Coming Home

Chapter 2

The cold gust of wind ruffled her neat ponytail as she stepped out of the building. Her heels made loud clanking noise as she followed Max to his car, staring at his back; strong, wide shoulders that have probably hauled women up before. Venice wasn't entirely surprised if her boss turned caveman on his mistresses. The idea of him thumping hard on his chest as he took his women was just plain ridiculous. Though she couldn't help but notice that he hadn't uttered a word since they got on the elevator.

He was usually a quiet man. Something that she'd grown accustomed to. But the deafening silence stretching out between them made her feel inadequate and stupid for having such a big mouth. She ought to apologize for her behavior. But her tongue couldn't seem to untie itself and form the words.

"I can just walk around the corner and pick up your suit, sir." She found herself saying. "You don't have to drive me there, you know. I'm sure I won't get lost."

Max stopped suddenly, her face almost smacking face-first against his impressive back. He turned on his heels and faced her. "I need to speak with you, Miss. Zane. Privately. Which is why I've decided to pull you out of the office so do not mistake it for anything else."

Well, if he had to put it like that. Venice blushed as she followed him inside the car. She caught a glimpse of her face; inflamed and red as a tomato. He'd completely misunderstood her. She meant it as a joke to crack the ice between them. She'd wanted him to relax but the tension in his shoulders told her he was anything but.

He pulled out of the parking lot and settled in his seat comfortably. She couldn't bear the agony and spoke. "What is it that you have to say, Mr. Smith?" She was dying to know.

"I have a gala to attend on Saturday night. I need to bring someone with me." One thing she admired about her boss was that he never beat around the bush. "I need you to cancel whatever you planned for that night. You're coming along, Miss. Zane."

Couldn't he ask her instead of demanding? She blew air through her lips praying for patience. "I'm off on weekends, sir. So I will try and see if I could attend the gala with you."

"You have plans on Saturday?" he asked as if surprised she had things to do other than be at his beck and call.

"Yes," she gritted.

"Well, cancel them."

"I can at least try to cancel whatever event I have on Saturday night but I can't go with you in the morning. I've got something important to do." She didn't have anything on Saturday night. And although most women her age were out clubbing and having fun, Venice spent her time at home reading a book or watching re-runs of America's Top Model.

Max scowled. "What could you have anything better than to pamper yourself on Saturday morning?"

It was tempting to agree but she wouldn't swap her plan in the morning to be pampered. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the salon and had anything done. But she could always do those things some other time. Saturday was an important date to remember. It was her aunt's death anniversary.

"Look, sir. As much as I appreciate the offer I think it's best if you ask someone else. I'm afraid I'm not cut out for that type of thing." She would never be graceful and elegant as the women he'd dated in the past. So what could he possibly see in her that he'd want to bring her to an important even like that? People would surely look at them. She didn't want to embarrass him.

"Maybe you should bring one of your mistresses," she added quickly when he didn't respond.

"I don't want to bring any of my ex-lovers, Miss. Zane. They're far too complicated than you think."

Then why did you date them in the first place? She bit her tongue before the words escaped. Max wouldn't surely appreciate her smart mouth now that he was in a bad mood.

"I'm sure you can find someone to go with, Mr. Smith." She reassured him.

"I don't want anyone else." Max growled. He wasn't probably used to people rejecting his offer. Venice could only imagine women dying to be in her place right now. But balls and galas were never her thing. The only formal clothes she'd worn her whole life was her three-piece suit since expensive dresses were never within her reach.

"I could always call Miss. Barbara for you," she suggested, teasing him.

Max glanced at her, his brows raised in shock. "You wouldn't dare, Miss. Zane."

"Only if you tell me to," she responded.

"I don't want you to!" She was enjoying herself too much, riling him up. She couldn't remember the last time, or even the first time she'd joked around with her boss. He was usually uptight and serious and always barking out an order at her every time they were together. But something must have shifted in their relationship for she caught his mouth tilt up in the corners. Maxwell Smith wasn't as timid and scary as everyone thought.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Miss. Zane. If you can't cancel whatever it is you've planned on Saturday morning, then I will certainly see you in the afternoon. I'll send over a friend of mine who might just know what to do with you."

"Fantastic."

***

"I mean, he could ask any women of his liking if he wanted to." Jill said as she took a bite of her tuna sandwich. "But instead, he chose you."

"That's the weird part. I don't understand why it has to be me though," Venice answered as she eyed her soggy peanut-butter jelly sandwich, contemplating whether she should eat it. The bread had gone mushy and soft as the jam leaked at the corner, dripping on her desk.

"Here." Jill grabbed her sandwich and threw it in the trash bin, swapping it for one of her tuna sandwiches.

She smiled. "Thank you."

"So back up," her friend said as she leaned against her chair. "Max hauled your ass out of the office and drove you to the drycleaners? Isn't that just around the corner though?"

"Yeah. It's only a fifteen-minute walk." Venice confirmed before taking a big bite of her sandwich. Her mouth watered as the flavor hit her tongue. The bread was so soft that she almost moaned. The sandwich was gone within five minutes.

"He must've wanted to talk to you privately," Jill concluded as her blue eyes sparked with humor. "Did you guys have a secret quickie while you two were out?"

Venice threw a paper ball at her friend who lurched into a fit of laugher. "You are so disgusting! He's my boss, Jill. How can you even say that?"

"Well, what's wrong with a little office romance? It would surely be welcome around here since everyone does is work. Max have never thrown any parties before so it made me wonder why he's suddenly going to a gala."

"His family's invited so he has to go." Venice recalled the way his face had contorted in disgust after he told her about the invitation. He didn't look too enthusiastic about it, as if the idea of mingling with other people pained him.

"No wonder. I don't think anyone have seen Maxwell Smith attend any such important events before. Other than clubs, of course. He doesn't seem to have a problem making an appearance at famous clubs downtown." That was true. Her boss might be allergic to events that required dressing up and speaking with the president, but not with clubs. Just last week, people have seen hanging out with another woman with a drink in hand.

Venice had forgotten to tell her friend that she'd been the one to haul his ass out of Amper last week. The club owner had gone through his contacts and miraculously rung her out of all the people listed in his phone, telling her to pick up Max before they threw his butt out.

It had been two in the morning when she received the call. She didn't have the energy to change but merely drove out in her Hello Kitty pajamas to get her drunk boss home. No one had paid attention to her though. They were all too busy to have Max out to notice her child-like attire. And how'd she managed to get in was still a wonder to her as well.

"At least you get to dress up Saturday night, though." Jill declared as her voice penetrated through her hazy mind. "It sucks since I won't be there to tag along."

"I can ask him if you want to," she said too quickly.

"Nah." Jill waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm not into that rich type party s**t. I'd rather hit the club and get a man to take me home than to spend my whole night drinking sherry pretending to be lady-like."

"It'll be nice to go out with you for once," she muttered.

Jill's face gentled as her friend reached out for her hand. "You'll do just fine on that gala. I'm sure every woman would be jealous once you stride in with Max beside you."

That was the thing. She didn't want to go to the gala with him. Everyone from work would know if the paparazzi caught them together. The pictures would surely spread out and reach the tabloids. She could already tell it would make the headlines as soon as it leaked out. Infamous billionaire, Maxwell Smith caught with another woman in hand!

She didn't want to be categorized as one of his mistress. Venice had done her best to hide herself behind the limelight. She worked quietly for him. She barely knew anyone from work and had only let herself be close to Jill. She didn't like to be publicized like some women. So the fact that she'd be exposed come Saturday night made her slightly anxious inside.

"I don't even know how to act lady-like," she blurted out. "Those women are a pro at these things. What if everyone laughs at us when we arrive at the party?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Venice. No one would laugh at you. Just act normal and stay beside our boss at all times. It'll save you from hanging out with those women."

"You seem to know a great lot about these things," she observed, eyes narrowed.

Jill shrugged. "I've been to a few of them."

"I thought you said you don't go to these types of things?" she recalled.

Jill blinked. "I don't. Like Max, I was just forced to join."

They went back to their work and Venice sat in her desk, staring absently at her computer screen. The paperwork she left behind sat waiting. She'd lost interest in what she was doing earlier. Now Max's invitation lingered in her mind as she chewed on her bottom lip. The event was two nights from now. And it didn't help that his family would be there expecting her.

Shoot. She didn't think she could do this. Her anxiety was starting to get the best of her. Venice clutched the edge of her wooden table, breathing in and out slowly as air slipped past her lips. The room felt suddenly small. She needed to calm down or else she'd pass out.

"Hey, Venice." A friendly-looking woman said as she approached her. "Can you help me out on this for a second? If that's all right with you?"

Venice smiled and nodded. She needed a distraction. Helping out one of her co-workers might just take her mind off of her boss's invitation. "Sure thing. Here let me show you."