Chapter 149
Chole's POV:
I checked the clock on my computer screen. Exactly five minutes had passed since Parker walked out of his office.
I grabbed my bag and stood up. I walked through the office and waved to my busy colleagues.
"Heading out, Chloe?" a receptionist asked.
"Yes, see you tomorrow," I replied with a bright smile.
I took the elevator down to the underground garage. I got into my own car.
Things used to be simpler. A few weeks ago, I tried to save gas money by carpooling with Parker. He drove, I rode shotgun. It made sense. We lived together.
But one evening, I shared the elevator with a colleague from HR.
"Chloe, I didn't see your car today," the woman said, pressing the button for the garage. "How are you getting home?"
I froze. My finger hovered over the B2 button. I quickly pulled my hand back and pressed the button for the lobby instead.
"I'm taking an Uber," I lied. I forced a laugh. "Car is in the shop."
"Oh," the colleague said. She hit B2. "I can drop you off if you want?"
"No! No thanks," I said, waving my hands. "The Uber is already here. It's very convenient."
The colleague shrugged and walked out at B2. I rode to the lobby, heart pounding. I ran out the front door and called Parker. I made him drive around the block to pick me up five hundred yards away.
"I am driving my own car from now on," I told him that night. "If someone sees me getting into your car, the rumors will never stop."
Since then, we drove separate cars to work every single day.
I drove into the residential garage at the Seaport. I parked my car in my assigned spot.
Parker’s car was already there. He was leaning against a concrete pillar, waiting for me.
I stepped out of my vehicle. Before I could lock the door, Parker was there. He pushed me back against the car door. He kissed me hard.
I gasped. I was startled, but I melted into him quickly. His hands were warm on my waist.
I pushed him back gently after a moment. I rested my head on his chest, trying to catch my breath. I punched his arm lightly.
"We just spent all day in the office," I whispered, leaning back. "You already had your way with me at lunch. And now again? Your stamina is terrifying, Parko."
Parker raised an eyebrow, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "You seemed to enjoy it, Ms. Vance."
I glared at him playfully, my eyes misty and bright. "You make me sound like a nympho."
Parker laughed, covering his mouth to hide his grin. "I like it when you're nasty."
I felt my heart skip a beat. I wanted to rip his shirt off right there.
"Let's go," I said, grabbing his hand. "Home."
We took the private elevator up to the penthouse. The ride was quiet and intimate. We stepped out into the hallway, fingers interlaced, leaning against each other.
Then we stopped.
A woman was standing in front of our door. The smart lock on the door beeped three times. Error. The red light flashed.
"Mom?" Parker called out.
The woman turned around slowly. She looked at Parker. Then her eyes drifted down. She stared at my hand, which was wrapped tightly around Parker’s arm.
Her pupils constricted.
I felt a jolt of panic. I tried to rip my hand away.
"Um, I should go home," I stammered. I tried to step back toward the elevator.
Parker tightened his grip. He wouldn't let me go.
I blinked frantically at him. Let go. This is awkward. Parker ignored my signals. He pulled me forward toward the door.
Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Mrs. Palmer sat on the main sofa. Her posture was perfect. I sat on a single armchair nearby. I felt like I was sitting on needles.
I thought about offering water. But that felt wrong. If I acted like the hostess, it would confirm I lived here. It seemed too bold. So I just sat there, hands clasped tightly in my lap.
Mrs. Palmer looked between us.
"Are you two dating?"
"No!" I said.
"Yes," Parker said.
We spoke at the exact same time.
I turned to look at Parker. Parker looked at me, his expression steady.
"Mom," Parker said firmly. "Chloe and I are girlfriend and boyfriend now."
I felt Mrs. Palmer’s gaze settle on me. It felt heavy. I felt a sudden wave of shame, like I had stolen something valuable from this woman. I decided to keep my mouth shut. Maya had said Parker’s mother was reasonable. Hopefully, she wouldn't say anything humiliating.
"Mom," Parker continued. "If you have questions, ask me."
Mrs. Palmer glanced at her son. "How long have you been together?"
"A few months."
"You go to the office every day now because of Miss Vance?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Palmer fell silent. She didn't frown, but she didn't smile. The air in the room felt thin.
Parker stood up abruptly. "If there are no more questions, I'm going to make dinner."
He walked into the open kitchen. He put on an apron and started pulling vegetables from the fridge. He looked completely at ease.
I sat frozen. I couldn't leave. I couldn't speak.
Mrs. Palmer sat with her hands folded on her legs. She was elegant and intimidating. I subconsciously straightened my back. I wanted to kick off my heels and hide, but I had to perform.
Mrs. Palmer looked at me. "How old are you, Miss Vance?"
"Twenty-nine."
"Three years older than Parker," Mrs. Palmer noted.
"Yes," I said. I didn't apologize. I was twenty-nine, not ancient. I was in my prime.
We stared at each other for a moment, then looked away.
Mrs. Palmer turned her attention to the kitchen. She watched Parker cooking. It was an open-concept layout, so everything was visible.
I looked at Parker, then at his mother. Mrs. Palmer was staring at the kitchen intensely. I realized what that look meant. No mother liked seeing her precious son serving another woman. Parker was the heir to a media empire, and here he was, chopping onions for his secretary.
I stood up quickly. I ran to the kitchen.
"Can I help with anything?" I asked breathlessly.
Parker turned and smiled at me. "No need. Go rest. I'll call you when it's done."
"No," I whispered fiercely. "I need to look domestic. I need to show I'm virtuous. Give me a job."
Parker chuckled softly. He handed me a basket. "Wash the tomatoes."
I took the basket happily. Washing vegetables was safe. I could do that.
After dinner, Mrs. Palmer left.
Parker and I walked her to the door. The moment Mrs. Palmer stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, I let out a massive breath. My knees felt weak.
"See?" Parker laughed, wrapping an arm around me. "My mom is nice. You didn't need to be afraid."
I rolled my eyes. I turned and patted Parker’s cheek.
"Every man in the world says that," I said.
Parker kissed the top of my head. "My parents don't interfere much. Don't scare yourself."