CEO's Expectant Secretary(38)

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Brock asked Elle in a low voice.

“Do you have any idea how insulting it was to have to make excuses for you for almost two hours?” she said. “If you expect me to be a Stepford wife like your mother, you can forget it. We should just end it now.”

“My mother,” he echoed, appalled. “Why would I want you to be like my mother? Trust me, I have no oedipal urges. What happened at the party?” he asked gently. “Did something upset you?”

“Aside from waiting for you endlessly,” Elle whispered, “I happened to overhear people say that the only reason you married me was because I was pregnant. Don’t even try to deny it because we both know the truth.”

Her desperation and vulnerability dug at him. “You and I both want the best for this baby,” he said.

“Yes, but you and I need—” She stopped and lowered her voice. “You and I need to have a relationship,” she whispered. “It can’t all be about the baby or it’s not going to work.”

“We have never had a shortage of passion, Elle,” he said.

“I want more than passion,” she said. “I want compassion, companionship…” She took a deep breath. “I want love.”

Brock felt his gut twist. “I can give you passion, compassion and companionship, but love is going to take a while. But I’ll work at it. I promise,” he said.

She stared at him with pain in her eyes. “I’m going to be blunt here. I don’t want a marriage like your parents had.”

Brock felt like she’d slapped him. “What the hell do you know about my parents’ marriage? You’ve never even met my father,” he said, a twinge of anger stinging a raw place inside him.

“You’ve obviously forgotten the earful your mother gave me,” she said. “Besides, if you’re a chip off the old block, then in a way, I have met your father.”

“Here’s the tea,” Suzanne said as she brought Brock’s cup to him, looking back and forth between Brock and Elle with concern. “It’s still a little hot.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“This is…nice,” she said, sitting down without taking her eyes off them. “Enjoying a movie with my daughter and son-in-law. Shall we watch the rest?”

Brock only made it through the chick flick because he was so distracted by what was happening with Elle that he could barely follow what was on screen. What had gotten into her? He’d thought she would be excited about attending the Prentices’ cocktail party.

The interminable movie finally ended and Brock rose to his feet. “Time to go. Elle needs her rest and so do you,” he said to his mother-in-law.

“How thoughtful,” Suzanne said, taking his hand and looking directly in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re looking after Elle.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said to reassure her. “Thank you for your hospitality, Suzanne. Ready, Elle?”

Elle met his gaze with a hint of a mutinous expression that didn’t bode well for the ride home. He could feel the chill already. “Yes,” she finally said and gave her mother a hug. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised and joined Brock as they left the condo.

They walked to his car in silence and Brock ushered her into the passenger seat of his Porsche. He rounded the vehicle, slid in and started the engine. “I think we should start this conversation over. First, I apologize for being late tonight. This prospective cosmetics account is almost more demanding than the Prentice account.”

Glancing at her, he noticed her arms were crossed firmly and her jaw was set. But after a long silence, she finally gave a heavy sigh. “Apology accepted. In the future, however, I would appreciate it if you would keep me better informed about delays.”

He nodded. “I can do that. Now, about us…it’s going to take time, Elle,” he said.

“Exactly. With the schedule you keep at the office, it’s going to be difficult for you to put in any time on our marriage.”

Brock had heard something similar from his ex-fiancée just before she’d left him. His gut tightened at the prospect of Elle doing the same. He’d hoped that since she’d been his assistant, she would understand his devotion to the company. He’d also hoped that because of all the nights they’d shared, she would somehow know, deep down, that his drive for his company was part of his blood, part of his very being.

“Are you complaining about my work hours?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “I resent that. I’m not complaining. But let’s look at this a different way. If you were trying to build a business relationship with me, how much time would you put in?”