Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

24. Anton

Chapter twenty-four

Anton

O n Friday, my father had a follow-up appointment with the cardiologist. The doctor reviewed his vitals, conducted several tests, and concluded that although his heart was still fragile, he was out of danger as long he followed the medical recommendations and took his medications.

I was amazed at his swift recovery, especially when I remembered how pale he’d looked after surgery less than a month ago. Now, he almost seemed like his old self, just a little slower and more careful getting around.

I joined my parents for lunch at their estate. It was amusing to watch how my father responded to my mother fussing over him. She would put something on his plate, and he would push it aside with his fork, and so on. He told us that the first thing he asked the doctors when he woke up from the procedure was how we were doing.

Johan then accused him of trying to ditch our mother for some peace and quiet, and he laughed—a slow rumble, which was a good sign to us. Our mother leaned into his shoulder, joining in the laughter.

Though I never would’ve wished for my father to suffer this health crisis, it had brought us closer together as a family. It felt good to have this renewed connection with my parents. We all lived such busy lives that we rarely saw each other, even though we lived in the same county. But I was determined to do better in that regard from now on.

“Anton….” My mother’s voice stopped me on my way out.

I turned back to her. “Yes?”

“I was thinking…. your father has been through a lot lately. We should have a little celebration for him this coming weekend.” She looked happy at that prospect, her eyes sparkled, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as if already envisioning the gathering.

I furrowed my brow. “Do you think a party is a good idea? Too much stress could cause a setback.”

She shook her head, but not in disagreement. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s been a month since the blood clot removal, though, and I was thinking of a nice, quiet dinner with just a few people. Not a big, noisy party.”

I sighed with relief.

“We would only invite the most important people in your father’s life. You should bring that girl we met at the hospital.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Celia? I thought you said only people important to Dad—”

“If she’s important to you, then she’s important to the rest of the family, too. She is important to you, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure she would accept the invitation.” I couldn’t help but think of Celia’s insistence that we keep things professional between us. That was a month ago.

“Ask her anyway. She might surprise you by saying yes. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind.”

I was about to ask why my father would want to see Celia, but my mother walked away with an air of finality.

The next day, Celia entered my office to borrow a law book from my shelf. While she rummaged through the shelf, I pretended to be engrossed in my own case, but was observing her.

She was wearing an olive-green, knee-length pencil skirt, her pale-yellow blouse tucked in at the hip, and a fine belt showcasing a narrower waist. Her almost non-existent heels revealed delicate ankles. How did she get legs as sexy as that? She looked beautiful standing by the bookshelves like that. Seeing her there reminded me of our first kiss in my library. What was it about this woman that made me want all of her?

She almost dropped a book and caught it just in time, snapping me back to the present. I was supposed to invite her to join my family for dinner. It took me a split second to recover from my reaction to seeing her.

“Hey, wait a second.” I got up and went to meet her as she was leaving.

Celia stopped, her doe eyes landing on me, sending shocks of desire through me. The last few weeks had been torturous, unable to talk to her like we used to, unable to hold her in my arms, feel her breath catch as I leaned in to kiss her impossibly soft lips.

“Yes?” she asked when I didn’t continue.

There was longing in her eyes, mirroring my own.

I reached for her hand. “My mother asked me to extend an invitation to you for a celebratory dinner for my father’s recovery at their home tomorrow.”

Her eyes flashed with surprise, then disappointment. “Your mother wants me to come? Not you?” She quickly hid her disappointment, but I still caught it.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I want you to come, too.” This was frustrating. I thought mentioning my mother would convince her that I was respecting the boundaries she’d set. But I wanted her. I missed her.

Her expression didn’t change. “Tomorrow? Well, I can’t…I….”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, Celia. What important things do you have going on?”

“I could go out with friends, on dates, and so on. What a thing to say!” She took offense and hurried for the door.

I gently grabbed her arm, and the book fell with a thunk on the floor. “Celia….”

The next thing I knew, my mouth was on hers, and I found myself lost in a passionate kiss, unable to hold back. It felt as though I had been wandering a barren desert for days, parched and weary, and had finally stumbled upon a life-saving oasis.

Every fiber of my being craved this connection, this moment of intense intimacy. She let out small noises that heightened my senses to the point of being overwhelmed. All of her was enticing—her uniqueness, her scent, and the warmth of her body—all consumed me. I pressed her even closer to me. It was as if all the longing and desire I had ever felt culminated in this single, electrifying kiss.

I savor every second, feeling an indescribable thirst being quenched. The world around us faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in this profound, shared experience. This kiss wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection that left me breathless and yearning for more. I lifted my head, kissed the area below her ear, and then her neck, inching my way to her collarbone. She extended her neck, her little fingers driving me mad as she stroked my scalp in a continuous motion.

“Mr. Waltons?” The intercom on my desk buzzed with Olivia’s voice.

I stopped.

Taking Celia's hand, I walked back to the desk with her. Without letting go of her hand, I pressed the answering button. “Yes, Olivia?”

“This is the reminder you asked for before I leave for the day.”

“Ha, yes, thank you. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too, Mr. Waltons.”

I hung up and half-sat on my desk, pulling Celia in front of me. She avoided my gaze. I held back a smile—she was shy. I hugged her, and she rested her head in the crook of my shoulder.

After a while, I asked, “Are you alright?”

She lifted her head and nodded.

“That reminder that Olivia mentioned, she doesn’t know, but it was about inviting you to dinner at my parents’. I hope you can hang out with your friends earlier…. What do you say?”

She looked like she was calculating in her head, but I wanted her to ditch everything and come, so I pressed. “I can send a car for you, if you like?”

She pulled her hand free. “No need to send a car; I’ll be there. Thanks for inviting me.”

When she didn’t immediately move toward the door, I wondered if this was my chance to make my case about the stirring kiss we’d just shared.

“About the kiss—”

“Yes, about that….” She let the sentence trail off.

If she was planning to remind me of my unprofessional conduct at the workplace, I hoped she remembered how she’d responded to the kiss. Little happy noises had escaped her lips as she enthusiastically kissed me back. I wouldn’t mind repeating it so I could hear those noises over and over again.

“…we really need to keep our feelings under control.”

That made me smile, happy she acknowledged that it wasn’t just me, but she also had a control issue with her attraction.

The silence was heavy with emotions.

“How have you been?” she asked, breaking the tense air between us. “I mean, with your dad and Reeva…and everything.”

I tensed up. Reeva was a subject I’d put in a box and locked up. I didn’t need a reminder of how she made a complete fool of me. No reminder of how stupid and ignorant I’d felt since my paternity test results. But this was Celia genuinely asking how I was doing; I needed to be honest with her.

“It’s been a pride-shattering experience to know that I’d dated a woman with that type of character, but I’m recovering. As for my dad, he’s doing so much better than I thought. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.”

As I watched her process my words, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Our kiss, unexpected yet undeniable, had reignited something between us—something I wasn’t ready to let go of. And now, with her agreeing to join my family for dinner, it felt like the distance that had grown between us over the past few weeks was finally beginning to close. Tomorrow would be the start of something new, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

I sent a quick reminder to Celia later on Saturday, including instructions for checking in at the front gate.

True to my mother’s word, she’d arranged a quiet affair, though not quite as small as I’d expected. A table was set up on the patio with twelve chairs.

A few of my father’s friends arrived early, and they spent part of the afternoon in his study upstairs. It was hard to ignore their booming voices as they argued amicably. At one point, my mother went in to warn them against any business discussion that might cause my father too much stress.

Shortly before the appointed time, Johan and Benjamin, my youngest brother, arrived with a bottle of wine.

Celia was the last to appear, wearing a knee-length silk skirt and a blouse with a flower print. Her attire was perfect for the setting, as if she’d known we were dining in the garden.

She clasped her purse as she approached a little shyly and gave me a brief hug.

“You look lovely,” I told her.

It was the first time in weeks that I’d seen her outside of work.

“Thank you.” She glanced around. “How is he handling all the activity?”

I knew who she meant. “He’s eating it up. Having his friends around has perked him right up. I’m very pleased.”

“That’s good.” She grinned, and it was the most genuine smile I had seen in a while. “I hope he won’t mind me being here.”

“He’ll be charmed by you. They all will.”

I led her to the French doors at the far side of the living room. Holding the door open for her, she stepped on the porch where the flowering vines providing shade, were almost the same pattern as the flowers on her shirt. It was cooler than inside the house, and the low-hanging sun provided an aura of magic with all the bloomed flowers.

Everyone else was already seated at the table when we came out.

Celia’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize I was late,” she whispered.

“You’re not,” I whispered back. “Everyone else came early.”

We walked to the table, my hand on the small of her back.

“Everyone, this is Celia.”

She had already met my mother, Johan, and Benjamin at the hospital, so I introduced her to the other guests—Johan’s girlfriend, our uncle, four of my father’s business associates, and finally, at the head of the table, my father.

“Mr. Waltons, it’s good to see you looking so well.” Celia greeted him.

Ever the charmer, he took Celia’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Celia Adams. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Her voice cracked as she looked up at me. “You have?”

When we locked eyes, I shook my head so slightly it was barely perceptible. I hadn’t spoken to my father about Celia. But I suspected the rest of my family had not been as reticent.

“You came with Anton to the hospital, did you not?” he asked.

“Yes.”

My father nodded. “Welcome.” He stretched his hand out, indicating the empty chairs beside Johan. “Please, sit.”

The evening was pleasant. The cook had prepared an exceptional meal with three courses, and the conversation was fun and uncomplicated—at least until my parents started grilling Celia as though she was a witness they were cross-examining.

“I understand you’re not a senior attorney,” my father said.

She looked up from her plate, eyes wide, thrown off balance about the question.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “First-year associate.”

My mother asked Celia questions about her family and childhood. She grew up outside Dallas, Texas. Her father was a contractor, and her mother was a high school biology teacher. She was an only child, but she had several cousins.

Johan was the life of the dinner. He carried on with jokes, and he never once let the conversation die. Benjamin was more relaxed, speaking only when asked, but it was obvious how content he was just listening to everyone else.

After dinner, I was glad to have the chance to spend time with Celia. We walked between the shrubs in the garden on the interlocked paved paths, our footsteps unhurried. The rest of the family was sitting inside, having coffee and chatting, and the other guests had already left.

Celia cooed as she admired the flowers. “I don’t know why, but I’m not surprised to be walking in a purely aesthetic garden,” she exclaimed when we passed a pineapple shrub.

“Yeah, my mother spends a lot of time in the garden. Gardening has been her passion for as long as I can remember. Tropical plants like pineapples wouldn’t survive the winter here. She transfers them to the greenhouse during the cold season and replants them outside in milder seasons.”

“Wow, I’m impressed…. It shows her dedication to maintaining a diverse and picture-worthy garden.” She continued, “Your father has a lot of energy, too. It’s unexpected, considering what he’s been through. In my head, I pictured him to be more like you.”

I raised a brow. “Like me?”

“Yeah, you’re so…stoic.”

“Stoic?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “No offense. He’s more open…and boisterous.”

I laughed at that. “I suppose Johan and my father shared more of those traits than I do. They are full of life. So… you’d expected him to be stoic, huh?”

She cooked her head. “Why did you emphasize the word like that?”

“Like what?”

“As if it’s a bad word.”

“But it is, isn’t it?”

“Well, I figured you two would be more alike…. You’re both driven people, but I don’t see much of him in you.”

“Yeah, we’re driven alright, but with quite different characters.”

The wind suddenly picked up, and a cool gust blew past us. Celia wrapped her arms around herself.

“Do you want to go back to the house?”

“Not yet.” She continued wandering between the flowerbeds, running her fingers over the hardier lavender plants. “Your parents seem to have a good marriage.”

“It’s now, yes. But it started out rough...two strangers thrusted together in an arranged marriage by their parents.” I observed Celia as I told her this, the wind blowing her hair left and right. “Let’s just say their early marriage years were…contentious. My father spent most of his time at work, and my mother poured her soul into gardening; in the evening, they argued.”

“So, growing up, you had an absent father, and you didn’t like what you saw of your parents’ marriage.”

“Yep, that about sums it up.” The admission left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d buried those memories deep, but they always had a way of surfacing at the worst times.

With another gust of wind, the plants in the garden swayed, and the leaves rustled. I inhaled the earthy smell in the air that indicated rain.

Celia reached out to a peony flower, stroking the petals thoughtfully. “Marriage is hard, no doubt. But the whole romance around it, meeting someone to spend the rest of your life with, is so dreamy.”

Her words struck a chord, one I wasn’t ready to face. All this talk about marriage was starting to make me uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the idea of marriage that bothered me—it was the vulnerability that came with it.

“Right. Yeah, I suppose it’s good for some people.” I tried to keep my tone casual, but I could feel the weight of our conversation pressing down on me, forcing me to confront emotions I’d long kept at bay.

“You didn’t strike me as a quitter,” she said, searching my face. “I mean, finding the right someone is a challenge, but that’s what makes life, isn’t it? Getting past those obstacles and having the reward of a partner and confidant.” She chuckled. “I’ve probably romanticized it a bit.”

The awkwardness of this subject was grating on my confidence. I had never discussed marriage, except in a courtroom.

“I’m guessing your parents had a good marriage?” I said, not to appear rude since she wouldn’t stop talking about marriage.

“They still do,” she answered, turning her face upward, her lips slightly parted as the first raindrops began to fall.

She looked carefree at this very moment; something both sharp and warm sizzled through me. Our feverish kiss in my office assaulted my mind. I put my hands in my pocket so as not to pull her against me and kiss her feverishly again right here in the garden.

But insecurity started to rear its ugly head.

She’d been talking about partners, confidants, marriage….

A droplet hit the nape of my neck, and another landed on my lips. The storm above us wasn’t the only one roiling; the one inside me was, too. Though I’d thought in passing that Celia could be a good stepmom if Reeva’s child was mine, I kind of felt cornered right now.

“It’s all good and romantic until…. You’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Haven’t you seen your fair share of ugly divorce cases? It surprises me that anyone in our line of work would ignore that,” I replied defensively.

She opened her eyes, and her carefree expression disappeared, replaced by a determined one. Almost fierce.

“Of course, all we see related to marriage are divorce cases because we’re lawyers. No good marriage would need a lawyer. And there are a lot of them. It seems a pretty dim view to hold and not consider the other half.”

“It’s not a dim view but a realistic one,” I retorted, feeling as fired up as she was.

And why were we now arguing about marriage? This shouldn’t have been our subject of conversation…yet the more she was for it and I against it, the more I realized that my one rule in life—to never let a woman get too close—had started to crumble, leaving the gate open for her.

“We should probably get back.” I rubbed the back of my neck, hating the conflicting emotions raging in me.

“Yeah, let’s head back before we’re totally soaked.”

Just then, a gust of wind blew and lifted her skirt up. She squealed, crouching down while holding her skirt together.

I laughed—hearty laughter that rumbled through me—at the unexpected Marilyn Monroe skirt-blowing-up scene unfolding in front of me.

“It’s not that funny!” she said, hiding a grin.

“Forgive me,” I said and laughed even harder.

She got up, still holding a bunched-up skirt with one hand. My laughter dwindled down, replaced by a grin so wide, it reached the corner of my eyes. That was funny. Little sparkles like fireworks were still exploding in my chest, and I would never forget the image of Celia in that moment.

I linked her arm through mine, and she let me. I liked that she was a great sport. Just like she’d made fun of me at the bowling alley, we could laugh at each other’s misfortune and still be friends.

We strolled ever so slowly toward the house. I didn’t want to meet the others so soon and break my momentum with Celia.

“Where should we go?”

She threw me a questioning stare. “I don’t know…. You want to stay on the porch?”

“We’ll still get wet there…. I can show you the house.”

“Sure thing. Since you told me of your adolescence, I’d been curious about the things you were interested in.”

A cute flush formed on her cheeks.

“You might be disappointed; I wasn’t a teenager with posters of my favorite bands all over my room or anything like that.”

“Oh? What about action figures?”

I grunted. “Those were collectibles. I couldn’t just leave them lying around in my bedroom.”

“So, where were they?”

“Safety deposit box.”

“You’re joking. What type of collectible would a teenager have that needs a storage box? Toys are usually displayed to impress friends.”

“They were collectibles,” I repeated.

“Yeah, you said that already.” She laughed, tightening her arms around mine. “I’d thought you might be from a different species. Now, it’s confirmed.”

I chuckled.

It was then that the sky opened up in a torrent of rain. We bolted, hand in hand, as the deluge poured in all its fury. As we ran together, soaked and laughing, I realized that with Celia, even the stormiest moments felt like something I could weather. She was becoming more than just a colleague or a fleeting connection—she was starting to feel like something I couldn’t afford to lose.