by Rosa, A.
"Mr. Hunt! Mr. Hunt! Do you have a moment?"
I look in the distance. The entrance is only fifteen feet away. I would rather leave Jeremy to this, but as I try to walk out of his grasp, he tugs me closer. I groan. I want to scurry away.
When I look up at him, he is grinning sardonically. "Oh no, you don't," he whispers. He turns to face the reporter. "Sure, just a moment though."
The man slicks back his hair with his free hand, and smiles as if he has won the lottery. "Mr. Hunt, are you going to be speaking tonight?"
Jeremy's eyes dart to mine in a mocking manner, and then quickly back to the reporter. "Yes, I will be. As is usual for this event, I have the honor of being a spokesperson and support the cause, not only for Giving Hope, as a charity, but also for the local artists displayed here tonight. I am hoping to purchase some at the silent auction to help support the arts and the cause itself." His answer is cool, confident, and almost calculated. It's impressive, but then again, this is what he does.
"Thank you, Mr. Hunt, we look forward to your speech. May I take your picture with your date?" The man's eyes lock with mine. I smile weakly, wishing he didn't include me. I don't need my face showing up in a newspaper or magazine.
Jeremy tugs me close, wiggling his fingers at my waist, making me laugh. "Jer-Jeremy, stop it!” I spit out while the man looks on in amusement. “All right, all right, just one picture!"
Surprising the cameraman and me, Jeremy leans in and places a kiss against my forehead. That's when I notice people are staring at us. Relaxing my shoulders, I submit to the photo.
"Ma'am, your name?"
I smile, my face flushes, thinking, is that photo really going to be everywhere for people to see? "Alexandra Raven."
The man nods and moves on his merry way. I let out a long breath, and try to lead Jeremy inside, away from the cameras.
He tugs at my waist. "Alexandra, huh?"
"Don't even think about calling me that. It seemed more appropriate for a publication." I squint, questioning my justification, but hold my ground. He nods, not looking for an argument, but I feel like he might be taking notes for later.
When we finally enter the museum, Jeremy is quick to identify a few people, but his huff is what catches my attention.
"What is it, Jeremy?"
"That Russian bastard, Richard Dyvornychenko, is here."
"Huh?" I look to where he's staring and notice a tall, lanky man greeting other men around a flashy contemporary art sculpture.
"I've been trying to convince him to sign with us. He has some patents we need for our solar energy branch, and the deal will benefit the both of us, but he won't sign. I get the sinking feeling it is personal, but I can't tell why. He's a stubborn fuck."
"Jeremy!" His foul language catches me off guard, but it's obvious the situation has him frustrated. "Well, maybe you need to get at his level. Sometimes your charm isn't good enough."
Jeremy is quick to respond. "Worked on you." He has the audacity to wink. I wrinkle my nose, because it's embarrassingly true.
With that, Jeremy makes his rounds, and I end up more distracted than I would have liked. I meet everyone, from simple, rich, old white folk, who donate lots of money, to doctors, politicians, actors, and of course a few of the local artists represented at the event. Though I have done this countless times, the fact it feels more personal makes the experience a little overwhelming.
I find myself exhausted with all the socializing after twenty minutes. I have never been one to mingle or be good at chitchat, but I do it for Jeremy. He seems eager to introduce me to everyone he greets, and it makes me surprisingly happy. The glint in his eyes makes me feel like he really is proud to show me off. I am not used to it.
Even Rosalie Jenkins, wife of a state senator, comments to Jeremy that she thought I was a “beautiful match for an equally beautiful man.”
May I also mention, despite being in her sixties, she has no shame about batting the eyelashes of her Botoxed face at Jeremy, but he takes it in stride and smiles back, completely agreeing with her compliment.
"I do hope you settle down some day, Jeremy. Your dad would like to see that too, my boy." Senator Jenkins takes a sip out of his champagne flute, his arm linked with his wife's, eyeing Jeremy. But he seems to be amused. How cute.
Jeremy chuckles. "Senator Jenkins, not this again. Have you and my dad been plotting again?"
The senator erupts with a throaty laugh, and Jeremy's face flushes. Both men look at me at the same time. All I can do is blush and smile sweetly. What am I supposed to say? Jeremy's hand grabs mine, and he tangles our fingers around each other, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
I should be doing a round of scouting the perimeter, and in my ear, as if on cue, I hear Derek. "I don't think I have ever seen you so red, Turner."
Jeremy continues talking with the senator and his wife about who they will be supporting in the upcoming elections, giving me the opportunity to let my eyes dart around the room to look for Derek. It's not as if I can respond.
Sure enough, over the senator's shoulder, I see Derek nonchalantly leaning against a pillar with a champagne flute in hand, staring directly at me with that charming, shit-eating grin.
I grin too, but mask it immediately, realizing I am still with Jeremy, who is wrapping up his conversation.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Senator, and your lovely wife." They smile at my manners and meander away.
Jeremy turns to me, eyes warm and sincere. "You really are the perfect date. Everyone loves you."
"Glad to hear I am up to par, Mr. Hunt. I didn't realize how much attention you get." I take in a deep breath, feeling the weight of other’s eyes.
He looks around, holding back a secret smile. "I don't think it's me they are staring at, Miss Tu— Raven."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Why would anyone want to look at me? I let my vision drag across the room, and sure enough, I notice their eyes are on me, not Jeremy.
The extra pressure makes me feel foolish. Jeremy brings his long fingers up to my face, stroking my flushed cheek, and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.
I peer up at him through my eyelashes. "But why?"
His eyes frost for a brief moment, and he says, "Well, from reading my file, shouldn't you know I never take dates to these things?"
My mouth goes dry at the thought. There were many girls mentioned for nights out of partying, but an actual date? Never seemed his style. Then it hits me. How did he know about his file?
His smile reflects his cold stare, and for once, I cannot tell if he is angry. It's almost eerie, but somewhat sexy too.
Derek must have mentioned something. I wonder what else he said. I want to question Jeremy more about it, but he cuts me off. "I am going to kiss you now." It's as if he can predict my every move. How terrifying.
The kiss is far shorter than I would have liked, but his quick, possessive capture of my lips still makes me reel.
For a brief moment, it feels like we are in our own personal bubble, even as we pull apart. We haven't been out in public much as a couple. This could take some getting used to. My eyes bore into his. His eyes remind me of a clear, crisp morning after a night of snow, and I get the chills.
I hear a whiny/annoyed remark from Derek through my earpiece. "Please," he says, as if watching the interaction from afar makes him want to gag.
At the same time, a pretty blonde in high stilettos approaches us.
"Uh-oh," I hear Derek utter.
I make eye contact with a serious electric blue stare, and it isn't Jeremy's.
"Jeremy!" the mystery woman exclaims in an annoying chirp. It's like nails on a chalkboard, and I have to hold back my cringe.
Try not to act like a jealous adolescent, Agent Turner.
Oh, there you are, subconscious; I thought that maybe you took the night off.
Nope, she replies.
I cannot manage a smile for this woman as I take her in. Her shoulder-length hair looks silky
smooth, and it complements a fitted green dress that reveals most of her back. She is pretty, and I feel inadequate standing there as she eyes my boyfriend. Combined, they have picture-perfect good looks, as if they just stepped out of a Hallmark ad or a terrible jewelry commercial. Her classical features, when next to Jeremy's angular good looks, have me feeling like less than I am. What the fuck? I am so not used to this.
I examine her pink pout, rosy cheeks, and golden tan. That is when I finally take a moment to look at Jeremy; he is grinning. I hope that's just his manners. Why do I feel sick all of a sudden?
"Victoria, you look ravishing, as ever." Ravishing? Has he forgotten I am standing right here? I am an idiot for not anticipating this sort of interaction. He's right. I've read his file.
I watch her greedy blue eyes devour Jeremy, and I want nothing more than to dislocate her pretty little shoulder. Let's not cause a scene.
Derek is quick to respond to my apparently predictable thought process. "Turner, you are a hundred times prettier than her. You're a babe, and she is chopped liver. Trust me on this one."
My lips twitch at hearing his remark. Sometimes, I love him.
The blonde shamelessly ignores my presence as she embraces Jeremy in a hug. My blood boils, and I still cannot convince myself to smile. Especially at this moment.
"Turner, you want me to whisk you away?"
How am I supposed to answer Derek? I try not to move my lips. "Not now," I say through clenched teeth.
The muffled words catch Jeremy's attention. Oh, now you notice me?
"Victoria, I'd like you to meet someone." My gut clenches as I predict what he'll say next. I realize through my jealousy that I don't even want to give this girl the time of day. Introduction or not. He continues, "This is my girlfriend, Alex."
She looks me up and down as if I'm a bruised piece of fruit. I want to punch her. Deep breaths.
"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm Victoria Ferris." She extends her perfectly manicured hand toward me, and I notice Jeremy eyeing us as if the claws might emerge at any moment. And he is right to be wary.
I purse my lips, trying to manage that impossible smile.
I shake her hand reluctantly. "Pleasure is all mine," I purr, but I cannot help my errant tone.
"So, how long have you two been dating?" Her tone peaks, as if her curiosity is driven by jealousy. Good. She goes back to ignoring my existence as her eyes lock with my boyfriend's once again. Really, bitch?
Jeremy gets mildly bashful, scratching the back of his head as if searching for the right words, but his demeanor remains cool and collected. I can tell he is uneasy. But why?
Her stare is persistent, and this bitch bothers me. I’m annoyed at both of them.
I decide to answer the apparently impossible question. "For a little while," I manage. I don't think the statement is stretching it, because vague is what I was going for. It isn't her business. I can't believe a person who I have known for such a short period can mean so much to me, but right now, he is pushing it.
Her body shifts as if she is uncomfortable. I find the movement satisfying, and decide I am going to rise to the occasion. I flash my smile.
"Oh." Her face flushes, and she almost sounds wounded. She still hasn't looked at me, even though I was the one who answered her. All I can think is Fuck. This. Bitch. I wish Derek were standing here next to me so we could snicker and make fun of her fake tan together like the immature people we are. It would make me feel a whole hell of a lot better.
What's their history? Obviously, they have one. They've probably fucked.
My subconscious is getting testy, and more crude and foul the longer I am around this woman.
Why hasn't Jeremy done anything? Well, what could he do?
I need to get away from this toxic scenario, and decide to make myself more useful somewhere else. Somewhere I don't have to witness this terribly awkward situation. This experience bores me. It's a typical situation that mediocre people are willing to deal with, but not me. My adolescent reaction is annoying even to me, and I need to walk away. I am willing to take only so much. I guess there is no room for explanations with the girl standing right here, but if there is ever a moment for Jeremy to step up to the plate ...
Looking over the blonde's shoulder, I see the man Jeremy singled out earlier as a failed business attempt, Richard Dyvornychenko, and I decide that will be where I make myself useful. A plan sparks in my brain. Maybe I can work this to my advantage. I decide to interrupt the happy couple catching up. "I'll be right back, babe." I make sure to enunciate the endearment. The tacky blonde, oops, I mean Victoria, looks on with annoyance.
Really? She was the one interrupting us! It was not the other way around, but whatever.
"Where are you going?" Jeremy looks confused. Now he cares?
I take a deep breath, realizing my attitude and inner monologue are being childish. However, his wide-eyed question makes me smile. Glad to know I still affect him.
I lean into Jeremy, tugging him close so only he can hear. My lips brush against his ear. "Just watch," I whisper, and my eyes glitter with promise as I press my lips against the sensitive skin below his ear. The slight shiver that Jeremy tries to conceal satisfies me.
He grins wide and almost starts to argue, but I command his silence with my wry smile. Even when the bastard has me fuming, he still flames my blood. How dangerous.
He feigns annoyance, and I hold back a giggle. He kisses me too briefly. "You're a goddess," he whispers back, and with that, I turn and walk away. I win.
I make it three steps before I hear a strained, high-pitched chirp. "I thought you said you didn't like public displays of affection."
I grin. Jeremy is mine, as much as I am his, but I almost turn back around so I can kick her feet out from under her. Consider this me turning over a new leaf. Lucky her. In addition, I have shit I need to take care of. Let's not forget why I am here.
I whisper through still lips to Derek, "Has Marcus arrived yet?"
"Negative. No sign. Do you think he'll show?"
"I do. Maybe he is aiming for fashionably late?"
"You wish. I doubt scientists aim for fashionable, Turner." His tone makes me smile.
My best friend has seemed out of reach lately, and it's comforting to have him echoing in my head. It's familiar and reassuring.
I spot Richard Dyvornychenko sipping his champagne alone next to the hors d'oeuvres, and I beeline for him. I nonchalantly shimmy by him, saying, "Privet, izvinte." Hello, excuse me. The Russian that spills out of my mouth feels like a long lost friend as I grab a cracker.
I know who Richard is, even though I played dumb with Jeremy. He is someone that homeland security keeps a constant eye on. He is big in nuclear energy. I've never met the man, but I know his type. He isn't the biggest fan of Americans. His thin lips are set into a default, repressed frown, which says it all.
Jeremy is never going to get this man to agree to anything, because he doesn't understand him well enough. It's more than numbers and beneficial compromises. I can work this to my advantage.
Richard is a tall, thin man with thick, slicked-back, salt -and-pepper hair, and a clean shave. His lips reveal a dazzling smile upon hearing my words, and it softens his poisonous demeanor.
His deep brown eyes drag over my face. A surprisingly gentleman thing to do, and it makes me want to like him. "Privet. Ty russkiy? Vy govorite krasivo." Hello. Are you Russian? You speak beautifully.
I smile back, and continue in his native tongue. "Thank you, but I am not Russian. I took it in college."
His grin remains, obviously impressed. "But you knew I was Russian? What is a beautiful woman doing talking to an old man like me? Someone surely must have brought you on his arm."
I realize listening to his crisp pronunciation how much I love the Russian language. I can't wait to wrap my tongue around more words. I have always been fascinated with language, and Russian is a favorite.
People assume that Russians are a slimy, r
ude sort of people, but on the contrary. I adore them, and always have. Just like the French, all they want is a little respect for their culture.
It could make or break a situation ... as I am about to show Jeremy Hunt, CEO, who I can still hear babbling to Victoria through my earpiece. She dropped the subject of a girlfriend as soon as I walked away and has moved on to catching up, no doubt planning a way for them to meet up. I make it a point of tuning him out, because if I don't, I might really follow through with a physical altercation.
I notice Jeremy's hooded blue eyes are looking at me over the pretty blonde's shoulder. I'm sure he's wondering what the hell I am up to. Just watch, Jeremy.
Looking back at Richard, I smile and decide to introduce myself in Russian. "I'm Alexandra Raven, and my date seems to be indisposed." I can't help my tone as I say it.
Richard grabs an extra flute of champagne from a passing waiter, and hands it to me with polite grace. "The man must be a fool,” he says. “I have half a mind to tell him so." He watches me smirk, and holds his hand out to me. "I am Richard Dyvornychenko, and the pleasure is all mine, Alexandra. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He takes my hand and turns it over so he can place a kiss on it. "So, Alexandra. How did you know I was Russian?"
I shrug. "Confession: I recognized you and decided to come say hello."
Obviously delighted, he points to himself comically. "Me? How?"
I grin mischievously. "Well, you won't like one of my reasons, but I have two. One, I recognize you from a textbook regarding your impressive advances with nuclear energy. The second reason I'd rather not say." I wink.
His thick brows shoot up with curiosity, and he laughs. "I'm too delighted to have your attention to push the matter, and am honored to have piqued your interest." It's almost as if he is flirting, but his warm stare, and the fact I haven't seen him look at my body once, gives him a grandfatherly vibe.
Trying to ease into the conversation, I confess my obsession with and my hopes for nuclear energy, and we babble back and forth in Russian. His smile never falters during the fifteen minutes we talk.