A Winter's Vow (A Winter's Tale Series Book 3) Read online

  Grimacing at the other woman’s words, Charlotte cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the room. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but don’t you think that addressing a woman’s weight right before her wedding is kind of harsh?”

  “It’s not harsher than an excited bride going into a bridal boutique with her friends and family hoping to try on dresses, but then is told that every dress she’s interested in doesn’t come in her size. This column will help change that.”

  “I understand that. I do. But planning a wedding I’m sure is hard enough . . . do you think it’s a good idea to touch on such a sensitive subject? Brides want to read about things that are uplifting during such a stressful time, and weight and body image is super complex.”

  “You look to be in okay shape. What I mean to say is that you’re no model by any standards, but you’re decently positioned. If you walked into a bridal shop you’d more than likely find a dress that fits you, after all, you’re average, but not all women have that luxury. This column will benefit women who don’t have it easy like me, or semi- easy like you.”

  Charlotte gaped at the other woman, shocked by her audacity. Words were lost on her. Say something, her subconscious screamed at her. SAY SOMETHING! But no words came out.

  Nicholas squeezed her hand under the table drawing her attention to him once more. Offering an encouraging smile, he let go of her hand. Standing he said, “Okay. I like your initiative, and I think you’re on to something genius.”

  “Thank you, Nick,” Penelope beamed at him. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  Charlotte frowned. Could she be more obvious? She scowled inwardly at the realization of another woman openly flirting with Nicholas.

  “But,” Nicholas continued holding up his hand to her. “I do agree with Ms. Toutant in regards to what women may or may not want to read while they are planning such an important celebration. Weight management is probably not something brides want to read about a few weeks before their wedding. And if it is something that matters to them that’s what dieticians are for. Gizzelle Bridal is an upbeat magazine, and I would like it to continue on as such . . . so with that being said, the column is yours, but I want Ms. Toutant to be the overseer of this project, guiding you and assisting with the brainstorming process.”

  Penelope attempted to conceal the look of disappointment that quickly spread across her pale face, but the effort was made in vain. “Thank you for this opportunity, Nicholas, I think you’ll be pleased,” she said as she gathered her papers into a single pile before tossing them into her briefcase.

  “Let’s hope so,” he responded, ready to move on with the meeting. “Before we close out are there any questions, comments, or concerns that anyone would like to bring to the table?”

  Silence.

  “Awesome. Well as always, I thank you for your hard work, it’s most appreciated. If you need anything go to Ms. Toutant, her door is always open. If you come past my office and notice that the door is locked and the lights are off don’t be alarmed . . . I just started Vampire Diaries on Netflix and I’ll be hard at work binge watching,” he joked, “so again go straight to her with your needs.”

  Charlotte shook her head at his childlike banter, a small smile tugging at her lips as their colleagues reinforced his juvenile behavior.

  “Have a good week everyone,” he finished, standing from his seat. “Ms. Toutant, do you have a minute, or two? I wanted to run a few things past you.”

  “Sure.” Charlotte remained in her seat as the large room emptied, her drifting gaze wandering from face to face as staff hurried into the hallway.

  “Charlotte,” Penelope called her name from the doorway, grabbing her attention. “In the next few days I’ll be visiting bridal boutiques in the area in hopes of speaking to shopping brides to be . . . I’ll send you an email elaborating on the details,” she said, her tone snappy.

  “Looking forward to it,” Charlotte responded curtly, irritated by the woman’s overall behavior.

  “Close the door behind you, Penelope,” Nicholas ordered, turning away from her and giving Charlotte his full attention. Hearing the door close behind him Nicholas pulled Charlotte from the brown leather chair into his strong arms. “Finally,” he breathed against her rose stained lips. “We’re alone.” Placing his hand at the hollow of her back he took a step forward wanting no space between them. “I’ve missed you.”

  Charlotte ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks as the feelings of humiliation and insecurity clung to her like a second skin. Penelope’s words had cut like a dull blade, jagged and painful, and what made matters worse was her inability to stand up for herself. She hated confrontation, but even more than that she hated knowing that in not speaking up against Penelope she had disgraced herself. She felt mortified.

  Nicholas gently lifted her chin with his long fingers forcing her to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

  “Penelope . . . who is she exactly? I’ve never seen her before today?”

  “She was a columnist for Gizzelle Bridal a few years ago, before she moved to Europe. Fissicle called me about a week ago, and asked if I wouldn’t mind giving her a job now that she’s back in New York.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh? Oh, what?”

  “I’m just curious if that’s the reason why you didn’t say anything when she targeted me in front of everyone? . . . because she has a relationship with Fissicle,” Charlotte inquired coolly, but Nicholas could see past the calm façade, she was infuriated.

  Arching an amused brow, Nicholas responded, “Are you being serious right now? Dimple− you told me to treat you like I do everyone else, and so that’s what I did. If she’d said those things to anyone else I wouldn’t have intervened . . . I would have let them work it out amongst themselves.”

  “You could have said something in my defense,” Charlotte frowned. “Instead you allowed me to be ridiculed and embarrassed in front of everyone.”

  Nicholas’ eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. Releasing Charlotte from his arms he backed away from her, regarding her carefully. “Charlotte,” he said after a while. “You made the decision that you didn’t want news of our engagement getting out around the office. That was a choice that you made by yourself, and I agreed to it because I know how uncomfortable you felt about the rumors going around about us, but Dimple, you can’t have it both ways. You either want to continue on with the charade that I’m nothing more than your boss, or we can cut the bullshit and stop pretending that we’re not together.”

  Charlotte looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Sighing, she sat on the edge of the conference table, her big brown eyes embodying her internal turmoil over the matter. She knew that his words ringed true, and that he hadn’t done anything wrong. She was upset with herself. “I don’t want people to think that I didn’t earn my position as Editor. I don’t want it to seem like I’m getting special treatment, or that Dean was right.”

  “Dimple, you have to stop worrying about what people think. Who cares what they think . . . I don’t. To be honest, I couldn’t care less. These are people you work with, they aren’t your friends or your family, so why give their opinion so much power?”

  “You’re right,” she said, forcing a smile. “I know that you’re right. It’s just hard when I’m walking through the building and I know that I’m being whispered about.”

  “It’s called jealousy,” he laughed. “Get used to it. The same women who whisper about you are the same ones’ who would have sex with me if the opportunity presented itself. They’re envious scavengers who are mad because you got what they want.”

  “I hardly think they all want to be Editor. It’s not the most luxurious job,” she , pulling her fingers through her hair.

  Nicholas laughed at her, the sound youthful in her ears. “I was talking about me. They want me,” he smiled boyishly at her. “Not your job.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from deep inside her. “Oh, my g
osh! You’re so full of yourself,” she snorted.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Nicholas didn’t deny the charge. “Don’t be mad at me,” he said, placing his hands on either side of her face, his voice was low, his expression serious.

  “I’m not,” she huffed. “I guess I just expected you to take up for me the way you did with Dean . . . the way you always do.” Rubbing her small hands along his burgundy cardigan she pressed her forehead against his lips. “I shouldn’t rely on you to fight my battles for me, I need to learn to speak up for myself.”

  “Dimple, I’m good at juggling more than one thing at a time. I can be your man, and your boss.”

  “So, you want people to know that we’re together?” she asked, anxiously pulling her bottom lip into her mouth.

  “Not hiding our relationship would make things easier . . . no more getting out of my car a block away from work so that no one will see us coming into the building together . . . no more leaving at different times, and picking you up at the Starbucks down the street so that no one see’s us going home together. No more−”

  “Okay! Okay. I get it,” she laughed, shaking her head. “And I’ll think about it.”

  “Good, you do that.”

  “I missed you too by the way, a lot.”

  “A lot?” he asked, tilting his head away from her. “A little, lot, or a lot, a lot?”

  “A lot, a lot,” Charlotte whispered, pulling him closer, thankful for the table and the access it permitted. Wrapping her small hands around the back of his neck she leaned forward crushing her lips to his. She kissed him deeply, her tongue teasing, her lips orchestrating a passionate dance that Nicholas couldn’t withdraw from. She was addicting. Raising her left hand to his disheveled hair she intertwined her fingers, pulling the thick mass with neediness, causing a low moan to escape past his full lips.

  “The door isn’t locked. Somebody could walk in,” he said, his voice was husky, his eyes hungry with desire.

  “And that’s a problem?” she asked, her eyes alive with mischief. “I thought you didn’t care what people thought?”

  “I don’t,” he acknowledged.

  “Prove it.”

  Nicholas’ smile was a provocative one. “Prove it?” he repeated.

  “Yeah. Prove it.”

  Shaking his head at the temptation, he brushed his lips against Charlotte’s once more before backing away from her. “Next time,” he said, a small smirk teasing his mouth.

  “Why not now?” she pressed, grabbing hold of his belt and attempting to pull him back to her. Nicholas stared down at Charlotte thoughtfully. Drawing back, he framed her face in his strong hands. “Because that’s not really what you want,” he answered. “And if someone did walk in on us, you’d be mortified.”

  “You’re right,” she groaned. “That’s the last thing I’d want.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, Nicholas rested his chin on her head. “Dimple,” he sighed, “You’re proving to be a very complicated woman.” His tone was teasing.

  “And you’re just figuring that out?” Charlotte laughed, pressing her body against his, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

  Chapter Five

  Gasping from the stinging heat, Charlotte quickly withdrew her foot from the scorching water. Taking a deep breath, she hovered her toes above the bath before stepping into the tub fully. Biting down on her bottom lip, she inched her body further into the hot water, moaning softly as the small waves lapped at her nipples, causing her brown peaks to harden. In silence Charlotte watched as the clear liquid moved over her body, its warmth caressing her senses and easing her tension. It had been weeks since she’d been able to make time for herself. With Spring, just around the corner work had been hectic, writers were throwing articles at her nonstop, and the up- and- coming blog that Fissicle demanded that they generate was just another thing added to the steady growing list of responsibilities of being the only full- time Editor at the magazine. Sighing, Charlotte rubbed tiresomely at her temples as she prayed for peace of mind. She wasn’t one to complain about hard work, in fact, she enjoyed her profession, but with the changes that were gradually taking place since Fissicle had bought the company, her job had begun to feel more like work, and less gratifying. Of course, it didn’t help that she had been given the duty of accompanying Penelope on her daily interviewing outings. Spending hours at a time with the other woman had proven to be unbearable. For weeks, she had been forced to sit through one agonizing interview after another as Penelope watered down her antagonizing tone, and sugarcoated her offensive questions, completely disregarding the feelings of the women she spoke to, and dismissing Charlotte’s feedback in its entirety.

  Closing her eyes briefly, she let out a slow breath. Just a few more weeks, and the column will be finished, she reminded herself. Just get through a few more weeks.

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte sat at a small pub table inside the prestigious New York City landmark Café Bruno, a quaint Italian teashop in lower east Manhattan. The small eatery was known for its signature organic brews and gingersnap tiramisu. Leaning back, Charlotte rested her shoulders against the hard edges of her chair as she scanned the small room for a familiar face. Stealing a quick glance at her watch she pouted. 11:42a.m. “Where are you Patricia?” she mumbled under her breath. It had been weeks since she had seen her close friend and colleague. After making an unscheduled visit at the magazine, Fissicle decided that Nicholas had more than enough staff on his team, and so “in the benefit of doing what’s best for the company” he temporarily hired out former Leisure Me Ready employees to business companions in the area. Reaching into her coat pocket, Charlotte pulled out her cell phone, her fingers quickly dialing the memorized number.

  “I’m walking in now,” Patricia Foster answered. “Do you see me?”

  “I see you,” Charlotte said, waving her hand in the air to get her friend’s attention. Ending the call, she placed her Blackberry on the table and stood up. “Oh- my- gosh, Trish, I’ve missed you,” she said, hugging the taller woman. “It’s been too long.”

  “Way too long,” Patricia agreed, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

  “When are you coming back to our office?” Charlotte asked, returning to her seat.

  “Within the next few months I hope,” Patricia smacked her lips. “I can’t stand not being at the magazine. I miss doing advertising work.”

  “Your new position doesn’t deal with advertising?”

  Patricia snorted indignantly. “I’m an accounts clerk at one of Fissicle’s buddy’s law firms,” she explained as she reached for a menu.

  Shaking her head, Charlotte rolled her eyes. “This makes no sense. The man claims that Nicholas has too many people on staff, but then demands that he hire that horrible wench with a bad attitude. It’s really quite annoying the situation we’ve been placed in,” she complained.

  “Wait, back it up,” Patricia said, frowning. The expression causing thin wrinkles to form on her creamy brown skin. “Who was Nick forced to hire?”

  Charlotte grimaced. “Her name is Penelope, and she is the most suffocating, obnoxious human being that I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

  Patricia laughed. “Wow. She can’t be that bad?”

  “Trish, she pretty much called me unattractive during a meeting, and told me that my body was mediocre at best.”

  “She did what now?” Patricia twisted her lips, suddenly irritated.

  “She said that I wasn’t a model ‘by any standards of the word,’” Charlotte said imitating Penelope.

  “Oh, so she’s a little smart mouth heffa’.”

  “And she flirts with Nicholas every chance she gets,” Charlotte continued.

  Patricia raised a curious brow. “Uh huh . . . and that bothers you, why?”

  Charlotte paused. Crap! You and your big mouth, Charli, she chastised herself. “So, do you know what you want to order?” she asked Patricia, her attention focused on the menu.
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br />   “How about a round of the truth,” Patricia said, reaching across the table and snatching the thin book from Charlotte’s hands. “Why do you care if another woman flirts with Nick? He’s an available bachelor, he has the right to date. You’re dating Jeremy after all.”

  Charlotte huffed. “Can I have the menu back, please?”

  “Can you give me an honest answer, please,” Patricia retorted, her dark brown eyes regarding Charlotte with a learned patience.

  “Fine. Okay, fine. It bothers me to see that horrible woman flirting with Nicholas . . . it goes through me like nothing else, and I care because I’m in love with him,” she admitted quietly, awaiting the judgement of her friend.

  “Thank you, Jesus! It’s about time this woman told the truth,” Patricia laughed. Dramatically throwing her hands in the air, she said, “Girl, I thought you’d carry that reality with you to the grave.”

  “You knew?” Charlotte gawked.

  “Who doesn’t know that you have feelings for him? You’ve made it obvious over the years. I’ve just been waiting for you to admit it out loud.”

  “Well, there’s more . . . for me to admit aloud,” Charlotte whispered, nudging her chair closer to the table she said, “Nicholas proposed while we were in the Hamptons for New Year’s.”

  Patricia gaped at Charlotte dumbfounded. “Proposed? In the Hamptons? I didn’t even know you two went to the Hamptons together. Hun, we really need to work on our communication skills,” she laughed.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Charlotte apologized, her voice low.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I don’t know . . . I guess that I don’t want anybody to hear.”