Chapter 15
Donovan
We arrived in Lake Placid mere minutes ago, and now, as the car drives through the streets, I'm getting a headache from stress. What’s meant to be a quick day trip in my private jet for a conference, has soon become a test of my self-control.
Sitting on the jet together in close quarters was stifling.
Jessica sat angled toward the window, her floral scent teasing me.
Her notebook was open, pen poised, but she didn’t write a single word.
I sat across from her, my jacket off, cuffs rolled to my elbows, watching her with the kind of focus that turned oxygen heavy.
So I gave her the gift I organized for her.
Knowing it was her first flight and wanting to ensure she had something to take her mind off it in case it was turbulent.
A book about vintage fashion from Paris in the fifties that I found in a rare book shop in the West Village, through a contact of mine.
When she opened it, I could tell she was surprised, lost for words, and somewhat oblivious to the few small bumps we encountered, as she spent the rest of the flight flicking through the pages.
As she devoured the pages, our knees brushed, and I itched to pull her to me, especially seeing her look at me like I hung the moon for her.
My need to have her look at me like that often has me already thinking about what else I can get for her.
It’s almost as intense as the need I have to keep her safe.
I know the media have been following her ever since our dinner at Fiorella, and I have already talked to my security team about it.
For the first time ever, I’m focused on someone else entirely.
It makes me question whether I’ve been cruising through life all too easily.
Never having the need or responsibility to look out for someone else. Only having to worry about myself.
Bentley’s words from our lunch meeting filter through my brain on rapid fire. Knowing what I want and what I should do are two completely different things. The pressure to do what’s right almost suffocates me.
Even now, here in the car, my tie feels too tight.
Looking at her makes it increasingly hard to breathe.
She’s wearing a new vintage dress suit I haven’t seen before.
It isn’t risqué, but it does something to my insides.
It’s pure class, the kind that men of all ages can appreciate and makes you think that she’s too good for you. Too elegant. Too precious.
Here I am, a month after we first met, and I still want to rip the clothes from her body and kiss every inch of her creamy skin until she screams my name.
Maybe that’s all it is. The need to want something I can’t have.
I’m her boss, I can’t cross the line, even though every instinct in me is telling me to.
Maybe one night together will douse the flame and it will go out. But I doubt it.
I force myself to look out the window, seeing soft flurries falling rapidly.
I should’ve expected it to snow, but we’ll only be here for the day and will be back in New York before it gets too bad.
Although I did always like Lake Placid in the snow as a kid.
It’s a magical place to be. The kind of place where I always wanted to spend more time.
When she finally looks back at me, my gaze catches hers and the silence stretches. We get each other. It’s rare. I’ve never had it before with anyone else. Maybe that’s why it’s so startling.
“Are we still pretending this isn’t happening?” she asks quietly, like she can read my mind.
I swallow. “For now.” It’s the best I can offer. I can’t lie to her. I can’t look her in the eye and tell her she means nothing to me. We’re both feeling the constraint of her contract.
She nods just as our car pulls up to the conference venue.
I’m providing the keynote to the industry today.
I brought Jessica so she can meet some more of our competitors.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
In truth, I just want her with me all the time.
And while I’ve noticed she prefers to be behind the scenes working on the numbers and strategies, I know her meeting the key players of our industry will only help her when doing her competitor analyses.
“We’re here. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she murmurs as we step out and walk into the conference center. My hand finds the small of her back, a move that now feels entirely natural. She stands tall and proud next to me as we check in, grabbing our name badges, and within five minutes we’re inundated.
The organizers approach me, wanting me to run through my keynote to ensure they have all the right slides.
“Go. I’ll mingle,” she insists with a smile.
I nod in agreement, although I don’t like leaving her alone. We may work in textiles and fashion, but the people are assholes. I watch her turn and walk into the networking breakfast and I stride into the back room, wanting to get this sound check done quickly.
I practice key sections of my speech, the lapel mic is checked, and after going through things, I stride out and look among the crowd, not seeing her anywhere.
“Donovan…” The purr of a woman's voice hits me, and I look to my side.
“Carrington,” I greet her. Carrington Noble is a former model turned fashion designer who has made her mark on her name rather than her designs.
Fashion is a hard game; there’s a thin line between real fashion, couture, art, and that of a fashion influencer or personality.
She’s trying desperately to be in the former but is firmly placed in the latter.
“Looking forward to your keynote today.”
I give her a brief nod as my eyes continue to scan the room.
“How’s business?” I don’t want to be a total asshole, but I’d prefer not to be here talking to her. In fact, aside from Jessica, I don’t want to talk to anyone.
“Oh, you know. Spring/summer is fast approaching… What are you forecasting?” She cuts right to the chase.
I may not have spent a lot of quality time with my father, but I spent every day next to him for years to prepare me to be at the helm of York Enterprises.
He groomed me to take over from him from a young age and as such I know more than most in this industry.
“You know me, Carrington… I always look to Europe.” It’s a throwaway line with a hint of truth. I love European fashion, it’s where fashion was born and continues to thrive.
“I’m heading to Milan… Maybe we can catch up over there?” She’s acting coy as her nails subtly run up my forearm. I sigh with disappointment. I shouldn’t expect women to act professional or even just neutral anymore. But with Jessica so genuinely normal, I have been spoiled for weeks.
“I have back-to-back meetings over there. I won’t have the time.” My body remains still, not touching her.
“Maybe we could make some time… at night…” She leans in a little, like she’s telling me a secret, one I have no interest in hearing. I’m due to go to Milan soon and was hoping Jessica would come with me. But nothing has been confirmed.
“All set?” My sexy brunette comes up to my other side, her eyes burning holes in my arm where Carrington’s fingers currently rest, and I stifle a grin.
“The sound check went fine. Jessica, this is Carrington Noble. Carrington, this is Jessica Johnson, my… business advisor.” I take a small step away from Carrington, causing her hand to drop from my arm, and step toward Jessica, a move neither woman misses.
I see the familiar assessing gaze that Carrington throws Jessica, yet it’s Jessica's small smile that I bask in.
“Nice to meet you. Influencer, right?” Jessica is genuine, but I see Carrington’s blood start to boil as the words penetrate.
“Fashion designer… Something you probably aren’t aware of.” It’s a backhanded comment, and she laughs after delivering it, like it’s meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Jessica is smarter than that.
“Oh, sorry. Your name isn’t familiar to me.
” Jessica remains professional, even though I see her posture stiffen.
She’s cute standing at my side. Like she’s stamping her authority, her claim over me.
She’s in front of me slightly, like a mini bodyguard.
I don’t mind it. Not one bit. So I lift my hand to settle on the small of her back again.
Giving her my support as well as my affection.
“My line is very exclusive,” Carrington purrs, her eyes narrowing, looking down her nose at Jessica. It’s exclusive because nobody is buying it, but I don’t verbalize my thoughts.
“Well, good for you! We need more female entrepreneurs in this business.”
Carrington almost chokes at Jessica’s comment, and I hold back a chuckle.
The bells start ringing, indicating the conference is about to begin.
“We should all move inside.” I run my hand across Jessica’s back, curving it slightly around her waist. I see Carrington eye the movement before she looks right at me with nothing but disbelief written all over her face. Jessica may have stamped her claim on me, but I’m stamping mine on her too.
“Of course. I think I’m right in the second row,” Carrington says proudly, almost like she’s still posturing.
“Jessica, you’re front row. Right in the center.”
She smiles. “Perfect.”
We lock eyes and the conference center could be a burning inferno and we wouldn’t know it. The professional boundaries continue to thin. I feel it with every passing day.
“I look forward to hearing your keynote, Donovan. Nice to meet you, Jessica.” Carrington makes a quick getaway as the rest of the guests all start to shuffle into the room.
“Well… she was interesting…” Jessica murmurs.
“She isn’t anyone to be jealous about,” I tell her quickly. I’m many things, but I’ve never cheated, never dated more than one woman at a time, and don’t have a philandering bone in my body. And I want Jessica to know that Carrington isn’t anyone to me.