Chapter 50 Reed
REED
Georgina is late, once again. Caught up in traffic. This time, because she lost track of time while reading a bunch of articles at Rock ‘n’ Roll’s offices.
To distract myself while awaiting her return, I’ve been sitting on my couch with my laptop, going over the marketing plan for Fugitive Summer’s upcoming release.
As I’ve been working, I’ve been sipping a glass of Bordeaux.
Occasionally, glancing up at the sunset painting the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the living room.
Surely, if someone were to see me right now, not knowing anything about Georgina, they’d think I’m the perfect portrait of a man in relaxation mode.
But it couldn’t be further from the truth.
If Georgina doesn’t get here soon, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die from anticipation.
I’d probably feel that way, regardless. Just because I’m physically craving her after being away from her for several hours.
But my impatience is amplified by the flat, square box hidden underneath my couch cushion at the moment.
The box I hid there when I got home, so I can give it to her at just the right moment tonight.
Georgina won’t keep my gift. Not this one.
Not for long, anyway. She’ll take it from me with a beaming smile and turn around and sell it, the first chance she gets.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give it to her.
Or see that beaming smile of hers when she first opens the box and sees the sheer perfection of what’s inside.
Whether Georgina winds up keeping my gift for a day or a week, her gift to me will be the look on her face when she first opens the box.
Finally, just as I’m reaching the end of Fugitive Summer’s release package, I hear my front door open.
When I turn my head, it’s just in time to see Georgina bursting into the expansive room.
And, just like that, every cell in my body simultaneously jolts with a tsunami of reactions.
Arousal, joy, relief. She’s home. She’s safe. She’s mine.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Georgie says adorably, barreling over to me, her computer bag clanking against her hip as she moves. “I got caught up reading a bunch of stuff, and totally lost track of time.”
Frazzled, she kisses me in greeting, and I calmly rise and hand her a goblet of wine.
“What were you reading?” I ask, settling next to her on the couch.
“Every past article I could get my hands on about every River Records artist,” she says. “Including the article that started it all—the one CeeCee wrote about Red Card Riot’s debut.”
“Oh, wow. I haven’t seen that one in forever. I’d love to read it, for old time’s sake.”
“I thought you might say that...” Waggling her eyebrows, she reaches into her computer bag and pulls out a sheet of paper. “So, I made a high-resolution color copy for you!”
“No way,” I say, as she hands me the page. “This is amazing, Georgie! Thank you.” I kiss her cheek. “That was awfully sweet of you.”
“Well, you’re awfully sweet to me, so... “
Oh, Jesus Christ. Those condors in my belly are back again, full-force. I read the entirety of the short article, stopping once to make a comment to Georgie, and, finally, place the page on the coffee table. “What a walk down memory lane. Wow.”
“I was actually thinking you might like a framed copy for your home office,” Georgie says. “You have all your major ‘firsts’ in there, so I thought...”
“That’s a fantastic idea. Thank you. I’ll give this to Amalia to get framed.”
“Oh. No. I was thinking I’d get it framed for you, if that’s okay.” She smiles shyly. “I know a framed article isn’t much of a gift, but you’ve given me so much. I’m dying to give you something special. Something that might be meaningful to you.”
My heart skips a beat at the sweetness in Georgina’s expression—even as my heart leaps and bounds at the perfect segue she just lobbed to me. I’d planned to give Georgina my gift after dinner. But after a segue like that, how could I possibly resist giving it to her now?
“Speaking of gifts, I have one for you.”
“Oh, Reed. No.”
“Just listen. My meeting this afternoon was in Beverly Hills.” I take a deep breath.
Holy shit, my heart is racing. “And when I was walking the couple blocks back to my car afterwards, I happened to pass a store window that was displaying something that instantly reminded me of you. So, I walked inside the store and bought it for you.”
“Reed, no. No, no, no.”
Ignoring her protests, I reach under the couch cushion and pull out the box I’ve been dying to give her. “This is for you. I hope you love it.”
Her wide eyes dart from the blue box to my face and back again. “I can’t accept that, whatever it is. Thank you so much for thinking of me, but it’s way too much.”
“Why don’t you decide what’s ‘way too much’ after you see it?”
“Reed, it’s from Tiffany’s.”
“So what? It could be a bottle opener.”
She’s frozen. In shock.
“Come on, Georgie. Open the box. Are you going to deny me that pleasure?”
She looks deeply conflicted. But, still, she doesn’t move.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious what item in a store window reminded me of you so much, I felt called to buy it for you, on the spot?”
That does it. Her curiosity gets the best of her.
With a trembling hand, Georgina takes the box from me and slowly opens it—and then sucks in a sharp inhale when she beholds the stunning treasure inside: a baroque-style ruby necklace set in Spanish gold, its multitude of deep-red gems cascading down in golden dripping, chandelier settings.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. She puts her free hand on her heart. “Reed. This is... exquisite.”
And so are you, I think. And it’s the truth.
The look on her face is everything I dreamed it would be and more.
Even though I know she’s going to sell it, this moment made buying the perfect piece of jewelry for her, rather than some placeholder that happened to be of the right monetary value, well worth it.
Georgina’s eyes prick with tears. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispers. She’s shaking. Flushed. Beautiful.
“The crazy thing is,” I say, my chest heaving every bit as much as hers, “I didn’t even know rubies are your birthstone when I first saw it. The saleswoman inside the store told me about rubies after I asked her to show me the necklace. Did you know rubies are called ‘the king’s gem’?”
Georgina shakes her head, looking like a teary-eyed deer in headlights.
“It turns out, the king’s gem is highly symbolic.
They symbolize power and blood. Passion, desire, and fire.
All of which is perfect for you, Georgina, because you’re passion and power embodied.
A human flame.” And you’ve infiltrated my blood.
I grab Georgina’s limp hand. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted to tie you to my bed and show you what your body can do, if only you’re willing to surrender completely.
But then I got to know you, and I realized I had to wait to do that with you.
I knew you’d enjoy it and have fun, to be sure, which is good enough for some.
.. but with you, I didn’t simply want to show you a good time.
I wanted to show you something that would transform you.
” I squeeze her hand. “Tonight’s finally the night, Georgina.
You’re ready to let go completely. You’re ready to trust me.
And I can’t wait another night. Tonight, you’re going to wear that necklace for me—a necklace dripping in the king’s gems—and let me worship you as my queen. ”
I’ve rendered her speechless.
“Say yes, Georgie.”
She swallows hard. She looks deeply conflicted.
Which is exactly as expected. Indeed, I fully expected and counted on Georgina’s conflicting emotions when I bought this necklace in the first place.
“I can’t,” she says. “I mean, yes, tie me up. Please. I’ve wanted you to do that since you mentioned it the other night in front of your gate.
But I can’t accept this gift from you. It’s too generous. ”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
She frowns. “The truth is, I can’t own thousands of dollars in rubies when my father is on the brink of losing his condo, any day now. If I took this necklace from you, I wouldn’t be able to resist selling it behind your back at my first opportunity, so I could give the proceeds to my father.”
I force myself not to smile. Damn, I’m good.
When Henn called this afternoon to give me the grand total of what Georgie’s father owes on his condo, and also to tell me that a third notice had just gone out to him from the bank—meaning the guy is mere days away from being foreclosed upon, I knew I had to act fast. But I also knew paying off the guy’s loan would be a bit tricky.
Georgie would never accept a straight-up check from me.
That much I know. Nor could I anonymously pay off the loan.
Georgie would instantly know who’d paid it.
.. and then, quite possibly, quickly put two and two together, and think, “If Reed covertly paid off Dad’s loan, maybe he also covertly paid for Dad’s medication.
.. and my salary.” Which, obviously, isn’t something I want Georgina to be thinking, especially now that I know the story of Mr. Gates.
But, still, there was no question I had to pay off that damned mortgage somehow, as soon as possible, but in a way that didn’t lead Georgina straight back to me.
I needed a creative solution... a way Georgina would accept the money from me, in the first place, and also that wouldn’t make her suspect my prior “donations” to her and her father.
And then it came to me. A perfect solution. Don’t rich men impulsively buy the women they’re fucking sparkling baubles all the time? Isn’t that a trope nobody ever questions?