10. Ivy
10
IVY
" M s. Hart," I heard, and I looked up from my desk where I was sketching a design for the backdrop for the Valentine's gala photo booth. It was Marna, and she had a surprised look on her face. "Ms. Hart, Ms. Genevieve Porter is here to see you. Were you expecting her?"
The name didn't sound familiar at all, though why would it? And why would a strange woman come looking for me, anyway? But James did ask me to keep my afternoon clear and be ready, so I assumed this was part of his plan.
"I'm not sure," I said standing. "Show me to her, please." I smoothed my hands down the front of my skirt suit. I chose red today because I always thought it made me look good. The color was good for my complexion and suited my hair color too. And when James asked me to dinner and finally called me by my first name, how could I resist? I wanted to look my best, and this was it—though I was several hours early and very nervous.
Marna led me down the hall to another room I'd never been in, but the instant I walked in, I knew it was James's bedroom. His cologne sat on the dresser next to a pair of socks and a set of cufflinks. The whole room smelled wonderful just like him, but most distinctly, above the fireplace in the corner hung a hand-painted portrait of him and a beautiful woman. It was the same woman I'd seen storming down his driveway the day I first came here.
But what was most surprising was the woman standing next to his bed. She wore a gorgeous shimmery gown that reached to her ankles, and her light brown hair was curled and swept up on top of her head with picks and pins. She smiled, and her bright red lipstick caught my eye. She was stunning to look at and even her voice sounded like a melody when she spoke. I wondered if all of James's friends were this fancy.
"Ms. Hart, welcome…" She swept her hand around the room and gestured at two tall dress racks full of garment bags. There were boxes of shoes piled on the shelf below each rack of dresses, and she had another whole rolling set of drawers made of metal with a handle on top and a padlock keeping it secure.
"Hello," I said, feeling confused. "Ms. …?"
"Genevieve, dear. Just Genevieve. James sent me, and here I am, and you are about to be transformed. Now… go on, start looking." She held her hand out toward the dress racks, and I stood there stunned speechless. What the heck was going on? I looked at Marna, who offered a confused and sympathetic expression as the woman chased her out. "Go on, Marna, get going. Ms. Hart and I have work to do."
Genevieve was spry for someone her age, at least fifty unless she looked as good for her age as she looked in general. She chased the maid out of the room, and when she shut the door and turned around, she moved swiftly toward me. With her hand in the small of my back, she ushered me toward the dress racks and started sifting through garment bags on her own. I had no idea what was even going on.
"Um, Ms. Porter, I'm sort of confused." I held a bag she shoved into my arms and then another and finally, after the third one, she smiled and turned her attention on me.
"Ms. Hart, James hired me to transform you. He said you have a business meeting this evening and he needs you looking absolutely smashing." Her eyes swept down my body to my feet and back up to my face. "And by the looks of it, you need my help."
I tried not to take offense to her statement, but it was sort of rude. "What help, exactly?" I thought I looked fine, though my heart was a little discouraged by the fact that she called this a business meeting. Was that why he asked me out? I was sort of hoping it was a date, but then he was so much older than me and so frickin' rich. I knew I was stupid for getting my hopes up.
"I'm a stylist, dear. Sullivan, Borcher, Malone… Where do you think they get their fashion sense?" Now her attitude was really showing. Ms. Genevieve Porter was a drama queen and a diva. "Go on. Take one of them and go into the bathroom and put it on…" She stared at me and swatted at me to shoo me away.
I frowned, but I picked one of the garment bags and laid the other two over the foot of James's bed and walked toward his bathroom. I thought my suit was nice enough, but this woman insisted I needed her "help" so I just let her herd me. I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door and hung the hanger for the garment bag on the hook on the back of the door.
James's bathroom was neat and tidy. He had a razor by the sink, a bar of soap as I'd expect, and his toothbrush. I smiled when I saw he squeezed the toothpaste in the middle just like me. Mike would've hated that. And when I spotted a T-shirt in the laundry hamper, I picked it up and breathed him in. It smelled like his cologne and musk, and I had to stop and enjoy that scent for a second.
Then Genevieve knocked and said, "I don't hear movement. Are you changing? We have a lot to do, honey."
"I'm changing," I grumbled and breathed in the scent of his T-shirt one more time before dropping it back into his hamper and beginning to undress. The whole idea of having to change myself for some man to accept me seemed ludicrous, and I was actually borderline on going to dinner now. If James Carver couldn't accept me the way I was, maybe he was a little too much like Mike, and maybe I didn't really like him as much as I thought I did.
I folded my clothes and set them to the side on the counter, then unzipped the bag. It was a stunning, sleeveless red gown with sparkling beads sewn into the fabric. It had a plunging neckline that would show off every bit of my chest and leave nothing to the imagination, and the back was entirely open. I'd be freezing.
"Uh, are you sure about this dress?" I asked, and I heard the stern woman huff from the other side of the door.
"Don't make me come in there," she scolded, and I carefully and quietly locked the door just to be sure I wasn’t going to be walked in on.
Then I took the dress off the hanger and stepped into it. The zipper was only six inches long and stopped in the small of my back, but the front had wires in place to make sure my boobs stayed covered. I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed at the way my bra straps stuck out, but there was no way in hell I was going without one. I would just have to ask if she had something that would work for me. If James wanted me all spruced up, then I had to do it. Besides, I sort of felt like I was getting ready for high school prom, so I enjoyed it a little.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a few seconds and realized with the right bra, jewelry, and hairdo, I might just really enjoy wearing a pretty gown like this. Maybe James wasn't horrible for asking me to spiff up for him, but he would still get a piece of my mind if he thought this was what was acceptable. My clothes were just fine to me. I didn’t want any man to try to change me.
The doorknob jiggled, and I sighed and turned to it and unlocked it and Genevieve burst in. "Well, that took long enough." I didn’t know why she was being so rude to me, but I didn't care for it at all. She looked me over and clicked her tongue, but when I felt her icy fingers on my bra clasp, I gasped. She moved too quickly, undoing it and tugging it off me. The front of the dress shifted, and she threw my bra into the sink and nodded.
"There, that's better…" Her eyes narrowed and then her eyebrows rose and she tilted her head. Then she smiled.
All I could do was gawk. Even without makeup and jewelry, the dress looked really good on me. And I was surprised by how well the bodice covered my chest. I didn't actually feel all that uncomfortable. I admired myself in the mirror as she stalked around behind me and nodded.
"This is the one. No need to do anything else. Now… Get your ugly suit back on. We will do hair and nails before we dress." Genevieve grunted one last sound of approval and stormed out, slamming the door behind herself. I sighed and turned back to my reflection and smiled again.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
For the next several hours, I got ushered from one room to another. Apparently, Genevieve had a whole team with her and they each had their own bedroom in the Carver estate to set up their stations. Francois cut and dyed my hair. I told him just a trim and he did a fantastic job. The way the highlights made my eyes pop was amazing. I felt like a princess.
Next was George who did my nails, French tips but in red, not white. He talked incessantly while he did them and I learned that Genevieve was Barbra's stylist—Barbra, who I was certain was James's ex-wife. No wonder Genevieve was nasty with me. She probably thought James had cheated on his wife with me.
Then I was moved on to Henry for a pedicure, Marie for a hairdo, and finally back to Genevieve and Sarah for my makeup. It was nearing five thirty when I finally slid back into that gown. When I accidentally let it drag on the ground, I got scolded. Genevieve made it clear that this dress was worth more than my entire life and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes.
At precisely six p.m. on the dot, the front door opened and James walked in. Genevieve had me standing under the chandelier in the front entryway and the lighting was dim, but James's eyes widened and he didn't look away as he approached me carrying a velvet box in one hand.
"You look…." He didn't finish his sentence, and I could feel his stylist's eyes burning through my back. It felt very awkward to be in this situation, between his former wife's stylist and him when I wasn't even sure if he'd made it public knowledge that he was getting divorced yet. "Did they treat you well?" he asked in a low tone.
"Like a queen," I told him softly, and he smiled.
"For you…" James opened the velvet box, and I realized the one thing I was missing was in his hand.
A diamond necklace lay in the box stretched out, with a pair of diamond stud earrings to match. I smiled at them and then sighed.
"This is too much, Mr. Carver. It's so expensive." I tried not to push it away, but what if Genevieve was right and all of this cost more than my entire life? I didn't even own a car. It wouldn’t be that big of a stretch.
"Wear them… For me." There was a sparkle in his eye that told me not to challenge him, so I took the earrings and put them on, then he lifted his chin at Genevieve and handed her the box. She put the necklace on me and backed away, and I felt complete.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering me his elbow, and without saying a word to his stylist, he ushered me out and into the limo.
Dinner started like normal except without food. During the drive, we recapped my plans for the few events I was in charge of during December, my plans and how things were progressing, and when we got to the restaurant, he got out and escorted me inside. The split second I saw the waiter's attire, I realized why James had done what he did. My modest business suit picked up at the local mall would've been laughed out of this place. Even the waiters' clothing cost more than my salary.
"James," I said nervously, feeling very out of place. Crystal chandeliers hung above each individual table. The gold in them mimicked the threads of gold that seemed to weave through the tile beneath our feet.
"Shh," he said, patting my hand, which was wrapped around his bicep. Which, by the way, was very firm. It felt like he worked out too, and I hadn't noticed that when he took me to the florist last week. It made my heart beat oddly just thinking of what he'd look like when he took his shirt off and tossed it in the hamper to climb in his shower.
He led me to a table that seemed very private. There were several others around it, but they were all empty as if he purposefully did that so we'd have less of an audience. We sat, and he pushed in my chair and nodded at the waiter, who dashed off.
I couldn’t even articulate how extra this was. I had never in my life been treated this way, and any smidgen of frustration I'd had over being "transformed", as he called it, melted away as he sat across from me and leaned on the table. His eyes met mine, and I felt like he could see through me. Suddenly, the dress felt very immodest. My pulse quickened, and I imagined him undressing me with his eyes. This was a very unbusinesslike business meeting.
"So, Ms. Hart, how are you enjoying the night so far?" James's question seemed to swirl around my head for a few seconds as I tried to collect my thoughts. I really did feel like Cinderella who'd been gifted a fairy godmother to turn me into a princess for this event. Unfortunately for James, the minute this gown came off, I'd turn back into a rag-wearing party planner. It made me feel a bit sad.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, ignoring his question. I had to know his real motive for bringing me out here. If this was just business, then I was letting my heart and my mind get so carried away, they might not come back to Earth this century.
"I'm treating you the way a woman deserves to be treated, Ms. Hart. Why did you think I asked you here?" His head tilted at an angle, and he blinked slowly. He was testing me. I could see it in his eyes and I didn’t know how to respond.
If I told him this was a date, I'd look like a fool when he corrected me. If I told him it was business, I might bruise his ego or worse, turn him away from me. I felt stuck. I didn't like this feeling, especially when my cheeks started to get hot and I thought I would pass out.
Moments passed and no one said anything, and then the waiter brought two glasses of wine and a bottle already chilled. I downed the glass immediately and then took James's glass and downed it too, and he chuckled.
"Relax, Ms. Hart. Let's just talk about something else for the moment." He snapped his napkin and sat back as he draped it over his knee, and I sucked in a breath to calm myself.
He asked me some personal questions and some business questions. I reciprocated and found out he always wanted children but Barbra never wanted to lose her figure. Then I overshared—probably the alcohol—and as we ate, I told him how Mike would micromanage my outfits so I felt a little challenged by Genevieve's stylings.
James graciously apologized and promised to never let that happen again, and we finally fell into a very normal conversation. He loved classical music. I loved to read. He loved sports and I loved crafting. He was an extrovert. I was a seriously hermit-like introvert, but I didn't mind his presence one bit.
When we finished eating, a natural lull in the conversation happened. I almost asked to excuse myself for the restroom, but thanks to the wine and how amazing the company was, I didn’t want to leave. My head spun a little, and I figured I'd make a fool of myself by wobbling on these heels Genevieve insisted that I wear with this gown. She wasn't wrong. They were perfect.
"So, Ms. Hart." James steepled his fingers and took on a serious expression. "I want to do more than just take you to dinner. This wasn't the reason I brought you here, but after hearing you talk so passionately about your future, I know it's the right thing. I want to invest in your company."
My throat felt like I got a hunk of that delicious lasagna stuck in it for a second, and I used a gulp of wine to chase it down.
"You what?" I sucked in a breath and set the glass down carefully so it wouldn't spill. I didn't believe what I was hearing.
"I said I want to invest. I want to be a silent partner, though, help you get this new venture off the ground. I won't tell you where to host your offices or what to do, or even what sorts of events to plan or what clients to consult with. I just want you to be successful, and I plan on seeing that through until you are. What do you say?"
I couldn't stop the tears from welling up. They filled my eyes faster than I could blink them back, and I stood up to run away so fast that I almost dumped the whole table on him. James stood too. I heard him moving behind me, barking something at the ma?tre d’ as we passed by his station, and I burst into the cold December air with no protection from the wind that bit down on my skin.
James was there instantly. His suitcoat came around my shoulders, and I watched his arm lift into the air. Moments later, the limo was there and I was climbing into the back seat, still crying.
"I'm so sorry, Ivy." My name on his lips only made me cry harder. Why was he being so sweet? Why was he doing this? He couldn't do this. I couldn't let my heart get carried away with another man who promised to make my dreams come true then turned into a monster. This was what happened with Mike, and now it felt like I was falling apart, finally feeling the ache of what that man did to me.
"Shh," James said, pulling me against his body. He wrapped me in a tight hug and kissed my temple. "I'm so sorry."
"Why?" I asked, but he didn't immediately respond. I was overcome with shock and gratitude and yet fear all at once. "Why do this?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, and his eyes searched mine as his hand came up to my face. This time, when his thumb brushed over my skin softly and landed on my bottom lip, I didn't back away.
I felt weak and vulnerable and drunk. I felt like giving him every cell in my being and yet running from him to never let him see that part of my heart that was so fragile, a breath from his lips could break it. But when his lips brushed over mine and my body exploded with scorching desire, I leaned into it.
I kissed him, and I let him kiss me back. His hands pulled me against his mouth, then his body, and I clung to the lapels of his coat. "My God, I've been wanting to do that all night," he said breathlessly when he pulled away, and I was so hungry for some sort of security that I pulled him back.
"Then don't stop," I mumbled as I kissed him again, this time harder.
James responded with equal fervor, his tongue invading my mouth and exploring every inch of it. His hand trailed down my back, grabbing my ass and squeezing it firmly. I moaned into the kiss, arching my back to give him better access. I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh, thick and hard.
When he pulled me onto his lap and the dress hiked up around my waist, I didn’t shy away from grinding on his swollen length buried in his pants. His hands were greedy, sliding up and down my back until he found the zipper. In one swoop, he brought it down and the front of the dress loosened. His lips kissed fire down my collarbone to the center of my chest where he used his jaw to nudge the scratchy fabric aside so he could kiss the top of my breast.
My hands ran through his salt-and-pepper hair, and I felt his hands push the length of dress up higher around my waist until he could smooth them around to my ass again. “Mmm,” he growled against my nipple as he swirled his tongue around it.
“Shit,” I hissed. It felt good to have his hands on me, so damn good. I lost my mind with lust. “God, I want you inside me,” I told him breathlessly, and I let my head fall back. My hair was falling loose from the pins Genevieve put in it, but it really came loose when James reached up and grabbed it and held my head at that angle as he sucked my pulse point.
His other hand dipped inside my lacy, black panties, and I gasped. His fingers played with my wet folds. James growled in my ear as he pinched my nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
“Tell me you’ve been thinking about this all night, too,” he demanded, his voice husky with arousal.
“Are you kidding?” I moaned. “I wanted you in that flower shop.” I looked down at him and kissed him hard again, and he growled into my mouth. The need in my groin was pulsing, making me climb the walls. I rocked against him, not even caring that the moisture between my legs was probably soaking into his tux pants. I had to take my panties off. I needed to feel him against me.
Clumsily, and a bit drunkenly too, I slid off his lap, and he reached up my dress and tugged my panties down, and before I fell over, I straddled him again, but as I did, he undid his fly and pulled his hard dick out.
“Jesus,” I moaned. “You’re so big.” I wrapped my hand around it and stroked him a couple of times. His breath hitched and he groaned.
“Ivy,” he growled, “You’re going to make me come before I even get inside you.”
I couldn't wait any longer. Guiding his erection to my entrance, I slowly lowered myself onto him. His hands gripped my hips to guide me down as we both moaned together. He was so thick, stretching me in a way that had been a long time since I’d last felt it.
“God, Ivy,” he panted as he gripped the headrest behind him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw clenched tightly. “Feels so good.”
When I was seated all the way, we both took a moment to catch our breath. Then I started rocking back and forth, riding him slowly at first. James’s eyes opened and locked with mine as he began to thrust up into me. Hearing him say my first name suddenly felt so foreign and wrong. I craved the way he’d say, “Ms. Hart,” and I knew the moment he did, I’d come apart around him.
I rode him, resting my hands on his shoulders, and then his biceps, and then his chest as my orgasm built. “James,” I panted. “Faster.”
He obliged and began to pound into me harder and harder. My nails dug into his broad shoulders as his hips ground against mine.
“Oh, God, Ivy,” he moaned, “I’m not going to last much longer.”
His words were like music to my ears. I felt myself teetering on the edge of orgasm. I was so close, so very close. “Say it,” I breathed. “Say my name…” My whimpers felt frantic, but I was so close. It was like my body was waiting for him to push a button that needed pushed.
“You’re a goddess, Ivy… So sexy and beautiful.”
“No… My name… James.” I was so close, so fucking close. I whimpered and opened my eyes, staring at him with eyes wide open as I prayed he’d get my point.
“God, I want to fuck you so hard, Ms. Hart,” he said with such confidence it made my entire being detonate.
“Oh, God,” I moaned as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave. I sank my nails into his shoulders as my pussy clenched around him, and I grunted out his name between clenched teeth. The spasms and convulsions had me draped on him twitching as he pumped in and out of me.
He growled and filled me with his hot seed, his hips thrusting once more before he slowed his thrusts and leaned back against the seat. His chest heaved and mine did too. I was still impaled on him. I couldn't move if I tried. He held me tightly as if not wanting this to end. I didn’t want it to end either.
“I’m never going to be able to look you in the eyes at work after this,” he joked, panting.
I bit my lip and smiled demurely. “Well, sir,” I purred as I sat up and winked at him, "you're not as silent of a partner as you thought."
He chuckled, and I rested my head back on his shoulder. I sniffled, still reeling from that orgasm and the shock of his generous offer. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. It was all happening so fast. One thing was for sure. I was wasted. I drank way too much wine, and we just had unprotected sex. Neither of those things were good things, but wrapped in his arms, I didn't care. I didn't want to think about what-ifs other than what if this could turn out to be something?