In Love With My Boss

Family Dinner

IN LOVE WITH MY BOSS - : Family Dinner

Tera had never owned a dress that cost more than ₦15,000.

The dress on the black bed cost ₦850,000. Xavier had not told her. The tag was still on it when she found it in the walk-in closet that morning, along with 20 other dresses, all her size, all black, white, red, gold. Shoes to match. Bags. Perfume she had once sprayed in Shoprite and put back because it was too expensive.

She stared at it. "Mr. Knight — Xavier — I can't wear this."

He was in the bathroom, door open, shaving, white towel around his waist, water on his chest. Tera tried not to look. She failed.

"You can," he said, not looking up, razor gliding over his sharp jaw. "My family doesn't do cheap. My mother can tell the price of a dress by the stitch. If you wear your old skirt tonight, she will know you are pretending and we lose everything."

Tonight was the family dinner. Day 2 of 90 days. The contract in action.

Xavier's family was flying in from London. Mother. Father. Grandmother who was married 50 years and could tell a fake kiss from 10 meters. All coming to the penthouse to meet the girl who tamed Xavier Knight — the man who had never brought a woman home.

Tera's hands shook as she picked up the red dress. Red, tight, off-shoulder, slit to the knee. The kind of dress a woman wears when she wants a man to forget how to speak.

"Do I — do I have to wear red?" she whispered.

Xavier finished shaving, wiped his face, turned. He saw her holding the red dress against her body, bare legs, messy morning hair, eyes wide, nervous. His steel grey eyes darkened.

"Yes," he said, voice low. "Wear red."

"Why red?"

"Because I want to see you in red before my mother does."

He walked to her, towel low on his hips, chest wet, and took the dress from her hands, fingers brushing hers. He held it up.

"Put it on. Let me see."

Tera swallowed. "You — you want me to change here?"

"I've seen you sleep in my shirt last night, Miss Tera," he said, a small smile with that scar. "You stole my white shirt at 2AM when you were cold. I watched you. You think I care if you change here?"

She had stolen his shirt. She remembered — waking cold at 2AM, his black sheets, his arm heavy around her waist, his scent everywhere, she reached for his white shirt on the chair and put it on. It smelled like him.

"You were awake?" she whispered.

"I never sleep when you are in my bed, Tera. I watch you."

Her face burned. She grabbed the red dress and ran to the bathroom, locking the door. She could hear his low laugh outside.

The red dress fit like it was sewn on her. Tight at waist, soft at hips, slit showing her leg when she walked. Her dark hair fell over her bare shoulders. Her lips — still swollen from last night — looked redder.

When she walked out, Xavier was dressed. Black suit, black tie, hair combed, cold billionaire again. But when he saw her, his cold cracked.

He stopped. Stared. His jaw clenched.

"Tera."

"Is it — is it too much? Too tight?" She tugged at the slit.

He walked to her, slow, eyes on her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, her legs. He stopped inches away, his hand coming up to touch her bare shoulder, hot, rough.

"It's perfect," he said, low. "You look like my wife."

Wife. Not fake fiancée. Wife.

Before she could answer, the elevator dinged.

"They're here," he whispered. "Remember — you are not my assistant tonight. You are Tera, my fiancée, who I am obsessed with. You live here. You sleep here. You —" his thumb brushed her lower lip, red lipstick he had bought, "— let me hold you like I have been doing since last night."

Tera nodded, heart pounding. "Okay."

The doors opened. A woman in her 50s, elegant, diamonds, same steel grey eyes as Xavier. A man in his 60s, stern, suit. And a small old woman, 80s, white hair, eyes sharp like a hawk, leaning on a cane, looking straight at Tera.

"Xavier," the mother said, hugging him, then looking at Tera. "So this is her."

Xavier's hand slid around Tera's waist, possessive, pulling her into his side, his thumb stroking her hip through the red dress.

"Mother, Father, Grandmother — this is Tera, my fiancée."

Tera smiled, small, nervous. "Good evening, ma."

The grandmother did not smile. She walked with her cane, straight to Tera, eyes on her face, her dress, her shoes, then her lips.

"You," the grandmother said, voice sharp, Nigerian accent thick, "you wear red. Good. My grandson hates red. If he lets you wear red, he is serious. But —" she pointed her cane at Tera's mouth, "— your lipstick is smudged."

Tera touched her lips. Smudged? She had just put it.

Xavier looked. A small red mark at the corner of her mouth. From when he brushed her lip earlier.

The grandmother narrowed her eyes. "Who kissed you? Before you came down?"

Silence. The mother and father stared.

Tera froze. She looked at Xavier, panicked.

Xavier didn't panic. He smiled — slow, possessive, and pulled Tera closer, his hand tilting her chin up, and kissed her.

Right there. In front of his mother, father, grandmother.

Not a small peck. A deep, slow, possessive kiss, his mouth moving over hers, his hand on her waist holding her tight, his other hand in her hair, tilting her, claiming her, like he had kissed her last night on the black bed. Tera gasped into the kiss, her hands on his suit, her body melting, her red lipstick smudging onto his mouth now too, her eyes closing.

A small sound escaped her. She couldn't help it.

He kissed her for 5 seconds, 10 seconds, until his mother cleared her throat.

Xavier broke the kiss, forehead against Tera's, both breathing, his lips red from her lipstick, her lips swollen.

"Now it's smudged because I kissed her, Grandmother," he said, voice low, looking at his grandmother, but his thumb stroking Tera's cheek. "Is that okay? I kiss my fiancée whenever I want. Even before family dinner. Especially before family dinner. Habit. I kiss her whenever."

The grandmother stared at their mouths — both smudged red — then at Xavier's hand on Tera's waist, possessive, then at Tera's eyes, which were soft, in love.

Then the old woman laughed, loud.

"Good! Good! That is how Knight men kiss! Like they own! Like your grandfather kissed me for 50 years! She is not pretending! That kiss is not fake! No girl kisses like that pretending!"

She tapped her cane and walked to the dining table. "Come, let's eat. I like this girl. She wears red and lets my grandson ruin her lipstick."

The mother smiled, relieved, hugging Tera. "Welcome to the family, my dear. Don't mind him, he has never been this... possessive. It's cute."

Xavier's father just nodded at Xavier, a small approval.

Tera stood in Xavier's arms, lips tingling, lipstick ruined, heart hammering, in a red dress that cost ₦850k, kissed in front of his family like his wife.

Xavier leaned down, whispering in her ear, his mouth brushing her ear, his hand still on her waist,

"Good girl. You kissed me like you meant it."

"I did mean it," she whispered back, without thinking.

His eyes darkened, steel grey turning black, his hand tightening on her waist.

"Don't say things like that, Miss Tera, or I will take you back to the bedroom and show my family what 90 days really means."

And he led her to dinner, hand on the small of her back, possessive, while his family watched, convinced, while Tera was already in love with her boss, Day 2, red dress, ruined lipstick, and a kiss that was not pretending at all.

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