Page 37 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“Alright.” Ethan gets to his feet abruptly. “It’s getting late. I’m taking Natalie home.”

His mother stops him, standing up as well. “Natalie, dear, come with me. You’ve barely eaten. I’ll pack you some of the food to take with you.”

“You really don’t have to—” Flustered, I look toward Ethan for help, but the traitor just looks away with obvious amusement.

“I insist.” Helen takes me by the hand and drags me into the kitchen with firm determination.

Once alone with his mother, I try to tell her I don’t need the food, but she refuses to listen to me. “You’re so thin. You should eat more. I know how hard Ethan makes his employees work. And if he’s having you work overtime, you must be exhausted.”

She’s packing food into some of the fanciest looking tupperware I have ever seen, each container probably worth more than my weekly grocery budget. The choice has clearly already been made for me, so I try a different approach. “Mrs. Wilder, I really don’t need this much.”

“You’re a nice girl, Natalie.” She smiles warmly at me over her shoulder. “I’m glad Ethan found you. His dating life has been rather dry for a while. I was starting to get worried whether he would ever find a girl for himself.”

Why is everyone so insistent that Ethan and I are together? “Mrs. Wilder?—”

“Helen, dear.”

“Helen,” I begin carefully. “There is really nothing going on between the two of us. I’m just an ordinary employee?—”

She turns around to face me and lightly touches my stained sleeve, a secretive smile playing on her lips. “You should wash this with baking soda. It helps lift lipstick stains.”

I had tried my best to roll up my sleeve, but it must have come undone while I was eating.

My face burns from embarrassment. “I admit that we did share a kiss, but that was all. Emotions running high. That’s it. There is nothing?—”

Helen chuckles lightly as if genuinely amused. “Any other girl would be singing a different tune. Is Ethan not your type?”

“What?” My head jerks up in shock.

Mrs. Wilder studies me curiously. “You don’t like my son?”

“No! I—No! He’s a very nice person.” The words are forced out of me. I don’t think telling her that he’s manipulative while standing in her home would be very tactful.

“Just nice?” His mother looks disappointed. “He’s very good-looking. He got it from his father, you know. When Harold and I met, I fell in love with his face. He, on the other hand, liked my money. Neither of us expected to fall so deeply for each other the way we did.”

I press my lips together tightly. Did she really just call herself shallow and her husband a gold digger? Is that something that’s acceptable to admit out loud now?

She seems to have read my thoughts and laughs gaily. “Oh dear. I think I’ve given you the wrong impression. Harold and I had what people call an arranged marriage. We were lucky because we fit so well with each other, but we’ve always wanted our children to choose their partners.”

She takes out a paper bag and begins placing the tupperware inside. “You call yourself an ordinary employee, but I don’t think that’s the case. My son doesn’t get entangled in workplace romances. And you’re not the first employee I’ve invited to dinner while he was working overtime with someone. But you’re the first he brought with him. And that tells me something.” She turns around to face me, her eyes pleased. “You’re also the first girl he’s ever brought home. I take it as a good sign.I know my son. He wouldn’t have introduced you to the family if you weren’t important to him.”

My mouth feels dry. Surely she’s wrong.

“Mrs.—”

“Helen,” she corrects me patiently.

“Yes, sorry.” I take a minute to recoup before returning to my point. “I really think you’re reading far too much into this.”

She hands me the paper bag, her eyes warm with affection. “You may not have noticed it, but throughout dinner, Ethan was more concerned with what was on your plate than his. He kept piling things on your plate, filling your glass. My son doesn’t do that for anyone, Natalie. I may not spend all day with him, but I know that boy inside out. You are special to him.”

Her hand comes to cup my cheek tenderly. “Which is why you are special to me.”

My heart is beating wildly at her words. She’s mistaken. She has to be mistaken.

“Don’t be a stranger now. Let’s have lunch someday.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilder.”