Bidding For Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 208)

by Flora Ferrari

  “They do all my suit and watches, they have a jeweler right inside,” he says excitedly, adding, “They do women’s stuff too.”

  “Aren’t you worried?” I ask him, wondering if he should be spending any money if one of his companies just went broke.

  “The only thing I’m worried about is if they still have any food left,” he says, winking at me.

  “Food?” I protest, thinking he might not have heard me properly.

  “Yeah,” he says eagerly. “They almost always have something going.”

  I feel a moment of complete hesitation. I’m wearing sweat pants and track shoes, I can’t walk into a high end boutique store…

  “Its fine, Jules,” Mason says, putting his hand on my arm.

  “I practically keep them in business, my watches, it’s a thing I have,” he says bashfully glancing at his wrist, but it doesn’t do much for my anxiety.

  How can a boutique have food anyway?

  Mason parks right out front, and to my surprise, we’re greeted by two uniformed doormen who open each side of the car and welcome Mason as if they’ve spent all day waiting for him.

  The outside of the building is almost blink and miss it, with the huge brass doors being the only give away that there’s even anything inside.

  Once inside though, I literally need Mason to hold me up by my arm. Craning my neck I almost topple over, looking up.

  “It’s beautiful!” is all I can say.

  At least three floors of glittering glass and marble staircases, each with a stylish, modern theme for men’s, ladies, and general fashion.

  I think. I’m no fashionista, but the whole place reeks of class, style… and money. Lots of money.

  There’s a jeweler, just as Mason said, with an armed guard tipping his hat to Mason when he sees him. But best of all, there’s the smell of fresh roasted coffee, bread, bacon, cookies, and everything else that just smells like home.

  Not my home, but what I wish my house did smell like… if I even baked or cooked.

  “Mr. Mason!” A warm, deep voice calls out.

  An older man, impeccably dressed appears out of nowhere, taking the hand Mason’s offered and then looking to me with nothing but the same warmth and respect.

  “This is Ms. McPherson, Giles. She’s working under me directly and we’d like a new wardrobe for her,” Mason says casually.

  “Jules, this is Giles, my tailor and watch dealer and very dear friend. He’ll have someone size you and we can grab something to eat.”

  I don’t know what to say, but once Giles snaps his fingers, two women, as well dressed as he is appear and usher me upstairs.

  Before I let go of him, Mason whispers that they’re safe and won’t bite and that he’ll be along in any minute.

  I can hear Mason telling Giles that I’ll need formal, business, and casual wear, “And a watch, of course… Oh! You don’t do jeans by any chance?” he adds, and I turn to see an amused look on the tailors face as he holds an open hand towards the jewelry counters on the ground floor before I disappear into another world.

  A world of fabric swatches, tasteful measurements, and not even a brow raised or anything mentioned about my size and shape for once.

  The two women are slightly deadpan but obviously serious about their work, they ask me a few questions about my underwear and both look at each other once I make face.

  After I’ve been measured, they walk me through to a private suite filled with lingerie and every kind of fabric and lace I could dream of.

  “Choose from the rack and we’ll have them custom altered,” one of the women says politely, planting me in front of what looks like the larger sizes.

  “If you need help, just ring the bell,” she adds, letting a warm smile flash across her face.

  I don’t feel awkward or embarrassed for just being me. I feel like I’m in a store where they let you do what you want and give you the space to do it.

  I can see why Mason shops here.

  I’ve only ever been an off the rack kind of girl, usually only finding undies that barely fit or are way too big.

  I wonder if people with money are always happy because of their underwear though, once I try some on. The ones I know will fit.

  It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, having things so close that actually fit. I almost start to cry, but it’s from sheer happiness.

  The woman who showed me in comes back, introducing herself as Linda and I don’t even think to try and cover myself up. I actually feel pretty good with what I have on, wondering if Mason will like it.

  “Perfect,” she says with professional satisfaction, inviting me to take my time and pick out anything I want, and to come through when I’m ready to look over some fabrics.

  I open my mouth to tell her… to try and voice my concerns that I really don’t have any money.

  Reading my mind, or just knowing the look, Linda comes over and pats my arm.

  “It’s quite alright, Mr. Mason has an account and he’s told us to make sure you get everything you need… everything,” she adds, casting her eyes to the hardly there lingerie while she hands me a robe.

  “Come on through when you’re ready, no rush,” she says softly.

  I do take my time, almost losing track of it altogether, and just in the underwear department.

  Wincing when I look at the pile I’ve made, I remind myself what Linda just said.

  Anything I need, right?

  Hugging myself in the robe, which is gorgeous too, I wonder if I can keep it when I move out into the other room and see a selection of outfits laid out, with Linda there again waiting patiently as she arranges a selection of huge bottles of fragrances on a glass countertop.

  I feel my chest tighten, nervous again. I suddenly feel like I want Mason, like all this is too much. I look around for a clock to check the time, and Linda comes over, opening a jewelry case with a diamond studded watch in it.

  I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Setting the watch aside, Linda takes my arm and sits me down on a velvet chair, offering me a cup of tea.

  “I want Mason… Mr. Thorne,” I stammer, feeling the walls are starting to close in on me.

  Linda gives me a small smile and with a subtle movement of her head, and signals her co-worker.

  In seconds, Mason is in front of me, kneeling down and holding my hand in his.

  He looks around at the spread of clothes, fragrances, lingerie and what I assume are stacked boxes of jewelry and starts to chuckle to himself, stroking my cheek.

  “Just a little overwhelmed. It’s alright ladies. I’ll take it from here,” he says gently without taking his eyes off mine and they silently leave the room.

  As soon as they’re gone, I hug Mason’s neck, almost starting to cry.

  “I’m sorry… It’s just… all these things… it’s all so expensive…” I blubber.

  Mason strokes my hair, kissing the top of my head and makes soothing sounds, telling me it’s alright, that maybe the girls went a little overboard.

  “I did tell them to fit you out with everything. Sorry if it’s a bit much,” he says, and wonder why on earth he’s apologizing. I’m the one making a fool out of myself.

  “Are those jeans?” I ask, sniffing away my emotions, biting my lip once he stands to show them off.

  “Sure are. How do they look?” he asks, looking a little self-conscious himself.

  “I’ve worn those suits for as long as I can remember. Haven’t worn jeans since…”

  His voice trails off, and he laughs when he notices me staring at his crotch and then his ass in the mirror behind him.

  He has a light colored T-shirt on too, molding to his muscular frame like saran wrap, making me wonder again if any of this is even real.

  “Let’s grab something to eat,” he says tenderly, stroking my hair back behind my ear.

  “There’s no one else here, I had them shoo everyone away. It’ll be just you and me,” he promises.

  Once w
e eat, I do feel a lot better. Less overwhelmed but still a little bit like I’m in a fairy tale.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Mason says smiling, reading my mind again, taking my hand in his over the table and leaning over to kiss it.

  But I can’t help feeling awkward still.

  Like I’m the only one not contributing anything. And Mason has so much else to worry about.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mason

  I’m the luckiest man alive, the man who has everything.

  Having Jules by my side, having claimed her properly as my woman now. It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.

  She’s perfect.

  But it seems the more I try to make Jules happy, the harder she takes it.

  The harder I make it for myself.

  She likes me in jeans and a tee, and so do I. But maybe trying to fit her out with a million dollar wardrobe in one afternoon was too much.

  I thought girls liked to shop?

  Over our late lunch, I get it out of her.

  “You just lost a company, Mason, and now you want to buy me all these clothes. And the jewelry?” she exclaims, looking worried.

  I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it.

  “Jules,” I calmly inform her. “That real estate development company? That’s about a half a percent of my holdings. And if you want to split hairs, I think you’re worth a million Thorne enterprises put together. I’d sell it all tomorrow if it meant we could just-”

  I stop mid-sentence, enjoying the idea of selling and riding off into the sunset with just her. Then watch as her face becomes a puzzle as my smile beams, I lean over and holding her face with both my hands, I kiss her deeply.

  “Thank you!” I tell her, smiling wider than ever. “That auction donation saved me around six million in taxes too by the way… so a few clothes and a watch? I wouldn’t sweat it,” I tell her, reminding myself to go slow with her.

  Most people think a thousand dollars is a lot of money, Mason.

  My phone pings and I cringe, forgetting I left it on.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “This is supposed to be just us today.”

  Jules shrugs, and feeling a lot better about things, she helps herself to some cheesecake and I steal a forkful from her.

  It’s delicious.

  The message though. Fitch has been digging, asking around. Turns out none of the executives even know about tomorrow’s meeting.

  I CC him on the original email instructions I sent Nicholas and ask Fitch to arrange it ASAP.

  Jules winks at me, sucking her fork as I feel her barefoot creeping up between my legs, giving me a welcome distraction.

  I’d normally be furious about work, but Jules, when she’s happy, makes me happy, just by her being here.

  Even if she’s not happy, it’s a lot easier to achieve than trying to dodge these Thorne executives’ knives in my back.

  Where is Nicholas though?

  “Are we heading back to your place?” Jules asks, teasingly. Her foot starting to work the thick line of my arousal through my jeans, making me appreciate the adjustments I had Giles and his tailors make.

  ‘I just need a little extra room in the front of my pants from now on…’

  “Are you done shopping?” I ask her, feeling a low growl escape me as she purrs, pressing her foot harder into my member.

  “I’m only gonna want you to tear all those clothes off me anyhow,” she coos after glancing around to make sure we really are alone.

  I’ve never finished up a meal quicker in my life. Once Jules gets dressed, a simple jeans and tee arrangement to match mine I had them run up, I pump Giles’ hand on the way out, telling him to have everything sent over when it’s ready and patting my side pocket I give him a wink.

  “Send the account up too!” I add, noting how pleased he looks to see me with a girl on my arm for once.

  “Yes, Mr. Thorne. Right away,” he calls out after us as we literally skip back to my car like a couple of teenagers on spring break.

  It seems easier to get Jules in the mood when we’re alone, and when there’s no pressure, food helps too, I’m noticing but that could just be from my end too.

  I struggle to focus the few blocks drive back to my place, with Jules recounting all the ways she wants me to please her once we get there.

  I have to order her not to touch me too much when I’m driving. “It’s too dangerous. I just can’t focus when you do that,” I tell her honestly.

  I make it in good time, feeling a dampness start to spread at the top of my new jeans by the time I have her in my arms in the elevator on the way up.

  Once the doors open, she’s got her legs wrapped around my waist, and I’m kissing her and stumbling to get to something soft enough to lay her on as quickly as possible.

  We’re both breathing heavily, laughing, and gasping by the time I start to unbutton her jeans.

  “See?” she tells me, rolling her eyes with an ‘I told you so’ look.

  “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant in no time,” I promise her, watching her eyes widen and then we both stop for a second, thinking about what I just said.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway of my office startles us both.

  “Nicholas!” I exclaim angrily. “What the fuck, man?”

  I slowly get to my feet, making sure I put myself between Jules and Nicholas. I don’t want anyone seeing her anywhere near undressed or on her back except me.

  And in my own fucking house too.

  I’m surprised, to say the least, but what surprises me more is the look in his eyes. He’s not sorry or even ashamed to be in my office, in my house without my permission.

  “I thought you were on holiday?” I growl, moving forward, but he holds his ground.

  Once I notice my laptop and desk computer glowing behind him, I start to realize he’s not just catching up on some work.

  “You didn’t return my calls. You didn’t even follow my email instructions. What have you been doing Nicholas?” I ask, my voice getting lower and my hands starting to knot into fists as I get closer to him.

  But still, he won’t budge. He won’t even say a word.

  One of his brows finally goes up, and he can see past me now, he frowns once his eyes scan Jules up and down. I can sense she’s standing now, probably wondering what the hell all this is about.

  “Jules… this is Nicholas. Nicholas, this is Jules,” I introduce them, just in case either one is wondering.

  I stop a foot away from Nicholas, he looks tired, exhausted. If it were any other day, under any other circumstances, I’d be worried about him.

  I’d care.

  But not today, not after this weekend.

  He sighs loudly, sounding more annoyed than apologetic, and stepping to one side he ushers me into my office.

  Ushers me into my fucking office.

  I give Jules a serious look, motioning for her to stay put, she gives a nod and takes a seat.

  At least I can trust one person in this building.

  I close the doors to my office gently, and mustering some professional calm, I take my seat at my desk.

  From his body language, I can tell Nicholas would prefer to stand.

  He has a ‘fire me’ face, which I’ve seen in dozens of people over the years, but something in his features changes, as if he’s just remembered something.

  “I’m sorry, Mason,” he says, which has me doing a double-take. In the twenty years, he’s worked for me, he’s always called me Mr. Thorne. Never Mason.

  “Sorry?” I ask, staying seated if only to wait for my arousal to simmer down. “Sorry!”

  He looks at me impassively.

  “You ignore my instructions. You disappear right when I need you the most, then I come home and find you in my office, in my house, snooping,” I snarl, my voice growing louder and angrier by the second.

  “Snooping?” he asks and stifles a guffaw, which only makes me angrier than I already am.


  “I did come back as soon as I could,” he say, more contempt than anything in his voice. It’s like he’s a different man, like the old Nicholas has been possessed or he has an evil twin.

  “I was in your office, arranging things that needed doing, and I only went into your rooms to try and find you. Your phone’s been on silent this afternoon,” he says calmly.

  I fish my phone out of my pocket, tossing it in front of me, not buying his story.

  Not buying his attitude.

  “Why didn’t you email every executive for tomorrow’s meeting like I asked? Why didn’t you forward the purchase proposals through to the investors like I asked? This needed to happen straight away, Nick, not whenever it suits you, and certainly not with you creeping around here when I’m not home. When I’m-”

  “Entertaining?” he asks with a sly smile, interrupting my own train of thought.

  I feel my eyes narrowing, not wanting to waste any more time playing games.

  “Where are we at then? Is the meeting set?” I ask him pointedly. “The investors, are they gonna take the more than generous offer I spelled out?”

  He studies me for a moment, looking like good old Nicholas for just a second until that strange look comes back into his eyes again.

  “I wouldn’t know, Mason. I forgot to send your emails… and last time I looked, the real estate investors were selling their shares to try and recoup some of their losses,” he adds, trying not to smile again.

  “Get out,” I hear myself saying in a low voice. “Leave your keycard on the desk and get out.”

  His eyes widen for a moment, not expecting this from me. “Sir, If you could just leave it until tomorrow, maybe the day after. It’ll all look clearer then, I promise,” he says knowingly, but my eyes are past him, on the door and I’m ready to call security to have him thrown out if need be.

  After a few moments facing me off, he sighs again, tossing his keycard in front of me and walking out the door.

  “You could do a lot better than what’s in there too, Mason,” he murmurs on his way out, stabbing a thumb towards the other room where Jules is.

  Once I hear the elevator close behind him, I feel all the air rushing out of me, like I’ve been sucker punched.

  Locking my office doors, I make my way back to Jules, feeling nothing but relief when I see her sitting there, waiting for me.