn takes her hand and gives it a hearty shake. “I must admit, I was surprised to hear that Colton was married,” he says when Sera returns to my side. “I thought this one was going to be a bachelor for the rest of his life.”

“That’s what I thought at first too,” Sera says, playfully pinching my cheek. “Right, darling?”

“Right.”

“But what woman could resist this face?” She’s really laying it on thick.

Oh, game on, Sera. “And what man could resist this one?” I ask and take her hand in mine lovingly. I lean in and peck her lips-a longer and softer chaste kiss.

She flushes and barely manages to hold back a squeak. Her cheeks immediately redden, and she shoots me an almost scathing glare. Mr. Osborn and Charlotte appear amused by our childish display.

“Howsweet. Youshouldkiss andoften,” Charlotte chirps. “Trust me, there will come a point in time when you stop. You might think you never will, but trust me, you will. Enjoy it while it lasts. Isn’t that so, Andrew?”Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

“Ah, yes, young love,” Mr. Osborn says, taking his wife’s hand. “Do you remember when we were newlyweds?”