Taylored to Perfection (Taylor Made Book 2)

by kj lewis

  It’s too much. Watching it on video was not easy. Seeing it from a different perspective, I know now without a doubt he would have raped me if his bodyguard hadn’t stopped him. I know the guys feel helpless, but this is not about them and how they need to handle it. It’s about me. Admittedly, I could have handled it differently, but I handled it. It is being dealt with.

  I close my eyes and try to rest. To forget.

  I’m warm and feel a little trapped. I try to roll onto my back, but can’t. It takes me a minute to realize Jules is laying behind me, with her arm draped over mine while Lucy lays in front of me holding my hand.

  “Mags?” Jules says softly.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Such a simple statement, but what I need. No yelling. No anger. Just comfort.

  “Me too.” Lucy’s voice is small but strong.

  “How long have y’all been here?” I ask hoarsely.

  “Couple hours,” says Jules.

  “Graham’s been in here about ten times,” Lucy informs me, championing her brother. I just squeeze her hand in response. There’s a soft knock at the door.

  “Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes.” Ruth enters and sits on the bed near her daughter. She pats Lucy lovingly and reaches over to tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” I close my eyes again.

  “Nonsense. You’ll eat. Why don’t you take a bath before dinner dear? It will relax you.”

  One by one we crawl off the bed, me to the bathroom, them to the kitchen.

  Sliding on leggings and a tank to wear under my grandpa’s sweater, I attempt to look a little more pulled together. Everyone’s already around the table when I take the empty seat between Jules and Ruth. By their design, I’m sure.

  “Well,” says Ben, before anyone can get to the food, “now is as good as time as any to clear the air. We don’t let the sun set on our anger.”

  “I’m not angry. I’m hurt.” Adam’s admission pulls my eyes up.

  “Mags, you don’t trust us to be there for you. There’s no other explanation for you not telling us. If that had happened to Jules and she didn’t tell you…”

  “She would have understood,” Jules defends me. I couldn’t love her more. This is my true friend. “I think what you, Graham, and everyone needs to understand is this isn’t about you. It’s about Mags. It happened to her. She reported it. She took all the measures needed to make sure she did her best at keeping it from happening to someone else.”

  “You don’t understand babe,” Adam tells her. “I watched the video. I saw it. Graham has every license to let that fucker—” Ruth clears her throat. “—to let him know that there are consequences to touching what belongs to us.”

  Us? Belongs to us—?

  “And you think I don’t want to use his balls for fish food?” Jules’ volume is sharper, louder. “The point is she was surrounded by very dominating men and not one of them thought about her. All they thought about is how they felt. Their anger. Their need to make him pay. I’m not saying that doesn’t need to happen, but she needs support.”

  “That’s what you are here for,” Adam responds a little miffed.

  “I am not going to apologize for my response.” Graham breaks his silence. It’s evident it is taking every ounce of control not to vibrate with anger. It’s radiating off him.

  “Graham.”

  “Don’t start with me, Mom,” he fires back.

  “Don’t speak to your mother in that tone” Ben quietly cautions. I see the immediate recoil of Graham’s attitude out of respect for his parents. Teague was right. Even billionaire CEOs cede power to someone.

  “Emme, I’m truly sorry you had to watch that video. I am sure it was very painful re-living it. I imagine it appeared that we cared more about how you handled it than we did about what happened to you. It’s a hard part about loving someone, seeing past your feelings to see theirs.”

  “Thank you,” I say softly, grateful for Ben’s perspective. Something in Graham’s eyes suggest that Ben’s gotten through to him. He gestures to his mother to switch seats with him. Ruth stands, pats him on the cheek, and sits at the head of the table as Graham takes the seat next to me, pulling my hand into his. His fierce grip is a welcome contact that causes another lone tear to fall down my cheek. The second tear to escape me since I was eleven.

  “I’m not going to apologize either,” I say to Graham, then look to the others. “I didn’t make my decision to keep this to myself out of any malicious intent. At the time, I thought I was handling it in an appropriate manner. It was done. When the incident in the Hampton’s occurred, they ran my prints and found that I had a warrant out for my arrest. It’s why the Sheriff asked Ben to join us. John filed a complaint that I harassed and attacked him. His bodyguard served as his witness. The Sheriff was able to get the warrant changed to a desk ticket until I made it back to the city. Ben was able to have it removed completely, but the charges still stand. Ben is taking care of that. I would assume the video will resolve any questions about who did what to whom?”

  Ben nods.

  “This wasn’t about trust. I didn’t not tell you because I didn’t trust you. I didn’t tell any of you because I don’t want it to be part of my story. I don’t want it to have that kind of power. It shouldn’t have to be a page in my book. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous, but it makes sense to me.”

  “I think we have all had moments in our lives that we didn’t want to be part of our story,” says Ruth. “Being a family encompasses exactly what you are describing. The book that is your life is designed to be a collaboration. Everything and everyone build off the page before it. Choosing to delete an experience doesn’t take it away. That page is still out there somewhere. In this case it would likely become a page in someone else’s book. Your decision to file charges is going to change someone else’s story. Be proud of that. Being a family means that you always have paper and pen to add another page. To change your story. To change the ending. That is what family means. Graham, sweetheart. You’re the collaborator. You can edit when she needs you to, but you can’t author her book for her. It just doesn’t work like that. Same for you, Adam. Lucy, my prayer for you is that you fight for your pages, your own words, as much as Jules and Emme do.”

  “Like your mother has,” Ben says with pride.

  Ben raises his glass to acknowledge Ruth, and the rest of our dinner is relatively quiet--everyone seems to have retreated into their own heads a little.

  After dinner, Graham and I are finally alone, and for the first time since we met, I am feeling almost shy around him.

  I’m not really sure what I should say, so I start with an innocuous: “Do you need to work?”

  “No.” He’s not giving anything away, but he watches me for a moment. I can see the cogs turning in his head. He goes into the kitchen and comes back with a tray of pretzel rods, Nutella, and peanut butter in one hand and an ice bucket of beers and a Diet Coke in the other.

  “Bedroom,” he says and leads the way. He sets the items on the bed then faces me.

  “Strip,” he orders, removing his own clothing. When he’s completely naked he sits cross -legged in the middle of the bed. I see then he has a deck of cards on the tray. He shuffles while he watches me remove my last article of clothing. I sit across from him and watch cross-legged as he deals the cards into two stacks. He hands me a stack and observes me for a minute. His eyes move to my breasts then land on my sex.

  “A pot full of honey. That’s my prize if I win.” He makes a loud smacking noise with his lips. His playfulness relaxes me immediately. “What are you choosing as your prize, roomie?”

  His question makes me smile. “A honey dipper. I’m in desperate need of a honey dipper.” His cock jumps when I look at it.

  “Eyes up, or this is going to be a short game,” he says, dunking a pretzel into the Nutella first and peanut butter second.

  “Rules.” He o
pens his beer and hands me a Diet Coke. A treat for me.

  “Rules,” I say, biting into a pretzel.

  “It’s War. Lay a card and whoever has the highest wins those cards. If we both flip the same number, we go to war. Three more cards face-down, flip over the fourth card, whoever has the highest card is the person who takes all ten cards from the round. Person with no cards in the end, loses. Here’s the twist: the person who wins at War gets to ask a question that the other person has to answer.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.” He examines me. “You up for the challenge?”

  “Bring it,” I taunt with my best neck roll, throwing in a gangster hand gesture.

  “Brought.”

  We go four sets in. He’s won three and I’ve won one. Our fifth round we both turn over a two. We lay down our cards quickly. His fourth is a jack. My fourth is an eight.

  He picks up his cards and adds them neatly to his pile.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?”

  “Greece. Santorini. I love the white buildings against the blue ocean.”

  Continuing to snack, we play a few more rounds - another war, another win for Graham. This is going to be quick if I keep losing at this rate.

  “What keeps you going back to Memphis?”

  “Addie.”

  “Addie?”

  “Addie.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s another question.” I raise a brow at him. He smirks and looks disgruntled all at once.

  We play again, and this time I win.

  “What did you mean when you told Harry you haven’t had anyone you’ve dated in your apartment?”

  “Correction. I don’t date. Until you. Secondly, I never wanted them in my home. A home is for family and love. They were just girls I fucked.”

  “Sorry,” he says in response to the sour look on my face.

  “I don’t like to think of you with other women.”

  “They were so inconsequential to me; they aren’t even worth your thought.”

  “At least you don’t have to know what that feels like.”

  “And I thank the divine heavens for it. You’re mine. Only mine. Doesn’t mean I don’t understand it, though.”

  “How so?”

  He gives me a “get serious” face. “One of your best friends is a guy. Your client had his hand on your ass and his tongue down your throat. Teague. You lived with six men, all of whom you have shared a bathroom and a bed with. Adam has seen you naked. Shall I go on?”

  “None of them have had their dick in me.”

  “That’s for fuck sure. Keep talking about it and this game will be over sooner than I want it to be.” He grabs another pretzel.

  We play a few more hands. I win again.

  “Where would you take the women if they didn’t come here?”

  “When it was time for sex we either went to their place and I left afterwards, or I would take them to a specific club.”

  “What club?”

  He holds up a card and shakes it. I roll my eyes.

  “What about Addie keeps you going back to Memphis?” he asks after he wins another round.

  “I go to spend time with her.”

  “Addie’s alive?” Graham asks stunned.

  “That’s another…”

  “Baby,” he cuts me off softly. “You talk about her like she’s gone.”

  “The Addie I know and love has been gone for six years. For all intents and purposes she is gone.”

  “What does that mean? Where is she?”

  “I have her in a facility that specializes in TBI’s.” I shuffle the cards, not meeting his eyes. “There’s a study at NY Pres that Kyle was able to get her into. He’s a resident in neurosurgery,” I explain. “They partner with the facility I have her in. Part of the study requires me to visit her a certain amount of hours a month. During those hours of interaction, they monitor brain function among other things. It also qualifies her for other studies as they make advances in TBI’s.”

  “TBI’s?”

  “Traumatic brain injuries.”

  “So, does she function at all on her own?”

  “No. She’s been in a comatose state for six years.”

  “So, if you say the Addie you love hasn’t been here this whole time, why don’t you let her go?”

  “If it were my choice, I would. Addie wouldn’t want to live like this. But I don’t have the power to make that decision. I have legal counsel that continues to look for ways for me to gain custody, but so far we haven’t had any luck.”

  “That’s where your money goes. Legal fees and medical bills. It’s why you’ve lived the way you have. Why you continue to work extra jobs,” he says like it’s all coming into focus.

  I look at him, devoid of any emotion. Something I’ve perfected over the years. I flip a card over waiting for him to follow my lead. He hesitates, but eventually he lays down a card. War…he wins again.

  “Who has the ability to make that decision?”

  “Right now the state. Until they can determine who has the right, they act on her behalf, and because she didn’t have a living will, they will keep her alive until the courts feel there is valid evidence for who should be in charge.”

  “Is someone fighting you for custody?”

  “Tony.”

  “What’s his interest in this?”

  “He’s considered her guardian. He gets a check every month. Plus, he knows I want to let her die in peace. He does it to spite me.”

  “You have to tell Harry.”

  “I take care of Addie. Besides, she’s not Addie anymore. I don’t want him to see her like that.”

  “That’s his decision to make, Emelia. You can’t protect him or make this decision for him. She’s his daughter. You have to tell him.”

  I half-heartedly flip some cards over in random patterns across the bed. Graham has mercy on me and says, “Why don’t we table this conversation for now. Come back to it when you haven’t had the day from hell?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  He puts the cards on the tray and sets everything on the floor.

  “Graham, until tonight, Kyle was the only person here who knew about Addie. And his knowledge is mostly from a medical standpoint. It’s too hard to have the same conversation with everyone. It—her accident—happened after I moved here. I was too raw to talk about it with anyone. I’m saying all this to say, I am trusting you. I may not get this right all the time, but I’m doing the very best I can right now.”

  I hold up a hand to pause him when he starts to speak. “I have to get this out. I reached for you this morning. In the elevator. And you withdrew from me. I think you did it purposefully, as a punishment. I associate love and security with touch. It’s how I am. You can’t ask me to trust you then withhold love. No matter how upset you get with me, please don’t withhold your touch. It would devastate me.”

  He’s on me in a flash. Kissing every inch of my face, burying himself in me, like I’m the air he needs to breathe. His cock twitches inside of me but he just holds me. His eyes captivate mine.

  “I need you, Emelia. Like I’ve never needed anyone or anything. Your honesty guts me and puts me back together. Before you, I never thought I wanted to love someone. I never believed I could have what my parents have. Who you are makes me believe in miracles. You give that to me. In every way.” He moves inside me, showing his love to me.

  “Marry me,” he whispers.

  I can think of a hundred arguments as to why it’s too soon, why we should wait. But in that moment, I know our hearts are as fused together as our bodies are. My back arches as my orgasm floats through me, gentle but no less powerful. Graham’s eyes never leave mine.

  “Yes.” My answer sets off his release.

  “Let’s have it.”

  “What?” I ask, only half participating in the conversation. I’m more interested with the one I’m having with
myself.

  He pulls on my bottom lip that I’ve chewed to hell. “Emelia.”

  “It’s ok to tell me that you were caught up in the moment and need more time to think this through, Graham. It’s been such a short amount of time, and we still have so many firsts to tackle. There are things that we don’t know about each other.” I say all of this so quickly, I wonder if it even sounds like English to him.

  “Describe your love for me.” His eyes lock on mine.

  “Unconditional.” I answer without hesitation.

  “You hijacked my word, so I’ll give you a few others. Unwavering. Unequivocal. Fierce. Are you expecting your word to change at any point?”

  “No.”

  “Neither am I. You are mine. I’m never letting you go. So why should we wait?”

  “How can you know that you won’t wake up one day and think you made a mistake? That you really didn’t know me or that you won’t like what’s left to get to know of me?”

  He pauses, considering his response, and for a minute I wonder if he fears the same things I do.

  “If Jules were to say to you ‘how can you know that you won’t wake up one day and worry you made a mistake? That you really didn’t know him or that you might not like what’s left to get to know of him?’ What would be your response to that?”

  “I would tell her that my heart knows what kind of love is there and the rest is just details.”

  “Then that’s your answer,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

  “Life isn’t that elementary, Graham.”

  “Sometimes it’s exactly that elementary. Emelia, I don’t make decisions on a whim. I’ve built an empire on making the right decisions and I’ve never regretted one. I didn’t make this decision in a moment of passion or in a vacuum. I’ve known this is what I’ve wanted for a while now.” He gets up and goes into his closet. When he returns, he pulls me into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He bends down on one knee and picks up my hand.

  “Emelia Magnus James. Will you be my wife?”

  “Yes,” I answer, my eyes not leaving his. He picks up my left hand and slides a ring on it and then pulls me into a kiss. My hands wrap around his neck, moving into his hair. He leans me back onto the bed and just like that we’re lost in each other. I whimper my protest when his lips leave mine.