38. Victoria
38
VICTORIA
W e arrive to the jet, and I swallow harshly.
“I have never been on a plane like this before,” I say, looking out at the plane before us and wondering what this experience is going to be like.
“Nervous flyer?” Tanner asks me as he helps me from the truck. A scurry of people takes our bags and loads them, and one of Tanner’s team members jumps in his truck and drives it off to park it for him. I don’t fly a lot, but it isn’t the flight I am nervous about.
“No, it’s just so new and shiny.”
He lets me walk up the stairs first, and I go slowly, wanting to take it all in.
“Wow,” I breathe out as I reach the main cabin and step inside. It is exactly what you would expect. The lights are on, the finishes shiny. The leather seats look like butter. It is browns and creams and almost a soft yet masculine kind of tone.
“This paneling is really beautiful. You made this, didn’t you?” I ask Tanner, already knowing he did. It has his signature design all over it. Running my hand along the wall, I feel the whiskey barrel recycled paneling and its smooth bumps underneath it. The very faint smell of whiskey lingers in the space, and I like it.
“It took a while, but I got it how I wanted,” he admits, and I smile. I like the way he brings a little of himself into each of his spaces. It makes me think of the ranch I am designing and how I wish I knew the owner so I could do exactly that for them.
“And these seats…” I sigh as I brush my hand over the top of the leather seat, before I sit down and the softness encases me.
“Lambskin. Softest leather you can find.” He likes me appreciating his things, but there is a lot to appreciate.
“Of course you would have a bar in here.” I laugh as my eyes rest on the lit-up display of crystal glasses and decanters, all full with different whiskeys.
“Of course,” Tanner says smugly. “Wherever I go, my whiskey is not far away.”
“Oh, and a candy jar!” I jump up and head to the small bar, bypassing all the whiskey and grab a handful of candy before sitting again. When I look up at Tanner, I see him smirking at me.
“I like your little idiosyncrasies,” he says, taking the seat next to me. “Are you ready?” Grabbing my seat belt and putting it around me, he ensures I am secure before doing his own.
“As ready as I will ever be,” I tell him with a wide smile, trying to tamp down the nerves I feel.
I am not scared or worried, but this is a big step. Traveling together, going to an event with his friends and business associates. I have no idea what it is about or who will be there, but I know this is the kind of thing he gets invited to regularly. Who does he normally take as his date? What is expected of me?
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
Like he knows exactly what I am thinking, I feel him lean in and I smell his whiskey breath as he takes my lips with his softly before murmuring, “I can’t wait to have you on my arm tonight.”
As the plane lifts from the ground, I open my eyes and see him right in front of me. There is nowhere else I would rather be.
We made it to Baltimore. Tanner booked the penthouse at the Four Seasons for a few hours just for us to rest and then get ready, and as I walk in, my nerves are sky-high. The jet here was amazing, the town car and driver who picked us up all felt extremely luxurious, and now as I walk around a full-size living room, I am gobsmacked at this type of lifestyle.
“Are you alright?” Tanner asks tentatively as he watches me from where he stands. He is dressed differently today. His shirt and jeans obviously reserved for Whispers, now he is in dress slacks and a crisp button-up shirt, looking every inch the billionaire he obviously is.
“This is so pretty,” I comment as I look out the windows over the harbor, seeing the sunlight dancing on the water.
“Baltimore is nice. Connor and I come here a bit because we have friends here. The Rothschilds and Huxley Hamilton, a local kid Connor grew up with,” he explains, and I feel my throat close up.
“Rothschild? As in the president?” I ask, looking at him wide-eyed. It is a charity gala in Baltimore; what does he mean, the Rothschilds?
“Yes. As in the president.” He leaves no room for question. Holy shit. My boyfriend is friends with the first family.
“Is the president going to be at this event tonight?” I am almost too scared to hear the answer. Not because I don’t like him. I mean, he is a nice president from all accounts, but me swanning around at an event where the president is in attendance. Fiona is going to wet her pants when I tell her.
“Yes. Him and all his family. It is their foundation we are raising money for. A literacy program,” Tanner explains as he walks toward me slowly, like he is approaching an injured animal. Maybe it is because my breathing has quickened, my palms also feeling sweaty.
“Oh…” is all I can say, trying to get my nerves under control.
“Oh?” he asks, looking unsure.
“It’s just, the president and his family… Phfft.” My cheeks heat, and I flap my hand in front of my face because I feel like I am overheating.
“Come here,” Tanner says in his low voice that makes my legs move to him almost automatically. He reaches for me and pulls me into his arms, securing me to his chest, and I immediately relax.
“What if I say the wrong thing or, like, trip over my heels or something? I have been wearing nothing but those boots you got me for weeks. What if I forgot how to wear heels? Or worse, do I have to drink your whiskey and pretend that I like it?” I ask him, smiling, and he growls against me.
“You don’t have to pretend anything. You are perfect exactly how you are.” His words are comforting, and I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as he continues.
“One, you will look perfect. You always do. But I have a team coming who will dress you and do your hair.”
“What? Seriously?” I ask, dumbfounded. He said he would take care of it, but I thought he just meant a dress. I practically packed an entire hair salon and makeup counter in my bag because I had no idea what I needed.
“Two. The president is just a normal guy. One of my good friends. He won’t care if you fall over or say the wrong thing. In fact, I think you and his wife will actually get along very well.”
While I obviously don’t know her, I have seen the first lady in the media, and she is someone whom I would love to meet.
“And what’s three?” I ask him, and he looks at me, confused.
“Three?”
“Yeah, you had one and two, but what is three. These things usually come in threes, so what is your three?” I ask, and he chuckles.
“And three… we have a few hours to kill before an yone gets here, so I think we should go and rest. Maybe take a nap?”
My body relaxes even more with that idea now planted.
“Just a nap… I can’t meet the president all flushed and with a post-sex glow,” I warn him, even though I can guarantee that the two of us will not be very well behaved once we hit that bedroom.
“Fine, nap only. But naked,” he says seriously, like he is negotiating a work deal.
“Deal,” I say, holding out my hand to shake.
“Nap time starts now.” Before I can even blink, he’s throwing me over his shoulder.
“Tanner!” I squeal at the unexpectedness, laughing as he slaps my ass and struts straight to the bedroom, kicking the door closed.
We both know the deal is off.
I take a nervous breath in as I look at myself. I am sparkling. There is no other word for it, and I know when Tanner sees me, he is going to love it.
“The dress is perfect on you,” the stylist says as she pulls the last zipper, and her team takes all the bags away.
“Thank you so much, I really appreciate all your help. I can’t believe he picked this one,” I say to her, smiling, wondering how he is going to get through the formal dinner tonight with me dressed like this.
“Oh, he didn’t. This is a new one that just came into our showroom today, and I brought it with me on a whim. But I think he will like it,” she says, giving me a wink before walking away out the door, leaving me with my own reflection.
I swallow, looking at myself again. I used to wear heels and makeup every day for work, but never like this. I am glammed up.
If the nerves about being on Tanner’s arm in front of everyone would dissipate, that would be good. If I am honest, I am looking forward to it. It has given me something else to think about other than what I’ve been through lately. I close my eyes and take another breath, pushing those thoughts aside before I grab my clutch and walk out to the living room.
I spot Tanner in the kitchen, pouring himself a whiskey, and I pause to watch him while he is oblivious. He is in a tuxedo, and I thought I would be ready for it, but I am not. He is without a doubt one of the best-looking men I have ever seen. He’s dapper, mysterious, distinguished, and butterflies start to swirl at seeing us both dressed up like this.
He glances at his Rolex, and I break out of my stare. I don’t want to make us late.
As I walk toward him, he looks up, his eyes widening as he almost chokes on the liquor in his mouth.
My lips are glossy and red, the focus point of my face with the rest of my makeup minimal. My hair is in soft waves floating down my back. But it is this dress that has his jaw dropping.
“Are you speechless?” I tease, enjoying this reaction from him .
“Just about.” His eyes remain glued as I get closer. “You look delectable, baby girl.”
I hum as I give a little twirl, then stand before him and watch as his gaze falls down my body and back up again. This dress is long, grazing the floor, but fitted to my curves. The top is strapless, showcasing my shoulders, and forms perfectly around my breasts. But it is the material that has him growling. Black lace, thick enough to cover the important areas, but see-through at my legs.
“This dress is amazing. It almost looks like you don’t have any underwear on underneath it.” He groans, jaw clenching as his hands finds my hips. I look up into his eyes and smile.
“That is because I am not wearing any.” I hold up the pair of black lace panties and put them in his palm.
“Fuck.” He looks like he is about to faint as his grip on me tightens, and I laugh seeing him like this. It’s endearing and also the biggest turn-on.
“We need to go. If we wait a moment longer, then we won’t be leaving at all,” he grumbles, throwing back the rest of his whiskey before he kisses me, the taste of him and his signature batch now tainting my lips.
“Are you ready?” he asks, looking deep into my eyes.
“I’m ready,” I say with a nod as we walk out the door.