Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1

by Bailey, Orla

“Do you want to go home? We can do this another time.”

  “The ball is tonight.”

  “Fuck the ball.”

  His language makes him less perfect somehow. More real. Would he really give up the year’s most important business event to help me? I drag down a deep breath.

  Meredith returns with a glass of water, holding it out to Jack. He tips it to my lips feeding me small drops. “I just felt giddy for a moment.”

  “Are you unwell?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jack turns and speaks to the proprietor. “Can you give us a minute?”

  I’m momentarily distracted. Only Jack would feel completely at ease dismissing a person in their own establishment. If I had even a fraction of his self-belief, I could whip the management at CaidCo into shape without a qualm.

  “Tell me what the matter is.” He pushes me to answer, totally demanding. I feel a bizarre safety in my growing acquaintance with it.

  “I panicked.”

  “Over trying on a dress?” He looks at me in disbelief. His brow creases forcing my accustomed urge to reach out and ease it away. I dig my fingers safely into the padded velvet beneath my thighs instead.

  How can I ever explain how I feel? How could Jack begin to understand the crazy feeling of being out of your depth in a rising tide? I don’t understand it myself except it’s been entrenched in me ever since my parents left me behind to deliver humanitarian medical aid during the civil war in Sierra Leone and never returned.

  “It’s the ball, this whole thing.”

  He relaxes visibly. “The ball is nothing. A chance to see and be seen in the right circles and you’ll look beautiful. You’ll make an impact, turn heads, especially in the dress I’ve chosen for you. No-one will ever forget you were there with me.” His expression is so assured.

  But he doesn’t know the impact our reunion has had on me. “I’ve had a lot to deal with.”

  “Do you want to call a temporary halt to our arrangement?”

  Does he? He sounds a little less convinced of his plan. I’ve never heard Jack sound ambiguous before. I shake my head. I can’t give up now. “No. I do need help.”

  But exactly what do I need help with? This strange deal which gives CaidCo the right to pitch? The chance to be around Jack again? The order he attempts to bring into my irrational, senseless world? I breathe slowly in 5-2-5 time afraid I’ll get dizzy or panic again if I think about it all too much.

  “Are you sure? We can rethink the way we’re moving forward, if you’re not ready for this level of intensity.”

  I won’t let this craziness beat me. I push myself upright in my seat. “Show me this dress then.” I smile at Jack to reassure him I’m okay. I’m not going to back out of anything over a stupid panic attack.

  He cups my cheek, kissing me gently on the lips. It’s just as well I’m sitting, I think. That sort of thing doesn’t help me rebalance.

  He stares at me. “I have high hopes for you, kitten.” He calls to Meredith at the back of the shop. “We’re ready for the fitting now.”

  She appears instantly but who would keep Jack waiting? I stand and follow when she gestures me into the fitting room, still hearing Jack’s words. High hopes.

  His voice follows us. “I’m waiting right here for the first viewing.”

  I glance back to see Jack perched on the edge of the chair I’ve just vacated. His elbows rest along his thighs, one fist clenched in the other palm, his eyes reading me as I disappear behind the little white door.

  The fitting room reminds me of a set-designed Victorian boudoir. Bronzed mirrors line the walls casting flattering, soft-focused reflections in every direction. A vast display of scented lilies, with their staining pollen-filled stamens meticulously removed, stands on a draped table in one corner. The walls and carpets are soft cream with muted lighting permeating every corner and one starkly revealing spotlight flooding the raised dais in the centre. With an antique dresser and stool off to one side, all that’s missing is the brass bed.

  But my sight is already captured by the dress hanging on its padded satin hanger, high up on the wall. I know immediately it’s the one Jack has chosen for me and my heart rate soars immediately. The garment’s intense colour has a visceral impact.

  “Vintage Valentino. In signature blue-blood red. An exclusive piece designed in the 60s.” Meredith’s tone is hushed, like she might have been all but sworn to secrecy over its provenance. “Its value is beyond reckoning.” She stares at the incredible garment with a sense of deep awe, as if regarding a master’s work of art and a smile of pure pleasure radiates from her features. “Only a man with extremely deep pockets and profound influence could acquire such a treasure.” She turns to me and regards me with a quizzical expression. “For a very special woman.”

  It’s spectacular. Shocking. “It’s magnificent.” Look-at-Me it commands. But for me?

  “Isn’t it? And you’re the fortunate woman.”

  I tear my eyes away for a moment to stare back. Does she think I’m blessed for getting to wear this dress or for being the woman with Jack?

  “I’d rather imagined myself blending into the background at the ball, quietly observing the wildlife at play.”

  She laughs. “No chance wearing a gown like this. It wants people to see it.”

  “That’s what worries me.” It takes confidence to even choose a dress like this. The sort of confidence Jack has in spades. But it will take major confidence to wear it. Something I’ll never have in a million years. “I like it.” And I hate it. And the thought of Jack waiting to see me wear it – or it wear me – has waves of faintness washing over me.

  “He chose well, no? It will look striking against your dark chocolate hair and ivory skin.”

  Ivory? I feel ashen. My attention snaps back into focus as the woman sweeps my hair into a cascade on my head, entirely comfortable with the familiarity of touching a stranger. I reach out to feel the garment as a prelude to wearing it. It’s a bit like stroking a tiger before making it jump through a hoop of fire.

  Meredith introduces us properly, gathering the folds loosely between her fingertips. “Italian silk. The finest. Valentino red. The best for the best.” Her intonation makes her sound almost envious. But she surely means Jack. Panic threatens to engulf me again. I wrestle it back down. I don’t want the woman to call Jack to the rescue. I need to do this. To face my irrational fears.

  “Are we ready to try it on, madam?”

  “Yes. I am.” Appear confident, no matter what you feel inside.

  I remove my blouse and kick off my flat shoes, all too conscious of the drabness of my daywear in comparison to the spectacle of extravagance before me. The woman unzips and holds the dress with a familiarity born of long association with haute couture.

  “Remove your bra, please.”

  Oh. “Of course.” The garment is strapless and I’m not in the communal changing room in a high street dress store. Coyness isn’t an option. I remove it glancing at my full breasts in the mirror.

  I wonder about the sort of women Jack is in the habit of bringing here. Part of me would love to question Meredith while I have the opportunity but I know anything I hear will only hurt and I expect she’s far too discrete to tell anyway. Asking would only embarrass both of us.

  “You have a wonderful figure, my dear. Mr Keogh has made the perfect choice of gown for you. Not everyone can carry a statement piece like this one.”

  I’m astounded she thinks I might be in with a chance, before I realise she can hardly suggest otherwise. The dress is dropped expertly over my head, manoeuvred into place and zipped shut. It swirls onto the floor around my feet.

  “It’s too long.” Of course, it will have been created with some willowy woman in mind but it enhances the feminine shape of my breasts, waist and hips. Valentino knew how to dress a woman. I can’t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror.

  “We need the shoes, of course.”

  “There are shoes?”r />
  “Naturally. The woman retrieves a box from the shelf behind her. “They’ve been dyed to an exact match.”

  How long has Jack been planning this occasion? I picture him rummaging through my cupboards to find me something to wear. Is that when he made these decisions? And I’m simply fulfilling part of his six month plan.

  A pair of very high stiletto heels in perfectly matched Rosso Valentino silk are placed on the floor before me. The woman takes my elbow to steady me and bends down to lift the skirts and ease my feet into the shoes. Everything fits perfectly. I can’t stop myself contemplating the reason she knows my dimensions so well. I wobble for a second before securing my balance.

  “The length is perfect,” she says walking around me. “The gown is perfect.” Meredith runs an appraising eye from head to foot. She halts, smiles and gently touches my cheek. “You are perfect in this gown,” she corrects herself. She tugs and primps a little, here and there, raising my bosom into the internally structured bodice without a trace of awkwardness when her hands dive inside to lift my naked breasts. “No further alterations are required. Excellent.”

  It is a perfect dress. I feel like royalty. Sophisticated, serene, elegant and gracious. For a few seconds. Now if only I can hold on to those feelings until the ball ends perhaps it won’t be such an endurance. Especially with Jack by my side. I imagine him standing alongside me in the mirror as I assess my transformation into the lady in red.

  “Mr Keogh will wish to see you, I think. The gentleman doesn’t wait.”

  My eyes fly to Meredith’s in the mirror. How well does she know Jack’s temperament? How many times has she stood here dressing one woman after another for Jack’s pleasure? It just happens I’m Jack’s toy this time. How will I match up to all those others? Those women? Do I even care to?

  Meredith addresses my hesitation, answering my unspoken insecurities with kindness. “He’ll be honoured to be the lucky man who accompanies such a lovely young woman.” Is my need for reassurance so obvious?

  I blush. Sales patter, I tell myself. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  Meredith looks at me incredulously and I hope I haven’t been impolite. She’s been very sympathetic. “It’s a beautiful dress and it must have cost a lot of money.”

  She shrugs and purses her lips, an expression which suggests that it’s vulgar to talk about such things but that, yes, it certainly did. Somewhere between an unimaginable and an extortionate amount of money, I presume.

  “First, we’ll do something with your hair, to give an impression of the finished effect. Sit here, please.” She directs me to the dresser and twists and pins my hair until it sits in a series of twisted curls in approximate matching sophistication to that of the dress. She tucks in a few sparkling pins to adorn it.

  “And so. Are we ready to reveal?”

  I nod as she holds the door wide waiting while I raise the skirts and step back into the showroom. I know I’m stupid but will he think I’m worth all the money he’s spent?

  Jack snaps upright. He freezes completely, his stare revealing nothing of his thoughts. My pulse pounds in my throat as his eyes travel down and up. He’s disappointed. He expected so much more than I’m capable of giving. I’m ready to turn tail as tears spark in my eyes. He pushes slowly to his feet and steps towards me. I’m vaguely aware that Meredith has discretely withdrawn into the back room again as Jack takes me by the upper arms, holding me at arms’ length from himself. His eyes travel slowly over me again embarrassingly lingering at the voluptuous breasts displayed in the sculpted bodice before he seizes my eyes with his own.

  I hold my breath, waiting for it’ll-have-to-do. No time to rethink the situation.

  “Exquisite.” The word come out in a hushed murmur, halfway between a sound and a thought.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “You, Tabby. It’s you. I knew it would be perfect. You give the colour meaning.”

  I exhale. Jack likes it. He likes me in it. Suddenly it’s not my enemy. “It is lovely, Jack.”

  “Because you’re wearing it.” Jack moves closer, slipping his arm around the curve of my back and touching his cheek to mine, breathing me in. It feels like he’s testing what we’ll feel like dancing together. With the press of his body from his muscular thigh between mine to his solid chest wall, all the longing I’ve crushed deep down inside me comes rushing to the surface in a dam-bursting torrent.

  Jack places his lips against my ear and whispers. “I’m going to fuck you in that red dress.”

  I’m not sure I hear him correctly. But he might just as well have pushed himself inside me, my sex clenches so hard. I moan. “Promise?”

  I feel him smile against my hair.

  He gives me a swift kiss on the lips to seal the deal and turns me round. He swats me on the backside. “Lock yourself in that fitting room before I tell Meredith to take a long lunch so I can ruin that pretty gown and despoil you.”

  I glance back over my naked shoulder at him, just like I did this morning wearing nothing more than his shirt draped over my shoulder. I note the narrow-eyed cautionary glare, before I escape with my trashy thoughts intact. I’m grinning like an idiot. That thing he said does more to boost my confidence than a thousand Meredith’s with their flattery. Everything is faultless if Jack can react to me that way.

  I overhear Meredith talking to him outside. “Do you wish her to try the rest of the collection, Mr Keogh?”

  Collection? I recall Jack’s look of mild distaste at my regular clothing.

  “Just one or two, I think.”

  She re-enters the fitting room.

  “There’s a collection?”

  “Mr Keogh ordered business suits and daywear. Did you not know of this?”

  Her surprised tone irritates me which is unfair of me, I suppose but I’m not admitting to her this has landed as a complete bombshell. “Oh, the business suits. I’d quite forgotten about them.”

  I agreed to let Jack mentor me for four weekends and I only did that this morning. How dare he think he can dictate what I wear to work? I feel like marching right back outside and having it out with him but I can hardly do that now I’ve pretended to Meredith I know all about it.

  I’m as irritable as a wasp trapped in a preserve jar. It’s unfair of Jack to presume so much. One minute he pays me a compliment and the next, he practically demonstrates I’m way out of my depth. I’m so not in the mood to accept there may be some truth in the clothes thing despite having seen how imposing Jack himself appears in his smart business attire. The gown is eased over my head and returned to the hanger.

  “I’ve ordered a lovely range of lingerie too.” She opens a glass fronted drawer removing tissue-paper covered, coffee-and-cream silk and lace panties as far removed from my cartoon stretch cottons as it’s possible to imagine. Cutting the ribbons attaching the labels she hands them to me along with a beautiful matching deep lace scalloped bra. “Many women don’t realise how essential it is to start with the right foundation garments.”

  “Yet men seem to think it’s essential they end up in them,” I scoff, staring at the sexy stuff Jack has ordered. We glance at each other and smile knowingly. But honestly? He thinks it’s okay to buy my knickers now?

  “If you don’t like that set there are plenty more.”

  “They’re incredible.” So I suppose it wouldn’t hurt just this once...

  As I change, she draws back a dust cloth from a hanging rail to reveal quite a number of outfits. Selecting a sharp black pant suit, she holds it up for me to see.

  “I ordered from a wide range of designers as I wasn’t sure of your tastes. I have the usual Alaia and Armani,” she says, replacing those garments and sifting through the rest of the rail. “You’ll love this season’s Stella McCartney. The Chanel is delightfully on trend too. I had these flown in from Paris.” She removes and holds up another item.

  I stare at the tailored, lined jacket. Even I can see the sharp cut and designer flair I fail to achieve in
the rather old, practical and mass produced clothing I wear into the office. “Are all these meant for me?” I can’t help but gawp at the extensive garment rail.

  “As many as you wish to take and as suit your needs. We had better try on for fit.” Meredith hands me a classic white silk blouse.

  The jacket I place over the top nips in at the waist and flares over the hips, highlighting the length of the matching tailored trousers. Black court shoes seat the hems perfectly and I look instantly taller and more impressive. I admit it to myself reluctantly.

  “It’s very elegant.”

  “No-one can fail to take a woman seriously in a suit that looks like that. Are you looking for a new position?”

  I’m relieved Jack hasn’t shared my circumstances with her. “Not exactly. I run my own company.”

  “Indeed, Ms Caid.” She looks suitably impressed. “As one business woman to another, clothing is so important in creating the image you wish to project, is it not?” She’s shrewd enough to understand my situation, just a little.

  I warm to her a little more. I realise her own sophisticated clothing is part of what makes her seem a little bit intimidating. A look I might well be advised to adopt at work also. Two women trying to carve out a living in a difficult commercial world. We aren’t so very different.

  I scrutinise my reflection in the mirror. Jack is right. Appearance is everything. Instantly I feel a little less overwhelmed and consider that I might have a little more presence already. Maybe even Jack isn’t always as confident as he appears on the outside. I decide to thank him for organising the clothing rather than berate him for it but I will insist on paying for it myself. It’s not like I don’t have the means.

  I block wayward thoughts of how I paid for my mentoring this morning.

  “I think Mr Keogh might like to see this transformation also?” Meredith is already being a little more cautious with me. She closes the shirt buttons to the throat, whereas I had left a couple open. Unbelievably, it makes all the difference to the power I project.

  I step back into the showroom alone. Jack is staring out through the window into the mews, talking on his cell phone but turns when I enter. He’s just like any normal guy getting impatient waiting as a woman shops, I think, with some amusement.