17. Jacob
Seventeen
Jacob
I fuss with my black bow tie, tilting my chin up and adjusting it for the seventh time since I stepped into the foyer to wait for Camryn.
We’re not late, and I don’t need to rush her.
I’m just…lately I don’t even know what I am.
I don’t recognize the man I am with her.
Others would’ve described me as focused, aloof, maybe even cold.
Calculating yet disinterested. I’m none of those things with her.
I’m completely distracted, swept up in her, obsessed.
I want the world to know I love her. I want the world to know she’s mine.
In just a few short weeks, my former stepdaughter has made me into a new man without even trying. How could anyone not be drawn to her sweetness, her warmth? To her intelligence and humour?
I’m a man in love, and the way I love Camryn makes me wonder if I’ve ever truly loved anyone or anything before. Every second apart from her makes me feel hollow. Like the most important part of me is missing. A man walking around without his heart.
I’m still fussing with the bow tie when I hear the click of her heels behind me, and I turn, feeling like an eager kid on prom night.
My hands fall to my sides as my brain empties of all coherent thought. Her steps slow as I stare, my eyes raking over her from head to toe. The dress is stunning, sure. It’s a designer gown. But it’s the woman in it that has me struggling to remember to breathe.
When I manage to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I say, “You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She smiles, cheeks going pink, and does a slow turn.
The green of the gown sets off her pale skin, making her look ethereal.
Her blond hair falls around her shoulders in waves.
I curl my fingers into fists so I don’t reach for her and muss her up before we get to the charity gala.
As much as I love seeing her with messy, just-got-fucked hair, I don’t think she’d appreciate me messing up the stylist’s work.
“Thank you again for the dress,” she says softly, eyes glowing.
“You’re welcome,” I say, and I force myself to take a few slow steps in her direction. Outwardly, I’m calm, controlled, my usual polished self. But on the inside, I’m wrecked. I want to devour her. Be inside her. Mark her.
Like I said, I’m not the same man I used to be.
And looking at Camryn now, she’s not the same girl she used to be, either.
I can see it, in the sophisticated grace of her movements, the confident tilt of her head, the pretty smile.
She’s not the shy wallflower she used to be.
She’s a woman fully in bloom, and knowing I had a role in that only makes me want to shout that she’s mine even more.
I slip my hand into the pocket of my pants and pull out a slim, navy blue velvet box. “I have something else for you, sweetheart. Something I’d like you to wear tonight.”
Her gaze dips down to the jewel box and she bites her lip. “What is it?”
I flip it open, hoping my casual gesture hides the slight tremble in my hands. Inside, nestled among the luxe fabric, is an emerald choker.
She gasps as the vibrant green stones catch the light, running the tips of her fingers over it, as if she’s scared to touch something so expensive. As if I’m not going to fuck her wearing nothing but this later.
“Turn around,” I say softly, and she obeys, lifting her hair from her neck as I stand behind her.
She stares at our reflections in the mirror, and I wonder if she’s seeing all the same contrasts I am.
She’s blond, petite, curvy, flush with youth.
My hair’s so dark it looks almost black, shot through with gray.
I’m all hard angles, with lines around my eyes, my mouth.
And yet, we look right. To me, we look perfect.
I fasten the necklace, securing it in place.
The emeralds match the dress perfectly, and I love the way they hug her neck.
In my depraved mind, it’s a collar, a mark of ownership, but I don’t tell her that.
I don’t tell her how badly I need her to wear Daddy’s collar in front of all these other rich men who I’m sure will want what I have.
“This is…” She swallows, staring at her reflection, her fingers tracing over the glinting emeralds. “It’s too much, Jake.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. This necklace has twenty-four Asscher cut emeralds, each surrounded with eighteen pave diamonds.
It cost eighty thousand dollars, and I would buy you one every single day if it would make you happy.
” She gasps slightly at the mention of the price and starts to shake her head, but I cut her off by sliding my hand around her throat from behind and exerting gentle pressure.
“It looks incredible on you, and I’d like you to wear it tonight, Cammie.
I want you to feel it around your neck and think of me, all night.
I want you to feel it and now how loved you are. ”
Her eyes have gone soft, her body pliant under my touch, and she nods. But then she pauses, our eyes meeting in the mirror. “How loved I am?”
I remove my hand and turn her to face me, cupping her soft cheeks. “Yes. I love you, Camryn. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you since you showed up on my doorstep a few weeks ago.” I hesitate. “Maybe even longer.”
“Jake,” she says, her eyes glistening. She blinks several times and then swallows, the emeralds shifting slightly with the movement.
“I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I should admit.
I…” She trails off, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
“I’ve been scared to tell you. Scared it was too soon. ”
I chuckle softly. “I don’t think anything about this relationship has followed typical patterns, sweetheart.
You can always be honest with me, especially about how you feel.
” I lean down and kiss her softly, careful not to disturb her expertly applied makeup.
I wonder if the mascara is waterproof. I wonder if I can make it run down her cheeks later, turning her into my debauched princess.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, our eyes and our hearts taking in the words we just spoke. Feeling the weight of them. The simple truth.
But the moment ends when my phone rings, the concierge letting me know our limousine is waiting for us downstairs.
We each take one final look in the mirror, Camryn’s fingers once again tracing over the emeralds glinting against her throat.
I take her hand and lead her into the elevator.
We don’t say anything as we’re swept downward, as we walk through the marble-tiled foyer, as we slip into the back of the limo.
Outside, the darkening city slides by us as we weave through congested streets toward the St. Regis.
Camryn doesn’t say anything, her attention focused out the window as her thumb rubs back and forth across my knuckles.
Everything with her is so easy. So natural and effortless.
We were inevitable from the start. There’s no doubt about that in my mind.
When we pull up in front of the swanky hotel, the door swings open and I slide out first so I can offer Camryn my hand.
A few cameras flash, taking photographs that I’m sure will appear in the Toronto Star’s society pages this weekend.
I wonder how they’ll caption them. Banking billionaire and his former stepdaughter?
His mysterious date? What we’re doing isn’t exactly covert, but I don’t give a fuck.
I want the world to know she’s mine, and I want to drag Camryn out of the shadows and into the light with me.
As we walk through the hotel and into the glittering ballroom, I try to see it all through her eyes.
I’ve been to a hundred events like this, but she hasn’t.
The light glints off the crystal chandeliers as men in tuxedos and women in designer gowns hobnob.
Soft jazz music floats through the air, mingling with the sound of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses.
Waiters carrying silver trays circulate through the crowd, offering caviar topped little somethings to guests.
It’s a scene of wealth, of opulence, of power.
“Wow,” she breathes softly, eyes flitting over the elegant floral centerpieces decorating each round table. “This is incredible.”
I like being able to amaze her. To take her places that dazzle her. I want to give her everything. Anything. Whatever she wants in this world, I’ll wrap it up in a bow and lay it at her feet.
I loop her arm through mine and lead her deeper into the ballroom.
I can feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on us, a quiet murmur following us as we move.
Women eye Camryn up, taking in her jewels, her dress, most likely her youth.
Men openly stare, just as I knew they would, ogling her cleavage, her curves, the way her hand rests on my arm.
I want to growl at them. Bare my teeth. But I don’t. Instead, I just smirk at their stares, and dip my head low to speak into Cammie’s ear.
“Everyone’s staring at you. Especially the men.”
She flushes the most beautiful shade of pink as her eyes dart around the ballroom. I pluck two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and offer her one. She takes a fortifying sip, and I lead her further into the throng with a hand on the small of her back.
I can’t stop myself from looking at the emeralds around her throat, the way they hug that pale column and glimmer in the light. I can still hear whispers and murmurs as we move through the crowd.
“So young…”
“Thought he was single…”
“Didn’t she used to be…”
“Can’t be his date…”
“But who is she?”
I smirk and sip my champagne. Let them talk. Everyone will know who she is soon enough.