Chapter 36
It didn’t matter how Etta made her feel in her office.
Both good and not so good disappeared as they entered one of the most high-class restaurants they could ask to visit.
We don’t come here much. French food. Etta wasn’t that much into it and Jamie hadn’t sampled enough yet to say whether she cared.
Adele had insisted that they should have their business dinner here, however, because of the prestige the place carried.
As was customary, they passed the main gallery, electing to take a private hall as they followed the ma?tre d’ into a back room.
The mahogany panels evoked a rustic European charm.
The tablecloth lace, both delicate and firm enough to withstand the abuse of diners, also carried an Old World feeling.
It briefly reminded Jamie of her gaffe at Lady Winston’s, and she swallowed so hard that Etta asked her if she was all right.
No, because I have no damn panties on. They were stuffed in Etta’s inner jacket pocket. For some reason, she wanted Jamie prancing around completely naked beneath her skirt. Was it a power thing? Or was there some other ulterior motive?
Adele was already there, fussing with the ma?tre d’ over whether the tea light candles should already be lit.
She was stag, which surprised Jamie. It further surprised her to quickly find out that Ms. Adele Thompson was single, having fired/dumped her assistant.
Etta said she was using a middle-aged woman in the interim.
“I don’t know what happened between them,” she said in the back of the limo, shrugging.
“None of my business. Now, let me see what you look like between those gorgeous thighs again.”
Jamie shed her coat and let the ma?tre d’ walk away with it. Adele looked Jamie up and down with a light whistle. “Aren’t you a sight?” she said. “Richard Blake is going to go nuts for you. Ah…” she winked at Etta. “That’s your plan, isn’t it? Shilling your poor woman to woo over the Blakes.”
“You’re on to me, Adele.”
“I know how you work.”
She left them, chasing down the ma?tre d’ again because the tea lights were the wrong shade of rose.
When they had this moment to themselves, Etta pulled out a chair for Jamie to take, lips lowering to her ear.
“Remember what I said about you serving me today? About the world seeing what a beautiful wife I will have… and an obedient one? Don’t make me look like a liar, Jamie.
When you’re serving me…” Etta’s hands massaged Jamie’s shoulders, but all she felt was more tension inside her, “you’re serving those around me as well. ”
“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”
“You’ll figure it out soon enough.” Etta took the chair to her left as the ma?tre d’ returned with new tea lights… and the Blakes.
Jamie instantly recognized Francesca Blake, the queen bee from Monique’s garden party over a month ago.
They exchanged a tentative look while Etta rose to greet them.
Richard Blake – who was not actually the musical actor, much to Jamie’s disappointment – sat next to Jamie while the others filled in the gaps around the table.
Francesca continued to glance at her. The only thing keeping someone’s pride in check was that, well, as Etta had promised, Jamie didn’t have to speak or do anything since she was there to be her gorgeous trophy wife.
Maybe I should fucking own it.
Francesca Blake was suspect #1 in the world of calling Jamie Joy a trophy wife wannabe.
She probably whispered with her other good-breeding friends that one day young and socially na?ve Etta would realize her mistake of marrying a low-class fuckup like Jamie and divorce her ass.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t lose too much of her fortune in the process, but hey, she could always make more, and it would be a valuable lesson.
Somehow, Jamie managed to keep passive while she read this tremendous piece of bullshit on Francesca’s Botoxed countenance.
Introductions went around for Jamie’s benefit, even though she wasn’t allowed to speak. Once again, Etta explained that her voice was not up to par that day and she was resting it. Pretty soon, half the city would think she had laryngitis.
A sommelier brought them the wine Adele ordered. It was a ridiculous vintage that Jamie couldn’t even fathom, of course, but she didn’t say a word as the sommelier left them the bottle to fetch something else Adele requested.
“He didn’t even bother to pour us…” Francesca scoffed, or at least Jamie thought she did. Hard to tell when her face barely moved. I can read derision, but not actual muscle movement.
Etta patted her knee. “Now would be a great time to show off your skills, my love.”
My… skills? Excuse her, she was not going to crawl under the table and…
…Oh. She didn’t mean that.
Jamie got up from her chair, one hand draping across Etta’s arm as she delicately turned around and faced the bottle of wine. Everyone, including Adele, looked at her as if she had lost her damned mind when she picked up the opened bottle and filled the glasses around the table.
After all, if she had to serve her Mistress, she had to serve everybody. Adele gaped at her as Jamie filled her glass first. “Well, this is very kind of you,” she said, attempting to save grace. “Thank you, Jamie.”
She was fine until she got to the Blakes, namely Francesca, who came up first.
Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. Jamie had images of her spilling this wine not only all over the tablecloth, but Mrs. Blake’s lap as well.
She was wearing Versace, and not just any Versace.
Vintage Versace, the kind that always stayed in style and only increased in value and prestige as the years went on.
In other words, it was irreplaceable, and to stain it would end Jamie’s life.
She couldn’t think about that. She had to focus on something else…
Jamie caught a sly smile from Etta across the table. “Focus on me,” it said. “You’re not here to impress them. Impress me. I’m easy to impress when it comes to you.”
Every movement, every action belonged to Etta. They were for her benefit. For her needs.
As the woman who belonged to her, nothing made Jamie happier than serving and pleasing her.
Every time she smiled, every time she said, “Good,” was a flutter in her heart.
Her existence was to serve; to serve was her existence.
Jamie couldn’t live this kind of scenario more than once in a while, but when she got into it?
It was amazing what it could do to her. The freedom it offered!
No longer was Jamie beholden to the opinions of the heavenly social class.
They didn’t matter. They could think she was no better than the dog shit on their shoes and she would go on happily knowing that her Mistress was pleased with her.
So when Jamie gracefully picked up Francesca’s wineglass and poured the perfect amount before putting it back down, they were both shocked. After all, Jamie was the queen of wine mishaps, according to the rumor mill.
“Er… thank you kindly.” Francesca forced herself to turn her head as if she weren’t sizing Jamie up in a new light.
All over a poured glass of wine? Once upon a time, Jamie would have thought it perplexing.
Now she understood. That simple gesture had raised her standing by about five points.
Out of 100, but five points was still five fucking points.
“I hear this wine is quite good,” she went on to say to the rest of the table.
While she spoke, Richard held up his glass and grinned as Jamie filled it for him.
Once everyone at the table was taken care of, she sashayed back to her seat, in time for the menus to arrive.
Most of the conversation centered around business.
Jamie spaced it out, happy that she didn’t have to speak or do anything else.
Etta was busy conversing for the first forty-five minutes, while salads and appetizers made their way around.
The sommelier took care of the next round of drinks, but Jamie took the initiative to fill Etta’s glass. It was only right.
Francesca caught this gesture and clung to it. “You two are getting married soon, yes?” she asked sweetly, yet Jamie could hear the snort in her words. “Everyone is talking about it.”
“Oh?” Etta finally relaxed in her seat. “Hopefully, it’s good things.
I’m spending a pretty penny to retrofit my garden for the ceremony.
I want everyone there, if possible.” Her dry chuckle told the guests that it was okay to say they weren’t coming.
Typical Etta. She hadn’t looked at the RSVP list at all.
The Blakes were in the second batch of RSVPs that came back to the manor two weeks after the invitations initially went out.
“There’s so much mystery surrounding dear Jamie’s wedding dress. I’ve heard that Fernando Garcia of Oscar de la Renta himself has offered to design a custom gown.”
Jamie must have squeaked at the thought, for Etta sent her a warning glare. “As you can see from my fiancée’s reaction, that hasn’t happened, but it’s quite the rumor.”
“I love a good wedding dress.” Francesca did her best to smile, but it made her face look more lopsided…
if that were possible. “I wore Dior for my wedding years ago. I cut out pictures from the society pages and put them in a scrapbook, so I can remember who wore what. So, Jamie…” She bore her teeth at the silent fiancée.
“Who is designing your dress? I have to know.”
The engagement ring was put on full display as Jamie gestured to her throat and shrugged.
“She’s not telling,” Etta said. Jamie glanced at her, and in turn caught a look of deep thought on Adele’s sharp face.
Thinking about the dress you would’ve worn if you said yes?
Adele would wear Dior or Oscar de la Renta, for sure. “I don’t know. Bad luck, and all that.”
“Yes, many things are bad luck surrounding a wedding. My silly husband here had the misfortune of stumbling into my dressing room on our wedding day and seeing me before the ceremony. Accidentally, he says.”
Somehow, Jamie made it through another course of food and then dessert.
She kept to herself, occasionally catching looks from the other people at the table.
I am a picture of decorum, of grace, and of manners.
She followed many of the tips Adele and Carolyn had given her regarding how she ate.
Luna would be shocked to see how straight Jamie could keep her back.
“Tonight was lovely,” Francesca declared, as they received their coats from the ma?tre d’ and made their final farewells for the evening.
“Absolutely.” Richard kept clearing his throat every time he ended up around Jamie.
It didn’t help that she was assisting Etta into her travel coat and some of her skirt rode up her thighs.
Starting to get drafty down there. She better give me my underwear back soon.
What the hell was Etta doing with them in her pocket, anyway?
“I’m glad you two had a pleasant time.” Adele saw them off down the hall. When she returned, both Etta and Jamie were ready to depart. “What was all that about tonight?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Etta checked for her wallet and offered her arm to Jamie.
“Don’t play coy with me, Etta. And you!” She pointed to Jamie. “You can speak. What is this? Some sex game of yours?”
Etta accepted Jamie’s arm and took one step forward. “You wouldn’t know.” They walked off, Adele grumbling about how they were lucky they didn’t freak out the Blakes instead of somehow enchanting them with that weird display of kink.
“You were wonderful tonight,” Etta said, as they stood on the curb outside and waited for the car. “Exactly the reactions I thought I would get.”
Jamie giggled. The limo pulled up, and Etta opened the door to the backseat before their driver could.
“To the penthouse, please,” Etta said once the limo was moving into traffic. She raised the privacy window after that. Is she going to ask me to pleasure her in here? Jamie rubbed her hand against Etta’s thigh and spared her a smile as high as the life she lived.
“I suppose you want to know what’s going to happen now, right, my flower?”
Jamie couldn’t help the tingles she felt when Etta pulled that underwear out of her pocket. “Whatever you have planned for me, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“I will do my best to ensure that’s true. You’ll be happy to know that even after our afternoon activities, I’m fully prepared to start over again. I may need your help, of course.”
Jamie had trouble containing how haughty that made her feel. Haughtier than the broads talking about boarding schools and skiing in Europe. “Of course, Mistress. Whatever I can do to improve our night.”
Etta grabbed the back of Jamie’s head and kissed her, full and deep. “You can start by thinking of all the ways you’re going to give yourself to me tonight. We’ve only just begun.”