Glancing at Breck, his approving gaze builds my confidence as I continue, “Mr. Steele built Dur Acier with two things in mind; providing remarkably productive products in a simple, respectable design while keeping the lines updated to allow for contemporary adjustments as times and needs change. The new logo institutes both of these values.” Retrieving my design, I whisper a silent prayer, turning the logo towards the members.
My chest tightens and I feel sweat breaking out at the nape of my neck as I struggle to breathe, waiting, dreading, and anticipating their responses.
“May I take a closer look?” Luke asks.
“Absolutely,” I respond, my voice not quite as strong as before when I hand him the computer with the graphic design.
The eight men take their time passing the design from person to person before Larry Nelson, the longest serving board member, stands, “Young lady, you have a unique touch that I find refreshing. As far as I’m concerned, you have yourself a deal.”
Trying not to throw up, I thank Mr. Nelson before turning toward the others as they unanimously agree. Breck steps next to me, taking my elbow that is currently trembling and pulls me next to him as he places his hand on my back again, effectively calming the swarming butterflies in my stomach. After answering a few questions and thanking the members, Breck leads me to the hallway.
“You handled yourself well in there. Very good job, Ms. Jones,” Breck compliments, handing me a glass of champagne. “Congratulations on your first sale.”
My knees feel like rubber as I take a long sip of the bubbling pink champagne.
“As promised, I will now give you a tour of the house, showing you the art collection, before we join the rest of the party long enough to appease the partners so we can leave.”
“Breck, there you are!” a striking raven-haired woman who appears to be in her mid twenties calls to us as she approaches from across the room.
Breck leans towards me, whispering, “Rich bitch extraordinaire numero uno.”
I hide my smile behind my glass of champagne, taking another long sip as the woman takes Breck’s arm, pulling him away from me and planting a kiss on his cheek, way too close to the corner of his mouth for my liking. “We heard you were here and have been looking for you.”
“Elise, this is Emma Jones, the designer of the logo for the new line.”
“Pleasure,” Elise mumbles, her eyes barely leaving Breck to acknowledge my existence.
A strong dose of jealously slams into me out of nowhere, leaving me shocked with the emotion I’ve rarely experienced and never at this intensity. “Nice to meet you,” I reply politely, not meaning one single word.
“Father is looking for you,” Elise coos, pulling Breck further away.
Breck turns back, “Come on, Emma, I’ll introduce you to Elise’s father, Richard Jefferson, one of my grandfather’s partners.” His last word rolled off his tongue in a distasteful tone meant for only me to understand, and I bite back a laugh.
Elise cuts her eyes towards me, making it obvious I wasn’t invited.
Not sure of what to do, I follow Breck and Elise as she keeps his arm wrapped in hers possessively on the way to the adjoining room where more guests have congregated. Waiters with large trays of delicious looking hors d’-oeuvres pass by, causing my stomach to growl. I skipped lunch and dinner, too nervous about the presentation to be able to eat, at least to eat and keep the food down. Taking another sip of champagne, I make a mental note to not drink too much on an empty stomach, knowing that Jess is right about my being a lightweight.
“I missed you at Father’s fundraiser,” Elise pouts as she tightens her grip on Breck’s arm.
I want to pry her needy fingers off him.
“I wasn’t able to attend,” Breck replies vaguely.
At least it’s not just me who garners glib answers.
“You must come visit me again soon. I’ve redecorated the bedroom,” Elise looks directly at me with the implication, a smug smile spreading across her impeccable features.
Now, beautiful is a word that comes to mind when looking at her. Pompous, spoiled witch are a few more.
“Daddy, look who I found,” Elise gloats, shooting another pointed look my way.
“Breck, glad you could make it,” Mr. Jefferson says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“Mr. Jefferson,” Breck gives a firm shake. Turning towards me, he steps away from Elise and takes my elbow, gently pulling me next to him, “This is Emma Jones.”
“He brought her to present the logo design,” Elise chimes in, her fake smile taunting.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jefferson,” I smile, shaking his hand.
“Where are you from, Ms. Jones?” Mr. Jefferson asks, his smile a bit warmer with me than Breck, but not much.
“South Carolina.”
Elise lets out a little laugh, “Your accent is …adorable.”
“Thank you,” I reply, making sure to keep my tone amiable, not wanting to reduce myself to her snide attitude, but mostly because I don’t want to damage Breck’s relationship with one of the partners in his grandfather’s company, especially knowing they are already on unstable ground with each other.
Breck’s eyes hold an emotion I can’t detect when he looks at me. A warmth spreads through my veins, noticing that his hand is still resting just above my elbow. Elise notices, too, her red lips pressing tightly together at the sight.
“Did the members like your design?” Mr. Jefferson inquires.
“Um. Yes. They seemed to,” I respond, suddenly shy.
Breck gently squeezes my arm.
“They approved it,” I state with more confidence.
Breck’s grip eases, assumedly pleased with my correction.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Jefferson commends, “this will give you accreditation when the design is coupled with the product after it launches.”
My genuine surprise must register on my face because I feel Breck squeeze again, a little tighter this time. The thought of this possibly helping in launching my career never occurred to me. “Thank you,” I manage to say well enough.
“Emma, let me introduce you to some of my friends while Breck and Father talk,” Elise suggests.
I don’t want to go. I don’t like her. Forcing a smile, I step next to her, “That would be great.”
Elise leads me to a group of women dressed in perfection. Their hair and make-up is flawless. Expensive jewelry is wrapped around their slender, elegant necks, wrists, and fingers. I’m definitely not in my normal clique and I miss Jess, wishing she were here with me. A smile springs to my lips at the thought of Jess in a place like this. She’s as beautiful as the most stunning woman here, but she doesn’t hold their set of manners. It would be amusing to hear what she would say to the ice princess, Elise. That’s what I appreciate the most about my friendship with Jess, I always know where I stand, good or bad. I don’t have to guess what she really thinks, like I do with the people here, except with Elise; it’s obvious she hates me.
“Brittany, Jamelle, Lisa, Tonya, this is Emma,” Elise makes the introductions, waving her hand in a bored manner.
Polite greetings are exchanged as each one curiously glances between Breck and me. Of course, they are all trying to figure out if I’m Breck’s new sexual conquest. Anger flushes my cheeks as I realize the only reason Elise brought me over here was to humiliate me. Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“How do you know Breck?” Jamelle asks, beginning the inquisition.
“We have a mutual friend,” I reply smoothly.
“So, you and he aren’t together?” Lisa asks.
“Lisa!” Tonya chastens.
“It’s not like the rest of you weren’t wondering?” Lisa proclaims.
“I’m here strictly for business,” I state truthfully. That piece of truth leaving me a bit raw.
Relief flashes on their faces. Why, I don’t know. If I were one of his conquests, he would be over me by tomorrow.
“You must be close. He’s never brought anyone to one of these parties before,” Brittany states, her eyes studying me.
Hearing that touches my heart and I glance Breck’s way before turning back to Elise when she puffs her lips into a pout, “She’s only here to show the little logo for their new line.”
Beautiful, witchy, and snarky.
“You’re an artist?” Tonya asks, turning her nose up slightly. “Where’s your worked displayed?”
Crap! The dreaded feeling of the inevitable ripping me to shreds is daunting. “I’m meeting with a gallery owner in a couple of weeks.”
“This is your first endeavor?” Elise asks, her eyes brightening wickedly.
Cursing my lack of having the deft ability to be vague like Breck, I force a smile, “Officially, yes.”
“Do the members or the partners know you are only an amateur?” Elise drawls out the last word for spite.
“I have no idea. Does it matter?” I counter, wondering if this could cause problems for Breck.
“I guess not for the new line, but it will be interesting news to some of the partners since they already feel Breck is not qualified for the position, including my father,” Elise gleams.
“That must make your juices flow even hotter for him, Elise,” Lisa laughs.
I’ve seen women like Elise in movies and read about them in books but it is hard to imagine a grown woman going after a man just to make her father mad. I’m sure by the looks of Breck that there are other enticing reasons to pursue him, but Elise seems to find her father’s distaste an added bonus. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“So, what is your real job?” Elise smiles in mock sweetness.
“I work at Shallonelles,” I respond, finding it more difficult to be near her with each passing second.
“A paper girl. How charming,” Elise cracks.
Part of me wants to slap her snide smile off her pretty little face, but my father’s words about being the bigger person enters my mind, soothing me and causing me to miss him at the same time. Prestige means nothing to him, but doing the right thing means everything. Although he’s not perfect, he does his best at practicing what he preaches. I wonder if he would feel the same when faced by a group of piranhas in Gucci heels? Taking a deep breath, I know he would. “Excuse me.”
Gulping the last sip of my champagne, I place it on the tray when a waiter walks by, thanking him when he hands me another glass. I glance around the room and it takes a few seconds before I spot Breck talking with a stunning brunette in the corner. Another stab of the hateful emotion hits me. Fidgeting with the stem of the champagne glass, I remind myself that it doesn’t matter who he converses with, it’s none of my concern. Well, it’s none of my business, anyway.
“He is quite the ladies man isn’t he?” a man with distinguished salt and pepper hair states, tilting his glass of spirits towards Breck’s direction.
Not knowing how or wanting to respond, I just smile politely.
“I’m Dalton Frasier, a partner with Dur Acier.”
“Emma Jones, nice to meet you, Mr. Fraiser.”
“I saw you arrive with Mr. Steele,” Mr. Fraiser states, his eyes roaming over me with a look that sends an uncomfortable chill shooting up my spine.
“I came for a presentation,” I reply, feeling the need to clarify my being here.
“A lovely presentation, I’m sure,” he says, his eyes continuing their lewd journey over the length of my body.
“It was nice meeting you,” I nod, stepping away.
A hand on my elbow stops me. “You’ll be wise to stay away from Breck Steele. He’s a loose cannon and inexperienced in any business other than his restaurant. He can’t handle the big league. Breck will tarnish your reputation in more ways than one.” Mr. Frasier pauses, the carnal look in his eyes leaving nothing to the imagination, “If he hasn’t already.”
Mr. Fraiser tries to pull me closer to him, but I won’t budge, so he takes a step closer to me. He leans close to my ear as I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong, “If you are looking for a quick climb up the ladder, I’ll be happy to help you out.”
Chapter Seven
Impossible, Stubborn Brat!
Breck
The daughter of one of my grandfather’s board members is talking incessantly about her college studies abroad as I try to act as if I care about anything she’s saying while I look for Emma. The feeling of pride at how she nailed the presentation bursts inside of me, leaving me shocked, disconcerted.
Being with her last night left me in a state of unwelcome confusion. The first time I saw her standing in the Dark Hole, my intention was precise, ravish her beautiful body for a few amazing hours and nothing more. Now, I crave her body more than ever, but she leaves me craving something more, something I don’t want to crave. Something I have no right to crave.
Watching her with Elise was amusing. That bitch can be ruthless, but Emma seemed to be holding her own, deepening my pride. Feeling like I should give Emma a reprieve, I glance around the room for Elise and her flock of vultures. Elise spots me, flashing a come-hither smile. I look past her, unable to spot Emma.
Giving an excuse, I leave the babbling brunette to inflict her ramblings on someone else. The disappointment in her eyes shows me the real reason she sought me out. Another shock simmers through me at how I didn’t get hard looking at her ample breasts boasting on display in her short, tight dress. Finally seeing Emma, I can no longer make that claim. My zipper becomes tighter with a painful twitch at the sight of Emma in a considerably more modest dress, but, somehow, looking immensely sexier. She’s fidgeting with her necklace before she begins fidgeting with her champagne glass.
Deciding she’s had enough practice for one night, I head her way, but the brunette has other plans as she steps in front of me. Taking a more direct approach this time, she bites her lip as she runs her hand down the front of my tux. “I’ve heard all about you and your talents.” Her hand slips a little lower, “I’m very interested in personally experiencing what I’ve heard.”
“I didn’t come here alone tonight. Besides, you should never trust rumors,” I reply, letting her down easy as I look over her shoulder. Any other night, I would have obliged her offer, finding the nearest room and fucking her until I proved the truth behind the rumors I’m sure she’s heard since I don’t do anything to hide the fact that I like women. A lot of women.
It hits me that, tonight, she, and the rest of them, do nothing for me. Except Emma. The way she smiled last night, how she looked wrapped in my blazer staring out into the rain flashes through my mind, and everything inside of me tenses at the realization that Emma’s getting to me, changing me. I won’t let that happen.
Needing to get Emma so I can take her home and leave her there, riots inside me as I quicken my stride. Fraiser steps next to Emma, fucking her with his eyes, and anger blazes as I move faster. She turns to leave, invoking another dose of pride, but the bastard grabs her elbow, keeping her there. I don’t know what he’s saying to her, but by the look on her face, I have an idea.
“I won’t be climbing anyone’s ladder, Mr. Fraiser,” I hear Emma hiss as she yanks her arm from his grasp. “And, you’re wrong about Breck. From what I’ve seen so far, he seems to be handling things just fine.”
Stepping in between Emma and Fraiser, I notice Emma blush when she realizes that I heard her. Taking in her rigid stance and her quickened breathing, my concern intensifies. “Are you alright?” I ask before turning towards Fraiser, the warning in my eyes clear as he takes a step away from me.
“I’m fine,” Emma lies, “it was just a misunderstanding.”
“If he was inappropriate with you in any way, Emma, tell me. I will take care of him,” I assure her, knowing Fraiser can hear every word.
Emma meets my gaze, confusion clouding her blue eyes. Her voice is calmer when she lies to me again, insisting everything’s fine.
Stepping towards Fraiser, I grab his arm, squeezing it
like a vise as I lean in close, so only he can hear the promise of painful retribution, “I don’t give a damn if you don’t like me, but you keep your issues with me between us. I don’t know what you said to Emma, but if you upset or touch her again, I will rip you apart and I don’t just mean financially.”
Fraiser swallows hard as he takes a few more steps back. Releasing his arm, I know I’ve left a mark that will remind him of this conversation for a few days.
Gently taking Emma’s elbow, I do a quick visual exam, making sure Fraiser’s grip didn’t leave a mark on her. If it did, I would beat the hell out of him right now, but, thankfully, no blemishes appear on her soft, smooth skin. “Let’s say our good-byes so we can put tonight behind us.”
Sadness flashes through her eyes before she quickly looks away.
“Are you sure you are alright, Emma?”
Nodding her head, she takes a shaky sip of her champagne before putting the glass down. “Take me home.”
Suddenly, I don’t want to take her home. I want to spend the rest of the night with her, doing whatever she wants to do, even looking at paintings from people who have been dead for ages. Swearing softly under my breath, I let go of her, trying to let go of this trance she has me in.
Reiterating my decision, I remind myself that I will take her home, and I will be done with her. Quickening my pace, she has to rush to catch up as I disregard the need of polite pleasantries being exchanged before leaving. Her words to Frasier ring in my head. I don’t need her defending me from whatever she was defending me from. I don’t want to need anything from her.
“Are you leaving?” Elise’s voice carries through the foyer.
Groaning, I turn around, finding her scurrying after me as Emma is glancing at the paintings on the wall I never had the chance to show her. “It’s late. Emma has to work in the morning.”
“At the paper?” Elise asks, not trying to hide her catty tone.
Emma fidgets with her necklace again. “No. I also work at a gallery,” Emma’s voice is a little soft, but her gaze is steady, not breaking Elise’s for one second.
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