by Bailey, Orla
“I’m contemplating pouring myself a very large, very alcoholic Bombay Sapphire.” Strangely enough Jack didn’t pour the scant remains of that bottle down the sink.
“Go for it. We broke any six o’clock rule this afternoon.” Libby reminds me of the alcohol infused coffee. “I’ll pour.” She goes off to organise the drinks.
The dress is beautiful, I’ll admit that. It’s powder blue silk. I can’t help staring at it as it hangs on the back of the door until Libby returns with the gin & tonics.
“The colour reminds me of a favourite little dress I used to wear a lot when I interned for Harry.”
“I remember it. Maybe Jack remembers too?”
“No. It’s co-incidence.”
“That colour looks amazing against your brown hair.”
“And my boring brown eyes.” I take a huge slurp of gin.
“Are you kidding me? Your eyes are beautiful. I wish I had big brown Bambi eyes like you.”
“Thanks, Libby.” I wonder if Jack even knows the colour of my eyes. I could never forget his. I lift the soft fabric between my fingers. “It gleams in daylight.” And reminds me of Arctic blue.
“Candlelight will make it shimmer even more,” Libby remarks.
“Candles?” I mentally kick myself. Why on earth would I imagine the evening as romantic? There’s nothing about romance in any of this. It’s a calculated business deal dished up with a side order of sex.
“The dress will be tight. Far too tight. I’m not slender enough to fit into high fashion like this.” I sigh with aggravation. Jack must have read the size labels of clothes I bought when I was still a teenager. “Why would he even consider someone like me might fit a dress like this? There’s nothing waif-like or willowy about me.” I spread the narrow width of the bodice in disgust. Low-cut, sleeveless. Softly draped to maximise the cleavage on view.
Libby and I stare at each other with widening eyes.
“I’ll be surprised if I can even do up the zipper.”
“It’s meant to hug your hips too, right to the tops of your thighs, then flow out like an ocean.”
“Beached whale comes to mind.”
“Don’t do that to yourself, Tabby. You have an amazing figure. I’m just skinny. You got all the curves. Men like curves.”
“Not men that buy dream dresses like this. Little will be left to Jack’s imagination when I wear that dress. If I can get in it.”
“There’s always the tailor,” Libby reminds me.
We wrestle it off the hanger and lay it on the bed like a dead body.
“I think I’ll ask him to add a nice wide panel of my contrasting orange curtains up each side. And a strip around the bosom.” I think my drink is kicking in as I slurp it. “Redesign the bugger.”
“Yeah. You should so do it. That’ll teach him. Up yours, Versace.” Libby’s drink seems to be having an effect also.
“Up yours too, Jack Keogh.”
We laugh.
Reality sobers me. “Honestly though, what if I refuse? Perhaps I can wear a dress of my own instead? One far less revealing. One that might zip up at least. I’m my own woman. What better way to give Jack a clear message than turn up without his silly dress on.” I toss the silk lengths aside as if I haven’t just admired them.
“You could send it back – thanks, but no thanks – I’ll take it,” Libby offers. “I’ll wear my black shades. There’s still time.”
Jack’s face floats into my mind. His words haunt me. “It’s a deal breaker. That’s what he said.”
“Perhaps you can put a huge cardigan over the top?”
“He means to have me. I don’t think any cardigan is going to change that. And if that means dressing me too, like a silly doll, I’m just going to have to suck it up.” I suck up the last of my double gin.
“Then have him right back. Could be worse. It might be a relief to get it out of the way?” she suggests.
Thoughts of having Jack, grinding on top of the expensive blue silk that he’s just peeled off my naked body, make me weak. I imagine each delicious inch of Jack’s hard body pounding me into the floor. For a second, it’s a good dream.
“Who am I kidding? The only relief I’m going to feel is if he manages to get the zipper undone before it bursts.” I grab Libby’s glass and toss the last of her iced gin down my throat too.
Soaking for a long, leisurely time in a hot bath, I remember how much I wanted that man. I so ached for him to want me I would have stood in front of him naked, gift-wrapped with a big red bow tied around my neck, if it meant he would have noticed me. Actually, I’m surprised I never thought of that one at the time. And relieved. Now the thought of him seeing me naked, horrifies me. I submerge my whole head beneath the surface of the water with a groan.
Libby helps me to get ready and straightens my hair. Between us the zipper goes where it’s meant to. I stand back while Libby admires our efforts.
“You look beautiful, Tabitha. That dress fits like a glove.”
“A glove on the point of bursting.” I try to tuck my spilling boobs back into the bodice. “Luckily I haven’t eaten all day.”
“How did he know your size anyway?”
“He has a good eye for women’s figures apparently.” I roll my eyes as I repeat Jack’s words.
Libby laughs. “I’ll bet he has.”
I snorted. “That’s exactly what I said.”
Libby squints at me. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink if you haven’t eaten all day.”
I am feeling a bit anaesthetised but, for me, that’s the whole point.
When the doorbell rings for the second time, we look at each other in alarm.
“Sleep over if you want Libby. I won’t be back ’til morning.”
“Knock him dead, kid.”
Libby sees me off at the door. The same black-suited man stands there; my driver, as well as Jack’s delivery boy. Perhaps Jack is being discrete. The less people that know about this awkward little arrangement, the better. I see Libby gawp in amazement at the good-looking driver and grin. She winks at me.
“Miss Caid. Madam.” He acknowledges Libby whom I notice, with amusement, blushes. “My name is Blackstock. It will be my pleasure to drive you tonight.”
Mild panic rises. I hesitate but the guy doesn’t rush me. Soon there’ll be no turning back. Jack bruised my heart once before, but I’m over him. I can do this in cold blood.
I can’t. I panic.
I want to slam the door in Blackstock’s face. Send the message I’ve changed my mind. Jack can’t even call for me himself. He wants his toy delivered. Send a car is right. And, I suspect, looking at Blackstock’s toned body beneath the smart disguise of a civilised suit, he’s sent a bodyguard too, to make sure I don’t escape his clutches. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man was carrying a firearm.
Shotgun sex.
I turn for a last look at my reflection in the full-length mirror by the door. An old habit. It shouldn’t matter what I look like. This is for business only. But I can’t face Jack without knowing I look good. Pathetic as it is I want him to realise what he’s been missing all these years.
I see smooth, glossy hair. Big smoky eyes. Full lips. Acres of cleavage. The very obvious nature of that part of my body, down to his choice of dress. I’m perfectly groomed for seduction.
The delivery guy – which is exactly who Blackstock is – lifts my small overnight bag to my acute embarrassment and awareness that he’s comfortable enough to have definitely done this sort of thing before.
I grab my clutch purse. “Goodnight, Libby.”
“Knock him dead,” Libby whispers.
I clip the door behind me knowing Jack holds a key to that too. Somehow he seems to be inveigling himself into my life. I might not have slammed this door either but to release all the nervous, pent-up tension at the thought of going to Jack tonight, I really, really wanted to.
Chapter Five
A muted ping announces the private elevator’s arrival straight into the a
partment. I’m totally on edge at the thought of the man who is waiting for me after all this time. It feels crazier than any dream.
My pulse rate spikes when the doors slide apart like theatre curtains on the opening act.
The space beyond is indistinct and my eyes take a while to adjust to the dimmed lighting but the softly lit elevator backlights me, displaying me to the one man I know is out there observing. I sense him as soon as my skin prickles with awareness, my mouth dries up and my body grows damp. Like the Sirocco winds that generate dry, deserts over one land mass but stormy squalls in another, he affects me, changing the landscape of my senses.
I peer until I spot the dark shape leaning against a pillar; a silhouette half-hidden in shadow. I’d know his huge frame anywhere. My heart slows and thuds like it’s getting set to arrest beneath the heavy weight of his surveillance. Even while my inner voice warns me and my stomach muscles knot until they ache, he’s no doubt satisfying himself I’ve met all his requirements. I so hate he can affect me this much after all this time.
After everything.
Too late I wish I’d shown some backbone and swapped the matching silk thong, found wrapped in tissue paper at the bottom of the dress carrier, for my Corpse Bride boy shorts but it seems like I’ve already regressed into that eighteen year old girl who can’t help wanting to please him.
“Welcome to my home, Tabitha.” Jack steps out of the shadows into my circle of light in no particular hurry. It’s as if time awaits his disposal and he manipulates it to draw my torment out as much as possible. We both know exactly what I’m here for.
He’s dressed in a black tuxedo without the tie, his stark dress shirt open at the collar. This combination of formal and casual, confuses me but the sight of him, so powerfully masculine, takes my breath away.
I leave the false security of the shaft, wrenching my eyes from Jack’s magnetic hold to travel the space around him. His home, Belvedere, is stunning. An industrial warehouse conversion on the Thames, all steel girders and original Victorian brickwork, where he owns and occupies the entire top floor. Not only a statement of his wealth and power, it’s a reflection of the man himself: practical, durable, surrounded by strength, beauty and sheer luxury. I wonder what I’m doing in his world.
“You’re punctual. I like that.”
“I was late. Your chauffeur made up for lost time by ignoring all sorts of speed restrictions.”
He smiles but I won’t have him thinking I’m either totally obedient or desperate to see him. Better to maintain my aloofness.
“Won’t you come in?” When he signals for me to cross to him, I answer his command instinctually. He smiles knowingly as his fingers curl around mine. The feeling of his warm skin against mine makes my whole body tingle with awareness.
Jack leans in, his mouth closing the distance to mine but I turn my head aside. After the boardroom, it’s too much. Too soon. His impatience with my rebuff is almost as imperceptible as a tendon tightening before a muscle’s movement, but he kisses me on the cheek instead like we’re two old friends. Leaning back he regards me as I studiously look anywhere but at him. Even so, I feel the air of smug satisfaction about him. I think he enjoys this game as much as I hate it.
Why wouldn’t he? He expects to get his way in the end. He expects to get me.
My eyes are drawn to the sheer wall of glass revealing the Thames river, the lights and the restless nightlife of the city below. Jack, aware of my interest, leads me over and we stand side by side looking down while I imagine some God of Olympus observing all mortal life below him, pausing to tempt the unwary into his heaven.
“I’ll never tire of this view.” Jack turns to me as he says it.
My stomach flips. My heart misfires. Tonight I’m this god’s plaything, nothing more. Icarus flying too close to the sun.
I confront him and my past. “Until something shinier catches your attention.” I’m here for CaidCo’s survival and want to show him I can handle him and his business. And protect myself too.
How easy that will be when my body’s already responding to his, is anybody’s guess. Anyone would think he had the power to fry every impulse between my brain and my body.
“What could I possibly find more captivating to me than this?” Jack’s eyes devour me. He’s a practiced seducer and it hurts to think how he honed those skills. Without me.
Not enjoying the sensations I’m feeling one little bit I turn to stare back out into the twilight.
“Tabitha, let’s leave the world outside just for one night.” Jack splays his hand below the small of my back and turns me into the room. How easily all will escapes me.
“Your home’s beautiful, Jack.” My eyes journey the masculine elegance of the furnishings, the indefinable class of the décor.
He takes my hand in his. “You’re beautiful. And a little scared, I think.”
I pull my hand from his, unwilling to be read so easily.
He simply captures it again. “Don’t you trust me? You’re here now.”
I have to wonder if he thought I’d change my mind. He tugs me gently forward returning to the distractions of a mini tour. “It was an old warehouse but achieving potential takes energy, creativity, patience and desire.” He thinks he’s diverting my nervousness but he’s feeding it.
Defining his own boundaries, his hand brushes casually over the filmy silk at my back as I walk but there’s nothing casual in his touch for me. He leads me to a group of three large, cream leather sofas closing a square before an open central fireplace with a massive Persian rug lying before it.
“Anything can blossom in the right hands.”
I stiffen, wondering if he’s still talking about his apartment conversion. He seems pleased his words disturb me. And he takes far too much pleasure observing my figure in this dress, examining me at leisure all over as I mentally fend off the psychological invasion.
“I’m staring.” He shrugs as if to excuse himself but doesn’t stop. “But you look spectacular in that dress. I remember you wore something the exact same colour. It always looked so pretty against your hair.” He lifts a lock of it and lets it run silkily out through his fingers. “You’re a very desirable woman.”
The dress tightens around me. The strong clench of its bodice barely confines my shape. “I’m not as skinny as I used to be. I think maybe you don’t realise how much I’ve changed.”
He laughs, his eyes lingering unashamedly at my cleavage. “I realise perfectly but it’s quite exquisite. The fit is perfect.”
I’m embarrassed.
“Sit, Tabitha. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Comfortable? This all feels rather awkward.”
“I don’t want you to think that.” He scowls, the familiar lines appearing; the sudden drive of his respiration suggesting he’s controlling his displeasure at my words. He sighs like he’s forcing himself to unwind again. “You’re being honest. Harsh. But honest. And I demand your honesty.”
“Demand it?” I know I sound surprised.
“You know why you’re here. What do you expect?”
Not that. “What do you expect?” Do I really need him to say it out loud?
“I expect plenty, Tabitha. Including your resistance. That doesn’t worry me.” He visibly relaxes. “It excites me.”
I drop onto one of the sofas weakly.
Jack lifts a bottle of vintage Krug from an ice bucket and peels the foil, dropping it onto an ebony and smoked glass side table. “If you don’t wish to be here, you can leave at any time. You’re not my prisoner. You’re here because you want to be.” He loosens the wire cage from the cork, keeping both covered by his hand and well turned away from me.
“I’m here because we made a deal.”
“Yes. The deal.” He rolls the words round his tongue contemptuously and stops what he’s doing for a moment to scrutinise me. He huffs out a half-laugh. “Still the same young woman I remember. Ambitious. Determined. Suspicious of everything and over-reactive. A
little too scared of yourself. Of life. Yet here you are. I have high hopes for you, Tabitha Caid.”
“You think you know me but you don’t. I’m not that pathetic child anymore.”
His eyes lift. “Indeed.”
I feel my temperature rising. This is not personal. “The deal?”
“I rather hoped we could enjoy a pleasant evening together. Can you believe that simple truth?”
“I thought I was here so you could… enjoy me.” I can’t look him in the face.
He laughs. “Spontaneous. Just blurting out whatever’s on your mind.” He doesn’t refute my accusation but a faint smile teases at his lips as he lowers his voice. “I do enjoy you. Just being with you. I’m not going to jump on you, Tabitha. Is that what you think? It doesn’t work that way.”
I feel embarrassed and gauche. The opposite of everything I claim to be.
“Please answer my question, Tabitha. Is that what you think of me?”
He manages to make me feel like a fool. Have I presumed he wants something he doesn’t, yet again? My voice is hesitant, unsure. “Something like that.”
“Then you can relax. I don’t need to jump on women.” There’s a note of quelled irritation in his voice. Jack holds the cork and twists the bottle with controlled and exacting force. The two part company with an explosive pop.
I flinch even though I anticipate it. “No. I expect not.”
He barks a harsh laugh at my agreement, my reaction. “Why are you here, Tabitha?” Jack concentrates on pouring the foaming liquid into a pair of crystal flutes, waiting for my answer.
“Our deal,” I remind him.
“You’ve pointed that out already.” He sounds even more annoyed with me. “Then perhaps we should get straight down to business.” He turns and faces me, a glass in each hand.
I try hard to stop my hand trembling as he hands one over and sits beside me. Close beside me, his thighs touching mine. I swallow a huge gulp of Champagne.
“We haven’t negotiated any specific terms beyond having dinner and breakfast together but you clearly think we have. You have so much to learn about bargaining.”
He stares at me so absorbedly I believe he might still jump me despite his declaration. I take another large guzzle. Why must his eyes be so Arctic blue? I swallow more Champagne and he removes the glass from my hand when I try to down what remains completely. He puts it on the table beside his, as yet, untouched drink.