And as I waited, my eyes were drawn once more to that mysterious door on the right, the one he’d seemed not to want to show me on my first visit here, and I wondered just what might be behind it.
Blake binding my hands and feet ...
Blake making me kneel before him ...
Blake fucking me hard in front of a room full of strangers ...
And just then of course, the first door swung open, revealing Blake dressed once more in his scruffy, casual attire: a loose fitting white linen shirt and his favorite blue Levis, his chiseled jaw flecked with dark two-day stubble, his eyes even more intense and direct than I remembered them.
“Oh, hey,” he said, slowly and deliberately, as if his mind too was returning to that moment when we’d locked eyes at the party.
I fought back my rising embarrassment, hoping I didn’t look half as flustered as I felt, hoping the deafening boom of my heart was audible only inside my head.
“So, the, um, the bathroom,” I said, barging a little too quickly into the bare apartment, my steps so wobbly and unsure it felt like I’d never used my legs before.
“Sure,” Blake said, a picture of icy calm, turning and leading the way down the corridor, the defined musculature of his back just the same as when I’d seen it, naked, only a few days ago.
“Right, what changes would you like to make then?” I asked as soon as I stepped into the large bathroom, feeling another twinge of embarrassment about how obviously uncomfortable and awkward I was being around him, rushing straight to the point in my wish to get the hell out of there again before he said something about the party, my stupid voice echoing all around the empty room.
“Not a fan of small talk, I see,” he said with a smirk. “Well, first I had a question about the shower area … You remember the unit we chose?”
I nodded. How could I forget it, it’d taken me days to source any tiles and fittings he didn’t completely despise on first viewing.
“It will fit more than one person inside, wont it?”
I shot him a glance.
Is this guy being serious?
From his expression, which gave absolutely nothing away, I simply had no way of telling.
“I think so …” I murmured.
“And how many people in total do you think we could fit, comfortably, in the current size we have specified?”
“I really don’t know,” I said, taken aback, scanning mentally over the original bathroom plans we’d finalized so painstakingly. It made no sense; it was as if he was willing to change the whole thing over, just to put me on the spot and embarrass me. “Two?” I ventured timidly.
At this Blake shook his head, dismissively. “Then we’re gonna have to change it … I’d need to be able to get three people in there, at the very least.”
You asshole.
I knew for sure now that he was just saying this stuff in an attempt to embarrass me.
I opened my mouth, surprising even myself with what came out of it. “Well, why don’t we just knock that far wall through, too?” I began, unable to even slightly disguise the venom in my voice. “That way you could fit twenty inside, comfortably.”
His grin widened and his eyes flashed, obviously enjoying this back and forth much more than me.
“Good suggestion,” he replied, nodding. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind. Now, moving on to the bath …”
Really?
The bath too?
Were we really about to change that also, after I’d spent so long finding something that met his rigorous and exacting standards, just so Blake could make another suggestive joke?
“I know we originally talked about a Japanese wooden model,” he began. “But the taps come set at one end, correct?”
I nodded.
“Well, is there any way we could fix those in the middle instead? I just don’t want them digging in someone’s back, if somebody were so good as to share it with me.”
“Right, very good,” I said, tapping the note into my iPad, hoping we were approaching the end of the meeting now, and I could get the hell out of here before I completely shriveled up and died.
“Now don’t get prudish on me, Jessica,” he said. “We’re both adults, after all. And if you’re going to get like this, I don’t know how you’re going to cope when we come to my new ideas for the bedroom.”
“Is that everything for now?” I pleaded wearily.
At least we haven’t talked about the party, thank God.
“Oh, there is one more thing …” he said, his face fixed and serious. “I was thinking that perhaps the floorboards could be painted black and then how about a leopard print rug, too?”
For a half-second I thought he was being serious, before I watched his cold expression break into a cheeky smile.
I laughed too, unable to help myself, remembering that spark of warmth that had existed between us, right from that first pitch meeting with Marianne, which felt like an age ago but was, in reality, just a few short weeks.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, mouthing the words ‘leopard print’ as I tapped them into my iPad before slipping it back into my bag.
I let him walk me back through the apartment, the awkwardness now fading between us, and if anything I actually felt a small pang of sadness when I reached the lobby once more, wishing I could just spend a moment longer with this new, warm, playful Blake — the boyish guy behind that cold, hard, sexual exterior he so often projected.
“Okay, I’ll make sure to follow all this up,” I said as he called up the elevator.
“Hey, Jessica,” he replied. “I just want you to know, I’m really glad I hired you. You’ve done a great job so far.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, feeling a genuine thrill from this unexpected compliment – so rare from someone like him.
“And I meant to mention it before, but I’m throwing a small private party, this coming Sunday evening, at one of my hotels. Do you think …”
“No, thanks,” I blurted, before he was even able to finish his sentence. “I don’t think your parties are my kind of scene.”
“Now wait just one second,” he said with a sly grin. “What kind of parties do you think I throw exactly? I thought you said you weren’t there on Friday?”
No!
You’ve given yourself away!
“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess I’m just not much of a party girl ...”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” An excruciatingly long pause. “Because this is simply a networking meet-up I throw, once every few months. I thought it might be good for you to meet some of my other clients, and perhaps you could bring Greg along too. He’s looking to make business connections, right? Well, perhaps he could find himself a worthwhile internship. Something like this would be the perfect opportunity for both of you. But if you don’t think you can manage it ...”
“I’ll think about it …” I said, relieved to hear the elevator arriving behind me, glad to be turning my back on him at last.
“I’ll email you the invite!” he called after me, the enjoyment of my discomfort so clear in his voice.
“Everything okay, madam?” Collins asked, once we were alone in the elevator.
“Fine,” I sighed, sinking exhaustedly onto the plush little seat. “Everything’s just fine.”
§
On the subway home, I found myself sitting opposite an adorable older couple, maybe in their late sixties but obviously still in that first intense flush of love. Well, either that or they’d just spent the most amazingly perfect forty years together. Unable to keep my eyes from flicking over to them as they cooed and kissed, their hands clutched tightly together, their bodies snuggled close as could be, I couldn’t help but feel a flash of sadness at the state of my own relationship. Because truth was, it was floundering somewhat.
If you’d asked me a year ago whether Greg or I would make it into our sixties together, I’d have answered yes in a heartbeat.
&nbs
p; But now?
Now I wasn’t quite so sure.
I still wanted it to work, but it seemed like we were drifting apart with each passing day. Or at least I was.
Oh, it was all so screwy, I didn’t even know what to think anymore, only that I knew that Blake had something to do with my sudden cooling down on Greg; it was as if he’d shown me all the things that I didn’t even know I wanted until now, things I was worried Greg lacked.
Intensity for instance — this was never an adjective you could use to describe Greg. Laidback, sure. Kind, absolutely. Easy going, great. But intense? No, that was one thing that Blake possessed in spades, something I’d never even considered attractive until now.
But then again, Blake had a cruel side, too. A side that enjoyed watching me squirm. A side that enjoyed binding Gina’s wrists behind her back. A side that I’d seen all too clearly today in his apartment, as he’d tried his hardest to embarrass me, simply for his own cruel amusement.
That was something Greg would never do …
What a damn mess.
I gazed forlornly at my reflection in the night black window, as the subway rocketed me back towards Brooklyn and my hopelessly tiny apartment, and my kind clueless boyfriend who didn’t even suspect anything was wrong.
If I really thought about it, there were other things too: we hardly spent any time together. Even though my schedule was more flexible now, Greg still didn’t seem interested in spending much time with me, preferring to spend long hours in the library, poring over the reading list for the MBA he dreamed of studying but couldn’t afford. He always said he was focusing on our future but he never seemed to be willing to give me an afternoon right now.
And although he never said it, I knew he hated New York. He hadn’t made a single friend here, and was always talking about the beautiful ranch house we’d be able to afford in the country somewhere, if only we’d get out of this place. He’d even begun to refuse to go to all those amazing restaurants he used to read about, saying they were full of snobs.
And then there was the sex. Or lack of it. Greg had never had the greatest libido, but these days I could tell he was just going through the motions. The things I saw Blake doing that night, well I knew Greg would never even think of doing them, finding them kinky, weird, gross even ...
I knew it was wrong of me, pitting Greg and Blake against each other in my head like this, and it make me feel like such a total bitch, so I forced myself to think about something else: the networking event.
Am I really gonna go?
It wasn’t like Greg was busy. Sundays were his night off, and of course this was the big break he needed. I knew how smart he was, and as soon as he got into a room full of well-connected, influential people, I was sure someone was bound to notice him.
I owed it to him. We had to go.
As I exited the subway, I stopped by the nearest ATM, slipping my card into the machine and tapping in my PIN, ready to take out $50. But I stopped in my tracks when I clocked the balance on screen.
No.
This can’t be right.
I read back the figure again, and again, and again. I’d obviously just been paid, and it was triple the amount I’d suggested to Blake’s assistant.
This was his work – no doubt. He’d done this on purpose. Another power game. Another attempt to mess with my head. And as I stared at the obscenely large new balance of my bank account, I didn’t feel any of the joy or excitement I’d expected to feel, back when I’d fantasized about becoming a powerful, successful woman with the bank account to match.
Instead I felt like a puppet, a plaything ...
Does he really expect me to flutter my eyelashes and thank him profusely, the next time I see him?
Because he could forget that.
But what I could do, though, was enjoy the money. This was enough to pay for Greg’s MBA, get us out of that tiny apartment. Hell, we could even get out of Brooklyn – move to Manhattan, right in the city ...
But then it hit me.
How exactly was I going explain our newfound wealth to Greg? He was such an old fashioned guy. He was always talking about how he was going take care of me. He didn’t have to say anything, but I could tell it stung already that my job with Marianne paid way more than his hourly rate at the bar.
And if I was putting him through school, too? Being the breadwinner?
I don’t think his masculinity could handle it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Jessica, glad you’re here!” Blake said loudly, as if he wanted the whole room to hear. “I want you to meet my partner, Alex Wiltshire.”
And as he whisked me across the private function suite of The 212, I felt his hand come to rest gently on the small of my back, his touch separated only by the silk of my dress. All my anger at his mind games, all my resolve not to think about him in that way, simply melted away. Because once you found yourself in a room with Blake Matthews, it was dangerously easy to fall back under his spell.
“Great dress,” he murmured in my ear.
I couldn’t help but grin with pleasure. I felt like he was showing me off, like he was actually proud of me.
My eyes darted once more towards Greg, hoping he wasn’t getting jealous or suspicious, but no, he looked like he was having a great time, chatting away happily to some elderly business mogul that Blake had introduced him to.
Obviously I’d been nervous about Greg and Blake finally meeting, but it had happened so quickly, not much more than a ‘hello’ and a handshake, yet I had this weird feeling that they were still sizing each other up from across the room.
I’m just going to have to do my best to keep them apart.
“Jessica, meet my right-hand man, Alex Wiltshire,” Blake said, gesturing me towards a silver-haired older gent in a sharp dark grey suit.
“Ah, so this is the Jessica we’ve heard so much about …” he said, his face breaking out in a warm smile, his accent transatlantic. I’m not one for older guys, and this guy was probably older than my dad, but I had to admit that he was rather handsome in a certain kind of a way.
“Alex is the brains behind the operation,” Blake explained, playfully.
“Nonsense,” Wiltshire replied. “Don’t listen to him! My position on the board is simply an advisory one. You wouldn’t expect it, but dear old Blake here loves to do himself down. Don’t you, boy?”
“Something like that,” Blake shrugged with a grin.
There was something endearing about the friendly way the two men sparred, with Blake adopting the boyish innocent role, that reminded me of a father and son. It was another new side to Blake, one I was enjoying seeing, an innocent kindness and, yes, that reassuring warmth I saw so rarely.
I cast another quick glance across the room at Greg, so enthusiastic yet so out-of-place in his cheap Target suit jacket and bartending slacks, and I felt a twinge of sadness.
“So Jessica, when are you going to turn your expert skills to some of the more outdated hotels in our portfolio then?” Wiltshire continued.
Is he joking?
“Well, I don’t know,” I stuttered. “I mean, I’d love to but, I mean, of course I would, if you really mean it?” My head was swimming, and my words were a garbled rush, escaping my mouth two at a time.
The two men laughed at my enthusiastic outpouring.
“Hey, I can’t spare her just yet!” Blake chimed, “I want to get my apartment finished first.”
“So where did you find her, anyway?” Wiltshire asked.
“I poached her,” Blake said, and I felt my skin break out in a cold sweat. “From Marianne Martinelli.”
I quickly shot a panicked look at Greg.
Why haven’t I thought about this until now?
Why didn’t I think about the very real possibility of Blake telling Greg that I worked for him now?
After all, it’s not like Blake knows it’s a secret.
I just need to make sure that doesn’t happen, and fast …
“I’m really sorry, Mr Wiltshire” I cut in, “but I just need to have a private word with Blake about something. We’ll be right back …”
Blake gave me a puzzled look, but followed me across the room, right out through the door that led to the little alcove by the bathrooms, nestled away out of sight from the main function room.
Once we were safely on our own, I turned back to Blake, surprised to find him so near to me, surprised to see that, yes, he was moving in even closer, backing me right up against the wall, closing up the few inches of space between us until my head was spinning from the heady scent of his cologne and the fact that his full sensual lips were only inches from mine.
I could feel my heart pounding as I realized what was happening.
He’s mistaken my actions ...
He’s misread my obvious need to get him alone ...
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that escaped it was a breathy gasp as I felt his fingers firmly cup my buttock, his leg slipping between mine, my skirt sliding upwards as, for some reason, I allowed it all to happen, even finding myself parting my legs a little so that his thigh would slide even further between mine.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he whispered, his words just hot breath, his lips tantalizingly close to mine. “At the party, it was you …”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied quietly, hearing the obvious trembling nervous excitement in my voice, feeling his muscular thigh brushing softly against my yearning, throbbing sex.
“It was you,” Blake repeated, his leg now slipping away, but something else taking its place.
His fingers.
I could feel his touch travelling upwards, tracing a soft line up the tingling flesh of my inner thigh, headed right towards the flimsy cotton of my panties.
“You who watched me from the shadows …”
His hand moved further upwards.
“You who watched me jacking my cock …”
His touch traced further still, until his fingers lightly flitted over my throbbing mound then began to actually slip inside my panties. I knew I should stop him, but instead I remained frozen in place.
Girl After Dark Page 34
