15. Gabriella
Gabriella
W hy didn’t I ask where we were going to dinner?
As I stood in the middle of my closet, wrapped in a towel following a quick shower, I debated my clothing choices. I didn’t want to be overdressed, but knowing Damien, it was more likely that I’d be underdressed. The man exuded sexiness no matter what he wore or didn’t wear.
The clock on my dresser told me I had only twenty minutes to make a decision and turn myself into a competent woman, one continuing a meeting.
“What do you think, Duchess?” I asked my black cat sitting on the end of my bed with a bored expression.
“Black is a safe color.”
Duchess didn’t respond as I chose a black maxi dress. It was sleeveless with a scooped neckline. The bodice had built-in cups, taking away the need for a bra. Being that it was spring in Indiana, I also decided to add a cardigan. Accenting the ensemble with a long necklace and casual heels, I would fit perfectly into any dinner situation.
My long hair was flowing down my back in soft waves. As I put the finishing touches on my lips—pink, not too dark, the doorbell rang. Looking at my reflection, I thought this was all in vain. After all, this wasn’t a date.
I would have worn the same thing to drinks with Niles.
As I took one last look in the mirror, I knew I was telling myself a lie. I would have gone out with Niles straight from work. There wouldn’t have been a shower or a quick shave. For the record, I didn’t go bald, but there was some trimming that needed to be done. Not that it would be seen. With Niles, I wouldn’t have changed clothes or redone my makeup.
Other than all those things, it was the same as going with Niles for drinks.
The doorbell rang again.
“Wish me luck,” I said to Duchess, who was now curled into a circle near the end of my bed. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes. “Thanks for the support.” Shaking my head, I made my way down the stairs toward the front door. “I’m coming,” I called.
Through the lead-glass transom, I saw Damien on my front porch. My steps slowed as I descended lower toward the first-floor foyer. While the image was distorted, as I neared, I realized I’d been mistaken. The person outside wasn’t Damien. The build and strawberry-blond hair were wrong.
Opening the door, I met Johnathon’s green gaze as his smile flashed. “Johnathon? I was expecting Damien…Mr. Sinclair.”
“Mr. Sinclair asked that I pick you up and take you to the restaurant.”
A chill ran over my skin. “Was there a problem?”
“I don’t think so,” Johnathon said with a chipper attitude. “You may call him if you’d like.”
I’d deleted Damien’s number years ago. However, his number reappeared on my phone Saturday night. It was still there. I opened the front door wider. “Come in. I’ll go upstairs and call Mr. Sinclair.” I feigned a smile. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
Johnathon was dressed exactly as he had been at the office, making me wonder if he’d had any break at all.
“Can I get you anything?” I offered before going upstairs. “Water?”
“No, thank you.” He looked around. “Your place is nice.”
I tilted my head toward the living room. “You’re welcome to have a seat. I’ll be just a minute.”
As I climbed the stairs, I told myself that I’d spent nearly an hour with Damien’s assistant this afternoon-slash-evening. I wasn’t uncomfortable with him being present or as my chauffeur. It was the change in plans that had me uneasy.
Once in my bedroom, I shut the door. Duchess stretched, her eyes on me. Shaking my head, I removed my phone from my purse. The volume was still off from my workday. That wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t miss a call. It was a text message I’d missed, sent ten minutes ago. The screen read Damien. Inhaling, I swiped the screen.
“I’ve upped the negotiation. Call me.”
“Bastard,” I muttered as I hit the green icon.
“Ella,” he said as he answered. “Did you finally see the text or is Johnathon there?”
“Both.”
“And you are in the car?”
“No,” I said in a hushed tone. “Damien, this isn’t a business negotiation.”
“It’s multitasking. Here is what I’d like you to do to prepare for our meeting.”
“Prepare? I’m ready to walk out the door.”
“Where are you? Is Johnathon in the room?”
Duchess rubbed her forehead against my hip as I scanned my bedroom. Instead of telling him where I was, I simply said, “He’s downstairs.”
“Very good. While I appreciate his loyalty, no one else gets a glimpse at your beautiful pussy. Do you have any desire to continue these negotiations?”
What the actual fuck?
“Inappropriate.”
“Tell me and I’ll retract my offer.”
Sighing, I sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re asking me this now if I want to continue?”
Why didn’t he ask this afternoon?
I would have gladly left.
“I’m waiting,” he said, impatiently.
“Yes, Damien. I don’t want to end them.” It wasn’t the same as wanting them to continue, but it was the closest to the truth.
His smirk was audible in his tone. “As you’ll learn tonight, my offer is in good faith. To continue the negotiations, I’m asking you to do something in good faith.”
“Shit, Damien. What?”
“Remove your panties.”
My heart rate intensified. “What the hell?”
His laugh rumbled through the phone. “I’ll see you soon. I’ve already ordered a bottle of your favorite wine. And if you don’t think I’ll confirm your good-faith effort, you’re mistaken.”
My teeth ached from the pressure. “I’m not doing this.”
“Will you be the one to call Ms. Barns and inform her that the deal is off, or would you like me to speak to her?”
I looked again toward my closed door and lowered my voice. “This is illegal.”
“I’d never force you, Ella. Oh, and now because I hear your arousal, I also want you to bring the panties you’re wearing. I can only imagine how wet they are.”
Before I could reply, the call ended.
“Damn you,” I growled as I tossed the phone onto the bed. Duchess’s green eyes were wide, looking at me. “He’s an ass.”
She lifted her chin, obviously a sign she agreed with my statement.
Closing my eyes and pinching my lips together, I fought the onset of another headache, while concurrently considering Damien’s request. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my phone, wondering what Millie would say if I called her and told her what Damien wanted. As that thought passed by, I recalled what Niles had said earlier.
He’d told me not to do anything I didn’t want to do.
What do I want to do?
Within my closet was a full-length mirror. Flipping the switch, a round crystal light fixture filled the space with illumination. I stepped inside. In the reflection, my face was flushed and my décolletage had a rosy glow. The buzzing in my stomach told me what I didn’t want to admit.
The sensation was the same as when I’d first spotted him at the airport bar, when he wanted to pay for my lunch. This was Damien’s game. Cat and mouse. He was the master and believed he made the rules.
Lifting the skirt to my dress, I seized the waistband of my panties and pulled them down my legs and over my heeled sandals.
Meeting my own gaze, my lips slowly curled. “Fuck you, Damien. I’ve played your games before. This time, I’ll win.” I quickly switched my handbag for one a little larger. Next, I went to the dresser and found a clean pair of panties, and because he was right about the condition of the ones I had been wearing, I stuffed the clean ones into the purse.
As I descended the staircase and the air flowed beneath my skirt, I was thankful for the length of the maxi dress. Johnathon looked up as I turned the corner in the stairs. He was exactly where I’d left him, near the front door.
Once I reached him, I grinned. “You could tell me where you’re taking me, and I could drive. Save you from waiting for our meeting to be done.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Sinclair was very specific.”
“How often do you fetch Mr. Sinclair’s meeting guests for dinner?”
Johnathon opened the front door to the street and held it open. As I passed by, he answered, “I’m sworn to confidentiality, Ms. Crystal. I assure you, all secrets are safe with me.”
“Yet today you told me I was a rumor.”
“I apologize for that, ma’am. I’d rather you don’t mention that to Mr. Sinclair.” He opened the back door of a large black SUV.
“How often?” I asked again.
He stalled for a moment before answering, “You’re the first.”
“Your secret is also safe with me, Johnathon. Remember, I know what working for a man like Damien Sinclair can be like.”
“I’m happy with my job.” He closed the door.
Fastening my seat belt, I waited until Johnathon was in the driver’s seat. “Where are we going?”
“Anthony’s Chophouse.”
Pressing my thighs together, I was acutely aware of my lack of undergarments. Nevertheless, Anthony’s Chophouse was a popular restaurant in downtown Carmel. Damien could play his little games, but at a table or even a booth, surrounded by other patrons, tonight would be about verbal sparring and despite the small hint of a headache, I was ready to fight.