by Orla Bailey
“Why don’t you ask the boy’s colleague?” Jack says coldly and dismissively of Gunn. He indicates Amanda and I’m delighted he’s calling her bluff, even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it. “This is Amanda Devereaux of Advance Advertising.”
She steps reluctantly forward and we all turn to face her. I bite my inner cheeks to stop myself smiling as I wait to see what she’ll say about it now she’s painted herself into a sticky little corner. If she tries to denounce me she’ll alienate both Advance from Zee-Com and, more importantly, herself from Jack.
Either way I can’t lose.
“Ben Gunn is, as Jack says, a junior colleague of mine at Advance. The night of the annual Commerce Ball was a reason to celebrate for all of us. Jack shared the news of his engagement with a few friends and colleagues. He counted Advance amongst them as they had just been awarded a very lucrative contract with Zee-Com. Advance was, naturally, delighted for them both.”
Her voice is high and strained. She speaks slowly and I suspect she’s still casting around in her brain looking for something she can say that will fulfil her intention of damaging me without denouncing herself. I wonder if she could possibly be that good. Revealing the news of the contract was necessary, I have to admit, but I notice she failed to mention it was temporary.
“Ben Gunn was promised more responsibility and a significant raise in salary that day, as a result. The ball was the first time he had been invited to represent Advance at such a prestigious event.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if to say money and promotion is all young men think about these days. “He became, shall we say, a little over-enthusiastic in his congratulations.” She puts her hand beside her mouth as if making a theatrically whispered aside. “Personally I blame it on all that free Champagne.”
Everyone, except Jack and I laugh nervously. She hasn’t implicated me in any way. It’s almost a disappointment. I really wanted Jack to see her for what she is, but she conducts herself with seasoned aplomb. I don’t suppose she’s become such a serious manipulator of the truth without plenty of practice.
The reporters look to Jack for confirmation.
“Gunn has apologised profusely for his social and professional gaffe. My girl and I are not offended with anyone except you lot who tried to make it out to be something it’s not.” Jack glares at Yannis. “Any more of that and my lawyers will be having a serious word with your Editor-in-Chief.”
Yannis shifts in his seat. He’s a young man after promotion too and I think he’s just realised which is the safest horse to back. “Thank you, Mr Keogh.” He desists his impertinent questions.
Jack has no qualms in throwing his considerable weight and influence about. I almost feel sorry for Yannis. It isn’t easy to cross Jack Keogh. I know.
I’m reminded of the boardroom where I first re-encountered Jack. He practically threw Advance out of his building and then brazenly made his outlandish deal with me. How things have changed in those few short weeks. Yet there remains one constant.
I love him.
“If there are any more questions about business matters perhaps you could direct them to me later.” Amanda addresses the journalists. “Please stick to questions about the engagement for now. Advance have placed me at Mr Keogh’s disposal twenty-four seven, at his specific request.” She stares at me in challenge when she delivers those last stinging words. “So I can offer my very personal services to him and to Zee-Com.” She hands out business cards with her number on as I try to absorb the information.
I glance at Jack and the look he returns shows it’s absolutely true. I’m shocked. Horrified. I want to jump up and scream at him. He knows it immediately and this time, places his hand in warning over mine to prevent me reacting. It clearly isn’t news to him.
All that rushes through my head for the next few questions is when the hell was 24/7 decided upon and why the hell didn’t he bother to tell me? Why does it have to be Amanda at his disposal day and night? As if I couldn’t guess. He’s the most deceitful man I know.
Jack continues to answer questions put to us by the reporters and I have no idea what he’s saying in reply. I’m far too preoccupied with my own dire thoughts.
I scowl at Amanda’s amused, botoxed face. She knows she’s got to me. I expect she’s only waiting around in the hopes I’ll make a complete fool of myself. For once, I won’t give her the satisfaction. I store it all up ready to let rip at Jack once we’re finally alone.
I pull myself together when media focus turns inevitably to the ring. The size and colour and beauty of the thing I exclaim over, as expected. I pose for photographs of it while Jack explains that it comes from the Argyll diamond mines in Australia and is a very rare, flawless and valuable specimen. He tells them which Hatton Garden jeweller he trusted to cut it and that Garrard of Albemarle Street, Royal Warrant holders, designed it to his personal specifications but he refuses to tell them exactly how much it cost him in total.
He makes my presence in the room the reason for that. “Let’s just say a perfectly acceptable amount of money, considering the amazing woman it’s meant for.”
That should appease Amanda, I think, bitterly.
I play my part but I’m on auto-pilot as I express it means so much more to me than its exquisite magnificence. Drifting back into real memory and my own true feelings, I recount the moment Jack gave it to me on bended knee. Everyone’s eyes are fixed on me as I talk.
Jack and I gaze at each other solemnly. He appears to be as lost in his feelings as I am in mine. When he kisses me it’s not for the camera. For me, it’s for real. It feels very sad as I know his feelings for me are not the same as the ones I have for him. I expect he’s showing me he’s sorry he can’t feel the same way.
He’s given Advance a temporary contract but he’s also given Amanda total access to him, no doubt to appease her for the awful indignity he’s subjecting her to, announcing to the world that it’s me he loves and wishes to marry.
I picture a moment in the future when he does this all over again. With her. She’s wearing the pink diamond token of his love and they’re both explaining to reporters how he discovered I’m not the woman he truly loves after all, but that the loyal, devoted Amanda is the one.
Right now I have it in my possession and will do all in my power to keep it. I hold my fingers aloft and wave it at her. I can be so childish sometimes. I pretend a look of triumph on my face and am pacified to see her scowl as I lean my head on Jack’s shoulder. As I tilt my chin up towards his, he can do nothing but return my invited kiss with all the photographers poised to catch the money shot.
I make sure they get it.
With bells on.
Chapter Eleven
Lanuta bursts through the kitchen door backwards carrying a laden tray. The perfect gentleman, Jack kisses the back of my hand and goes to help her carry it to the large dining table.
“Please help yourselves to refreshments,” he invites everyone.
I imagine this is a pre-arranged signal so Jack can bring the session to a close. It’s been exactly two hours since we began. The reporters and technicians murmur their thanks and help themselves to hot coffee and delicious finger food.
“I bring also the cake.” Lenuta returns to the kitchen. When I see her toss a look of disgust in Amanda’s direction I want to whoop with glee. There’s a whole other person on the planet that agrees Amanda is not the perfect creature she purports to be. Like now, she’s chatting animatedly with one of the reporters as if she’s some consummate professional.
“I’ll go help Lenuta,” I announce.
Jack grabs me by the hand and stops me from leaving. It would appear he still doesn’t want me alone with her and I’m beginning to see why, although if I’m living here he can’t prevent it forever. I plan a woman-to-woman talk with Lenuta just as soon as I get the chance.
“I need to change for the office. I thought my wife-to-be might like to come and help me choose a tie.”
They all laugh at hi
s domestic joke.
He nods his acceptance of the reporters’ thanks, tells everyone his housekeeper will see them out when they’re ready to depart and drags me off with him. I shrug and smile and they grin back as if presuming we want a few loving moments alone together before he leaves. He and I both know he’s inviting me to say my piece about what’s really bothering me: Amanda’s twenty-four hour, Access all Areas, VIP pass.
He understands me well enough by now.
Jack closes the bedroom door behind us, turns and regards me for a moment with a let’s have it expression on his face. It must be the look of suppressed rage simmering to a full-blown boil on mine, that makes him state, “Every room is well sound-proofed. Sturdy Victorian architecture tempered with modern technology. You can say exactly what’s on your mind just as loud as you want.”
The fact he expects me to let rip says everything.
I glare instead, not trusting myself to speak straight off the bat. I probably have no right to be so aggrieved. He’s never pretended this engagement was anything but fake, after all. I’m the interloper here but I still can’t believe he would hand her such an unfair advantage. I’m obviously too naïve for my own good. Advance now holds all the cards over CaidCo and Amanda holds all the cards over me because of his actions. But what really gets to me the most is the fact that he kept it a secret all weekend. Like all those covert embraces I’ve inadvertently witnessed between them, it tells me he wants her more than he wants me. Despite all the sex, nothing has changed.
And but for Amanda wishing to rub my nose in it, I would probably have absolutely no idea. Jack is a real class player.
“I suppose I should have told you about that before now,” he admits breaking the terse silence between us.
So he does know where the fault lies.
“Yes. I suppose you should.” My voice is cold. I wait for an explanation with my arms folded defensively across my body, my lips pursed and one eyebrow quirked. This explanation should be good.
It isn’t.
“Get used to it, Tabitha. When I appointed Advance, they suggested placing someone at my disposal and Amanda is it. It makes sense. She knows my needs better than anyone.”
That stings. Of course she does. They’re together and more than simply in a professional capacity. I wonder, not for the first time, how I fit into their little game. “I bet it was her idea too. But you aren’t going to find it so easy to dispose of me, now you’ve announced me to the world as your intended.”
He rolls his eyes as if he’s listening to some melodrama. “I’m not used to having to run my decisions past anyone.”
“I’m not anyone. I’m your future wife,” I assign the term all the mockery I can, in an exaggerated musical tone. I make sure the diamond is obvious by waggling my fingers in his face.
We’ve just convinced the world we’re getting married and the woman he really wants comes along for the ride because she has carte blanche to turn up anywhere at any time. Amanda Devereaux will be stuck to Jack like a blood-sucking leech if I know anything at all which makes my plans to change his mind a whole hell of a lot more difficult.
But this knowledge brings out the warrior in me. “I might just claim 24/7 marital privileges and turn up when you least expect me.”
If I expect him to be concerned about that potential for disaster in his workplace, I’m mistaken. He looks thoroughly amused by the idea and calls my bluff. “I might enjoy that. As long as you plan on acting like my wife when you get there.” He grabs hold of me roughly, his covetous stare making the heat rise beneath my skin. “You look amazing in that skimpy little dress by the way.” His eyes and hands run all over me. “It took all my restraint to keep my hands off you during the interview. Did I buy that for you? I’ve got very good taste.”
He’s so arrogant. As he speaks, he passes his hands firmly over the fabric knowing exactly what he’s doing to the body beneath it. I think he’s already worked out the easiest way to subdue me is to caress and kiss me; to make love to me. I’m such a push-over where Jack’s concerned. I have no free-will when he works my body like this.
“They’re still outside,” I mumble between kisses.
“I don’t care.” One hand gropes for the zipper tab which he slides down slowly.
“I’m angry with you,” I remind him dissolving more with each touch.
“Take it out on me in bed.” He lifts his mouth from my neck for moment and looks at me. The lights in his eyes spark with arousal. He peels the dress from my shoulders and drags it down over my hips. “It has been way too long.” He pauses only to swiftly lock the door again.
“What happened to not touching me again?” I wonder out loud.
“I just can’t do that when you’re around me. It’s asking the impossible.” His eyes travel slowly over my pretty underwear and back again. “You’re beautiful and sexy and I’m turned on simply being near you. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have you.”
I understand the feeling. What I don’t understand is how he can act so jealous when he sees me with someone like Luc, but thinks it’s okay to have both me and Amanda at the same time. Why can’t I use that same argument to tell him to leave me alone?
He unclasps my bra, letting it drop and bends to tease and suckle a nipple in his hot mouth. My head falls back as I keen under the thrilling sensation. His desire for me is my strongest weapon. Mine, for him, is my Achilles heel. I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have him despite his two-timing conceit.
I’ve unbuttoned his shirt without realising it and he pauses briefly to tear it from his body. He wants his skin against my skin as much as I do. His hands fondle and caress, squeezing and moulding while I whimper in pleasure between his parted lips. It seems to drive him insane with lust.
He lifts me, carrying me backwards to his bed, toppling me over and plummeting on top of me. He rears back only to unbutton his trousers and work his erection free of his boxers. He draws my panties down my legs and nudges my knees apart to cradle himself between.
“I don’t just want you ready,” he tells me, sliding his fingers over my hot, wet silkiness. “I want you to beg.”
I writhe and buck beneath his slow, sensuous torment. The pads of his fingers swirl around and over the tight knot of nervous delight until I’m panting and arching convulsively. He soothingly slips heavy fingers inside me. But the relief is only temporary. His thrusting and stroking builds my need to breaking point.
I feel no shame at all. “Please, Jack. Fuck me hard. Let me come.”
“Good girl.”
Drawing my secretions down, he rubs my fluids over one tightly erect nipple and slowly sucks it off.
“You taste so good. Salty. Sweet. I can’t get enough of your juices either, woman.” He kisses me deeply transferring the taste of my own erotic need directly onto my tongue.
I reach between us and find him, covering his hardness with both hands. He groans and curses as I squeeze and pull in both directions. My empty muscles contract and pulse, seeking their own relief. Thighs, calves and toes tense and I hold myself rigid as he toys endlessly with me for pleasure.
“Jack?”
“What is it, kitten?”
He knows what I need but he likes to torment me. He likes to withhold himself until the very last moment.
When I’m in this place, begging comes easy. The alternative is much harder to contemplate. “Please give me what I need. Let me show you how much I want you.”
He emits a tight laugh. “Kitten wants an orgasm from Jack, does she?”
I nod beyond speaking. I arch my pelvis up towards him guiding his erection closer to me. I stimulate the smooth firmness and hear the breath catch in his throat. I bite him on the shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.
He hisses through his teeth. “Rough?”
I nod. It’s too late to be reserved. I must have him inside me. Friction and completion are the only things on my mind.
He flips me over like I weigh nothing, hands dra
gging my hips back until I’m kneeling on all fours. He wraps the length of my hair around his fist and pulls my head backwards bracing me against his impending assault.
He nudges at me; knocks my knees further apart to lower my centre of gravity and thrusts deeply upwards until his thighs slap against the backs of mine. I gasp at the sudden mounting, the intense pressure. He withdraws.
His hand reaches forward and pinches my nipple hard. As I buck he drives into me again propelling me forward and yanking on my hair to hold me back. I feel the serpent coil tighter in my belly as again he withdraws.
“Move your hips like you did when you played your dirty little song on the violin,” he orders. He enters me fully.
“Ohhh.” I grind to the right and then to the left and he growls out with the pleasurable sensation it affords him. He impels me back to centre with a firm thrust.
“Keep going.”
I do as I’m commanded and he gratifies me with a series of jerky, shallow little shoves in and out, moving our bodies in delicious conflict against one other, attacking every nerve ending until I’m quivering and on the edge.
He slaps my buttock and I cry out. As heat lifts in my flesh he tenses and thrusts and I suddenly orgasm, wailing my top note, feeling myself spasm around him as he releases inside me.
He attempts one long slow withdrawal in the middle of my crisis as I whine but offers a re-entry sighing audibly to the thrill and shiver of my muscles. I lose all sense of time until he releases my hair and I collapse beneath him on the bed, his dead weight crushing the breath from me but I don’t care.
Jack strokes my hair back from my temple and kisses my jaw and throat over and over as our breathing slows and both his heart rate and mine steady towards a natural rhythm.
“It’s been way too long.” He repeats his words almost like an accusation of my negligence.
“Not even twenty-four hours,” I point out in one exhausted gasp.