Jordan is back from Roma before he sets up on San Francisco to start an internship with a financing company. He just saw me for the past 2 years and He follows me round the house asking me for a date.
It's annoying.
"Jordan, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening."
"No, you don't, you're just saying that to avoid me. You're always avoiding me."
Yes… you'd think you'd take the hint.
"Jordan , I never thought it was a good idea to date my friends brother."
"You're still looking here for job. You're not working tomorrow."
"And I'll be going to Georgia to see my parent. We couldn't get much further apart if we tried. Besides, I do have a date this evening."
"With my brother ? Kelvin"
"No."
"Who then?"
"Jordan … oh." My sigh is exasperated. He's not going to let this go. "JAce Alicanté ." I cannot help the annoyance in my voice. But it does the trick. Jordan's mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph – even his name renders people speechless.
"You have a date with Jace Alicanté," he says finally, once he's over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
"Yes."
"I see." Jordan looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. I makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with my fingers.
After that, he ignores me, and at eight I am out of the door, Alicanté here I come.
Izzy has lent me three dresses and four pairs of shoes for tonight and for her acceptance interview tomorrow. That's only if she gets accepted, but I pray she get accepted, C'mon she has not been able to rest since we've got here,
.
I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing.
What is your thing, Sarah ? Jace's softly spoken question haunts me. Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening.
It's demure and vaguely business-like – after all, I am negotiating a contract.
I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back.
I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I'd know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I'm ready by Seven-thirty.
"Well?" I ask Izzy.
She grins.
"Boy, you scrub up well, Sarah." She nods with approval. "You look hot."
"Hot! I'm aiming for demure and business-like."
"That too, but most of all, hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings." She smirks.
"Izzy!" I scold.
"Just keeping it real, Sarah. The whole package – looks good. Keep the dress. You'll have him eating out of your hand."
My mouth presses in a hard line. Oh, you so have that the wrong way round.
"Wish me luck."
"You need luck for a date?" Her brow furrows, puzzled.
"Yes, Izzy."
"Well then – good luck." She hugs me, and I am out the front door.
I have to drive in my bare feet – in Izzy's Lexus, well she arrived before I left, saying that she was told to come back for the final interview tomorrow, what company does that? Fuck!,
I pull up outside the Place Jace order me to at Seven-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking.
He looks fascinated at the Lexus , but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.
Jace is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of red wine. He's dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black pens , black tie, and black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. Of course he looks gorgeous. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view.
He is beyond beautiful. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me. Blinking a couple of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to eat my nails, I move forward aware that I, Sarah Megan Elaine of ChildishVille, am in high stilettos. He walks gracefully over to meet me.
"You look stunning," he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. "A dress, Miss Elaine . I approve." Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.
"What would you like to drink?"
My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth – well, at least he's asking me.
"I'll have what you're having, please." See! I can play nice and behave myself. Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.
"They have an excellent wine cellar here," he says, cocking his head to one side.
Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his beautiful mouth, his neon eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is… that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating. I must keep my cool.
"Are you nervous?" he asks softly.
"Yes."
He leans forward.
"Me too," he whispers
conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet his. Him. Nervous. Never. I blink at him, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.
"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask. "Run through my points one by one?"
"Impatient as ever, Miss Elaine."
"Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?"
He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that's been on me… all parts of me. I flush.
"I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today," he smirks.
"Are you smirking at me, Mr. Alicanté ?"
"I am, Miss Elaine ."
"You know this contract is legally unenforceable."
"I am fully aware of that, Miss Elaine ."
"Were you going to tell me that at any point?"
He frowns at me.
"You'd think I'd coerce you into something you don't want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?"
"Well… yes."
"You don't think very highly of me at all, do you?"
"You haven't answered my question."
"Sarah, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me.
If you don't like it, then don't sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don't like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I'd drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?"
I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. Don't drink too much.
"Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust," he continues. "If you don't trust me – trust me to know how I'm affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can't be honest with me, then we really can't do this."
Oh my, we've cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me. Holy shit. What does that mean?
"So it's quite simple, Sarah. Do you trust me or not?" His eyes are burning, fervent.
"Did you have similar discussions with um… the twenty?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that."
"Is there a store you go to?
Submissives R Us?"
He laughs.
"Not exactly."
"Then how?"
"Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your issues, as you say."
I swallow. Do I trust him? Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned Kelvin.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.
Oh no… food.
"No."
"Have you eaten today?"
I stare at him. Honesty… Holy crap, he's not going to like my answer.
"No." My voice is small.
He narrows his eyes.
"You have to eat, Sarah. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?"
"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground."
He smiles sardonically.
"Do you think that would stop me?" he says softly, a sensual warning.
My eyes widen, and I swallow again.
"I hope so."
"Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public." He smiles at me enigmatically and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.
"Bring your wine," he murmurs.
Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow.
He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full livery approaches us.
"Mr. Alicanté , this way sir."
We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table. The room is small but sumptuous.
Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Jace sits opposite me. I peek up at him.
"Don't eat your nails," he whispers.
I frown. Damn it. I don't even know that I'm doing it.
.
I've been writing a lot about Jace and Sarah, 😂, these two cast has gotten into me, and I forgot about out important cast, someone asked me, where is Alex, And the rest cast that are supposed to be in the book, my bad, next chapter will be about someone new, I promise, 😁 .
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