The Boss's Son | ✅

4

Carrying the word restroom like a shield in front of him, Mike ploughed a path for us through the other guests without so much as a glance or smile at them until he had found a calm corner that hid us both.

"Really Tessa?" he started his outburst which I had already known would come since he separated us from the others. I had known it would come since I had provoked Rizzoli on first sight. "What about 'the manuscript theft put the department into deep trouble and we need to make as good an impression as we can tonight' wasn't clear enough for you? It was us who cocked this up. Someone from the heart of our department must have tipped off the thieves. Overnight we didn't just lose a good way to make money via the certificates because collectors will look for other, safer options for some time to come. We lost all trust. Tonight, out there," he pointed back to the gathering, "it's our chance to start rebuilding it, by showing that we are responsible and levelheaded people. And you had nothing better to do than to go ahead and harass Mr. Rizzoli."

When he was done pouring his discontent out over me, my skin itched. I rubbed my arms through the soft material of my pantsuit and said, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just, I tried to get close enough to this man to sound him out for years now. And suddenly he stood there and expressed his admiration for my work? I didn't stop to think."

"No, you didn't." Mike ran both his hands over his head, then threw them away. He was really upset. More than the situation warranted. "Fuck, Tess. It was his manuscript that was stolen. I had heard the rumors that Rizzoli owned it, years ago, and begged him that, if the rumors were true, to grant me a chance to look at it and check its authenticity. He finally agreed. He even considered to loan the manuscript to the university library for an exhibition afterwards." I was completely stunned by this revelation. Who would be stupid enough to steal from the mafia? I had no time to ponder this question and other implications further, since Mike had clasped his hands under his chin and continued, "Yet, he was one of the first to show up in Professor Miles office to ask, how he could help us to regain our reputation after this disaster. I beg you now like I begged him before, cut him some slack. Just for this night. Can you do this?"

"I already said I was sorry," I said more petulant than I should. I had been wrong, but he had neglected to tell me a whole lot of things that would have been of interest to me. My journalist self would need some time to accept this. Nevertheless, I promised, "I will be at my most polite from now on. I draw the line though, at him calling me Contessa. No one ever does. I hate this name."

I crossed my arms. It was true. As endearing as it had sounded, rolling off Mr. Rizzoli's tongue, my name never had felt like a true fit. I couldn't fathom what my parents must have seen when they looked at me, after I was born, that made them decide that I was a Contessa, a lady in my own right. I was no lady. I didn't even wear dresses when I could avoid it.

Mike waited until I was done tormenting my lower lip and looked back at him. Then he mouthed, "Contessa," and broke the tension with a grin.

Since he behaved like a kid, I punched him in his shoulder with a pout. I wouldn't be able to keep the pout up for long without laughing; not with Mike standing in front of me, grinning. So, I motioned back at the gathering with my head and told him, "Go in and charm them all out of their money and wits. I'll be right behind you."

"You're sure?" he asked, looking first over his shoulder where the people had settled down and the President prepared to launch one of his speechs, then wearily looking at me.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the closest thing to an older brother I ever had. This lonely walk through the seated ocean as the one being late, wouldn't harm me. "I love you too. Now go. I actually need to powder my nose now, as you so nicely put it."

He started to back out of our hiding nook. With every inch of distance, he put between us, his eyes gleamed more devilish. A yard away he licked his grinning lips. "See you at the table, Contessa." With that he spun around. Had he not sped his steps, the red soles of my heels would have connected with his delectable behind. As it was, I threw my leg up into the air, merely brushing past the fabric of his suit. Then it was back on the floor, I started out further away from the banquette hall with the approximate notion in my head of looking for the bathrooms.