25. Oops
Chapter twenty-five
Oops
J P was a perfect gentleman in the same way that a rectangle was a perfect square.
As in, it might be able to fool a few people since all squares are rectangles.
But not all rectangles are squares, and JP… well.
JP was JP.
The Diamond Gala was the event of the summer. It was held in the ballroom of a large historic hotel downtown and was the epitome of glamour. All of the stuffy, pompous elitists who had been at all the other galas and benefits and luncheons and fundraisers practically battled for tickets to this one. They flocked here, making it the most ostentatious of the displays. It was the last opportunity of the summer for them to puff out their chests and display their plumage and open their wallets not to help whatever the actual cause of this event was—which I couldn’t have told anyone even though Kimberlee was on the charity’s board—but to show off how thick the wads of cash inside were.
Women wore dresses in every colour, though there was a serious divide between the ones embellished in beads and sequins and details embroidered in gold thread and the ones in simple, straightforward gowns that screamed money only because the label on the inside had an impressive name on it. Many of the older men wore tuxedos while the younger ones opted for suits in various shades of pitch black and grey and blue, some with the occasional hint of texture or a pop of colour in the tie. The scents of expensive perfumes and colognes clashed together in the lobby, mixing into a smell that reminded me of the cheap perfume stores at the mall that left a dizzying cloud for people to walk through.
I hated it.
But not as much as I hated that JP was the only saving grace.
Because he might not have been a perfect gentleman, but he knew damn well how to play the game. He knew how to poke fun at the situation, how far he could push things without dropping off the edge of too far, which was something I’d never gotten the hang of since I was there, with him, after doing just that.
And given that he disliked these games just as much as I did, that made him dangerous in the best way.
“Do you need to stop at the coat check?” he asked when we first walked in.
“Do I look like I’m wearing a coat?” I asked.
“You can check other things in a coat check,” he said innocently. “Umbrellas. Bags. Panties. Hats.”
“You can’t check panties into a coat check,” I muttered.
“Are you saying you’ve tried before?”
“You’re an assho—” I cut myself off as his eyes flicked up in eager anticipation of the setup. “Bastard. You’re a bastard.”
“I might’ve been premature, but my parents were married when I was born six months after their wedding,” he murmured.
I frowned. “Wait, really?”
“Mm-hmm. I was a healthy, hefty ten-pound ‘preemie.’”
“Jesus. So you’ve been wrecking vaginas since day one, then.”
JP’s bark of laughter turned way more heads than I’d intended, but none of those heads belonged to my dad, so I didn’t quite mind.
A few minutes later, he took my arm to escort me through the doors and into the ballroom. It was already full of people milling about as servers dressed in all black wove between them, some with trays of hors d'oeuvres or champagne. I figured that between getting one up on him with the comment on his mom’s vagina and the fact that we were now at the actual gala, JP’s sass would disappear.
Of course, I was wrong.
“I am glad to note you have corrected your posture, Mademoiselle Belanger,” said Madame Vivienne Villeneuve, who had come over to admonish me for taking a glass of champagne off a tray before my date took one for himself. My parents had sent me to her for etiquette lessons when I was eight or nine because that was the trendy thing for parents to do that year. She was a petite woman whose stick-straight spine was rivalled only by her stick-straight hair, the ends so even and severe it seemed like they’d cut through the scissors instead of the other way around.
“Thank you, Madame Villenueve,” I said.
“Mostly,” she continued. “You do not seem to have quite grasped the correct angle of your chin, of course, but it seems you’ve learned to keep your shoulders back, finally. Especially given the additional weight in the front.”
“Sure have,” I said, pretending not to notice the jab at my weight or let on that my posture correction was a result of trying not to jump when JP went to put his hand on my lower back, only to place it much lower than my back.
As in, low enough that his fingers were playing in the spot where my legs met my ass cheeks, his palm warm against the curve of my ass as I tried to keep a straight face.
Thank God we were standing in front of a tall, black-linen-clad cocktail table so no one could see behind us. Or Satan, since that table was the only reason JP had done it.
Madame Villenuve pressed her lips together, her nostrils pinching themselves closed in disapproval. “The correct verbiage would be ‘I certainly have,’ if you would like to speak so casually.”
JP shifted as if he was about to take his hand away, but froze when I pushed my hips back and leaned into him.
“Of course,” I said. “My apologies, Madame Villeneuve. I’m rusty on some of the specifics.”
“You should consider a refresher,” she said curtly. “Especially as etiquette for young ladies is much less forgiving than it is for children.”
JP’s finger traced up my ass crack and I smiled brightly. “I will certainly keep that in mind. I would hate to cause any offense.”
“Hmph,” she said, snuffling as disappointment flashed through her steely, beetle-like eyes. “Well, hopefully your posture has improved enough to make up for the lack of speech etiquette. I seem to remember you had some resistance to sitting still with your legs properly positioned. I had better luck with most of the boys in my little gentlemen’s class keeping their ankles crossed than I did with you.”
“That is definitely not the case anymore, Madame Villenueve,” JP said before I could respond. “Nellie is exceptionally adept at keeping her legs closed. When she wants to, that is.”
He pinched my ass hard and I let out the most proper laugh I could, despite wanting to double over at the look on Madame Villenueve’s face.
“Bastard,” I muttered, finally taking a sip of my champagne after she walked away a few minutes later.
“Me?” he said, feigning offense as he set down the flute of champagne he’d finished while I was stuck talking to Madame Villeneuve. “What did I do?”
“Your hand is still on my ass.”
“I mean, you practically sat on it mid-air to keep it there.”
“Oh, and it’s my fault that you started groping me in front of my former etiquette teacher?”
“Well, I had to see if any of the lessons stuck,” he said.
I twisted my head to look at him, eyebrows raised. “And you think they teach you how to keep a straight face when someone’s grabbing your ass in social etiquette lessons?”
He hesitated, then grimaced as the realization dawned on him. “Ah. Yeah. That came out—”
“Horribly? Offensively? Crudely?”
“It may not have been my top jokes, that’s for sure.”
“And considering how bad some of your jokes are, that’s saying something.”
The corners of JP’s eyes crinkled. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make it up to you later tonight when I top your—”
“Don’t even, JP,” I said, though I was trying not to laugh.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop, but”—he squeezed my ass one last time—“and it’s a big butt—”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, half-snorting as I tried to suppress it, and JP grinned broadly.
“Oh, you seem to be having such fun, chérie !”
Anne-Marie floated up to us looking like the kind of person Madame Villeneuve would have been proud to say was a former student. She was dressed in a blue gown that had a slight train, delicate ruffles making up the flowing skirt. Drop sleeves circled her biceps and her hair was twisted in a complicated-looking updo, drawing attention to the long line of her shoulders and neck. Her arm was looped through Remy’s, who was wearing a black suit paired with a shirt in the same shade of blue as Anne-Marie’s dress. He’d gotten braids done since I’d last seen him, cornrows with larger braids in straight rows paired with smaller curved ones that wove between them.
“Hi Anne-Marie,” I said as JP moved his hand off my ass. “Hey, Remy.”
He nodded at me solemnly, then at JP. “Good to see you both.”
Anne-Marie shot me one of her maniacal smiles, white teeth nearly gleaming in the soft light of the hall. “You are having a good time then, Nellie?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘good,’ I guess,” I said dryly.
It didn’t seem to deter her. “And you, Jean-Paul? You are treating my dearest friend as wonderfully as she deserves?”
“I’m ensuring she makes the best use of her ass ets to impress everyone,” he said.
If I could have, I would’ve kicked him. Instead, I tried to change the subject to the one thing I figured Anne-Marie wouldn’t be able to resist. “Have you heard anything interesting tonight?”
“Oh, have I!” she said, letting go of Remy’s arm and clasping her hands together gleefully. “Did you know, I saw that woman again. The one we saw at the Harmonies for Hope Benefit and who joked about the cunning linguists?”
“The what now?” JP asked interestedly.
“Nothing,” I said, knowing she meant Claire. “She’s still in Montreal? I thought she said she wasn’t from here.”
“She’s not, but I have it on good authority that she will be part of these events a bit more commonly now, because you will never guess who she is,” Anne-Marie said.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Anne-Marie grinned. “Guess, chérie .”
“You just said I’d never guess. How am I supposed to—”
“Nellie,” said a voice from behind us.
It was pure instinct that drove my shoulders back, pulling my spine straighter as if I’d been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to, even though I hadn’t. Beside me, JP put a hand on the small of my back, not so much to guide me but as a comforting sort of support as we turned.
“Hi, Dad,” I said as he and Kimberlee joined us.
He nodded curtly before looking at JP. “Good to see you, Mr. Marchand.”
“And you, Mr. Belanger.” JP extended his hand, shaking my dad’s firmly before extending it to Kimberlee. “Ms. Dunn, you look lovely. Nellie told me you were involved in the planning for tonight?”
“I was, yes,” Kimberlee said, smiling. “It has always been one of my favourite events, but I am feeling extra fond of it this year.”
“Why is that, Kimberlee?” Anne-Marie asked.
A look that I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen crossed my dad’s face as Kimberlee glanced up at him.
“Well, of course, this is where Max and I met last year,” she said. “So it is even more special than it usually is. To me, at least.”
My dad nodded in agreement.
“That is so sweet,” Anne-Marie said. “Don’t you think so, Nellie?”
“Of… course,” I said.
“And perhaps you will end up with a similar fondness for this event,” she said, a hint of lunacy returning to her smile as she glanced from me to JP.
“We’re here as friends,” I said, trying not to sound exasperated.
“Which is surprising, if I’m being honest,” my dad said. “Pleasantly, of course. I wasn’t aware the two of you were such close friends. Although, Nellie, you could certainly do far worse than Mr. Marchand here.”
I almost snapped.
Almost.
His approval alone would have been enough to make me tell JP the deal was off, that I was done, that I’d find a new apartment to live in because I’d rather sleep in my car than have my dad think JP and I should get together. On top of that, saying it in front of Anne-Marie, whose eyes brightened like she’d just been handed a magical book that contained every scandal that existed in the world and told she could keep it?
Un-fucking-forgivable.
But JP’s hand was still on my back. It was still there, connecting me to the ground and stopping me from blurting out something I couldn’t take back. So I bit back the urge to set my life on fire and smiled.
“You mean like Clinton Thibault?” I asked, then took a sip of my champagne.
Kimberlee winced. Anne-Marie tried not to look like the magical book of scandals also came with a bonus audiobook that she would be the first person to ever hear. My dad stared at me, nothing changing on his face except how dark his eyes seemed.
“Well, it has been lovely seeing you,” Anne-Marie said graciously. “But you will have to excuse us for a moment; I have spotted someone I have been meaning to catch up with all summer.”
As she and Remy escaped the awkwardness of the situation, JP shifted casually beside me.
“Well, I appreciate you saying that, Mr. Belanger,” he said, his voice smooth. “It certainly is surprising how deeply I’ve gotten to know Nellie, but I can assure you we’re just friends. There’s no need to worry about me sneaking in the back entrance.”
The bastard.
The funny fucking bastard .
“Well, there’s no question that you’re a trustworthy young man,” my dad said as if JP wasn’t going to be sneaking into his house later to fuck his daughter in the ass. “Certainly with a sense of prudence that I am sure Jean-Luc is grateful for at his firm.”
“Thank you, sir,” JP said.
My dad waved a hand. “It is not something to thank me for. Any parent would be appreciative of a child with such a developed sense of judgement and practicality.”
“Max,” Kimberlee said softly.
Because of course my dad had glanced at me when I said it. Of course he was standing there implying I was a disappointment compared to perfect golden boy JP. Of course I wasn’t supposed to respond, just allow myself to be subtly chastised before reflecting on my life choices and what I could do to make my dad proud of me.
So I decided to kill two birds with one stone, as it were, and try to get out of the conversation while getting back at JP.
I just used a little stone, though. My dad might never forgive me if I did the first thing I thought of, which was to “accidentally” spill the rest of my champagne on JP’s suit and then escape to the bathroom.
But the small cocktail napkin they’d handed me when I took my champagne was still in my hand, so I let go of it and watched it float to the floor.
“Oops,” I said. “How clumsy.”
“Oh, let me—” JP started, moving to pick it up.
“I’ve got it,” I said, quickly stepping a half step in front of him and bending over in one quick motion.
And yeah, the dress Kimberlee had picked didn’t cling to my ass the way I would’ve liked it to, but that didn’t matter. Partly because JP seemed to like my ass no matter what was covering it, and mostly because after grabbing the napkin and standing up, I stumbled backwards, nudging my ass against his pelvis. JP steadied me, which was great because it gave me another moment to rub against the front of him.
“Oops,” I said again as I used his bicep to steady myself. “Gosh, I’m clumsy today.”
“And you’re not even a full glass of champagne in yet,” JP said, his voice hoarse.
Perfect. That was one bird.
“Hmm,” my dad said, unimpressed before looking at JP again. “Well, certainly you are well-suited for your career. Your father mentioned you’ve been doing well in your role. He says you’re working in contracts and negotiation?”
JP nodded distractedly. “Yes, for now.”
My dad raised his eyebrows. “For now?”
JP blinked, bringing his focus back to my dad with a smooth smile.
“Well, yes,” he said. “We never know what the future holds.”
“Certainly, but I imagine there are few alternatives open at a firm like Jean-Luc’s,” my dad said. “So unless you are intending to work with another firm, I do not see how it could be a ‘for now’ type of position.”
Shit. Apparently the stone had hit both birds, but also summoned a much larger, much more agitated bird attracted by something JP clearly hadn’t meant to let slip.
“Of course,” JP said, his voice still casual even though I could sense the tension rolling off him. “But there are always plenty of opportunities to expand my knowledge and skills in ways that would be more, ah… beneficial. To the firm.”
My dad looked skeptical, but nodded. “Well, as I am certain Jean-Luc said the plan was still for you to step in as managing partner one day, I suppose that would be advantageous.”
JP nodded, Kimberlee said something that redirected the conversation far more effectively than my bend-and-shove-my-ass-at-JP moment did, and a few moments and a couple of pleasantries later, my dad and Kimberlee excused themselves. JP and I watched them disappear between designer gowns and crisp suits. JP still had a confident look on his face, but a muscle in his neck was taut and for once, he was quiet.
Shit.
“What did you mean, for now?” I asked.
“What?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
“That’s what’s bothering you.”
He didn’t answer right away, but his jaw tightened as he stared in the direction my dad had walked off to. After a moment, he sighed.
“I don’t know many people who went to law school intending to sit around and review contracts all day,” he said. “I wanted to make a difference.”
“So then go make a difference,” I said.
He laughed, but didn’t have its usual warmth. “Thanks, babe. Couldn’t have figured that one out myself.”
“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” I said.
He finally looked at me and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said something apologetic flashed across his face. I did know better, though, and decided I was seeing things.
“Right,” he said, his voice curt. “I don’t. And I didn’t have to come here to be your date and put up with all these questions while you’re trying to distract me, but for some damn reason, I did anyway.”
Well, clearly I’d been seeing things, because he was definitely a dick about that. I tried not to let his words hurt, but there was a sting behind them I couldn’t ignore. JP seemed to realize it as I turned and took another long sip of my almost-finished champagne.
“I just mean instead of bending over and shoving your ass in my crotch so I was busy trying not to get hard in front of your dad, you could’ve poured your champagne on my shirt so we could’ve escaped the conversation all together.”
“We?” I asked dryly. “You don’t think I would’ve still been stuck here talking to them?”
His tongue poked out and his eyes flicked down. “Why should I do all the clean up when you’re the one who spilled it?”
My face was guarded as I looked at him. He stared back, one eyebrow raised. Without a word, I held out my almost-empty champagne flute. I paused and when he didn’t so much as move, I tipped it forward, letting the final mouthful spill down the front of his shirt.
“Oops,” I said again.