by Vi Keeland
Tonight was the gala I was supposed to be attending with him. It was going to be way out of my comfort zone, and nervous jitters followed me around all day. I’d picked out two different formal dresses at Bergdorf’s on my lunch break.
When I got back to the office, there was a plate of Indian food at my desk. The smell of curry was nauseating.
“Ida? How did this food get here?”
“A delivery guy left it, said it was for you. I thought you ordered it.”
“I get Indian for you, but you know I hate it.”
Then, a thought crossed my mind. I took out my phone.
Soraya: You didn’t order me Indian food, did you?
Graham: I did.
Soraya: Why?
Graham: I thought you liked it? I saw you going to pick it up.
Soraya: Um…how is that? You were following me?
Graham: It was only one afternoon. I missed your face. I was gonna pull up next to you like Mr. Big, surprise you and take you out to lunch. Then I saw you rushing out of Masala Madness and figured you already had plans.
Soraya: LOL. I was getting lunch for Ida. Indian gives me heartburn.
Graham: I need to work on my stalking skills.
Soraya: That was really sweet of you, though.
Later that afternoon, Graham sent me another text.
Graham: Hey, I heard they changed the name of the gala in honor of me.
Soraya: Really?
Graham: It’s now called the Big Blue Ball.
Soraya: LOL.
Graham: They’re giving out swag bags with ice packs and ibuprofen.
Soraya: You’re crazy.
Graham: For you, I am.
Soraya: What time are you picking me up?
Graham: Holy shit. Am I actually allowed at your door?
Soraya: Yes.
Graham: 7:30 then.
Soraya: I’ll need your approval on my attire. I have two dresses on hold at Bergdorf’s and still can’t decide.
Graham: You know I’m gonna veto whatever it is, just so I can watch you undress.
Soraya: How’s your tattoo?
Graham: Fine. We can play I’ll show you mine/you show me yours if you want later.
Soraya: I have a few you haven’t seen.
Graham: I’m painfully aware of this.
Soraya: Maybe if you’re good tonight, I’ll let you see one.
Graham: And if you’re good, I’ll let you look under the table.
Soraya: LOL
Graham: You’re evil, Soraya Venedetta. Taunting me with your tattoos. How the fuck am I supposed to work now?
Soraya: ;-)
After work, I went by Bergdorf’s to purchase my dress. I had two on hold and hadn’t decided which I liked best. At the fitting room, I gave my name and waited for the salesperson to return with my selections.
“Here you go, my dear.”
“Thank you. But that one isn’t mine.” I pointed to a gorgeous green dress. It was actually the first dress that had caught my attention earlier in the day, but it was a designer I could never afford. The price tag was almost ten times the other two put together.
“That’s the one your husband added this afternoon.”
“My husband?”
“I assumed he was your husband. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask his name. Boyfriend, perhaps? Not very many men who look like that walk into the women’s dress parlor. Or pay the bill for that matter.”
“Pay the bill?”
“The gentleman who added this dress to your selections. He also paid the bill for the green one. And instructed the manager to put any other dresses you like on his account as well. He also had us pick out shoes to go with the green and paid for those as well.” She hung the dresses in a fitting room and disappeared for a moment. When she came back, she opened the box to show me an amazing pair of Louboutins that I could never afford.
I shot off a text before stripping out of my clothes.
Soraya: Do you shop in the ladies department often?
Graham: That was a first. You should see the items I took with me.
Soraya: You purchased other items?
Graham: Yes. The woman in lingerie looked at me like she thought I was playing dress-up.
Soraya: LOL. You went to lingerie, too? What did you buy?
Graham: Those purchases you won’t get to see so soon. Since I won’t be seeing them modeled quite yet. Unless you’ve changed your mind…
The idea of Graham shopping in the lingerie department both amused and aroused me. I pictured him running his hand through his hair in frustration, completely hating that he was doing it, but not being able to stop himself.
Soraya: The green dress is beautiful, but I can’t accept it. It’s too much.
Graham: It’s final sale. Donate it if you don’t like it.
Seriously? The dress was nearly three thousand dollars.
Soraya: You’re crazy, you know that.
Graham: Does it fit?
Soraya: I haven’t tried it on yet.
The rapid fire of texts we were exchanging came to a halt for a few minutes.
Soraya: You still there?
Graham: Are you in the fitting room?
Soraya: Yes.
Graham: I just had a small fantasy of you standing in the fitting room, looking at your gorgeous naked body in the mirror.
Soraya: And…
Graham: You want to hear more of my fantasy?
Soraya: I might…
Graham: I’d like to join you in that fitting room. Bend you over with your hands pressed against the mirror, fingers splayed wide, and take you from behind while you watch us. You’d still be wearing the shoes I picked out.
This time, I was the one who went quiet. I looked in the mirror and actually saw Graham standing behind me. If the illusion was that hot, there was a good chance I’d melt when the real thing happened. When. I was no longer even attempting to fool myself by saying if. Eventually, my phone buzzed.
Graham: I know what you’re doing.
Soraya: See you tonight, Mr. Big Prick.
When I arrived at my apartment carrying a garment bag, I noticed a black town car parked outside. As I neared, the uniformed driver got out. Graham’s driver.
“Ms. Venedetta, Mr. Morgan requested that this be delivered to you.” He handed me two sealed manila envelopes.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I was instructed to deliver it, so here I am.” He gave a polite nod and opened the car door. “You have a good afternoon.”
My hands were full, so I waited until I was upstairs before attempting to open the envelopes. After hanging my dress, I sat down on my bed and ripped open the first of the packages. Inside was a box of La Riche Alpine Green hair dye. The color was an exact match for the dress.
Graham J. Morgan had a serious sweet side.
Curious, I tore open the next envelope. It was a box of green Betty Down There Hair Color with a sticky note that read, I wasn’t sure if the carpet matched the curtains.
Smiling from ear to ear, I thought to myself, you’re going to find out for yourself very soon if you keep this up.
***
THE BUZZER RANG AT PROMPTLY 7:30. I spoke into the intercom before pressing the button to unbolt the main door downstairs. “Is this Celibate in Manhattan?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
I buzzed him up and unlocked my door to wait.
Walking down the hallway from the elevator to my apartment, he took quick, confident strides. Each one made my pulse race a little faster. He was wearing a dark tuxedo and was quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever set my eyes on. There was no doubt in my mind that he could cause traffic jams walking down Manhattan streets dressed like that. I literally licked my lips.
While I stood there salivating, Graham took my face into one hand and squeezed. “You are going to be the death of me, looking at me like that.” Then he kissed me until there was no doubt what I was feeling was mutual.
I blinked myself back to reality when he released me. “I need to get dressed. Come inside.”
“I haven’t been able to think about anything but coming inside since you told me about your doctor’s appointment to renew your birth control.”
I rolled my eyes at him for being a perv, even though I secretly loved every dirty word. “I just need a minute to slip my dress on.”
“Would you like help with that?”
I pointed to a chair in the kitchen. “Sit. Stay.”
“Am I a dog? I’m not above begging.”
I disappeared into my bedroom and slipped on the green dress. It was the most expensive thing I’ve ever owned. Graham wasn’t lying when he said the dress was final sale. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be wearing it. But I had to admit, the other dresses I picked out couldn’t compare to the beauty of the one he had bought.
Unlike Graham, who strode toward me with the self-assurance of knowing his place at the top of the food chain, I was a nervous wreck to walk out of my bedroom. The dress was gorgeous; it hugged my every curve and showed off the perfect amount of skin to be sexy without tilting to slutty, yet I wasn’t in my comfort zone. Looking in the mirror, my reflection was beautiful, but what it didn’t reflect was…me.
Whatever doubt I had was almost fully erased when I saw Graham’s face. He was sitting at my kitchen table playing with his phone and stood when he saw me.
“You look fucking incredible.”
“The dress is incredible. I still can’t believe how much you paid for it.”
“It’s not the dress, Soraya. It’s the woman wearing it.”
“That’s sweet. Thank you.”
“Green is most definitely your color.” He reached up and fingered my hair. “I can’t see if your tips match with this hairdo.” I’d pinned my hair up into a French twist, and tucked the colorful ends underneath.
I smiled. “They do. But I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb. I’ve never been to a gala before, but something tells me I would be the only one with green in her hair.”
“You don’t like your hair up?”
“I like it better down, actually.”
“Turn around. Let me see.” When I complied, Graham slipped the pins that were fastening my thick tresses out. My long hair fell down in waves. He guided me to turn back around. “You’ll stick out with it up or down, and it has nothing to do with your hair color.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind? I’m an arrogant asshole. I quite like it when others envy what I have.”
“Just give me a second to fix it.” I went to the bathroom and smoothed out my hair. I really did like my hair down better. When I returned, Graham took both of my hands.
“So, does it match?”
“Yes. The color is pretty close, don’t you think?” I lifted my tips up against the top of my dress. The greens were almost the exact same hue.
“I wasn’t talking about the dress.”
“Oh. No. Thank you for the Betty Down There, but the curtains don’t match.”
“That’s a shame.”
I smirked. “Really? I thought you might like my set up down there.”
“Your set up?”
I kissed his lips gently, then spoke against them. “There’s nothing to dye. I’m completely bare down there.”
***
GRAHAM WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING; we were certainly attracting attention. Although I doubted any of the women eye fucking the man I was standing next to even noticed my hair. Graham seemed oblivious as he steered me toward the bar.
“You seem to have a fan club.”
“It’s more like a hate club. My business is very competitive.”
I eyed one woman who was blatantly staring at us as we walked. She was wearing a red dress, and her head was following our every step. “Looks more like lust than hate.”
Graham followed my line of sight. He pulled me closer to his side. “Keep away from that one.”
That comment only made me stare longer. “Why?”
“I don’t want her tainting your view on me any more than I accomplish on my own.”
At the bar, Graham ordered his fancy drink and the wine I had at dinner last week. He got a point for remembering what I liked. While we waited, I looked around the room. The Met was an incredible place. I’d been inside before for exhibitions but never in this particular hall. The domed ceilings were a work of art in itself. It was overwhelming to take it all in. The people. The venue. The man standing next to me, most of all.
Graham handed me my drink. “How much money will something like this raise?”
“I think last year it drummed up five million.”
I almost choked sipping my wine. The woman in the red dress who had been staring at us sauntered to the bar.
“Hello, Graham.”
He nodded. His response was curt, and I felt his body stiffen. “Avery.”
Oh, fuck. The woman I called.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
He drew me even closer to his side. “Actually, no. We were just about to dance. Excuse us.”
Graham abruptly steered me away from the bar and the woman. I was relieved to get away from her myself, but curious at the relationship. There was a large, mostly empty dance floor on one side of the room. On our way, we made a stop at table number four and Graham set down our drinks.
Out on the dance floor, Graham pulled me close. I wasn’t surprised to find he knew how to dance. The way he led with a strong hand, definitely suited his domineering personality.
“So…red dress. I take it you two have history?”
“We do. But it’s not what you think.”
“Meaning what? That you haven’t fucked her?”
He pulled his head back and his brow arched. “Jealous?”
I looked away. The thought of him being with anyone else stirred something irrational inside of me. Graham leaned in and ran his nose along my throat. “I like that you’re jealous. It means that you’re possessive of me. I feel the exact same way about you.”
My eyes met with his. Our gazes held for a long time before he spoke again. “No. I haven’t slept with Avery. Never laid a finger on her. She’s not happy with the way I’m currently handling a business acquisition.”
“Oh.”
He leaned in closer, gravelly speaking in my ear. “But speaking of fucking. I’ve had a hard on since you told me you were bare.” With his hand on my lower back, he pressed me firmly against him. I could feel his erection poking into my hip. The man was attacking all of my senses at once—the sound of his needy voice, the smell that was so male and distinctly him, the touch of his hands on my bare skin—God, I wanted to taste him. It didn’t help that the way his body controlled mine as we fluidly swept across the dance floor reminded me how dominating he would probably be in bed. There was an unlocked closet around somewhere nearby, I was sure of it. It would be so easy to give in to him right now. But instead, I forced my usual bitchy self through the haze of lust that threatened to swallow me.
“Maybe you should see a doctor about that. Seems like you constantly have an erection. Too much Viagra, perhaps?”
“I can assure you, there is no artificial assistance needed to make my cock swell when I’m around you, Soraya. And I have visited my doctor recently. In fact, just a few days ago. I took some advice from a columnist I follow and prepared myself on the off chance that I’m permitted to break my celibacy vow. I’m clean and have the papers to prove it.”
“You sound eager. Are you carrying them on your person right now?” I was joking, but Graham pulled back and patted his jacket pocket over where the inside pocket would be. I chuckled. “Are you serious? You don’t actually have them on you, do you?”
“Of course, I’m serious. There is nothing more that I want to do than come inside of you. Not a chance I was going to miss an opportunity because I wasn’t prepared if the occasion presented itself. I’ve been carrying them w
ith me for three days.”
His admission was bizarrely endearing. Another song came on, and we danced in quiet for a while, our bodies swaying in unison.
I leaned my head on his chest and sighed. “I like this. I didn’t expect to, to be honest.”
He nuzzled against me. “Me, too. I normally hate these things.”
My guard was slipping for this man. It didn’t take long for me to be reminded to lift it back up and protect myself.
We were seated at a large round table set up to accommodate at least a dozen other guests. Graham introduced me to the couples surrounding us on either side, but a few of the chairs were still empty.
“So what do you do? Soraya, is it?” Braxton Harlow sat to my left. He was an older, yet handsome looking gentleman with silvery hair that stood in stark contrast to his tanned face. Graham was talking business to the man on his other side.
“I work for an advice columnist. Ask Ida.”
“You’re a writer. How wonderful.”
“Not exactly. It’s more like I run crappy errands for the writer and sometimes she lets me take a shot at answering some of the letters we get.”
“I see.”
“What do you do?”
“I own a pharmaceutical company.”
“You’re a legal drug dealer?”
He chuckled. “I suppose I am.”
“Does that mean you’re a doctor?”
“It does.”
“Well maybe you can talk to Graham here, he seems to have a medical issue.”
Just then, Graham joined our conversation. “I heard my name. Are you two talking about me?”
Braxton responded, “Soraya was just about to tell me about a medical issue you’re having. Is there something I can help you with, Graham?”
Graham squinted at me and then downed the last of his drink. “I don’t know, do you treat blue balls?”
At first, the man looked confused, but that quickly changed into a hearty laugh. After that, the three of us fell into easy conversation together. Graham’s hand was always on the back of my chair, his fingers lightly tracing a figure eight along one bare shoulder. I was actually beginning to relax and enjoy myself, right up until I saw a flash of red across the table. Avery was seated directly across from us. Graham and the man she was with did that silent nod thing that men do.
