Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy

by Eve, Charlotte

  I took a quick nervous glance towards the door. It would be so easy to just get the hell out of here. I had a really bad feeling about this whole thing all of a sudden. He just seemed so sleazy.

  But maybe I was just being stupid.

  Blake trusted him, after all. And he’s just from a different generation. I’d seen Mad Men – I knew how long it took these kinds of guys to get used to women who weren’t just secretaries. He was just a little old-fashioned, that’s all.

  Plus, if I was getting it wrong and I left now, then I’d blow it for good. There would be no way Alex would give me any more work in the future, not to mention what he might say to Blake about me.

  And it was this final reminder — that Alex was one of Blake’s friends after all — that made me swallow back my nerves and take a seat next to him on the old, creaking leather couch.

  “That’s a good girl,” Alex murmured as I lowered myself into an awkward perch, right on the edge of the sofa, knees together, back rigid, my portfolio clutched tightly to my chest. “So, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

  See Jessica?

  This is just like a job interview.

  What were you worried about?

  And so I began to tell him my story.

  “Well,” I said, “I guess it began with my doll’s house at home. I just loved to decorate it, making furniture and soft furnishings out of any spare scraps I could find around the house.”

  I thought that starting off like this might lighten the mood. And I felt guilty for being so uptight. Alex smiled at me. It seemed like it was actually going well ...

  “So I majored in Interior Design at Savannah,” I continued. “And really, if you wanna make it in this business, then New York is the only place to be. So ...”

  Just then I stopped, feeling something begin to brush gently against the skin of my knee. I glanced down. It was his hand.

  What the fuck?

  I sat, rigid, unable to speak, unable to think as his fingers traced their way upwards, in the steady direction of my skirt.

  “Go on,” he growled. “You were saying?”

  I shifted away from him, away from his hand, as far as I could, right down to the very farthest edge of the sofa.

  “I was actually working in, um, in Barney’s when I got a lucky break and ...”

  Alex shifted up the sofa too, once more closing the space between us, leaning in to me, his hand sliding back onto my knee.

  “Keep going, this is fascinating,” he breathed in my ear, the smell of whiskey so strong on his breath that it made my eyes water.

  I wanted to get away from him but there was nowhere left to go.

  “Say,” I croaked, glancing once more towards the door. “I think I’d better get going.”

  “No, no, no,” he hissed. “Don’t go just yet. Carry on with your little story, Jessica. Blake’s told me just what a clever girl you are. But now I want to hear it for myself ...”

  I couldn’t move. I found myself totally frozen there, like a rabbit in the headlights, unable to believe this was even happening, my heart beginning to pound, as Wiltshire’s hand worked even further upwards, actually pushing beneath my skirt now.

  At that, I sprang back into action, grabbing at his wrist, but he forced his way even further between my legs, his fingers now tugging at my panties, trying to work their way right inside me. And with his other hand, he’d begun wrestling with his belt, undoing his pants, his hot whisky breath coming in wheezy spurts from his leering mouth as he pushed himself right on top of me, pinning me beneath him on the creaking sofa.

  “Stop, please!” I gasped, trying to get away from him, but he wrestled his heavy body further on top of me, his other hand now grabbing my wrist and pinning me in place, his hard little cock jabbing at my thigh.

  “I know you want it, clever girl,” he hissed. “After all, that’s how it worked with Blake, wasn’t it? Tell me, did you agree a fee upfront for your services, or did he pay you cash in hand?”

  “Don’t! Alex! Please! Let me go!” I moaned, trying in vain to struggle free from his grip.

  Is this really happening?

  I could feel his fingers tearing my panties, his cock brushing my leg, his horrible sour breath against my face.

  I knew how this was going to turn out if Alex got his way. And I had done nothing to ask for this.

  But I wasn’t about to lie here, wishing that I’d left his apartment sooner or never come in the first place, and let him have his way with me. And all the anger that had been storing up inside me this whole evening while I felt paralyzed suddenly burst out of me.

  I brought my knee up hard, hitting him square between the legs, sending him rolling off me, letting go of my wrists as he cupped himself, crying out and yelping in pain.

  “Fucking bitch!” he shouted, red-faced, wincing and rolling on the floor.

  I got to my feet and sprinted towards the door, the whole room lurching.

  I heard the door slamming behind me as I ran back down the dim corridor, my footsteps echoing as I ran down God-knows-how-many flights of stairs, fast as I could, hoping he wasn’t chasing after me.

  It was only when I was back out on the street that I stopped, catching my breath for a moment, gasping at the cold late-November air.

  What do I do?

  Where do I go now?

  I turned and once more, I ran.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Miss Clarke! Is everything okay?” Collins asked, the concern flashing across his kindly old face. “You look a little ...”

  “I’m fine,” I interrupted, turning away, not wanting him to see me like this, knowing what a damned state I must look – my hair tangled, my skirt torn, my mascara running down my cheeks in horrible black streaks. “It’s nothing to worry about, really. I’d just like to go up to Mr Matthew’s apartment for a moment please, if I may?”

  “Why certainly. And if there’s absolutely anything else I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you, Collins.”

  It took all I could to hold back the tears as the elevator took us up to Blake’s apartment. And the very moment the doors swished open I’d rushed out, hammering hard on the mahogany door, not stopping until it opened, revealing Blake looking somewhat confused and perhaps a little disheveled, like I’d woken him from a nap, only a plush white cotton robe wrapped around him.

  I fell into his arms, sobbing hard, so glad to just finally be near him again.

  I didn’t care any more about our stupid little quarrel. None of that mattered now. I just needed to be near him, because Blake was the only person who could fix this, the only person who could comfort me and make me feel safe now.

  “Jesus, Jessica. What’s the matter? What’s happened to you?” he asked, concerned.

  “I need to come in,” I said shakily.

  He seemed to hesitate for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure, sure, where are my manners,” he mumbled. “Come in.”

  He helped me through to the living room and urged me towards the sofa.

  “You need me to fetch you anything?” he said, then paused in the doorway to the kitchen, turning back to join me on the couch. “God, what’s wrong Jessica?”

  “It was Alex,” I sobbed, once I could just about bring myself to speak again. “I went to see him for a business meeting, and he …”

  “Who’s Alex, Jessica? What’s he done to you?”

  “Alex Wiltshire,” I whispered. And even saying his name brought a sour taste to my mouth.

  “Wait, hang on a moment, I really don’t understand,” Blake said, shaking his head. “What has he got to do with any of this?”

  “Well, he …” I began, taking a deep breath.

  I felt so ashamed, like it was my fault somehow. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words; what he’d done to me. And this was Blake’s friend, his business partner. How the hell do you break the news to someone that their friend is a monster?

  I looked d
own to at the floor, at the rug we’d chosen together, summoned all my courage, then looked Blake straight in the eye.

  “He tried to assault me,” I said coldly. “At his apartment, earlier this evening. I’d gone round to talk over a business proposition, but in the end it turned out that he just wanted to try and ... rape me.”

  “He what?” Blake gasped, getting to his feet and beginning to pace the room. “Wait. Listen. There’s got to be some kind of mistake Alex just wouldn’t do something like that.”

  He shook his head, still trying to process what I’d just told him.

  “Blake,” I said. “Believe me. I wish there’d been a mistake. He said it was a business meeting. He invited me to this sleazy apartment. He reeked of booze. And then the next thing I knew? He had his hand up my skirt. He called me a slut and wanted to know how much you’d paid for me. I’m sorry, Blake, but it’s the truth.”

  And as I spoke, the memories came flashing back: the disgusting cigar smell of his apartment, the oppressively low lighting, the sleazy music, and the feel of his hot hands pinning my wrists against the cold leather of his couch.

  You know you want it, slut ...

  “But are you absolutely sure about all this?” he replied. “Because this is a pretty serious accusation you’re making here, Jessica. Now, tell me exactly what happened ...”

  I scanned his face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, and I felt a sharp, stinging frustration as I realized that he didn’t believe me. It had never crossed my mind that he would think that I was, well, not lying exactly, but ...

  “Okay,” I continued. “Well, like I said, he invited me for a business meeting. I went to his apartment, in Chelsea.”

  “Wait,” Blake cut in. “But Alex doesn’t live in Chelsea ...”

  I let out a bitter laugh.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think he does live there. It was dirty and cheap. He probably keeps it for somewhere to take hookers. He forced himself on me, Blake. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  “I just don’t believe it,” Blake murmured, shaking his head. “There must be some sort of mistake. Perhaps he just got the wrong idea? Thought you were giving out signals?”

  “What?” I croaked.

  “I’m just saying that there has to be some sort of misunderstanding here. I’ve known Alex for years. And I just can’t believe that he’d do something like that. Also, you have to understand, things have been pretty difficult for him after his wife left. I know he’s had a lot of pressures at work, too. He’d been drinking a lot, but I thought he had that back under control. You see what I’m saying?”

  I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. It actually seemed like Blake was trying to whitewash the situation. Did he really think it was okay for Alex to do this to me, just because work was ‘difficult’? I felt absolutely wretched at that moment, and it seemed as if things just couldn’t get any worse.

  But of course, I was wrong.

  Because at that moment, I heard a soft female voice – a strangely familiar voice – calling from the doorway.

  “Blake? Baby? Who’s there? Are you coming back to bed soon?”

  My eyes shot to the doorway: and standing there in silky black lingerie was the girl from the door to Blake’s club. I recognized those emerald green eyes immediately, not to mention her perfect body.

  “Oh, hello,” she said with a wry smile when she laid eyes on me.

  I looked back to Blake, who turned away from me, shaking his head.

  “Jessica, Juliet. Juliet, Jessica,” he said coldly.

  Wait, did he just say Juliet?

  As in “ My PA, Juliet”?

  I felt stupid for even being surprised. Of course he was fucking the girl who’d arranged all our meetings, the girl who’d paid my wages, the very same girl who worked the door at all his parties.

  Is there nobody in this city he hasn’t slept with?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, pushing myself unsteadily to my feet, feeling the whole room begin to spin. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’d better leave you to it ...”

  “Jessica, wait,” Blake urged, but I didn’t wait to hear any more.

  I ran back to the door, slamming it behind me hard, then jabbing repeatedly at the button for the elevator.

  A stupid part of me thought Blake might actually follow me into the lobby, but he didn’t.

  It felt like forever for the elevator doors to swish open. And this time, I didn’t hide my tears from Collins. I fell into his arms, sobbing hard into his brushed woolen jacket, my whole body shuddering from the sheer force of my sadness.

  “Oh, Miss Clarke,” he said gently. “I’m so sorry.”

  The doors swished closed, and Collins set the elevator heading back down to the ground floor.

  I’d just about pulled myself together again by the time we reached the reception.

  “Thank you, Collins,” I said. “And goodbye.”

  “Will I be seeing you tomorrow for work, Miss Clarke?” he replied, giving me a hopeful smile, his eyes twinkling.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “I don’t think so.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I looked over the row of vases, assessing them – trying to use my training and expertise to rank them from worst to best. Some of them were downright awful, gaudy and horribly patterned with chintzy flower-petal designs, but there were a couple — a long green one, and a dewdrop-shaped bright white one — that were actually rather elegant. And if I set them apart from the rest, they even looked rather good. I was still halfway through my rearrangements, when I heard a loud, nasal voice behind me.

  “Jessica? Don’t tell me you’re still on those vases?”

  I turned around. It was Sylvia, come to pester me again. She frowned at me from over the top of her insane, bright purple horn-rimmed glasses then shook her head, her bouffant hairdo wobbling and shining in the harsh overhead strip-lighting.

  “Sorry, Sylvia,” I said. “Almost finished ...”

  “Well, get a move on, dear. Because once you’re done there, I’m gonna need you to give the place a full hoover. And make sure to dust down all the shelves first, too. Oh and if you get a chance, can you take out today’s trash before you leave? There’s a good girl. Ooh, and that reminds me, I’ll need to show you how to lock up the shutters, for nights when I’m not here.”

  “Yes, Sylvia,” I replied quietly, too depressed and downhearted to remind her that I already knew how to lock the shutters. How could I forget? After all, hadn’t I done it before? On the hundreds of evenings I’d worked in this store, part-time, all throughout high school? And from what I’d seen today on my first shift back, almost nothing had changed.

  I sighed, looking around the cluttered store, stuffed full of tacky Christmas decorations and even tackier permanent displays.

  Then I glanced up at the large pastel pink clock hanging above the register. Only two more hours until Mom came to pick me up.

  §

  As we drove through the snow-covered main street of Glenbrook Falls, I gazed out at the shop fronts, all glittering away with their festive decorations, and realized that this whole town was exactly the same as Sylvia’s Boutique: nothing ever changed around here, and I had to admit, there was something comforting about things being just how I remembered them.

  After all, wasn’t that why I’d run back home in the first place? For some of that homespun warmth and safety? And Glenbrook Falls always looked so beautiful in the holidays.

  From the wide grin now fixed to my mom’s face as she drove, I could tell that she for one was especially glad to have me home.

  “So how was your first day back?” she cooed, without taking her eyes off the road.

  “Fine,” I replied, trying – and failing -- to summon any kind of real enthusiasm. Not that Mom would notice.

  “Oh baby, it’s so good to have you back again at last!” she gushed, obviously unable to keep her true feelings
to herself any longer.

  “It’s good to be here,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the road, too, watching the familiar places and faces flash past: there was the lamppost by the corner store, where I’d had my first ever kiss with Billy Adams.

  And wait ... was that Billy Adams himself, bundled up in a winter coat and scarf, now a grown man, lugging a large bag of firewood behind him?

  I smiled sadly and shook my head, realizing that this time I wasn’t just back for Christmas ...

  We pulled into the driveway and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw that Pop had finally got out all our old decorations down from the attic: the rickety light-up reindeer was standing proudly on the garage roof, and on the front lawn was the sleigh he’d built himself from old scraps of wood, twinkling with strings of colorful lights.

  I followed Mom into the warmth of the house and just like always, the first thing I heard was the TV blaring away, and then a moment later Pop’s soft snores, as he dozed in front of it, slumped in his favorite reclining chair after a hard day’s work at the garage, his feet warming in front of the fire.

  “There’s meatloaf in the oven,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Dinner should be on the table in about half an hour.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I replied, padding through to watch her as she worked in the kitchen for a moment.

  “Can I have a hug?” I asked quietly.

  “Of course, sweetie!” she replied, opening her arms wide.

  I closed my eyes, wishing her soft warm hug could go on forever, feeling her softly stroke my hair, just like she used to do, back when I was a little girl.

  “There, there,” she cooed gently. “You’re home now, baby. Back where you belong.”

  “I think I’m gonna take a nap,” I said. “Can you call me when dinner’s ready?”