by Cynthia Dane
Jasmine smiled, terse.
After Adrienne left, Ethan picked up a nearby remote and turned off the TV overhead. “She’s a bit brash, isn’t she?”
Jasmine put her hands on her hips. “You probably liked that about her. Got you off, I’m sure.”
“You would know best about what gets me off, my flower.”
She patted his chest, T-shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. “I’m gonna go crash at the penthouse. See you later?”
“See you later.” He kissed her forehead and released her from his hold. As she walked away, Ethan called after her again. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?”
Jasmine flashed him a smile. “Yes, sir.”
She walked off. While she made sure there was a bounce in her step, deep inside she perspired more than her fiancé on the elliptical machine. I’m a fuckup. I’m an embarrassment. I have no business being the wife of Ethan Cole. The elevator attendant cheerily greeted her as he always did. Jasmine greeted him back. As she rode down to the lobby, however, she felt much like her stomach – leaping in her throat and threatening to burst if pushed too hard.
Chapter 10
Wedding plans continued to move forward. Jasmine barely had time to sit and think about getting a dress, let alone a veil, shoes, and jewelry to go with an ensemble that had yet to exist. She was too busy going over what to do with the garden for the ceremony, where to hold the reception, what flowers to import and who to pick as her maid of honor. Originally, she would have asked Monica to return the favor from her wedding, but one of the first things out of Monica’s mouth early on was, “I would love to be in your wedding party, but I’m afraid it would be too difficult to accommodate me. Not to mention, I’ll be eight months pregnant by then, and I’m having enough troubles right now.” Jasmine was already in trouble with “only” two bridesmaids.
At least their dresses were easier to choose. After picking a luscious royal purple to use for the color, all that was left was finding flattering looks for Selena and Nadia. Selena picked a flirty halter top with a high waistline and a skirt that bounced above the knee. Nadia was radiant in a more subdued cocktail dress that complemented the red in her hair. Their fittings at The Crimson Dove went off without a hitch. At least Jasmine didn’t have to worry about that, although Jenny pressured her to pick one more bridesmaid to even things out. With Monica out of the picture, that left few options, and Jasmine didn’t want to confront them.
Her parents mostly kept to themselves on the manor premises, but one night Ethan and Jasmine returned home to find a drum circle spawning on the edge of the woods. More than one neighbor complained about a certain sweet stench emerging from the boundary of the woods. When Luna and Saul started getting sloppy with their pot smoking and stumbled in high one night, Ethan had to – somewhat politely – ask them to keep the pot to the balconies upstairs.
“What?” he said to Belinda, when she was aghast that he was going to let them keep smoking that stuff. “It’s not illegal around here anymore. What do you want me to do? Alienate my future in-laws even more?”
At least they were wearing clothes when anyone but Jasmine was around. Although one bright evening Ethan walked out to find Saul mowing the front lawns in nothing but a pair of denim shorts while having brisk conversations en español with the gardener. Belinda was even more horrified to find out that Saul spoke Spanish, because she had been cursing him in that tongue.
“It’s not that your parents aren’t nice, Miss,” she said to Jasmine at breakfast one day. “It’s just… how can he think I’m comfortable around him after all the nudity?” Jasmine didn’t take any help of Ethan’s to be prudes, given the kinks he lived with, but…
Ah, the kinks.
Jasmine was tied up more often than not recently, particularly in the penthouse where they were always left alone. The more they played, both with the collar on and off, the more eager Ethan became. He took her hard. Rough. Sometimes softly, but mostly like an alpha beast who hadn’t tasted sex in much too long – even if only half a day had gone by. Ethan demanded to take her from behind, above her, in his lap – both holding her and piercing her from below. He took her requests as well, much to her delight. In between the famished thrusting and coming, there was plenty of oral fun, going in both directions. Ethan’s favorite form of foreplay was letting his tongue roam all over Jasmine’s sensitive folds.
She welcomed all the sex. It allowed her to escape the stress of planning a wedding and the disappointment of being a failed experiment at an affluent match. Jasmine knew she was a terrible wife for Ethan. She couldn’t entertain. She couldn’t exert manners the way other women like Monica did, as if they were second nature. All Jasmine knew was that a lot of people didn’t care for her, other than to use her as the butt of a joke. There were women who took pity on her or at least pretended to be nice, like Kathryn, but they weren’t enough or held enough clout with the busy-bodies to assuage Jasmine’s reputation.
Once upon a time, she was fine with that. Now she entered another world, as Mrs. Ethan Cole.
A man people “liked” because he had a cool demeanor and kept to himself. A man people “respected” because he made an unbelievable amount of money in such a short time. A man nobody would profess to actually being friends with because, well, Ethan kept entirely to himself outside of work. No wonder most of his friends were women. Women liked the brooding type and getting them to open up. Jasmine would know.
The more I think about us as a married couple that others perceive… the more I think we might be an embarrassment together.
If they were a “normal” couple – middle class at the loftiest – it would be fine. Nobody would care. Jasmine could hang out with her usual friends and tentatively deal with the neighbors until she felt out who was bullshit and who was honest. Once in a while she might have to entertain Ethan’s coworkers or bosses, but… ha, the idea of Ethan having a boss was hilarious. More like he would have his own shop or service that provided well for an area but would never put him on the map like he was now. So maybe Jasmine would become like a friendly, shining mother-hen to her husband’s few employees. Going to the store or office to drop off cookies and brownies she made that morning while reading the latest installment from her neighborhood book club. She didn’t have to impress them, though. Sure, maybe some people would think she was ditzy or “uncouth,” as Adrienne called her. It wouldn’t matter. She could laugh them off, maybe rant about them to Ethan as they prepared to take a nightly shower together, but for the most part not be bothered by how they felt about her.
This was a different game altogether.
Jasmine hated it, but she put aside her pride and met Adrienne for lunch Friday afternoon, one day before the luncheon with Hyacinth Winchester. That morning Jasmine had woken up to Ethan’s lustful demands, and six hours later she was still walking funny. She hoped Adrienne couldn’t tell, or at least would think it was Jasmine’s stilettos making her shuffle and hobble – not the fact that someone’s ex-boyfriend tried to make a pair of legs stretch a bit farther than they were supposed to.
“You’re late,” was the first thing Adrienne said. She sat in a secluded corner of the company cafeteria, at a table set for a fine dining experience not often found in a place frequented by lower and middle-income staff. (Yet Ethan never had a problem asking Jasmine to run down and get him a sandwich for lunch… whether or not she worked for him.) “If I were assigning you points, you would be in the negative already.”
“I’m sorry, traffic was…”
“If you’re going to make excuses, you have to say them a certain way.” Adrienne sat up, tall, pretty, and regal as Jasmine took the chair across from her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, as if she spoke to someone of a higher status. “I was caught up in traffic, and my driver didn’t understand the urgency of this meeting.” Her teeth practically bit those last few words. “Like that.”
Jasmine nodded. This was already the least amount of fun sh
e ever had.
“Don’t put your purse on the floor like that,” Adrienne further scolded. “There is a basket for a reason. If someone doesn’t offer to take your bag for you, leave it in the designated spot before you sit down. Any hostess worth her muster will provide a stylish way to keep your purse out of the way without letting it get dirty on the ground. Especially in a room or building where people are eating all the time.”
“Okay.”
“For God’s sake, don’t slouch. If you’re feeling casual – and you shouldn’t, unless it’s a lunch between friends – you can cross your legs and slump your shoulders a little, but never slouch like that. Show off your confidence. Put out your chest a little if you’re in front of a man. Fake it until you make it.”
Jasmine gulped. This was going to be a long lunch.
Adrienne showed her no mercy in the world of formal dining etiquette, and this went well beyond formal dining etiquette as Jasmine understood it. When she thought of good manners and upbringing, she thought of kids with books on their heads and salad forks in their hands. Adrienne informed her student that such things were “middle class rumors.” Adrienne would know. She grew up middle class, and had been lied to throughout her adolescence. It wasn’t until she was having dinner with a fourth-generation CEO ten years ago that she realized filthy rich people had very different expectations.
“You’ve learned a lot from being Ethan’s girlfriend this long,” Adrienne admitted toward the end of their lesson. Jasmine sat primly, with her ankles crossed and set to the side, while her back remained straight and her hands poised in her lap. Her hair even fell perfectly, bouncing on her shoulders and caressing the sides of her breasts. Adrienne had stood up more than once to perfect Jasmine’s posture with nimble, crafty hands. “There is also a lot that he can’t teach you, because he’s never known those rules. New money people will give you a lot of leeway, no matter how long they’ve been in this world. The old money types? Even the nicest, most well-meaning ones will look askance at you if you create a social faux pas. That’s because the ‘right’ way is the only way they’ve ever known. Their mothers and nannies have drilled it into their thick skulls since they were old enough to remember the difference between their mother and nannies. They took classes in proper upper echelon etiquette at their boarding schools and private schools. If you and Ethan have kids, you bet your new money asses you’ll be sending your children to at least Winchester Academy. Guess who it was named after?”
Jasmine gulped. “Hyacinth Winchester?”
“Her husband’s grandfather, yes.” Adrienne fidgeted and kept touching her mouth, as if she desperately wanted a cigarette. How much does she smoke? Jasmine never smelled it on her, but had seen Adrienne taking cigarette breaks here and there when their paths intersected. “They’re the ‘public’ school – although still very private and exclusive, of course – of the elite around here. The biggest school, with state champion sports teams. The boarding schools are also very prestigious, but attract a more international student base. Mostly European, but I’m seeing more Southeast Asian and Northern African students come by our office on field trips now. They’re competing with the European boarding schools, is what I’m saying.”
Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t know if Ethan told you, but we had a pregnancy… scare… a couple of months ago. I wouldn’t have even thought about schools yet.”
Adrienne clicked a pen in her hand. Better than chewing on her lip in need of a nicotine fix, Jasmine supposed. Smoking wasn’t allowed except for in a few designated areas around the building. “He told me.”
“Oh…” Jasmine hadn’t actually expected that.
“After the fact, of course. He said it was a reason he decided to propose to you.”
“Yeah…”
“Anyway.” Adrienne cleared her throat. “I only said all that to make it clear where these people are coming from. Most had never experienced a messy no-napkin barbecue until their backyard frat parties in college. The messiest a well-to-do girl ever gets in her teenage years is her boyfriend missing the mark with his inexperienced cock.” Adrienne laughed. “The stories I’ve heard…”
Jasmine’s brain was going in five different directions at once. Not just where she would send her supposed children… but those children growing up in this privileged universe where they were taught perfect manners at ten and never knew what it meant to get barbecue sauce all over their faces until they already knew what it meant to lose their virginity in the back of an Aston Martin. Better than I did. Got fingered beneath the bleachers at a volleyball game. A volleyball game!
“I know I’ve been hard on you today, but I’m only trying to get you caught up. I had to teach myself all of this. It’s sink or swim when you’ve got our backgrounds, and I want you to swim better than Michael Phelps.”
“Thanks.” Jasmine relaxed her shoulders, placing her folded hands on the table. “I mean it. I’m tired of embarrassing myself.”
Adrienne shifted in her seat. “I embarrass myself sometimes still,” she said. “I’ll forget to lower the volume of my laugh. I’ll wear the wrong kind of gloves to a party. My hat will resemble the same one a high-profile wife wore a year ago. I’m to the point now where most of this can be brushed off as I amass more of my own power, but… I’m a businesswoman. I’m playing by different rules from you.”
“Yeah. I’m just a wife.” Soon, anyway.
“There’s no just about it! Shake off all those images you have of the housewives you knew growing up. They worked their asses off, yes, but not in the ways you’re about to. Everything you do from the moment you say ‘I do’ with Ethan will reflect on him. You could destroy his career… or help him build it up to more monumental levels. He could make his next billion because of the connections you make behind the scenes. Impressing women with money – or whose families have money – will go a long way. You don’t have to befriend them if you don’t want. You do have to show that you’re a competent wife for a competent businessman. I’m not saying it’s fair or that it makes sense, but it’s the way it is, and things are very slow to change.”
Jasmine’s phone vibrated with a text message. “I should check this,” she said. “It might be Ethan.”
“Go ahead.” Adrienne took out her phone as well. “Although I highly recommend you not do that unless it’s the biggest emergency of your life when in certain company.”
“Naturally.” Jasmine checked her messages. It was from Jenny. Could be a life or death emergency. Who knew?
“Have you picked out your third bridesmaid yet? I’m going nuts here trying to figure out how to do two without having it look so terrible! Help me out! PICK SOMEONE!!”
Jasmine looked up from her phone. “Do you want to be my bridesmaid?”
It was the coarsest way she could ask this woman she barely knew – and who happened to be her fiancé’s ex-girlfriend. As expected, Adrienne jerked her head up, gob smacked. “I… well, that’s quite the honor you foisted upon me.”
A heavy breath eased its way past Jasmine’s lips. “I know how much you mean to Ethan, and…”
“Yes.” Adrienne cut her off faster than if they were in traffic. “Which is probably why he already asked me to be his best man. Er, woman.”
Jasmine’s phone slipped right out of her hand. “What?”
“Oh, I was shocked too. He did it last week. Took me out to lunch for seemingly no other reason. I have to admit, it felt like a date the way he was courting me for an hour.” Adrienne leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms in a huff. “Reminiscing about Harvard… the years we dated… well, I’ll spare you the details. I was almost afraid he was saying he was getting cold feet with you and wanted to have an affair with me. I’m serious! It was the strangest thing, until he finally dropped the bomb. He said he couldn’t imagine anyone else having such an important distinction at his wedding. I felt bad for him. The man doesn’t have any other friends close enough to ask. His one and only best male friend turned
out to be the biggest creep around. Who am I? A woman who came back from nowhere because she heard he was looking for a business partner. Now I’m shirking convention with him by being a woman standing next to him when he gets married to his new girlfriend?”
Jasmine’s jaw dropped. “So you… said yes?”
“Of course I did. How could I tell that poor man no? So…” Adrienne drank her water in the sloppiest way possible. So much for manners. “I can’t be your bridesmaid, sorry. I’m already engaged elsewhere in your wedding party.”
“Oh… well. That’s unexpected.” Jasmine sighed. “Things are so crazy right now. Everything is coming together except for my personal shit. I can’t even find a dress.” Ever since her flop of a trip to New York, Jasmine realized she didn’t actually like any of the dresses in her magazines. They were fine. They were beautiful. But they weren’t her. They didn’t make her feel like the beautiful, regal bride Ethan deserved. “I don’t have enough friends who can be my bridesmaids. We’ve barely looked at cakes. It’s amazing we’ve picked out a color! I dunno, maybe I’m too wound up. This is coming down to the wire way too quickly. I’m getting married in two months! I thought I had over a year to plan these things. Then the paper…”
“Then the paper suggested that he and I were getting married instead.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not fair to you.” Adrienne stood, plucking her purse out of its basket. “Unfortunately, I have a teleconference at two that I need to prepare for. I hope things work out for you… and I’ll see you at the luncheon tomorrow.”
Adrienne never stuck around to converse much with Jasmine. It didn’t bother her. Not really. There were a lot worse ways for Adrienne to behave. She was a businesswoman at Ethan’s level. It made sense that she would be a bit high-strung and always on the go, especially since she was now the “face” of Thomas-Cole.