by Logan Chance
“Damn.” He takes a pull from his beer and his grey eyes set on mine. “So, the girl. What’s she like?”
“Clementine?” I shrug. “She’s infuriating.” I smile.
“Yeah?” Dean’s voice raises a bit, like he’s reading more into my answer. “Infuriatingly sexy?”
I stare at the label on my beer. “I’m not going to lie. She’s a fucking knockout.”
“But?” He sets his green bottle down. “I hear a but coming on.”
I lean my head to the side, looking for the right words. “But, nothing. She’s not like most women.”
“How does she feel about the upcoming nuptials?”
“She hates it. Said no when I first asked her.”
Dean smiles, raising his beer to clink with mine. “Ah, so she’s a smart one.”
I laugh. “Yeah, she’s pretty smart.”
I slide off the stool, stepping away from him and outside into the warm breeze to sit at the outdoor table shaded by an umbrella.
He follows and takes a seat next to me. “So, why did you come? Want me to run a background check on her?”
I shake my head, staring at the blue sea, lapping the shoreline. “No, I’ve run the basic profile on her. I’m not worried. It’s Ronin and Bishop that have me worried.”
“Ah, I see.”
I look over at him. “I want to hire you to run security for the wedding. Keep an eye on things.”
He’s a tech genius. Dean grew up poor, on the wrong side of the tracks, and with his friend, Xavier Stone, was able to figure out security systems. Together, they built one of the biggest security firms in the world.
There isn’t a system on the planet the two of them can’t hack into. Which makes gathering intel on certain parties a lucrative business for the two of them.
Dean leans back in his seat. “I don’t really do weddings.”
“Listen, I know this isn’t your thing. But, I don’t trust anybody else.”
Dean studies me. “Ok, I got you.”
“Thanks, man. Ronin said something about Blackstone wanting an invite. So I think he’s up to something.”
Dean shakes his head with a smile. “Man, your brother needs to stop dealing with Bishop. That man is pure evil.”
“I’ve tried telling him that.”
We’re silent for a minute or two, just watching the sun slowly set over the horizon, until Dean lets out a deep breath.
“I love it here,” Dean says, taking a sip of his beer. “I think I’ll die alone out here.”
“You never know that.”
“I do.”
“Maybe you’ll end up married like me.” I crack a smile.
He points his bottle at me. “Yeah, but that’s not a real marriage. I think I’m the type destined to be alone forever.”
“Me too.” It’s true. I’ve never met anyone I could see myself falling for. Or better yet, marrying. I’ve always been a loner, someone to fight the world alone.
“It’s guys like us that’ll never find love.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say with a laugh. “You’ve never once been in love?”
“I was close once.”
“What happened?”
“A lot of shit. I guess she just wasn’t the one.”
I’ve never understood the phrase, ‘the one.’ Maybe because I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never had time for it. Too busy building and running my grandfather’s empire, just to have him dangle my company on a string like a puppet so I have to work even harder to keep it after he died.
If it weren’t for my grandfather, I’m sure I’d never have married. “Marriage is overrated,” I tell Dean.
“Marriage is undervalued,” he responds. “Having someone to share your life with, well,” he glances at me, “there’s no price on that.”
“That’s where you and I differ.”
“This Clementine is nice?” he asks.
I shrug. “She’s a nuisance.”
“You’ll be married to her soon. You shouldn’t close yourself off to the idea of falling in love.”
Dean is one of my closest friends, but he’s crossing a boundary. He apologizes before I can let him know he’s said something wrong.
“I just want this wedding to go off without a hitch.”
Dean laughs. “Well, there will be one hitch.”
I chuckle. “You know what I mean.”
“You can count on me.” He winks.
I thank him, shaking his hand, and together we walk back to the chopper that will fly me back to Dubai.
“Whiskey,” I tell the flight attendant on my private jet as I take off from the Dubai airport to head home.
The flight attendant hands me a glass of Balvenie fifty-year old whiskey and I take a sip of the warm liquid as we fly over the ocean, making our way back to my grandfather’s estate.
When I return home, the house is quiet and still with everyone sleeping. I creep past Clementine’s doorway, and think about knocking to let her know I’m home. I even put my hand up to touch the hard wood of the door. But, I don’t. Instead, I turn away and head to the confines of my own room.
I’m startled when I open the door and see Clementine, wearing pink pajamas, sitting on my bed.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask her. I’m not going to lie, her being in my room late at night, with nothing but her sexy night clothes on, is not upsetting at all.
“Something isn’t right.” She gnaws on her bottom lip, an action I’m coming to realize means she’s nervous.
“Tennyson? Is he ok?”
She relaxes a bit. “He’s fine. He’s having a sleepover with Troy at Erin’s.”
I step into the room, closing the door and flicking on the light switch. “So then, what’s wrong?”
“You’re going to laugh.” She stands.
I move further into the room, removing my tie and setting it on the dresser. “Try me.”
“Well…,” she twists her fingers together, “I think there’s a ghost in my room.”
“That’s absurd.” I unbutton the top button to my shirt.
“See, I told you you were going to laugh.”
I turn to face her, removing my cufflinks as I talk, “I’m not laughing. It’s probably my grandfather come back to haunt us all.”
“That’s not funny.”
I stare at her and realize she’s really afraid of something. “Listen, it’s an old house. It has a lot of dead space that air gets trapped into and makes creepy noises.”
“I don’t know. I can’t sleep.”
I twist my neck a little to ease some of the tension I feel from the long flight home. I’m dead tired, but the idea springing to mind of having Clementine sleep in my bed with me makes my dick come to life a bit. I can’t even bring myself to suggest such a thing, so I just stare at her.
She finally speaks after a few moments of silence, “Maybe I could sleep in here?” Her voice rises a little on the last word.
I unbutton another button. “If it would make you feel safer.”
“Well, your bed is huge. So it’s not like we’ll even touch.”
That’s not the only thing that’s huge. “Ok,” I breathe out.
“Which side?” she asks so innocently it makes my hardening dick harder.
“I usually sleep in the middle.”
“Oh.” She bites that damn lower lip again. I wish she wouldn’t do that because it kind of turns me on. Ok, that’s a lie. It a lot turns me on. “I’ll just sleep in a little ball off to the side.”
“Clementine,” I say, “it’s ok. I can sleep on either side.”
She inches to the bed, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. I turn around, unbuttoning the last of the buttons and remove the shirt. I drape it over the dresser, undoing my belt.
When I turn back around, Clementine is snuggled under the covers.
I bite my bottom lip, remembering exactly how she looks with nothing on. “I’m just going to get ready for bed.” I s
tep into the en-suite and slam the door.
I rub my dick through my pants, trying to ease some of the tension building there. She turns me the fuck on, and I try to give myself a little pep talk to be able to go back out there and just sleep next to her.
I breathe in deep through my nose as I remove my dress slacks. When I step out of the en-suite, I hit the light switch and the light is replaced by the soft glow of the moon filtering in through the windows.
I can still make out Clementine, waiting patiently in my bed and I cross the room and pull back the covers.
“Where did you go?”
I slide into the bed, and lay on my back.
Clementine turns to face me, laying on her side and tucking her hands under her face. “Your trip. Where did you go?”
“I had a business meeting in France, and then stopped by Dubai to visit a friend.”
“Ah, a friend.”
I prop up on my elbows a bit to glare down at her accusation. “Yes, just a friend. His name’s Dean.”
“Oh.” She scoots a bit closer. “Thank you for letting me sleep here.”
Lying here next to her is a big mistake. Dirty thoughts keep creeping into my mind. Like her riding my cock. Like her sucking on my dick. Like me sucking on her tits.
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the images at bay and change the subject to keep my mind from wandering. “You’ve never told me about Tennyson’s father.”
She stiffens beside me, and I can no longer hear her breathing. “There’s really nothing to tell,” she finally says. Then, she flips over and says, “Goodnight, Gabriel.”
“Night.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep now. Her breathing continues until it evens out and I can tell she’s asleep. I pound at my pillow, tossing around a while until I fall fast asleep. Hopefully the ghost decides to visit tomorrow. Actually, I’d consider putting him on the payroll if he gets Clementine in my bed every night.
Seventeen
Clementine
* * *
By the time I make it home after a busy day of work, all I can think about is the whirlpool tub in the en-suite in my room. It’s my new best friend. It’s been a few days since the ‘ghost debacle’ occurred that had me spending the night with Gabriel in his bed. If he’d said no, I was ready to beg. I felt safe having him next to me, but the next day, when the maid told me the air vent in my room makes a funny noise, I felt a little foolish I let my imagination go wild. Like when Tennyson would be scared of monsters and I would have to go debunk them in his room late at night.
Either way, I haven’t returned to Gabriel’s bed, and I don’t want to—much.
I go through the routine with Tenny, reading him a story before bed, making sure he has Mr. Giraffe to sleep with, and by the time I make it to my room, I’m exhausted.
I remove my shoes by the door, and unbutton my blouse as I walk across the cool hardwoods toward the en-suite.
“We need to talk,” a low voice says from the corner of the dark room.
I jump a bit. “You scared me, Gabriel.”
“Did you think I was a ghost?” He grins, sitting in the wingback chair in the shadows.
“No. Mia explained it’s the air-conditioning.” I fumble to re-button my blouse as I perch on the edge of the queen mattress. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Are you and Tennyson settling in well?”
“I think so.” I don’t want to tell him the truth that Tenny and I are liking this more than we should. It’s not like I’ve taken him on a shopping spree, and I won’t, but it’s the little things here we’ve never had access to before that are spoiling us—movies, whirlpool tubs, acres of land, on and on.
“Good. We have a party to attend tomorrow night.”
“Oh, ok.”
He stands from the chair and flips on the light. He’s stunning in his navy slacks and white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. As he steps closer, his scent reaches me first. A tantalizing combination of saffron and woodsy notes. It smells like what you imagine a gorgeous man fresh out of a GQ catalog would smell like. “This is for you.” He hands me a black card, and I take it from his fingers.
“What’s this?”
“It’s for anything you need. Just use this credit card from now on.” He strides toward the door. “And buy a dress for tomorrow night.”
“What kind of dress?”
On his way out, he throws a glance over his shoulder. “Make it sexy.”
I can play this game. I’ll find the sexiest dress on the market. Or not. I may soon be his wife, but he will never bully me.
The next day, since I didn’t even know where to find a dress that a billionaire’s fiancee would wear, Erin pointed me in the direction of Lane’s Exquisite Shop. A hideaway boutique for the wealthy. And now here I am, staring at the glass storefront, with my heart pounding, feeling a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. It’s only a dress, but I just know the moment I enter the store they’ll call me out for not belonging. I don’t belong. Not really.
“I’ll be waiting here,” Mayer says, after opening my car door.
“Thank you.”
I step away from the curb and head through the double-paned door into an open, airy loft-style store. Colorful dresses hang on racks in the center of the space.
“May I help you, Miss?” asks a blonde woman who towers over me in her five-inch heels. I’d like to think she’s looking down her nose at me because of our height difference. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m looking for a dress,” I respond.
Another lady walks toward the front, takes one look at me, and her mouth opens into an ‘O.’ “You’re the fiancee.” She turns to her co-worker. “Do you know who this is, Brittany?”
Brittany shakes her head, eyeing me up and down, with confusion.
“This is Gabriel Prince’s fiancee.”
Brittany’s pupils turn to dollar signs as she stares at me. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
The other store clerk walks closer. “What’s your name again?”
“Clementine,” I almost say it like it’s a question.
“Yes, well if you need anything, my name is Janet, and this is Brittany.” She points to the blonde standing next to her.
I smile. “Well, Janet, I need a really sexy dress. My soon-to-be husband is taking me to an event tonight.”
“Oh, I bet it’s the charity ball at that art gallery,” Brittany says.
Janet snaps her fingers together. “I have just the dress.” She bounces away with a little dance in her step, calling over her shoulder, “Follow me.”
She leads me to the back of the store, past all the racks of clothing, past two very plush off-white chairs with blue stripes, and even further into the dressing room territory where there’s a row of doors.
“Do I just go on in?” I ask, after she opens one of the doors for me.
“Yes, I’ll bring you the dresses. You’re going to feel like you’re in a fantasy.”
She gets my size and then hurries away. I step inside the pint-sized room with three walls of mirrors and take a seat on the soft-leather club chair. Little does she know, this isn’t a fantasy at all. Yet, that doesn’t stop me from playing out the fantasy late at night.
Ever since I slept in his bed, I keep imagining what it would be like if he kissed me. I keep replaying the evening at our engagement party over and over in my head. The night I changed in front of him. How his eyes ate me. How he couldn’t turn away. How he didn’t even try to hide the fact he was full on staring.
It was sexy.
It was hot.
It made me want to forget the fact I hadn’t been touched in years and I wanted him to rectify that. But, no. Never.
Janet returns with various items draped over her arm. “I brought you three.” She places the first on the bronze hook on the inside of the door. “This one is your basic ‘little black dress.’ An ‘I just want to blend in, but not really’ type dress.�
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“It’s gorgeous.”
“This one is more ‘Hi, I’m here.’” She hangs a sparkling silver dress on the hook. “And this one is ‘Hey, bitches, this is why I’m going to be having wild sex tonight and you’re not.’” She places a scrap of red material on the hook and winks.
“Thank you.” I laugh a little. “Is that enough to cover me?”
Janet smiles. “It’s enough to cover the important parts.”
After she leaves, I remove my clothes and try on the full length black. It’s stunning—demure, yet not—with a slit that opens all the way up the feather light gossamer skirt to my upper thigh and sheer fabric intermingled throughout the bodice. As I check out my exposed back, my phone vibrates.
I pull it out of my handbag to see a text from Gabriel.
“Find anything? I can make you an appointment with Hannah at Couture. She has things you might like.”
Just how many women does he dress? I would imagine it’s a lot.
“Not yet,” I reply. “I’m trying on things now.”
“Let me see.”
I stare at his request on my phone, and I’m not sure why I comply, but I do. Part of me wants him to see me in this dress. I snap a selfie and send it.
“Damn. Purple bra today?” is his reply.
I glance in the mirror at the lavender bra strap showing across my back. Clearly, I need to learn the art of the selfie.
When I slip into the second option, I remove my bra before taking a picture of the low cut sparkling dress and sending it to Gabriel.
“Your tits look phenomenal in that one,” he replies, causing me to gasp. “Looks better with no bra.”
A warmth sears my chest as I type out my reply. “You like this one?”
“Yes. It’s very sexy.”
I stare at myself in the mirror. It is sexy. But I want to try on the red one before I decide. I slip into it and oh my. It’s barely enough to cover me.
My phone beeps again with a message from Gabriel. “Get the silver.”
“Actually, I think I’ll get the red.”
His reply comes back instantly. “Let me see the dress.”
