Falling for my boss ✔️

Chapter 9 - Please give me a chance

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Michael's POV

"Why won't she pick up?", I growled, throwing my phone onto my couch. I threw myself onto the other couch, sighing heavily. My jacket hung on the backrest, as well as my tie. I unbuttoned my white shirt slightly, deep in thoughts.

"Monsieur, what's wrong?", Gerard came out of the laundry room and went to me with a worried frown. 

"Ask me something easier, mon ami", I mumbled, throwing my hand over my eyes. 

"Judging from your question earlier, you have a girlfriend?" 

"Again", I laughed. "Ask me something easier." 

"Are you hungry? Marie made dinner."

I got up and he stepped aside. "Have you eaten?" 

"I waited for you." 

"Let's eat then."

Gerard and Marie were my servants ever since I was a little child. They had originally been my mother's, but the moment I had been born, she had pressed me into their arms, so she could work again. She had done the same three years later with Léon Clement, and 9 years later with Sébastien Adrien. My youngest brother had been a futile attempt to save their marriage, but it was doomed from the start.

Mother had blamed us. She had only been 25 when she had born me in 1988, married for only a year, when I had decided to show up. As if I was to blame for their actions. I shook my head.

Gerard called Marie to come and eat. These two, along with tatie Marthe, had raised me. Gerard and Marie had gladly followed me when mother had sent me to the Provence to live with tatie Marthe in Gordes, or as we knew called it: Gòrda. Both hadn't been fond of Véronique nor my father, Hector. They had neglected us, both had always cared more about their carriers. Well, until the divorce.

Marie came to me and kissed my cheeks, cupping my face. She grimaced. "You look tired." 

"You always say that", I laughed. 

"Because it's true. You need to sleep more, Michel." Marie scanned me. "You have your family on your mind." 

"Since when am I that readable?", I grinned. 

"I changed your diapers, have you forgotten? I know you better than our own son."

Another thing – they were married and had a son who was ten years older than me.

Marie had gotten pregnant with 18. They had married, had their son Jean-Pierre, then they both went to work for my parents. They were 5 years older than my father, who was born in 1960, making them 63.

"What's wrong, ma poule?" 

"Mother came to work today." 

"That's why Léon called a few hours ago." I looked to Gerard. "He asked if you were home."

 Checking the time, I shook my head. "I'll call him tomorrow." In New York it was 10 p.m., in Avignon 4 in the morning. I shouldn't wake him, Rebecca or the children up. Adrien and Estelle were bundles of energy anyways, and I don't want them to handle their children so early.

"And?" 

"And?", I asked Marie. 

She tilted my head around. "Something's off with you." 

"He has a girlfriend", Gerard explained before I could say anything. 

Her grip got tighter. "Une copine?! Mon dieu! What's her name? Where's she from? Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"