Ineffable
By Sherrod Story
Ineffable
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Ineffable © 2014 Sherrod Story
Cover design by Travis Rothe
Publication December 2014
Warning: Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher.
This e-book is a work of fiction. Any reference to actual historical events or locales, as well as the names of the characters, places and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is completely coincidental.
Warning: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes, subject matter and adult language that may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.
Disclaimer: The author will not be responsible for any harm, loss, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of her titles.
Chapter one
Margot Temple had a lot of nicknames. To her family she was Sticks because of her long, skinny limbs. To her friends she was Goti because of her gangster ass ways, and to the fashion industry – and behind her back but not really since she knew about and thought this particular name was hilarious – she was Margot Temper because, well, that was obvious.
For the press who queried whether she was doing anything to tame her fiery, well documented temper she replied, yeah, but she rarely elaborated on what exactly that might be. Some filled in the blanks when she was photographed in workout clothes. Oh, she’s exercising away her stress. Margot agreed. Others saw her in the park walking her little terrier Bootsy and thought, oh, she’s communing with nature. Margot agreed, and confirmed that she was also picking up dog shit.
But at the end of the day the only thing that made Margot feel better was making jewelry, that or letting her famous temper fly free. She didn’t give two shits – her words – who liked it, either. She figured, “if you don’t like me, I’m sure you got a reason, and good for you. Same if you don’t like my work, but in that case, I think you’re stupid and have no taste.”
Nori James would never admit it, but he whole-heartedly approved of her joie de vive. What he did not approve of, was any disruption in business.
“I’m not saying no because she’s not talented,” he told Candace, his director of marketing. “I just don’t want to deal with any temperamental artists. They’re invariably more trouble than they’re worth.”
“There’s no such thing as a non-temperamental artist,” she argued, and laid out facts and figures for their most troublesome artist collaborations to date.
Rodrigo Damian, who made the most charming wood jewelry anyone had ever seen, released a capsule collection that sold out in every single one of their boutiques globally in less than three hours. The pieces they sold online were still a bestseller nine months later even though the artist had yet to arrive on time for a meeting – if he made it at all – or meet a deadline.
Regina Taylor’s Lucite objets d’art were snapped up even more quickly. And she made a habit of either fainting from hunger or getting drunk and passing out at nearly every promotional event they had for her. It was a well-known industry joke that Regina started out at the party fine; she just never made it to the end.
And Thomas Gunn –
“All right,” he interrupted. “You made your point. But none of those people are known for snatching their work off people’s necks or tossing tea into their faces. Someone getting tiddly at a party or showing up late isn’t likely to land us in the middle of a lawsuit.”
“We can control it,” Candace said confidently. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Nori. In the past year Margot Temple has really picked up traction. There’s hardly a red carpet event or a paparazzi shot of a celebrity that doesn’t involve her jewelry these days. It could be huge for us. Besides, the tea wasn’t hot. She made sure of it before she tossed it. I know someone who was there, and they saw her stick her finger in the cup right before she let fly.”
Raising one of his impressive black brows, Nori wasn’t sure if that kind of premeditation was good or bad, but he trusted Candace’s judgment. Given how many global designers and artisans she’d brought to the Ineffable boutique chain, he was thinking of adding business development to her title in the new year. Thanks in part to her efforts, their profits were up more than 69 percent since last year, and that was after construction and expansion costs for the new shop in Seoul.
“Well, approach her, see what she says. She may not even want to deal with us.”
Candace looked a little shamefaced.
He raised his brows and waited.
“I actually already did talk to her about it, very informally,” she hastened to say, “and I made sure she understood it was just an idea,” she rushed on. “But she is willing to take a meeting. She’s even bought things from our boutiques. And you should have seen her reaction when I very casually suggested the possibility of an accessories line. Her eyes almost popped out of her head! Can you imagine? We’d be the first, and if we get her exclusive for a few years we could –”
Nori laughed. “Okay, okay. Set it up.”
One week later…
“Is this necessary?” Margot asked, voice muffled by the baby blue lace dress her publicist was yanking over her head.
“Yes,” Tommy said shortly. “Pass me that fascinator,” she told her assistant Nia.
“No,” Margot said when she saw the elaborate silver-gray and powder blue flower with its net veil.
“Yes,” Tommy insisted. “Shit’s totally gangster. Perfect for La Goti. This is exactly what you should wear to a first meeting with a new partner. Besides, stop thinking like every day Sticks. Think special occasion Sticks.”
Nia giggled.
Margot rolled her eyes at her reflection and then at her childhood friend. “You and these bullshit Barbie metaphors. I look crazy as hell. Who wears lace in the middle of the day?”
“Girl, bye. You look beautiful. And trust me; this lace is suitable for day, night and any other time. Gimme those silver kitten heels with the – yeah!” She set them in front of Margot’s feet.
Obliging, she had to admit her girl had her looking good. Speaking of, she poked her friend gently in the titty.
“Dom look like he done figured out a new fitness plan for you,” she teased Tommy’s enviable bosom was looking a bit less lush these days.
“Can the ghetto speak, please. Ineffable will not appreciate or understand, and don’t let you being funny stand in the way of our money, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Margot repeated dutifully.
“But you are right. Funny, I never thought of sex as exercise until recently,” Tommy grinned, poking through Margot’s huge jewelry box. “We need, ah! Put these on.”
“Ah, vintage me,” said Margot, sliding on the silver horn and ball earrings.
“Are they?” Nia asked, offering a jewelry cloth for polishing.
“Yep. These were among the first earrings I ever made. They’re still a big seller.”
“That reminds me, the web guy is meeting us after Ineffable to show us the new dev site,” Tommy interrupted.
“Cool.”
“You’re gonna love it. It’s so elegant and modern. Lots of white space, and the shop functionality has been improved 100 percent.” Tommy looked her friend over critically. “It’s either thi
s or the pink suit,” she muttered. “Pose, bitch!” she said, pointing her ever ready phone.
Margot popped an exaggerated, and though she didn’t know it, extremely fierce stance.
“Instagram and tag me as stylist,” Tommy said to Nia, passing off the phone. “Caption: Should I wear this to cinch my next big deal or nah? And change those shoes. I forbid you to wear that shit for the next month. I’ve seen them too much, which means so has everybody else. And my assistant cannot look played. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Nia and Margot said together, and they all burst out laughing.
Chapter two
Nori wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Of course he’d done his research, same as he did for any company or any person looking to join the Ineffable organization. He knew Margot Temple was a 36-year-old jewelry designer who’d been steadily making a name for herself for the past 15 years.
According to the bio on her web site she’d started making jewelry as a way to fund her college education, but when her jewelry became popular, she stuck with it. She never made it to college. She’d told the same story in all the interviews he’d read.
She was single, had never been married, had no children and had a small, tantrum-related criminal record. She lived in a two flat downtown not too far from his home, and had been living in the building since the recession when she bought it for 1/9 of its original value, and paid half in cash.
More relevant, her tantrums were legendary. He’d done more research on that temper specifically after Candy recounted a few of the recent tidbits. There weren’t as many incidents as he expected, and some of the stories he’d bet money were exaggerated.
His local publicist and party-planner Tommy confirmed as much when he called to ask if she knew Margot. He’d been working with Tommy for years. She’d done some parties and PR to “introduce him to the neighborhood,” as she called it, helping to make Ineffable a staple for some of the wealthiest women in the Chicagoland area when he took over as CEO six years before.
Not only did Tommy know Margot, she represented her.
“Margot’s got more talent in her pinky than most of these so called designers out here do in their whole bodies,” she said. “She can make something beautiful out of rocks, glue and tape, and she can make people want to buy it. Get her now. In a year or two, you won’t be able to afford her. I’m gonna see to that. Shall I arrange a meeting?”
He agreed, saying Candy would be in touch, and that he hoped she could make it too.
“Done. I was planning to mention her to you next time we spoke anyway. I was in the store recently, and your manager was eyeing my earrings, by Margot, and the jewelry in your case, while tasteful and somewhat unique, could use a little oomph.”
“Tommy, honey, you have got to learn to form an opinion,” said Nori.
The publicist just laughed, and before they said their goodbyes she asked that he keep an open mind about Margot.
“I know she’s got a little bit of a rep for, incidents,” she said carefully. “And as much as I want to, I can’t say some of what you’ve heard isn’t true. But most of its exaggerated rumors, spread by people who’ve tried to screw over her and come out a loser. Margot’s a sweetheart, and her kind of talent is great enough for you to overlook almost anything.”
He liked that Tommy was so protective of her friend and client. He respected her skill as a businesswoman, and he trusted her, so he promised to reserve judgment.
Nori also knew Margot was beautiful. She was tall, almost too slender with large breasts – real, if he wasn’t mistaken – and creamy skin the color of a lightly browned biscuit. She had long, curly black hair and the kind of face that made you look twice, then look hard. Her beauty wasn’t soft. Her features were strong, her cheekbones sharp, and her eyes large and almond shaped. Her looks had undoubtedly helped sell her jewelry, and if he brought her into the Ineffable fold, they would be used to help enhance the brand.
Despite all the information he’d gathered, he had no expectations. Nori liked to look in a person’s eyes before he signed off on any deal. But he hadn’t counted on how unutterably sexy she was.
When Margot walked into his office, and they reached out to shake hands, he began to sweat. He had never reacted to a woman so quickly, without even hearing her voice. The jolt that shot through his body, heating him from the inside out like a flash, was so blatantly sexual it was disconcerting.
Nori liked to think he was a good judge of character. It had helped him make his own money, a lot of it, before he took over the family business. His ability to read people, to search out their flaws and exploit them, was as respected in business as his well-cut suits were in fashion.
But when he looked at her, he got nothing. He sensed no fear, no nervousness, and oddly, no desire. Damn it.
He hadn’t realized he’d grown spoiled, become used to the admiration of women. Even if his money was the main attraction, his tall, 4.2 percent body fat physique and what more than one claimed was a poetically handsome face did not go unnoticed.
But Margot, dressed in a pale pink skirt suit, all scalloped edges and dark pink piping, was as inscrutable as a Madonna. He had no idea if she liked what she saw when she looked at him. He had nothing except a prominent and irritating erection, until he heard her voice. Then everything changed.
Her voice pulled something loose in him. Something he hadn’t known was there, waiting to be disturbed. His skin tingled. His eyes narrowed. He wanted to kick the others from the room so he could concentrate on that deep, heavy rasp.
It was rough. It sounded a little dirty so early in the day. It was the kind of voice that should be heard under the moon, from behind a velvet curtain. Or from the center of his bed with her under him, pinned down by his cock and loving every hard driving second of it.
Later he could barely remember the meeting. Candy handled it all – he’d been too busy talking his erection down – but he did recall the charge he got when she called to tell him Margot had signed the contract.
I got her, he thought, smug.
He could remember every detail about her though: the length of her legs, the tiny heels on her dark pink and cream-colored shoes, how the sun came through the windows and gilded the stunning earrings she’d worn. Not because they dripped semi-precious stones, but because the dangling decorations swayed with her movements, brushing repeatedly against her long neck.
He could see himself holding the back of that neck while he had her mouth, biting and sucking until those lush lips turned red. He could see himself guiding her long, slender fingers until they wrapped around his cock, gripped his ass and stroked his back while he pounded into her.
Before Margot he’d never liked tall women. He preferred them short and well rounded, and while Margot’s bosom was as curvy as he could want, she had to be at least 5’9, and everywhere but her tits she was as lean as a greyhound. But he wanted her intensely. He hoped she was stronger than she looked. The way she had him feeling, he might have to be a little rough when he finally got her in bed.
He’d never slept with someone he worked with – he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her – but he saw no reason why he shouldn’t have her. It was a capsule collection. If things went badly, their association already had an end date.
Besides, she didn’t strike him as the clingy type. She was too self-contained. And he was French. There was always room for an exception, and Margot Temple was it. He was going after her, he would win her, and he would have her under him a, s, a, fucking p. He wouldn’t accept anything else.
If Candy was surprised at the speed with which things moved for their latest artist collaboration, she kept it to herself. She said nothing about the extra attention their new partner was getting, and when Nori asked, she willingly provided the schedules and plans for concept meetings, photo shoots, advertising and social media.
“Niomi Cambridge is taking the photos,” she said in a meeting.
Nori was only half listening. He already h
ad the information he wanted: when and where the first campaign shots were being taken. Today. As always his timing was impeccable.
“She’s so talented. I couldn’t believe it when Tommy said she’d agreed to take the job, but apparently she’s a friend of theirs. They seem to know everyone.”
He grinned at her; her happiness was infectious. “Still convinced this will be a hit?” he teased.
“I know it for a fact. We’re gonna make so much money, you’ll have to promote me after this.”
“Will I?”
She nodded.
“We’ll see.”
They were doing the initial promo shots for the campaign in Tommy’s house. Something about windows and light and the pale décor being a nice contrast for Margot’s jewelry. Nori could give a shit. He was going for one reason and one reason only – to try his luck. It was time to get his campaign to woo the lovely Margot into his bed underway. Concern that his focus had shifted so inexorably away from Ineffable he brushed aside. After all, keeping Margot sweet would help the business, no?
It felt oddly comfortable that his life suddenly revolved around one slender woman. A woman he wasn’t sure gave a shit for him. Nori laughed softly as he pulled up in front of Tommy’s building. Of course there was nowhere to park. He drove until he found a spot and walked four miserable blocks back. Next time, he thought, the summer sun beating a baseline on the top of his head, he would take a taxi.
“You look hot,” said Tommy, her big brown eyes knowing as she passed him a cold glass of something pink.
He downed it and grunted his approval.
“Fresh watermelon-lime juice. Margot made it for us. You hungry?”
Absolutely, but he doubted Margot was on the menu, and today his palette was appallingly limited. “No, but I could do with a refill. Where’s the loo, love? I need to powder my nose.”
She grinned. “Margot asked me where you were from. England, she said? I said, no, he just went to English boarding school.”
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