The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Thirteen

We had traveled back separately to the mansion that next morning. For the next few days, things were as normal as they had ever been. Almost too normal.

He hadn't changed one bit. He was always staring at his phone, always missing appointments and meals, disappearing only to be found later in his office on yet another call. The open dialogue he allowed me would have been fabulous if he had time to talk, but he was still using his work as a shield, and inadvertently, using it against his children as well. I didn't need to talk to him to know what he was doing. The avoiding social interactions, hyper-focusing on distractions, especially those that come with a hefty dose of serotonin . . . I had seen it before in my own father. 

As easy as it would be for me to tell him about himself, he needed to come to the realization on his own. All I could do was support and encourage him—give him some positive affirmation. Or, painful affirmations, if he preferred. 

He didn't make it to dinner that Wednesday night, but I expected no less. Earlier in the day, I had received an email from him with a contract attached.

The terms were typical of what I had seen during my time at the club; an outline of the same limits he had mentioned before, and details about his vasectomy and distaste for additional forms of protection. The problem wasn't in the contract, it was the contract itself.

He didn't want me to sue him. Understandable. But, a signed contract agreeing to a schedule, expectations, and limitations, gave him more incentive to fire me when something inevitably went awry. I was more comfortable with the idea of keeping one paid position and one volunteer. A day job and a hobby, so to speak.

The more division between the two—the more established the line between professional and casual remained—the more balanced the exchange of power would remain.

I knew negotiating with him wasn't likely to go in my favor, but I had a way to persuade him.

After dinner that night, my anxiety was high. I hid it the best I could while going through all possible versions of our conversation in my mind. "Have you seen Daddy today?" Tabby asked as I tucked Sebastian into bed.

"No, sweetheart," I told her, "Daddy must be busy tonight."

Sebastian smiled at me. I pressed a kiss to his forehead and turned to do the same to Tabby. "If you see Daddy, will you tell him goodnight?" she asked me.

I took a deep breath to maintain my composure. "Yes," I told her with a grin. "I'll be sure to do that."

I left the room and closed the door behind me.

With the children in bed, my mind grew restless and my patience thin. I went downstairs to the parlor for a glass of water with the intention of going back to my room to prepare. But, when I made it to the bottom of the staircase, my gaze fixed on the door at the end of the hall.

A longing stirred between my thighs as I stared.

"Looking for something?" I nearly jumped out of my skin when his voice rumbled behind me. I turned to find him standing with a pompous smirk on his face. "Or, were you looking for someone?"

My eyes drifted over him. The scruff on his chin and cheeks was a bit longer than usual, his white shirt a little closer to stressed than pressed. It must have been a long, hard day. "I was on my way to bed."

He crossed his arms and took a step closer to me. I refused to shy away. "Whose bed, Ms. Nielson?"

My longing turned into throbbing. "I wanted to talk to you about your contract," I told him.

A devilish smile spread his lips. "Of course. Join me in my office?"

He led the way up the hall, the stirring growing more intense with every step I took.