by Lucia Black
Chapter 11
At a few minutes past seven and I was finally ready to leave. I opened the door to my apartment and Cal was standing there with his hand raised and ready to knock.
“Oh,” I said startled. “I was just heading down to meet you.”
“You’re late, so I thought I’d come up. Concierge said you were expecting me.”
He spoke politely enough, but there was something baleful in the way he said it. All that did was notch up my irritation with him.
“Right. I told them you were coming, but I thought you’d wait in the lobby downstairs. ‘Wear something you can easily change out of’ is a really vague and weird request. I needed some time to process that.”
His dark eyes swept over my light pink knit dress and sensible silver flats. “That works.”
Cal wore a three-piece suit remarkably similar to the last time I saw him. There was nothing easy about his style, though he did look incredibly handsome.
“And why aren’t you dressed more comfortably?”
“I’ll change once we get there.” He turned for the elevator and left me standing at my door confused and irritated.
I contemplated going back inside, shutting the door, and never coming out again, but I knew that wasn’t really an option. I locked the door and joined Cal in the elevator. During the silent ride down, he ran a hand through his brown hair and shifted his weight from one wingtip to the other.
His glossy Town Car sat idling at the curb. Cal opened the door to the back for me and I slid in, leaving plenty of space for him.
“We’re heading to Cabana Bella, Finn,” Cal said to the driver.
“Right away, sir,” Finn answered, and he seamlessly pulled into traffic.
I turned to Cal. “Cabana Bella? That place has a waiting list so long they’re booking into next year. You got a table?” Cabana Bella was the latest “it” restaurant. It was heavily beach themed with sandpits, tropical drinks, and bathing suit-clad patrons and staff.
Cal half smiled and nodded. “Your story about the beach and the bikini planted the seed. And I wanted to plan something fun for you, so I pulled some strings.”
I relaxed into the seat. Maybe the arrangement was even harder for him than it was for me and he just needed more time to get used to it. It was something we would need to talk about. Here I was lamenting about him not talking about things with me, and I hadn’t given the same consideration to him in return. I pushed the negativity and frustration aside. I didn’t want my sour attitude to ruin Cabana Bella.
“That was . . . very thoughtful of you.”
He splayed his hands as if to say it was nothing.
Even though the restaurant was located in a secluded spot at the edge of the city, a couple of photographers were sprinkled along the faux palm tree-lined entrance. Cal offered me his hand to help me from the car and then continued to hold it as he led me inside.
Flashes went off and a reporter near the entrance yelled for Cal’s attention. He brought us to a stop in front of the gaunt man and he wasted no time jumping into his questions.
“Mr. James, this is the third time we’ve seen you with Miss Moretti. Is it safe to say you two are dating?”
Cal looked at me, smiled, and then looked back to the man. “I think it’s safe to say that.”
“Will a new relationship interfere with all that goes into campaigning for the presidency?”
“Quite the opposite.” Cal let go of my hand only to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer to him. I found myself wishing he felt one ounce of the intimacy we were faking. “Tessa brings me peace in these busy times.” I concentrated on smiling at him while secretly longing for those words he said with such ease to be true. “And she has such a good head on her shoulders and is so politically savvy, she’s truly an asset to me in immeasurable ways.”
“How about you, Miss Moretti? What’s it like dating someone in the spotlight?”
“It’s⸻” I cleared my throat. I had put zero thought into having to answer questions on my own. “It’s been wonderful. Truly. Calvin is a real gentleman.” I beamed up at him and a few more flashes went off.
“Thank you.” Cal nodded to the reporter before holding open the door for me.
The scent of the mock Caribbean filled the air: sunscreen, coconut, and hints of brine. The light was bright, but not over-powering, the walls were crystal-clear projections of a calm blue ocean, and the sounds so closely mimicked the beach it was almost hard to believe we were inside.
“Wow,” I breathed, impressed.
“I’m glad you like it,” Cal said.
“Mr. James, we’ve been waiting for you.” A gorgeous blonde approached us immediately. “My name is Lauren.” She pointed to the tag pinned to the thin strap of her neon yellow bikini, as though Lauren was a hard name to grasp. Or more accurately, as though she wanted Cal to look at her ample breasts. I saw how she looked at him. And I watched Cal’s gaze. His eyes didn’t take the bait. “I’ve personally overseen all your requests.”
“Great,” Cal nodded. “Do you have the items I sent over?”
I glanced at Cal again. He apparently had another trick up his sleeve.
“Of course.” Lauren turned to the hostess podium, bent over, and rummaged through a box of things.
Cal couldn’t resist peeking at that view. His gaze traveled all over her backside. He looked away briefly, and but then continued checking her out. I couldn’t say I blamed him. Her ass, supple yet firm, was in the air and mostly exposed. But it irked me anyway. He was there with me. He was supposed to be dating me. I wondered if he’d ever come to appreciate my looks like that.
“Here you are.” She handed Cal and I both our own Sak’s shopping bags. Lauren had yet to make eye contact with me. I couldn’t blame her for ogling. Our issues aside, Cal was nice to look at. But her overt rudeness was starting to make me angry.
I peeked in the bag then raised an eyebrow. “Is this where the changing part comes in?”
“We are a bit overdressed; don’t you think?”
I took note of everyone else in the restaurant. There wasn’t a suit in sight. A smile spanned my face, my frustration momentarily forgotten. Cal continued to surprise me.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your private cabana.”
Tiki-style tables and bars were scattered throughout the wide-open room, but a row of curtained off cabanas spanned the far wall. Lauren took us to the one in the back of the room and slightly further away from the others.
“This one is yours for the evening.” She pulled the curtain back to reveal a small piece of paradise right there in the city. The table was intimately small and covered with an ocean blue tablecloth that kissed the floor; coral colored dishes and crystal glasses set our places next to each other. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the powder rooms.”
As soon as I closed myself inside my changing room, I dug into the bag. The bikini Cal had picked out was black, just my size, and cut high on the sides. I studied myself in the mirror. The triangle top brought attention to my breasts, and the bottom revealed more of my butt than I normally would have considered showing, but if Cal was going to be so bold as to pick it out for me, I was going to wear it.
There was also a white caftan at the bottom of my bag. I tucked it over my arm and paused at the door. A part of me was very, very curious to see Cal in a bathing suit.
I returned to the private cabana to find him already waiting. He stood to greet me, always the gentleman. I didn’t get to see him shirtless, and I found myself disappointed. He wore khaki shorts and a loose white linen shirt. He did have the top three buttons undone, so that was something.
“Where’s your cover-up?”
“Right here.” I held up my arm.
“Put it on. I bought it because I wanted you to wear it, not so everyone could see you half-naked.”
His words stung as if he had slapped me. I scrambled to pull the dress over my head like I was standing th
ere nude and offending everyone. Cal waited by my chair and pushed it in for me once I sat down.
I had nothing to say. I couldn’t even look at him. I knew he liked women; the way he looked at Lauren proved that. He just didn’t like looking at me. And I was giving up the opportunity to be with someone who was very attracted to me, to be with a man who would never touch me.
When the waiter came to take our order, I let Cal select for me like he wanted to, but I corrected his drink order.
“I’ll have a vodka on the rocks. A double. And keep them coming.”
Cal furrowed his brow at me, but I didn’t care. There was no pleasing him, so I figured I’d just do whatever I wanted.
“I’m sorry if you’re upset with me. I honestly didn’t mean to offend you. I just can’t have bikini pictures of you floating around on the internet right now. The media spins things how they want people to see it. That could be very damaging to both of us.”
He was right, but that did nothing to change how I felt. He could’ve said it all differently.
“It’s fine. I’m not mad, I’m just over it. I know what our arrangement is, and I’ll do what is asked of me, but you can’t make me enjoy spending time with someone who doesn’t want to look at me, let alone touch me.” And then—because the rejection still stung and I wanted to insult him—I added, “You probably wouldn’t know how to touch me anyway.”
Cal’s glare could’ve melted the Statue of Liberty and he held his jaw so tightly closed the veins in his neck protruded. A fear pricked at the back of my neck and left me paralyzed. But then his posture loosened, and I felt his hand on my knee under the table. Slowly, teasingly, he moved his fingers under the caftan and up to my thigh.
The waiter returned with our drinks. As he set them on the table, Cal pushed my crossed leg apart and used his long fingers to trace the edge of my bikini. I gasped.
“Is everything okay, ma’am?” the waiter asked.
I looked to Cal and met his dark stare. “Yep. Great.”
As soon as he left, Cal pushed the bikini bottoms aside and ever so gentle let his finger run along my newly exposed skin. “Did you say I wouldn’t know how to touch you?”
With a point to prove, Cal expertly found my clit and rhythmically rubbed his thumb against it.
“Mmmm.” The moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“And do you like that?” Cal whispered. His hot breath on my ear, the assertiveness of his actions, the naughtiness of being in public— it all added an extra layer to my arousal.
“Yes,” I breathed. I was writhing in time with his strokes.
While still pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, he pushed a finger inside me, slowly moving it in and out. “Then I need you to be a good girl and keep quiet.”
I nodded and bit at my lip to remind me not to make a sound, but when Cal pushed another finger inside of me I nearly lost it. My breathing labored and I felt my eyes flutter.
He worked his fingers in and out of me and I grew more and more wet with every stroke. Cal had me right at the edge. And then he stopped, pulling his fingers out of me.
I sat there, unable to move and waiting for the waiter to come in or something else to show me why he stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“You need to earn it. I was just showing you what I am capable of, but you haven’t done anything to deserve to come.” He took a swig of his whiskey.
“What the hell did you just say to me? You can’t just play games with someone like that.” Blood pounded in my ears and my body was on fire. My release was so close. I needed it, and he took it away.
“Exactly. This isn’t a game, Tessa. You can’t ignore my assistant’s calls for two weeks. Then you try to insult me in an effort to what? Hurt me?” Cal looked ready for a press conference. Not even a hair out of place. My skin burned, my cheeks flushed, and my hips moved on their own as I rocked back and forth like a junkie looking for a fix.
“I know this isn’t a game. It’s my life” I hissed. “This is awful, and I hate it, and I’m still trying. We’re stuck together and you can’t even talk to me like I’m a real person and not some type of business transaction. You’re not making this easy for me.”
“You’re making it hard on yourself. If you’d just stop being a brat, I’d—” The look on my face cut his rant short.
A brat? Did he call me a brat? If I was a brat, he was a psycho. What kind of sick person goes from pushing my hand away when I touch him to fingering me under the table at a restaurant? I couldn’t look at him one second longer.
I shoved away from the table and stood up, grabbing the bag with my clothes in it. “I’m leaving. I’ll find someone else to finish what you started.”
Chapter 12
“Tessa,” Cal called after me.
I kept walking anyway.
“Tessa. Wait.” The command came from much closer. He must’ve gotten up to chase after me, but I wasn’t going to take the time to turn around and look.
Knowing he wouldn’t want to make a scene, I hurried to the crowded bar near the entrance and disappeared behind a group of scantily clad couples, shuffling down the street with haste so I could hide from him if he came outside after me.
The cherry on top of my shitty night wasn’t that I was wearing a bikini and a caftan while walking down the street. It wasn’t that the night was so busy that even wearing said outfit I couldn’t hail a cab to save my life. It was that to get home I had to call Jimmy.
He pulled up to the location I had given him, and my foul mood must’ve permeated the air so fully he didn’t even bother asking me if I wanted to talk about it. Sitting in the back seat while he drove me home, I pulled the cover-up over my head and shimmied back into my pink dress, crossing my arms over my chest for the silent ride home.
At the very least, one thing in my life was going right since Jimmy finally got the hint and didn’t try to come up or make a comment about sex.
I locked myself inside my apartment and flopped onto my bed. It was too early to call it a night, and even if it wasn’t, I needed to get off before I could sleep anyway.
I picked up my phone and scrolled to Preston’s contact info. I knew he’d come over if I called. I wouldn’t even have to try to get him in bed. If the chemistry between us said anything, it was that I was practically guaranteed at least a decent orgasm if he came over. My thumb hovered over his name. Just one tap and I’d feel so much better.
I tossed my phone to the end of the bed and out of reach. I buried my face in my pillow and screamed. Calling him would’ve been the dumbest thing I could’ve done. How much could I toy with one person’s emotions? I wouldn’t do that. To either of us.
I reached into my nightstand drawer and pulled out my pink vibrator. I took off my dress, tossing the stupid bikini into the corner of my room, and switched on my toy. I had just barely pressed it into my flesh when the intercom by the front door buzzed. I ignored it—or at least I tried to. It buzzed and buzzed again.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, and wondering why the universe hated me, I got up and pressed the talk button on the white box.
“What?”
“Sorry to bother you, Miss Moretti, but an unannounced guest is here to see you.” A touch of fear tinged his voice. My poor concierge. They were just trying to do their job and keep unwanted people out of the building, but Cal never thought the rules applied to him. He thought he could do whatever he wanted.
“Tell him to go away.” That was what Papa paid all that money for; so I could live in a secure building with a doorman and concierge who would kick people out and keep me safe. I hadn’t had to ask any of them to do that before.
“He’s rather insistent, ma’am. Would you like to speak to him, or would you like me to call the police?”
No matter how angry I was with Cal, I still had to marry him, and if he was going to be president, he couldn’t have his girlfriend call the cops on him. “No, no, just . . .” I sighed. “Just sen
d him up.”
I pulled my dress back on, then paced in front of the door, hands-on-hips, jaw clenched. What else did I need to do to make it clear I didn’t want to see him? I wanted to punch him. I wanted to tell him he couldn’t control me. I wanted to tell him he was a giant prick and he had no right to treat me the way that he did. I was going to say it all.
The knock on my door stopped my pacing.
I flung it open and started shouting, “You know what, you have a lot of fucking nerve—umm . . . hello.”
“Expecting someone else? Because that could be really awkward.” Preston stood on the other side of my door wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a wily smile. He held a six-pack in one hand, and a box of pizza in the other.
I smiled, just seeing him melting away some of my anger. “What are you doing here?”
“Coming to see you. I thought that would be obvious.”
“Yeah . . . but you knew I was going out tonight. How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Lucky guess.” Preston popped his fingers under the box and tossed the pizza a couple of inches into the air before catching it again. “The last date was lukewarm, so I gambled it would be a repeat of that and you’d be home by nine. Looks like I was right.”
I shook my head. “Gambling on me having bad dates? You’re the worst,” I said.
“Maybe, but I brought pizza and beer to bribe you with. You can have all you want if you let me in.”
I laughed. “Sure, come in.”
Preston cracked open the beers while I got us plates and napkins for a makeshift picnic around the coffee table in the living room. He sat on the floor without issue. I imagined asking Cal to do the same and couldn’t picture it. He’d probably have a detailed list of instructions on how he wanted me to position the cushions.
“So what’s with you and these lukewarm dates?” He snagged a piece of cheesy pizza from the box and slid it onto my plate.
“I never said tonight was lukewarm.” I took a bite. It was warm and garlicky and so good it almost made up for my second interrupted orgasm of the night. Almost.
