by kj lewis
“Would you mind excusing me? I need to use the ladies room,” I say before stepping back into the main area.
“Emme?” I hear a familiar voice that I can’t place. Turning I find myself face to face with my past.
“Oh my God. Evan!” The look of shock on my face and in my voice is evident. “I can’t believe you’re here?” I feel the tears about to flow and take a breath to hold back my wayward emotions. “How bizarre that I see you today of all days.” We embrace each other for a moment.
“Hey. Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
“Yes,” I answer, feeling silly. “Just memories.” Graham’s hand at the small of my back reminds me that we aren’t alone and I pull back.
“Evan, this is my husband Graham. Graham, this is Evan Willis. We grew up together.”
Graham’s eyes are still a darkened blue, but he doesn’t seem to miss a beat.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Graham shakes his hand.
“What you are doing here?”
“My dad is running for Senate. This is a working night for us,” he says, his eyes drinking me in from tip to toe. “Congratulations. I can’t believe you’re married. I saw the headlines that Graham Taylor was married this weekend, but I didn’t read the article to see to whom.” His eyes land back on mine and he stills for a minute. I know he’s remembering. “Crazy. I just can’t imagine. I had no idea you were still in the city. I would have looked you up ages ago. Can you do lunch or dinner soon?” he asks.
“I would love to.” I hand him my business card. “Call me.” I release Graham and pull him into one last hug.
“I will. You look phenomenal by the way. Can you imagine what the guys would say about you now?” His eyes glitter and I notice Graham’s hand sliding inside the back of my dress, resting against my naked hip. ‘You’re a lucky man,” he tells Graham.
“You have no idea,” Graham says coolly, but at least has the manners to answer him. Evan overlooks or ignores, I’m not sure which, the edge in Graham’s voice. But it’s not lost on me. I’m getting peed on. If I weren’t over this day, I’d be pissed.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says before turning and leaving.
I watch as he walks away. Before Graham has a chance to say something, I excuse myself into the ladies’ room.
A myriad of emotions wash over me and I feel raw. What is Evan doing here and today of all days? Sometimes I question God’s sense of humor. Blatantly aware this is the last place I want to be, I shakily wash my hands before heading into the hall.
“Emelia.” I stop at the mention of my full name being said by someone other than Graham. It’s my grandfather, Forrest Forrester.
“I’d like you to swab the inside of your cheek with this please,” he directs with no preamble. He hands me an envelope with a swab on a long stick.
“Why?” I ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.
“I want to have DNA verification.”
I look at the envelope he is still extending towards me.
“You should speak to my dad. If he asks me, I will.” His hand wraps around my arm as I turn to make my way back to Graham.
“Don’t play with me little girl. I’m way out of your league.”
“Take your hand off my wife.” Graham’s voice is quiet but filled with authority. His stance taller and wider than usual, he positions himself between me and Forrest, and says leaning in, “You’re right. She’s out of your league. Fortunately, I’m not. You want to speak to Emelia, you go through me, or you go through Harry. I won’t have this conversation with you a second time. Put your hand on her again…” It’s a not a threat or even a warning. It’s a promise.
“I want to leave,” I say as Graham escorts me into the main area. Without stopping, he directs me out the door and to our car. We ride home in silence. Graham brooding, me distant.
As soon as we step off the elevator, I slide my dress off my shoulders and lunge myself at him, wearing only my heels and silk stockings. Graham makes a noise that clearly shows he was not anticipating this attack. Maneuvering his pants and zipper, his breath hisses as my hand wraps around him.
“I need you, Graham. I need you inside of me,” I beg him, my breathing erratic. Graham leverages me against the wall as he pushes into me.
He moans in the pleasure of finding me ready for him.
“I can’t feel you, Graham. Please.”
He lifts my legs, wrapping them around him as he sets a quick and punishing pace, but I’m too lost in myself. I’ve run the gamut of emotions today and I can’t find one to land on. I feel like I have no bearings. There’s no ground for me to stand on.
“Please, Graham. Please.” My voice is filled with unrecognizable emotions even to me. I’ve lost my balance, and I can’t seem to find it. I feel out of control.
“Emelia.” I realize Graham has stopped and has been calling my name. “Open your eyes, Emelia.” His hands are braced against the wall on each side of me. With my back against the wall and legs still wrapped around him, Graham watches as I do what he says. When I open my eyes, he leans down to make sure I am focused on his.
“Eyes on me, Emelia.” He slowly starts to move inside of me again and again, while saying my name over and over.
“Let go, Emelia,” Graham tells me, barely holding on to his own control.
I shake my head no, never taking my eyes off him.
“Emelia.” Graham whispers when my sex clenches around him. He moves his hand between us and pushes against my clit, sending me into an abyss, calling out his name.
“Emelia.” He comes with my name on his lips. We stand there for several minutes, Graham’s forehead against mine. Our chests moving to catch our breath before Graham sets me on my feet. When he does, I take my heels and stockings off, walk to our room, and get in the shower leaving Graham to wonder what just happened.
I jump when Graham runs his hands down my arms. I was so lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t hear him enter the shower. I’ve been standing under the water with no movement. Pulling him tight to me, Graham’s arms blanket around me. He knows what I need and simply stands with me for a long time.
“Babe?” His eyes never leaving me and mine looking everywhere but at his. I nuzzle him before I wash his hair and rinse us off. I throw on his t-shirt after drying off. Once we’re both in bed, I burrow into him, finding solace.
“I love you, Emelia.” These are the only spoken words before he rolls me onto my back and makes love to me, our hands intertwined above my head.
I wake around three in the morning. My stomach is off. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t eat dinner last night or because of the night itself. I gently extract myself from Graham without waking him. Sliding on his sweats and his sweatshirt, I grab a blanket and head out onto the terrace.
I know it seems backwards to most people, but for me, the city is like a balm. Especially perched above it, it makes its own music. It’s soothing. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and looking up into concerned blue eyes, I move over inviting him under the blanket with me.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” We wrap ourselves in each other and the blanket. The heat of the fire pit I turned on staving off the cold.
“I don’t like to sleep without you.” His pout adorable.
“Ready to talk about it?” he asks without pushing. I lie against him for a while and listen to the city.
“I felt like I was on a rollercoaster yesterday. I went from an amazing honeymoon to coming back here for a heart to heart with Harry, which I was grateful for and needed. Then the constant paparazzi, telling Mark no, the run in with Forrest. On any day by itself, that is a lot to absorb or deal with. But when Ben said we’d won the custody battle for Addie, I felt like the rollercoaster picked up speed and there was no one at the controls to let me off. I just kept riding again and again.
“I’ve been fighting for custody since the accident. I’m not sure I thought it through what it would really b
e like to have it. I’ve told Harry before that I wanted to remove myself from the process, but now I’m not sure I can. I don’t think it’s fair to put it on Harry to make the final decision. He doesn’t have the history with Addie he needs to forgive himself for doing what needs to be done. Even though Addie is no longer here, it’s still the last part of her that I have to hold on to. It’s harder than I imagined. I just feel like I am all over the place. Then to see Evan. Not even five minutes after being told we had custody. It was surreal.”
“That’s a lot to carry baby. How does Evan play into this?”
“He and I dated my senior year. And that’s a stretch of the term. Don’t think I didn’t notice you peeing on me by the way,” I interject tartly into my thought. “After I left, he kept up with Addie for me until she pushed him away.”
“Why did she push him away?” he asks, ignoring the peeing comment altogether. I’ve learned Graham doesn’t apologize for things he’s not sorry for.
“Neither of us know. It was the same time she started pushing me away. She started seeing Jake right after that.”
“How was your meeting with Richard?” Graham asks.
“It didn’t happen. He rescheduled for tomorrow.”
“What did you mean about a heart-to-heart with Harry?”
I fill him in on the advice he gave me and how I used it to make my decision about the job with Mark.
“I had planned to talk to you about it on our honeymoon, but I didn’t want to take away from our time together. I wanted to talk to you about an investment for Taylor Organization.”
“Okay. What would you like to talk about?”
“Jules. I would like to invest in her.”
“If you think that is a good decision. I like what she’s designed so far, obviously I want what’s best for her, for Adam.”
Leaning up I look at him. “You’re serious?”
“I am. I’ve talked to her about it before, but she doesn’t want to handle the business side. I think we should back her designs and you should run the brand.”
“I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“You could do it, Emelia.”
“I know I could. I just have to decide if that’s what I want to do.” I lean back against him.
“I love you, Graham.” My words seem to settle him. I realize he’s not accustomed to seeing me unwound.
“I love you, Emelia.” He kisses me before pulling me on top of him.
That is how we wake a few hours later, me on top of Graham. I’m not sure which one of us stirred and woke the other.
“Am I too heavy?” I ask when he shifts under me.
“No, baby. You are like a heater though. I’ve never slept with someone so warm.”
“There’s something I want to think about.” I say sarcastically, raising off of him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never slept with someone who was cold either. You know you are the first person I’ve ever slept with.” He tries to placate me, pulling me back down and under him. I won’t give him access to my mouth, bringing about more laughter and caveman attributes.
“You know,” he looks at me with heated eyes. “You belong to me. If I want to put something in your mouth, I’ll put it in your mouth.” He’s officious, trying to goat me into opening my mouth for his kiss. Before I can protest, he’s yanked his sweats off me with such force you can actually hear them “swoosh,” his mouth taking and devouring my sex with no preamble. With my back propped against the chaise, my knees fall open. From this position, my vantage point fuels the intensity of the work his tongue is making of me. My hands work their way through his hair. His eyes hold mine and there is a look true bliss in them. It’s erotic and vulnerable. Watching someone take you. My body is a book he knows from cover to cover. He knows what it takes to push me over the edge. He runs his thumbs up my sex pulling it open further. Pulling his tongue out of me, he circles my clit, pushing against it before biting down and closing his lips around me and sucking. It sends me crashing into an orgasm so deep, my body convulses off the chaise. I am sure my exaltations can be heard on the street, stories below us. In a flash, Graham has climbed up my body and thrusts his tongue in my mouth, claiming it. I giggle mid-kiss at the image of him staking a flag in me, proclaiming loud and proud that he has indeed claimed my mouth.
“Laughter? Really, Emelia?” CEO Graham has arrived. He lifts me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, slapping my ass hard as he slides the terrace door open to our bedroom. Carrying me in, he gives me another hard slap before he throws me on the bed. He pulls me to the edge of the bed by my underarms until my head hangs just off the side. My neck against the edge of the mattress.
“We’ve got to figure out a way to make it to work on time.” Graham gives a playful frown as he watches Smith pull out of the portico. “Are you meeting Richard at his office or yours?” Graham asks, already engrossed in his emails.
“Mine.”
“Good. Try not to go out today. Maybe the paparazzi will get bored.”
I watch the city move by as Graham is already taking command.
“The media team wants to meet with us. Can you move your ten o’clock?” He asks.
“Yes. It looks like they have an opening at two, so I can meet with them then if you want the ten o’clock.”
My phone dings with the updated calendar request.
Cassie meets me at the elevator and the morning starts before I’m even seated. She takes the seat across from me, going through the calendar for the day. Richard is coming here at three.
“How do you know to be waiting for me at the elevator?” I ask curiously.
“When Mr. Taylor enters the building George is alerted. I’ve asked him to let me know so I can be ready for you.” She’s always ready with an answer.
Holt leans against my door jamb waiting for his turn with me.
“What are you doing here? Isn’t it a school day?”
“It’s is, but I got permission to work today. I wanted to catch you up on a few items while you were out. What?” he adds when he sees the smile on my face.
“You. You’re good at this.”
He feigns indifference at my praise.
“It’s ok to say you’re good at something, you know. Don’t let people sway what you know about yourself. If you are good at something, it’s a fact. Not arrogance. If someone receives it as such, it’s usually because of their own insecurities. Which has nothing to do with you. Not your monkey. Not your circus. Know what I mean? Their issues, not yours.”
“Are you done bestowing Emme’s guide to self-awareness?”
“Probably not.” I smile sweetly at him.
“I wrote two grants last week that I would like your feedback on.”
My impromptu meeting with Holt pushes me ten minutes late to my meeting with Graham and Charlie his VP of Media Affairs. Taking a seat next to Graham on his sofa, I notice a frown on Graham’s face and a twitch to Charlie’s lips.
“What?” I ask Graham. He doesn’t say anything, but still looks unhappy.
“What is it, Charlie?”
“Graham. He’s fired people for being ten minutes late to a meeting before.” He smiles arrogantly like he’s enjoying implying that Graham is whipped where it concerns me.
“Well, fortunately for me, I don’t work for Graham. Any displeasure he has regarding my tardiness will most assuredly be addressed in bed tonight.” My southern accent rings out.
Throwing his head back in unapologetic laughter, he turns to Graham.
“She’s perfect for you. Everything you deserve,” he ribs.
“Charlie,” Graham warns.
“Right. We’ve fielded hundreds of calls for confirmation on stories and for interviews. To control the story, I want to suggest Emme do some interviews.”
“No,” Graham says.
“Just hear me out. People don’t know anything about Emme. If we don’t give them something, they’ll go looking for it and creat
e their own image. By her doing the interviews, she controls her image.”
“No.” His second reply is more forceful. There’s a knock at the door and George shows Jackson in.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when he takes the seat next to Charlie.
“I asked him here. Jackson is the best in the business at imaging, and I’m the best in the business at media outcomes.” He faces Graham. “You don’t pay me to tell you what you want to hear. You pay me to tell you what the reality is.”
“I pay you to control the story. I pay you to come up with a plan and a solution that doesn’t involve Emelia being paraded around at the whim of the public because they feel they are entitled to who she is.”
“It wouldn’t be like that Graham,” Jackson intervenes. “Emme is the best image prep in the city, maybe even in the industry. She knows what she’s doing. Letting her do it her way allows the best outcome in controlling the story.”
Charlie hands Graham and me each a packet.
“Jackson and I have reviewed every story involving Emme. The graph you are looking at shows the spike in interest surrounding her. Obviously the greatest one coming this past Monday when we announced your wedding. The second graph shows the direction the stories are moving in. While we are trying to manage them in the positive direction, the negative ones are gaining in strength.”
“Disparaging negative or negative in that it’s not the story I want out there?” I ask Jackson.
“Negative in that it’s not the story you want out there. Page four.”
Graham and I both turn to page four to find a story that ran this morning that pretty much outlines my life. Surprisingly accurate for not having confirmation. Things I’ve only recently told my closest friends.
“This is only the beginning,” I tell Graham. “If we don’t get ahead of it, they’ll go until they force us out with a false story that we have no choice but to respond to. It’s how they work. Charlie’s right. We can’t continue with a no comment response.”
“What would the plan look like if we moved forward?” He drops the packet in frustration on the coffee table before placing his hand on my knee.
