by J. L. Perry
She returns a few minutes later with my drink and the chocolate, placing them on my tray in front of me. ‘You’re in luck.’
‘Actually, the chocolate is for Miss Davis. Could you give it to her for me, please?’
Clara gives me a sceptical look when I point to where Miss Davis is sitting.
‘Are you friends?’ she asks.
‘Yes.’ It’s an untruth, but I’ll gladly be her friend if she wants that. Friends with benefits, that is.
I’m actually feeling nervous when Clara walks towards her. I never get fucking nervous.
‘Excuse me, Miss Davis, Mr Weston asked me to give this to you.’ She takes the chocolate bar from Clara then swings around in her seat. Her surprised eyes lock with mine and her face turns a sweet shade of pink before it breaks into the most beautiful smile. It literally takes my breath away. Seeing her smile at me like that makes my heartbeat accelerate.
When I notice her clutch the chocolate to her chest, my smile grows. For some reason, her gesture touches me. How can such a small act make her so happy? Maybe she isn’t a spoilt little rich girl.
‘Thank you,’ she mouths.
‘You’re welcome,’ I mouth back, wishing I was that chocolate bar, wanting her luscious mouth on me. More. Than. Anything. This woman has bewitched me.
CHAPTER FOUR
JADE
Rupert escorts me to my suite when we reach the hotel. I’m dead on my feet. We left Sydney at 4 pm Wednesday. With the time difference between both countries it was 7 pm New York time, yet still Wednesday, after our twenty-one-hour journey. I hate those long-haul flights. I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours because I have trouble sleeping on planes.
We wait together in my room until the bags arrive, so we can unload my casual clothes out of his suitcase before Rupert makes his way to his own suite next door. M likes him to be as close as possible. I’m surprised she doesn’t make us bunk together so he can monitor my every move.
After retrieving my silk nightgown, I head to the bathroom. I can unpack in the morning. All I want to do now is shower and climb into bed. I’m exhausted.
The second my head hits the pillow my thoughts drift to Mr Delicious. I lost sight of him once we disembarked. I can’t tell you how disappointed that made me. This attraction I feel for him is foreign to me. Given my experience with men, I’ve yet to come across one who has made me feel anything remotely close to this. Maybe with a bit of luck, I’ll run into him in the streets of New York. On the other hand though, maybe it’s better if I don’t. No point wishing for something that can never be.
I still have the Snickers bar he gave me in my handbag. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. No man, apart from Rupert, has ever done anything so sweet for me. To him, it may have been an insignificant joke. To me, it meant everything.
*
I’m jolted from my sleep when I hear a knock at the door. Looking at the clock beside the bed, I see it’s 10.20 am. Guilt floods me. I never sleep this late. I’m not allowed too, is more like it. M makes sure I’m up and at the gym by six every morning. Seven days a week. There’s no reprieve from her demands. Even on my days off I have to put up with her bullshit.
I reach for the pink silk dressing gown that matches the silk nightie I’m wearing. Rubbing my eyes, I go to the door, where I’m greeted by Rupert’s cheerful face as he holds a takeaway coffee cup up to me.
‘You missed breakfast, so I thought you might like this,’ he says. ‘You have your appointment with José at 11.30, remember? You’ll need to get ready if we’re going to make it across town on time.’
‘Shit. I forgot that was today.’ I always visit José when I’m in New York. He designs the most exquisite lingerie. His pieces are sought after worldwide. He caters exclusively to the rich and famous. When I called to tell him I’d be coming to New York, he said he’d design some special pieces for me. In my line of work, lingerie is important; M makes all her girls keep a spreadsheet on what we wear and with whom. We’re forbidden to wear the same garments with each client more than once.
‘I’ve organised a car to pick us up at eleven. I’ll meet you down in the foyer.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be ready in time.’
He nods his head approvingly before heading towards his suite.
‘Oh, and thank you for the coffee.’
‘You’re welcome.’
*
After my fitting with José, I leave with fifteen new pieces. I know M will be pleased with my purchases. Rupert and I stop for lunch on our way back to the hotel. Since I missed breakfast, I’m starved.
We wander the streets of New York after lunch, doing a little more retail therapy. I love this city. The people. The atmosphere. Everything. Once Rupert’s hands were overloaded with bags, I decided it was time to head back to the hotel. Poor Rupert. He never complains though.
Since I missed my gym session this morning, I need to rectify that. God forbid I went home carrying any extra weight, I’d be punished for sure. Last year I remember M confiscating Anna’s passport because she’d come back from vacation one kilo heavier than when she’d left. I’d be devastated if M took my passport away. Travelling was the only thing I had to look forward to and I alternate my holiday time between New York and Paris. My two favourite cities in the world.
The only places I can escape from my wretched life.
*
BROCK
I spent the better part of the day at our New York office going over the presentation and contracts for my big meeting tomorrow. If I can secure this multimillion-dollar deal, it will place Weston Global in the top five security firms in the world. My father always said it was unattainable, so I’ll get great pleasure in proving him wrong.
My phone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see Josh’s number flashing on the screen. ‘Hey, bro,’ I answer. Joshua is five years younger than me and we weren’t close growing up—for the most part I thought of him as my annoying little brother. That all changed six years ago. I had no idea Josh was homosexual until the day he came out. Sure, looking back now the signs were all there, but I was so wrapped up in my own life I was oblivious to them. His announcement came as a shock, but he is my brother and I love him regardless of his sexuality. Our parents though, that’s a whole other story.
Our father was the worst, but our mother didn’t even try to defend her son. Her behaviour was inexcusable. Father is a tyrant, so in a way I can understand why Mum didn’t speak up, but I can’t forgive her for standing by while Father kicked Josh out of the house and wiped him from their lives as though he never existed. He’s their flesh and blood. Their son. That should’ve been enough. He was only seventeen.
I had long since moved out, so I took him in without hesitation. He had no job, no money, nowhere else to go. I was twenty-three and already working for my father, learning the ropes so I could one day take over. When I wasn’t at the office, I was partying and screwing around. But things slowed down once I had to start caring for Josh. Well, to an extent. I slowed down on the partying, but the screwing around not so much. It was my vice, my only release.
Josh stayed with me until he turned twenty. After finishing his education, he opted to enrol in a two-year, full-time hospitality course. His dream was to one day own a bar. Of course I was going to make sure that happened, and the day he graduated, I handed him the keys to his very own establishment. I’d not only purchased the building, I’d made sure it was fully equipped with everything he needed, including an upstairs living area. But I was sad to see him go—I’d gotten used to having him around.
I was there for the grand opening, but haven’t been back since. Not because I don’t support him—we still talk on the phone daily, and meet up for dinner and drinks a few nights a week. But, after that night, I refused to set foot in that place again.
I’m in no way homophobic and I should’ve known going in what to expect. What I wasn’t prepared for was all the advances. I had men offering to buy me drinks, asking me to
dance, and when one guy groped my arse, I had to control the urge to knock him out. Josh thought it was hilarious. I, on the other hand, didn’t.
In the past few years, he’s built the place up into one of the most exclusive gay bars in Sydney. I’m proud of how far he’s come.
‘How’s New York treating you?’ he asks. ‘Did you secure the big deal yet?’
‘The meeting’s tomorrow.’
‘Well, I hope it’s successful. I’d love to see the look on our father’s face if you can do something he never could.’ His comment makes me chuckle. It’s the main reason I’ve worked so hard on this. Is it wrong that I get great pleasure out of sticking it to my father? Because I do. ‘Listen, the reason I’m calling, I have a friend who’s seeking a new security firm to look after his construction sites. He’s a developer. He wants to set up a meeting with you when you’re back in town. It’s a big job, and yours if you want it. This guy is loaded.’
‘Text me his number and I’ll give him a call. I’ll be flying home Sunday night.’
‘Great,’ he replies. ‘Good luck tomorrow, and let me know how it goes.’
‘Thanks. I will.’
‘Try not to break any hearts while you’re in the Big Apple,’ he adds with a laugh, before ending the call. My brother knows me well.
I head straight to the downstairs bar when I arrive back at the hotel. I’m feeling a little on edge about my meeting tomorrow. My father will never let me live it down if I can’t pull this off. It’s my chance to prove to him that I’m a better man than he is, even though I already know I am.
My father is unscrupulous, to say the least. He’s a liar, a bully, a cheat and just an all-round prick. Compared to him, I’m a fucking saint. I’m honest to a fault and always keep my word. Sure, I sleep around, but I’ve never cheated. Every woman I’ve ever been with knows exactly what she’s getting into—I make sure of it. I’m not the commitment type. That’s why I’ve remained single my whole life.
I’m not sure I have it in me to commit to one woman. I’m not sure if I’d even want to. My parents haven’t exactly been the best role models and I like my life just the way it is. It would take someone pretty special to make me even consider settling down. I’m yet to meet anyone who’s come close to making me entertain that idea.
Removing my tie and shoving it into the pocket of my suit jacket, I loosen the top few buttons of my shirt and take a seat in a corner booth. I’m not in the mood for any company. I just need a few stiff drinks to help me relax. Something to help me sleep.
While waiting for the waitress to bring me my drink, I scan the room. That’s when I see her. Fucking Snickers is sitting at the bar just a few metres away. Is it a mirage? I rub my eyes. Nope, it’s her. I can’t believe my luck. She must be staying in this hotel as well.
I was consumed with disappointment when I’d lost sight of her at the airport. I’d turned my phone back on after disembarking, only to be flooded by messages. It only took a glance at my phone for her to get away.
I’m out of the booth in a flash and heading towards her before my brain even registers what it’s doing. Fate has brought us together again, and this is an opportunity I’m not about to pass up.
No fucking way.
CHAPTER FIVE
JADE
After hitting the private gym in the hotel for a few hours, I hung around in my room, relaxing and watching the food channel. I have a passion for cooking, have had for as long as I can remember. When I’m in my apartment, I’ll sit in front of the television for hours, taking notes and jotting down recipes.
Maybe my love of cooking came from the lack of food I sometimes had growing up. Maybe it was from the praise I’d occasionally received when I cooked for the families I stayed with. I really can’t say. All I know is that I love it. I’m in my element when I’m in the kitchen, creating things.
I’d like to open a small restaurant when I’m finally free from M. One that serves only the finest, most exquisite desserts. I have a real sweet tooth, and desserts are what I like to cook. I begged M a few years ago to let me enrol in a part-time course that was being held by a local well-known pastry chef, but of course the answer was a flat-out no. It would’ve been a dream come true to learn from one of the best. Her refusal really upset me. I should be allowed to do whatever I want in my free time.
By 5 pm, I’m showered and dressed in a pair of dark skinny jeans, a sleeveless lemon blouse and a pair of matching lemon ballet flats. My long hair is pulled into a ponytail. My face is totally free of makeup. Although I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, I know M would have a coronary if she saw me looking like this, especially in public. This is the real me, the person I’m yearning to become again.
After texting Rupert, he meets me in the corridor and we head towards the lifts. Tonight I’ve opted to have a small wood-fired pizza in the hotel bar downstairs. The pizzas in New York are the best I’ve ever tasted. I do this every time I come here. I’ll do some extra time in the gym tomorrow to compensate.
I take a seat at the bar while Rupert moves to the opposite side. He stays close enough to keep an eye on me, but far enough away to give me space. If it was anyone other than him, I know this constant minding would piss me off, but I enjoy having him around.
‘So we meet again,’ someone whispers in my ear, making me jump. Without even looking I know who it is. I’d recognise that dreamy voice anywhere. Mr Delicious.
Swinging around, I look up. His handsome face is mere inches away. His delectable cologne invades my senses. I can’t even put into words how happy I am to see him again. He’s been on my mind all day. I even found myself looking for him as I walked the streets of New York.
‘So we do,’ I reply with a smile as my heart starts to race.
‘Would you like to join me for a drink?’ he asks, gesturing to a booth by the wall. My eyes immediately dart to Rupert. I can’t hide my grin when he gives me a little nod. I’ve always known that I was fond of him, but in this moment I think I actually love him.
‘Sure. That would be nice.’ Butterflies dance in my stomach as I stand and follow him to the table. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him. Over time I’ve learnt to put on an act when I’m with my clients. I become a different person. I ooze confidence. But this is real life, I’m not on the job now. This is Mr Delicious. I’m not sure if I can pull this off.
When he holds out his hand, offering me a seat, I smile to myself at his gentlemanly ways. Once I’m seated, I rub my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. I can’t remember the last time I felt this nervous.
He takes the seat opposite me, looking at me with those stunning chocolate eyes, and smiles beautifully. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
We sit there staring at each other for a long time. It’s like neither of us can actually believe we’re here together.
Eventually he speaks. ‘Are you going to tell me your name this time? Or will you forever be known to me as Snickers?’
I can’t help but laugh. He’s cute, I’ll give him that. ‘Jade,’ I say, holding my hand out to him across the table.
‘Brock. Brock Weston,’ he replies, taking my hand in his.
A tingly feeling shoots up my arm once his fingers wrap around mine. That’s never happened to me before, but I like the feelings he ignites within me. I’m pleased that he doesn’t let go of my hand too quickly. His warm skin feels wonderful against mine.
‘Nice name,’ I tell him. ‘It suits you. I thought I was going to have to refer to you as Mr Delicious for the rest of my life.’ I feel my cheeks flush when I realise I just said that out loud. I hadn’t meant too.
His face lights up. ‘You think I’m delicious?’ he asks.
Quickly removing my hand from his grasp, I look away and clear my throat as my fingers twirl around my ponytail.
He leans across the table, invading my space. ‘For the record,’ he whispers as his warm breath hits my skin. ‘I think you’re delicious as well.’
/> A nervous laugh escapes me as my eyes shoot up to meet his. He spoke those words with such sincerity. Excitement courses through me as I replay his words in my mind. He thinks I’m delicious.
Thankfully, the waitress approaches the table, breaking the awkwardness. ‘Your scotch, sir,’ she says before turning her attention to me. ‘Can I get you something to drink, miss?’
‘I’ll have a beer, please.’
Brock looks surprised by my request, but beer and pizza are the perfect combination. I have a client whose name is Theo. He’s my favourite out of all my men. He’s gay, so never expects anything from me of a sexual nature—I’m his ruse, his fake girlfriend. He hires me in the hope of fooling the world into believing he’s actually straight. He has this silly notion that it will affect his business. It saddens me that he feels he has to hide who he really is. He has a beautiful heart. His sexuality shouldn’t be an issue. Mostly I accompany him to functions, or I’m his date for dinner parties, but there’s been a few times when he’s just needed a friend or a shoulder to cry on. Like him, I know what keeping a secret feels like. It can be hard. On those occasions, when it all gets a bit much for him, we sit around, talking, eating pizza and drinking beer. He’s the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got. I adore him.
‘Make that two beers,’ Brock cuts in as he pushes his scotch aside, smiling at me. When the waitress walks away, he gives me a quizzical look. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you for a beer drinker.’
I shrug. I’m not sure how to reply. ‘I don’t drink it much, I’m not really allowed to.’
‘What? What do you mean you’re not really allowed too?’
I sigh at my slip up. Why did I tell him that?
‘By him?’ he asks, flicking his head in Rupert’s direction.
‘No. Rupert’s pretty cool. He lets me do a lot things I’m not supposed to.’
‘Huh,’ Brock says, raising one of his eyebrows, like he doesn’t believe me. ‘Well, by who? Your parents?’
‘You could say that.’ It’s not really a lie. M is technically my parent.