But then it hit me.
How exactly was I going explain our newfound wealth to Greg? He was such an old fashioned guy. He was always talking about how he was going take care of me. He didn’t have to say anything, but I could tell it stung already that my job with Marianne paid way more than his hourly rate at the bar.
And if I was putting him through school, too? Being the breadwinner?
I don’t think his masculinity could handle it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Jessica, glad you’re here!” Blake said loudly, as if he wanted the whole room to hear. “I want you to meet my partner, Alex Wiltshire.”
And as he whisked me across the private function suite of The 212, I felt his hand come to rest gently on the small of my back, his touch separated only by the silk of my dress. All my anger at his mind games, all my resolve not to think about him in that way, simply melted away. Because once you found yourself in a room with Blake Matthews, it was dangerously easy to fall back under his spell.
“Great dress,” he murmured in my ear.
I couldn’t help but grin with pleasure. I felt like he was showing me off, like he was actually proud of me.
My eyes darted once more towards Greg, hoping he wasn’t getting jealous or suspicious, but no, he looked like he was having a great time, chatting away happily to some elderly business mogul that Blake had introduced him to.
Obviously I’d been nervous about Greg and Blake finally meeting, but it had happened so quickly, not much more than a ‘hello’ and a handshake, yet I had this weird feeling that they were still sizing each other up from across the room.
I’m just going to have to do my best to keep them apart.
“Jessica, meet my right-hand man, Alex Wiltshire,” Blake said, gesturing me towards a silver-haired older gent in a sharp dark grey suit.
“Ah, so this is the Jessica we’ve heard so much about …” he said, his face breaking out in a warm smile, his accent transatlantic. I’m not one for older guys, and this guy was probably older than my dad, but I had to admit that he was rather handsome in a certain kind of a way.
“Alex is the brains behind the operation,” Blake explained, playfully.
“Nonsense,” Wiltshire replied. “Don’t listen to him! My position on the board is simply an advisory one. You wouldn’t expect it, but dear old Blake here loves to do himself down. Don’t you, boy?”
“Something like that,” Blake shrugged with a grin.
There was something endearing about the friendly way the two men sparred, with Blake adopting the boyish innocent role, that reminded me of a father and son. It was another new side to Blake, one I was enjoying seeing, an innocent kindness and, yes, that reassuring warmth I saw so rarely.
I cast another quick glance across the room at Greg, so enthusiastic yet so out-of-place in his cheap Target suit jacket and bartending slacks, and I felt a twinge of sadness.
“So Jessica, when are you going to turn your expert skills to some of the more outdated hotels in our portfolio then?” Wiltshire continued.
Is he joking?
“Well, I don’t know,” I stuttered. “I mean, I’d love to but, I mean, of course I would, if you really mean it?” My head was swimming, and my words were a garbled rush, escaping my mouth two at a time.
The two men laughed at my enthusiastic outpouring.
“Hey, I can’t spare her just yet!” Blake chimed, “I want to get my apartment finished first.”
“So where did you find her, anyway?” Wiltshire asked.
“I poached her,” Blake said, and I felt my skin break out in a cold sweat. “From Marianne Martinelli.”
I quickly shot a panicked look at Greg.
Why haven’t I thought about this until now?
Why didn’t I think about the very real possibility of Blake telling Greg that I worked for him now?
After all, it’s not like Blake knows it’s a secret.
I just need to make sure that doesn’t happen, and fast …
“I’m really sorry, Mr Wiltshire” I cut in, “but I just need to have a private word with Blake about something. We’ll be right back …”
Blake gave me a puzzled look, but followed me across the room, right out through the door that led to the little alcove by the bathrooms, nestled away out of sight from the main function room.
Once we were safely on our own, I turned back to Blake, surprised to find him so near to me, surprised to see that, yes, he was moving in even closer, backing me right up against the wall, closing up the few inches of space between us until my head was spinning from the heady scent of his cologne and the fact that his full sensual lips were only inches from mine.
I could feel my heart pounding as I realized what was happening.
He’s mistaken my actions ...
He’s misread my obvious need to get him alone ...
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that escaped it was a breathy gasp as I felt his fingers firmly cup my buttock, his leg slipping between mine, my skirt sliding upwards as, for some reason, I allowed it all to happen, even finding myself parting my legs a little so that his thigh would slide even further between mine.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he whispered, his words just hot breath, his lips tantalizingly close to mine. “At the party, it was you …”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied quietly, hearing the obvious trembling nervous excitement in my voice, feeling his muscular thigh brushing softly against my yearning, throbbing sex.
“It was you,” Blake repeated, his leg now slipping away, but something else taking its place.
His fingers.
I could feel his touch travelling upwards, tracing a soft line up the tingling flesh of my inner thigh, headed right towards the flimsy cotton of my panties.
“You who watched me from the shadows …”
His hand moved further upwards.
“You who watched me jacking my cock …”
His touch traced further still, until his fingers lightly flitted over my throbbing mound then began to actually slip inside my panties. I knew I should stop him, but instead I remained frozen in place.
“You who slipped her hand into her panties and began playing with herself as she watched me …”
I felt his finger slowly begin to work my clit, sending a deep shiver through me.
“I watched you come that night, Jessica,” he continued, working me in a slow rhythmic motion, “and now I want to watch you come again.”
I closed my eyes as I felt myself actually begin to ride his hand, grinding myself against him, feeling his expert touch coaxing fresh shivers of pleasure from my trembling body with each subtle motion it made, my lips brushing lightly against his in an almost-kiss, his fingers plunging so beautifully into my warm, willing wetness …
You can’t do this.
Not now, not here ...
I froze, realizing, reaching down and yanking his hand away from me, suddenly overcome with a horrible nauseous guilt.
“No,” I murmured. “No, stop. Not like this.”
“You sure you want me to stop?” Blake said, still in that same slow suggestive tone as before, raising his fingers between us, both of us registering just how much they sparkled with my juices in the dim lighting.
“Please,” I murmured, “Please.”
Oh, this is all turning into such a stupid mess …
And when Blake began to finally realize what was happening, watching my bottom lip begin to tremble as the hot sting of tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, his face quickly changed, from that of animal lust to genuine concern.
“Jessica, wait …” he said, as I turned and fled, into the safety of the ladies’ restrooms. “Jesus Christ,” I heard him mutter to himself, just before the heavy door swung shut.
I locked myself away in the farthest stall, sat down on the lid, rested my head in my hands, and then burst into tears.
§
I don’t know how long I�
�d been in the bathroom for when I finally dragged myself back to my feet and fixed my makeup in the large ornate sink above the faucets. But when I headed back into the function room, I could tell immediately that something had changed.
Oh no.
Anything but that.
There was Blake, talking to Greg, and even from the other end of the room I could tell that there was a weird vibe between them — Blake had his back to me, but Greg sought me out the very moment I set foot in the room. His eyes were black and narrow and cold in a way I don’t think I’d ever seen them before, as he slowly nodded at whatever Blake was saying.
The sense of dread increased with each step closer I took, and by the time I finally reached them, I felt just about ready to die.
“Oh, great to see you two getting along!” I said, as innocently as I could. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, Blake here,” Greg said, his teeth gritted, his voice shaking with controlled rage, “was just telling me about how happy he was that he’d poached you from Marianne. So, when the fuck were you going tell me?”
“Greg, I’m sorry,” I began. “If you’d just let me explain. It all happened so fast …”
“Actually, you know what, Jessica?” he cut in. “I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. I think I’d better leave you alone with your new boss.”
His voice was shaking with anger, and I shot Blake a venomous look, even though I knew it wasn’t his fault. After all, it’s not like I’d actually told him I was keeping secrets from my boyfriend, had I?
“Greg, please! Wait!” I cried, as I watched him push past Blake, knocking his shoulder as he barged towards the exit.
“Look,” Blake said, turning to me, “if I said something wrong just then, I really didn’t mean to.”
“Forget it,” I snapped, my own voice now shaking with rage.
“And about before,” he continued.
“What did I just say?” I hissed, turning to chase Greg out through the function room, heading frantically for the exit, not even bothering to collect my coat, my only focus now on finding Greg and apologizing properly, on fixing this whole sorry mess somehow.
The cold air hit me like a punch in the face. There was a fine rain falling too, and it quickly soaked through the silk of my dress as I dashed out onto the sidewalk, looking frantically left then right, no clue whether he’d gone in search of a cab, or to drown his sorrows at a bar somewhere, or decided to walk as far as he could home to blow off some steam.
Knowing Greg, it would probably be the latter, so I turned and began to race, quickly as I could in the direction of our apartment.
I turned a corner and there, right at the other end of the street, I saw him, walking sadly away, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat. I felt my heart reach out to him — this man who meant so much to me, who’s loved me so long and so completely, who still means whole fucking world to me, who had been my first lover, my soul mate, my everything, and who I’d hurt so very much …
“Greg, wait!” I called, chasing towards him, feeling the cold drizzle of rain against my skin, hearing the echoey click of my heels ricocheting around the otherwise empty street.
But he showed no sign of stopping, even quickening his pace, storming away from me, forcing me to run in an attempt to catch up with him, risking a twisted ankle or worse in these stupidly impractical heels.
As I ran I cried out again, “Greg, please!’ and maybe it was this that finally caused him to stop and turn, his face twisted in such a hurt, angry grimace it caught me a little by surprise.
His eyes looked red and sore, too, as if he’d actually been crying.
“Greg, I’m sorry,” I panted, trying my hardest to catch my breath, unsure whether to move in close or keep my distance.
“I thought I knew you,” he spat.
“You do,” I urged, meaning it with all my heart. “You do know me, more than anyone.”
“So how come that smarmy bastard knew something I didn’t? And I thought he was supposed to be old and boring and ugly … Do you think I’m stupid, Jessica? He looks like a fucking movie star!”
I shook my head, desperate for Greg to understand just how much I cared for him, how this was all just a silly white lie that had gotten quickly out of hand, and was not at all about hurting him …
But I just didn’t know where in the world to begin.
“I’m sorry,” I pleaded, feeling the tears welling up once more. “I just knew that this was how you’d act if you found out …”
“You know what?” he cried. “I’m done. With this. With all of this. See you later.”
He turned and began to stomp off.
“Please! Don’t!” I sobbed, falling to my knees on the pavement, not even caring if I ruined this stupid six-hundred dollar dress. “Just don’t do this. Please. Not like this ...”
I was surprised that my words had any effect but they did. He actually stopped and turned around, walking back to me, taking his place before me once more. I could feel the hot tears now sliding down my cheeks, the cold drizzle landing on my skin, my chest rising and falling, my dress soaked right through, as I picked myself back up.
His face was screwed up with emotion, his mouth curled in a snarl, his hands balled into hard, angry fists.
“What do you mean, ‘done’?” I asked again, quieter.
“I don’t want to say anything I regret …” Greg replied.
“Say it,” I urged.
“Well, I’m not sure I …”
He looked away, down the wet empty street behind us.
“I’m not sure I wanna be with you any more.”
The words hit me hard, causing my head to spin.
“What?” I said quietly.
“You heard,” he continued in a low, quiet tone. “You know, when we first got together, I could tell you were really into me, and all my stupid insecurities kind of faded away. But ever since your first meeting with that guy, Blake, you’ve been in a world of your own. I’d suspected something was up for a while now. You never listen to me anymore ... You’ve not been yourself … You’ve been floating around with your head in the clouds for weeks now, like some lovesick teenager. And again and again, I told myself it was nothing. Just my old jealous routine, rearing its ugly head. But tonight, I realized that maybe I really should have something to worry about. ‘Cause you like that guy, don’t you? Blake Matthews. There’s something there, isn’t there, Jessica? Isn’t there?”
I shook my head, but found myself unable to speak.
I could tell Greg was waiting for me to reply, to plead my innocence, but I suddenly felt so weighed down, so heavy with guilt and sadness that I might actually sink right through the concrete sidewalk we were standing on.
“This is the part where you tell me it isn’t true,” Greg said, quietly, his voice trembling.
And at that moment, I knew I had two choices: Either plead with all my heart and convince him that nothing was going on between Blake and I, or …
My head told me to do it, to try and win Greg back — to make one last attempt at getting our relationship back on track. But at the same time, my heart told me it was fruitless. I’d already gone too far with Blake, mentally if not physically. There was already so much hidden from Greg, so much he still didn’t know.
“Jessica?” he said, softly. “Please. Please tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me I’m just going crazy and paranoid and jealous again. Please tell me nothing is really going on between you and Blake.”
“I can’t,” I said quietly, shaking my head, the hot tears spilling down my cheeks.
I stayed where I was, rooted to the spot, as I watched the only man I’d ever loved turn and walk away into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Okay, I’ll be back to check in on you at lunchtime,” Fallon said tenderly, as she left for work that morning.
“You really don’t need to,” I croaked from my makeshift nest of duvets and pillows on the sofa.
&nb
sp; “Don’t I?” she asked with a wry grin. “You’ve barely moved all week. I’d better come back and turn you over at least, or you’ll get bedsores.”
“I’m fine,” I said, my throat sore and my eyes puffy from crying.
As she left, the door to her apartment swung closed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
On my own again, at last.
No need to explain myself.
I sniffed, wiping my face with the scruffy old sleeve of my PJs.
Marianne would have a field day if she could see me now ...
How right she was.
I’d been crying not only because I was destroyed about the break-up, but because I was so insanely frustrated with myself and my behavior too. Greg was right. When I looked back over the way I’d been acting recently, it was as if I’d been possessed by some devilish force, some cruel bitch who’d decided to systematically screw up every little aspect of my life, piece by piece.
I’d quit a perfectly secure, well-paying job to work for some rich prick who’d probably only hired me in the hope of sleeping with me (as he’d made clear that night), and I’d just thrown away a four-year relationship with the guy I thought I was gonna marry.
And for what?
It was not as if Blake had shown any kind of real care or concern; after I’d left the event, he’d not even been in touch, not once.
Neither had Greg, and I was way too guilty and nervous to make first contact. I’d been planning to write him a long letter, but every time I attempted to think of what I wanted to say, the words and thoughts and feelings all just jumbled up into such a big tangled frustrating ball of nonsense that, once again, I’d find myself curled up and sobbing into one of the many colorful throw pillows, here on Fallon’s couch, the place I’d been camped out all week.
No, the only calls I’d been getting recently were from Mom and Pop — ringing two or three times a day, leaving voicemails when I didn’t answer, and each time trying to convince me to come back home, “just for a few weeks.”
Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy Page 10