The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Seven

"I did something bad," I told Crystal.

"Did you fuck him?" she asked sounding far too excited.

Although the widower and I had only been in the house together two days since the incident, the elephant in the room grew larger each day that passed. "No. I sort of . . . grabbed him by the balls and told him he was being a shitty father."

She stared at me so long, I would have thought our connection froze if her hair wasn't blowing in the breeze. "You did what?!"

"I know," I press my palm to my forehead in shame. "I wasn't thinking."

"Babe! You can't dominate a dom! You know what'll happen!"

"Yeah, I know."

She let out a breath through pursed, smiling lips. "You want it to happen, don't you? You're just gonna keep pissing him off, hoping he'll blow up and give you exactly what you want. You kinky bitch."

"No!" I mean, maybe I've thought about it a little. "It wasn't like that. He pushed me and I snapped." Replaying it in my mind made it no better. "I expected him to fire me on the spot, but it was almost the opposite. Making him mad was the first time I got him to communicate and emote like a human." And nearly choked me, but I wouldn't tell her that. 

"He's probably been taught to repress his emotions like every other man. Anger may be the only way he knows how to communicate." That could be true. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen? We all know the way to a man's heart is through his penis and you've almost forgotten what one looks like, so . . ." She started to giggle.

"Seriously, Crystal . . ." I trailed off when a staff member started walking onto the veranda where I was sitting. When he walked through the door, I said, "Let me call you back."

"Ms. Nielson, there's a call from Matthew's school." He handed me the phone.

I took it from him and mouthed thank you. "Hello?"

"Hello. Who am I speaking with?"

"This is Aubrey Nielson. I'm Matthew's, uh,"—I hated saying nanny—"guardian. Is something wrong?"

"Matthew has gotten himself into some trouble and needs to be picked up immediately."

Crap. "Okay. Yes, someone will be there shortly."

I closed my eyes and took a breath. I have to tell his dad.

I spewed every curse word in my vocabulary as I went inside and down the stairs.

My heart pounded nervously as I approached his office. The last time I was in there was less than comfortable, but it was either I tell him now or risk that he'd hear it from someone less aware of their temperamental relationship.

I knocked on the door but it didn't catch his attention. I took a few steps inside, and when he started rattling off in Italian, my hesitation faded to annoyance.

He glanced at me mid-sentence and his speech stumbled to a stop. He looked away from me and got back on track. I stood in front of his desk and waited for him to stop insisting whoever he was speaking with to stop "selling in a bear market." When he finished his lecture, he looked at me expectantly.

I took that as my cue to speak. "There's an issue at Matthew's school. I can handle it if you'd like."

He started to say something but looked away and started yelling into the phone once more. With a frustrated huff, he covered the speaker and looked at me once more. "Please."