“Blair Fischer.” She held out her hand but Franklin didn’t shake it. He grabbed it in both of his, caressing the back before bringing it up to his lips and kissing the same spot.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you.” Blair pulled her hand back, scratching the side of her neck. She took both hands and put them in her lap underneath the table and out of reach.
Franklin pulled up a chair from the table next to theirs and sat down with them. “How have you been, Alexandra?”
“I’m good. You?”
He made the gesture for a drink of water to the waitress, who nodded at his request. Alexandra chanced a glance at Blair, who fidgeted in her chair.
“I’m going to the restroom.” Blair stood up as the waitress came with Franklin’s glass, waiting until she got behind his back before jerking her finger at Alexandra to tell her to get rid of him.
“I’m great. Did you ask your mother about me?”
“Franklin, questioning me about my family is inappropriate, and I’d appreciate if you stopped.”
“So, I’m going to assume no. I figured as much, which is why I brought you this.” He handed her a white legal-sized envelope, bulging out due to its contents.
“What is this?”
Franklin downed his water. He stood up, straightened out his suit jacket, then looked down at her.
“A little light reading. I’m going to go now, but answer me this: is your mother still hooking the ball?” He tapped her on the nose with his forefinger, not waiting for her answer, and whistled a catchy tune. She recited the words in her head to a song she never thought she’d hear again because no one sang it to her after her dad passed away. She started panting, her throat closing. Concentrating on her breathing, she tried to force oxygen in and out, in and out, until she was taking gulps of air.
All of a sudden, Blair was in front of her, putting a glass of water in her shaking hands. The water spilled all over her top when she tried to bring it up to her lips until she finally gave up. Blair held her hand, rubbing her back while she told her it would be okay. But it wouldn’t be, not really, because Franklin Williams just unsealed a blast from the past, saying things only her dad used to say.
***
“I’m fine,” Alexandra repeated to Parker for the thousandth time. Blair called her after the incident in the restaurant, so Parker rushed over there. They spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, but ended up having a drink at the same restaurant they’d had Parker’s birthday. What a difference a couple weeks could make.
“Blame Blair. She said you looked like you’d seen a ghost, and she believes you need a keeper. I, for one, am not going to allow my baby sister to get hurt today.”
Alexandra hid her head in her hand. The margarita was long gone but she couldn’t allow herself more than one. When she left Parker, she’d be working at home due to the additional weight added for her trial period. She also needed to go through the information Franklin left her. She couldn’t imagine what he handed her, but she’d find out soon enough.
“I have a question, since I’ve got you here. Do you remember a friend of dad’s named Franklin?” Since Parker was four years older, Alexandra hoped she would remember more about her father and who he hung with. Alexandra’s memories of her father had waned over the years, one of the reasons why she kept his picture in her office.
“No. I remember them arguing about some guy named Frank weeks before the crash, but when all the other stuff happened no one mentioned him again.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her cosmo. “I’d forgotten about him. Why are you asking who dad knew before he died?”
“No reason. I was just wondering.” She changed the subject, and they talked about the upcoming charity event until she needed to go home. Her phone beeped while she waited for the valet.
Roman: I told you nine.
Alexandra looked at her watch; it was half past that already. It sucked, but it wasn’t the end of the universe. She couldn’t deal with anymore today. Plus, he hadn’t texted wanting to see her in days, so one more day wouldn’t kill him.
Alexandra: I’m held up. I’m not going to be able to meet you tonight.
She thanked the valet, making it home before her phone pinged his response.
Roman: Unacceptable. Nine p.m. means nine p.m.. I’m going to have to punish you.
Alexandra read through the message twice. Was he really threatening to punish her? And why did that make her lady bits tingle and have her wanting to be late again? She went about her business, taking her plethora of work files out of her car, putting it in its place, and settling into her spot on the couch before firing off a response.
Alexandra: Punish? I don’t remember reading that in our contract.
Roman: It’s in there. Read the section about pushing your limits. You’re mine tomorrow. Same time. DO NOT miss again.
***
The package came the next morning before going to court when Alexandra checked into the office. Karen walked in with a bright smile, holding the nondescript package complete with red wrapping and a white bow into Alexandra’s office.
“Your highness has a present,” she sing-songed, putting the box on the desk in front of her. “I don’t know who sent it, but someone went to a lot of trouble.”
Alexandra noted the V on the front of the card, and instantly knew who’d sent it. Why did he send it to her office? She refused to touch it, pulling out her phone to text Roman and ask what he was thinking.
Alexandra: How can you promise this relationship stays anonymous if you send packages to my work?
Alexandra looked up, noticing Karen was still standing there, waiting for her to open the package. There was no telling what was in the box, and she didn’t need her nosy but lovable assistant asking unnecessary questions.
“Thank you, Karen,” she dismissed her, watching the pout come over Karen’s face when she realized Alexandra wasn’t going to open it in front of her. Karen left, her gaze straying toward the package on her way out the door.
Roman: I see you got the package. We’re friends. Can’t a friend send a package? I put a V on the front so no one would know who it’s from. I am trying to respect your conditions. I figured you could explain it away.
Yeah, and if I believe that, I’m sure you have some oceanfront property in Arizona you’re willing to sell, she thought, shaking her head at his assumption. He couldn’t send her packages at work. This was her job, and if she received enough, people were going to start asking questions.
Alexandra: Not hardly. You can’t send me packages at work. People will ask questions I’m not willing to answer.
She’d come on strong, but he needed to understand this was a hard limit for her. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not send mysterious sex packages to the law firm downtown where Alexandra worked.
Roman: We’ll discuss it tonight.
Alexandra: No, we won’t. This is a limit I’m not willing to break.
Roman: Then give me another address, because I may need to send you something later on.
Alexandra considered his words. He had a point, so it left two possibilities: her office or her home, and there was no way she was letting this man send packages to her home.
Alexandra: I’ll let you know this evening.
Roman: Excellent. I’ll see you at nine. Don’t be late, or your punishment will be twice as bad.
“So you say,” she muttered to the empty office, reaching to grab the card off the package. She loved getting presents, and despite her panic of getting caught, she was pleased he had sent her something. Sending it to her office was too close for comfort, but since it seemed her secret remained safe, she couldn’t wait to see what she got.