Because I never wanted to be noticed before kissing Dorian Holder. I revelled in the new sensation. It felt powerful, and I realised you have to throw your shoulders back in order to not topple over in wicked high heels. My boobs looked even bigger, and that night I didn’t feel the need to hide ’em away.
But where was Dorian Holder?
I cast my eyes around the room, and a stunning woman in black and white dashed over to the what, the podium? The station? Wherever hostesses stand with their guest lists.
‘Sorry to make you wait,’ she apologised, and I was surprised by the lack of condescension in her voice. True what they say: clothes make the man. Or the woman, in this case. I must’ve looked like a big spender. ‘I was just seating a ten-top.’
‘No worries,’ I said, and maybe it was something in my accent that made her relax. She looked over the reservation book.
‘Your name?’
‘Lily –’
‘Lily Dewitt.’ Her eyes widened, as though I were some sort of royalty. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re with Mr Holder.’
She bustled me into Bar Boulud where my boss sat in a corner, a comely blonde draped around him, whispering something in his ear. He laughed, and his eyes closed with pleasure. Hilarity ensued.
Of course. Fun and games.
Not tonight.
Did he think I was some sort of mouse he could just bat around?
Clearly he did.
OK, so Gwen was right, and it was time for me to end this thing. This thing that, truth be told, never started. I turned on my spike heel, about to make a quick escape, but Dorian spotted me, and I hoped he couldn’t discern whatever the look on my face was. I’ve never been the greatest at hiding my feelings. If my expression matched my churned-up emotions, it was somewhere between mortified, furious and –
Whoops! Sooo wasn’t used to stilettos. The hostess grasped my arm, narrowly saving me from a sprain. ‘Steady, now,’ she said. ‘We’re heading this way, Ms Dewitt. The VIP section.’
Ah, she mistook my pirouette for a bad sense of direction. Because, after all, what sane girl would turn her back on Dorian Holder, CEO? Fine and dandy. I was not meant to retreat from him. I was meant to own the moment and show Dorian Holder precisely how much I didn’t care … while making it clear that I had no time for his shenanigans.
He blew it.
Big time … huge.
‘Mr Holder? Ms Dewitt has arrived.’
Dorian continued to stare up at me, his eyes wide. I hoped he was thinking that he couldn’t believe I was the same frumpy Lily he saw yesterday. His eyes devoured me, and finally met my stare with such intensity that it were as though the beautiful blonde … Beatrice. Yes, Ms Collins was the interloper. But he looked at me as though Beatrice Collins did not exist.
Except she did exist, and she was checking me out as well. One would expect her contact-lens fake-blue eyes to glitter, but they shone like Dorian’s. As though she were dazzled by me.
Which was, obviously, ridiculous. I may clean up nice, but I’m no Beatrice Collins.
She unwound herself from the man I stupidly believed was my date. It was clear Dorian intended me to be the ‘guest star’ in some kind of threesome. Or he was thinking something that was about as reality-based as my foolish assumption that he planned to treat me like a lady. Of course he would have some ulterior motive behind all his spoiling. Ultimately I was just another pawn in Dorian’s game. And I was also an idiot for not seeing something like this coming.
Gwen’s blunt words echoed in my mind. Only because there’s no room in your mind for anyone outside this fairy tale you seem to believe is happening.
‘Lily.’
My name rolled off his tongue as if he were talking to someone else, a lover. The word was a caress, as though he had right, rhyme or reason to touch me. He stood swiftly and reached for my hand. Like a trained pup, I accepted.
We gazed into each other’s eyes. Holy shit.
I hated him.
The almost forgotten hostess cleared her throat. ‘Your server will be right over,’ she said, her voice apologetic, as though she were the asshole angling for a ménage a trois. I pulled back my hand and did not sit.
‘Hello, Lily,’ Beatrice Collins said. She’d scooted over to the far end of the sofa-seat-booth, or whatever you call these couchy-things at the kind of restaurants a Revere girl can never afford.
‘Ms Collins.’ I nodded at her.
Dorian released my hand and sank back into the luxurious leather booth. ‘Please sit,’ he said.
Though it was more of a command than an invitation, I appreciated the ‘please’. So I sat.
‘Bea was just leaving.’ Dorian gave her That Look he hit me with when humiliating me in the conference room yesterday.
‘Indeed.’ She picked up her handbag, which looked like a year’s salary’s worth of jewels and calfskin. A year’s worth of my salary, that is. God knew what she made.
Not that I cared.
‘Funny thing.’ I looked at Dorian, and then at Beatrice. ‘I thought we were about to have a date, Mr Holder.’
‘Business first,’ he replied, with just the slightest scowl, then nodded towards Beatrice. ‘And our meeting is over, “Ms Collins”. Thank you again for staying late, and please be in touch before tomorrow with more information. If you would.’
‘Of course, “Mr Holder”.’ They laughed at what was surely some unfunny in-joke, and she nodded at me. ‘Lily. A pleasure to see you.’
‘You, too.’
Seriously, I could not believe the nerve. Hope it was good for them.
‘I’m going.’ Beatrice Collins’s voice was light, but her stance was what I can only describe as right wicked pissed. ‘By the way, you can tell her who I actually am, if you want.’
‘I think “her” gets exactly what you are,’ I said.
‘Don’t be so sure, hon.’ Beatrice Collins appeared amused, which was infuriating.
‘I’m not blind.’
Well, legally, I am, but that was neither here nor there.
‘And don’t call me “hon”,’ I added.
There. I sure showed them.
‘I’m sorry?’ Dorian said, and I wasn’t sure if he was addressing Beatrice or me. Maybe both of us?
‘Not as sorry as you’re going to be, if you don’t take my advice, D.’ Beatrice Collins frowned.
‘Duly noted.’ There was unmistakable affection in his voice.
Her advice? Oh, whatever could that be!
‘See you, Lily Dewitt. At some point.’ Beatrice pranced away, stunning in her strappy emerald Halston dress. Yeah, look. I may be Lily Dewitt, but I also read Vogue. That little number was next season’s Halston. The designers must send her samples.
‘You came! I wasn’t sure how it would go this afternoon.’ Dorian touched my arm, and it was tender. And it was sweet. ‘You are so pretty, Lily.’
Oh, come on. Why did he have to say ‘pretty’?
Men tell us we’re beautiful all the time, when they want something. It’s reached the point where ‘beautiful’ doesn’t even sound like a word any more.
But pretty.
Every girl wants to be pretty.
Because ‘pretty’ is the girl all the boys are shy around, if they don’t have some serious blue blood and manly confidence. ‘Pretty’ is the girl a hot guy might stutter and blush for. Pretty is the girl the captain of the football team takes to the prom.
Pretty is a fucking field of lilies in June.
‘Thank you.’ Glancing over my shoulder as Beatrice Collins clicked her way past the bar, I tried to balance better on my tottery pumps. No easy task, because I felt ready to faint. I will not be reeled in like this. ‘Excuse me, Dorian.’
Look, I’d never chased anyone before that night. Male or female. Especially in what must have been two-thousand-dollar Louboutins. But I was chasing down Beatrice Collins, just as she was about to step into the foyer. Yes, the other diners were staring, ready for a scene. And, no,
I could not have given a flying fuck.
‘Hey!’
Beatrice was already out the door, but adrenalin was coursing through my veins, so I was right behind her. Without stopping to think, I snagged her arm.
A bit too hard, perhaps.
‘Let go of me.’ She spun on her heel, and we were nose-to-nose.
Damn. Beatrice had Dorian’s showdown eyes, if he had blue ones, and she was pretty damn scary. An alpha is an alpha, whether male or female, so I released her before she could bite.
Oh, my God, I’d gone and got myself into a catfight. Full-on bunny-boiler. As though I were possessed. Like I was becoming someone else.
After all, Lily Dewitt, wallflower of Apollyon LLC, never ran down beautiful blondes and assaulted them. Is grabbing someone an assault? Damn, and there are serious sharky lawyers on the first floor of the Apollyon building, to whom I’m sure she has complete access. This was a nightmare. It had to be.
‘Lily Dewitt?’ She raised one well-groomed eyebrow, and again reminded me of Dorian.
‘Beatrice Collins?’
I managed not to stammer, and this was no small feat, because I’d realised she intimidated the ever living fuck out of me. Beatrice was amazing right then. If I had half of her Thing when I was that age, how different would my life have been?
‘You break Dor’s heart, I break your face.’ She took one step back, about turned and clicked away.
So I stood still as stone and, yes, my jaw had dropped.
That was incredible.
After Beatrice Collins’s rock-star exit, there was nothing for me to do but return to my booth, tail between my legs.
Dorian Holder was smiling ever so slightly, and this time he remained seated. ‘Lily.’
‘Dorian.’ I tapped the table and gulped. Crying is private. He wanted to humiliate me, and had done so. ‘I hope this little scene has been entertaining for you.’
‘Scene?’ He tilted his head. ‘Lily, what’s wrong? And what did you need from Beatrice?’
‘What’s wrong?’ I snorted, and tried to spin on my heel like his boffing secretary skank did, but it was a bad twist. ‘Ow! Fuck!’
‘Christ.’ He leaped to his feet, caught me and guided me down to the booth. ‘Are you all right, Lily?’
My ankle was throbbing. If I just sprained it … well, right then, who cared? ‘Am I all right? Are you fucking kidding me?’
Please, please, don’t cry. Come on, Lily. It didn’t hurt that bad, and you are not a total idiot right now. Yes, you absolutely are. Don’t make it worse.
‘Shh. Come here.’ He pulled me in, and his touch was familiar. Not sure what else to call it, and I know that’s ridiculous, seeing as he only held me once, just the night before, and he’d set up a scenario where I would walk in on him and his gorgeous assistant, purely out of a cruel need to make me feel stupid, and merely seducing me, and …
‘Cut it out, Dorian.’ My protest was unconvincing, and I didn’t seem to be removing his arm from my shoulders. ‘That seriously hurt.’
‘Looked like it. Should I have the waiter bring you an ice pack?’ His brow furrowed in what appeared to be genuine concern.
And the Oscar Award for Best Actor goes to Dorian Hartley Holder.
‘Oh, spare me.’ My ankle was surely messed up, but my pride hurt worse. ‘That was brilliant, Mr Holder. OK. So I’m sloppy seconds. I get it. And if you were angling for a threesome, I think I just wrecked it for you. Let’s just – let’s not do this.’
Dammit, I so wanted to storm out right then, but there was no way in hell that I’d get up and topple over and cause yet another scene.
‘What?’ He slid away from me. ‘Lily, what’s the matter with you?’
No tears, Lily. Angry and sad are not the same thing. Remember that you are angry, I thought.
‘What’s the matter with me?’ I was shaking. ‘Um, try you asked me out for a date after gifting me a day of awesome, I gussy up, come down to the bar and you’re being all … all Doriany with your bimbo secretary, and –’
‘What?’ He glared. ‘I’m sorry, say that again?’
‘Beatrice Collins.’ I gulped down the lump in my throat. ‘I get it. I mean, you’re like this big, powerful man, and you’ve got some hot little number hanging all over you. If you were trying to make me feel stupid, congratulations. You win.’
‘Oh, my God.’ He put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
‘Yeah, that is just soooo unreasonable of me to –’
‘Lily, Beezus – that is, Beatrice – is my kid sister.’
‘Your what?’
Oh, yeah, my ankle. It was starting to throb again.
‘Half-sister. My old man married Mallory Collins after my mother passed away, and they had Bea. She doesn’t want anyone at the office to know, and we’ve got this thing we started at the Denver branch, where I’m always extra bossy to her. No.’ He tried not to laugh, though this was not funny. ‘Lily, didn’t she tell you that already?’
I leaned back, looked at him hard and hoped all these pieces would fall together. ‘Nope.’
‘Oh, right.’ He shook his head. ‘You weren’t shopping with Beezus today. Christ, I thought one of us had said something at some point. Or even if we hadn’t, I can’t believe you’d think I was an old pervert who was screwing his nineteen-year-old secretary.’
‘It’s not like you’d be the first boss to go that route.’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t know me well, but I thought I just came off as an asshole, not an old creep.’
‘How old are you?’
‘None of your business.’
I narrowed my eyes at Dorian Holder. His face was sweet and soft. Younger than a CEO billionaire should look. Younger than he previously appeared. ‘Dorian, please don’t pretend you weren’t fucking with my head.’
This was bonkers. Beatrice was somehow his sister. Maybe he wasn’t a hundred years old, after all. Or 35, or whatever. Maybe he’s just what they call distinguished. Refined. Refinement makes people look more mature, right? I scootched away. He leaned back and gave me a good once-over.
‘Your head is the last part of you I want to fuck with, Ms Dewitt.’
Maybe there were a few things Dorian didn’t know about himself. Screwing with women’s minds comes so naturally to him that scrambling a poor girl is just the way he is. He totally wanted to mindfuck me, he couldn’t help himself. This is something he does, even if only subconsciously.
Why was my heart pounding so? Did I want to have my mind fucked with? Because my clit was following the beat of my heart. Stop, Lily. I took a shaky breath. ‘Well, your little assistant-sister just told me that if I break your heart, she’ll break my face. What’s up with that?’ As I was still reeling, Beatrice’s behaviour was all I had left to complain about.
‘She said that?’
‘She did.’
‘Sorry. Beezus is maybe kind of protective of me.’ He snickered, the jerk. ‘And apparently she has inherited the same possessive genes with which I’ve been cursed.’
‘Maybe?’ I was fuming. ‘Are you serious? She –’
‘I know, I know. Forgets that I’m actually firstborn. Guess I’ve had my heart broken a couple times and she thinks you’re capable of doing the same. Or she believes I have, anyway. Fact is, I bounce back pretty easy.’ He put a hand on my knee, and I froze.
Voice trembling, I said, ‘I’m starving, I want food, I want my foot to stop hurting, and I want just, like, two seconds to process. Is that too much to ask?’
‘Of course not.’
He was fighting a smile as he slid his palm further up my thigh.
‘Quit it.’ My voice was unconvincing. And my pussy was starting to catch up with my clit. Attraction with a dash of anger? The ultimate aphrodisiac and panty-soaker.
‘You’re in the driver’s seat, Lily.’
‘Yeah, right. Something tells me you’re full of shit.’
‘No wa
y for a lady to talk.’ He promptly removed his hand, much to my annoyance. I’d expected him to be at least a teeny bit less respectful of my boundaries. Maybe hoped. Definitely hoped. ‘Here’s our waiter now, Lily.’
‘Huh?’
‘Think fast. They’re busy tonight, and we’re taking up prime real estate.’ He passed me the drink menu. ‘Bea told me to order you a Smashed Garden. No idea what that is, but, as you can tell from your new wardrobe, my sis has a pretty good sense of people. I’ve got instinct about women’s wants and desires, but am lacking in the trends and fashions.’
‘Sorry, that was the gayest thing I ever want to hear out of your mouth, Dorian Holder.’
‘The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth, Lily, is “more”, “harder”, “don’t stop” and “I’m gonna come.”’
Dorian put his hand on my inner thigh, snapped the elasticised lace at the top of my stocking and slid his palm up so close to my pussy that I began moving my hips down, ready to slip onto his fingers. ‘I –’
He withdrew.
‘But whatever you like.’
My eyes bugged, and I had no idea what to do next, where to go, how to move.
‘What can I get you folks?’ asked our embarrassingly cute waiter, and then he cringed, realising that he wasn’t supposed to call high-rollers ‘folks’. ‘That is, what are we having to drink this evening?’
Maybe it was fun to sit next to Dorian Holder, CEO, after all. Maybe he should put his hand back on my thigh.
‘Dirty martini for me. And …’
‘Smashed Garden,’ I said, having no idea what I just ordered. I promised myself to sip slowly.
‘Very good,’ the waiter said. He poured me a glass of water and retreated.
I looked over the drink list. ‘Absolut Citron, splash of peach schnapps, smashed ginger, crushed mint, muddled cucumber –’
Reaching Lily Page 10
