51
I grimace as I catch sight of myself in the mirror; once again, Donna has excelled herself, and I chastise myself for not trying this dress on before this trip. It’s tight and short and revealing. It’s sleeveless with just thin straps and a fitted bust leading down to a tight, figure-hugging, knee-length skirt. It’s mainly made of lace, with an under-layer retaining my modesty, and the result is slinky but in a non-slutty way. Well, maybe a little slutty. I’m all boobs. My stilettos do wonders for my legs, but I feel a little naked.
My make-up is darkened and smoky. I brush my hair and leave it down to cover some of my exposed shoulders and cleavage. It waves naturally, coming down to my elbow.
I’m ready unusually fast, still with a deep knot of anxiety in my lower stomach, and fidget impatiently.
Jake strolls back wearing his favorite black shirt, open at the neck, and black trousers. Effortlessly sophisticated, he always looks fantastic in black, and his eyes practically glow with green coolness. He seems to falter as he catches sight of me, frowns, adjusts his cuffs, and averts his eyes. He says nothing at first, then sets a usual smile on his face before looking me over again.
This is a bad idea; I can feel it already. I want my suit, hair tied up, and my ‘cool and in control’ mask back in place.
“You look stunning, Emma. I may have to beat off a few men tonight on your behalf or pee on you to mark my territory.” He grins at me as I blanch in disgust.
“Ewww, hell no!”
He checks his hair in the mirror over the mantle one more time before reaching his hand out to me, his eyes still skimming me with a look that he never throws my way … appreciation. Not flirty Jake eyefuls, like he usually does, but a serious, eye skimming, checking-me-out look. I swallow down the nerves and accept his hand, no idea why I’m this uneasy. He takes my fingers in his and pulls me toward the door before I can argue. He is always so overbearing when his mind is made up.
***
The casino is everything I imagined it would be. I’ve watched enough episodes of CSI not to be awed at the splendor of the vast red-carpeted room filled with machines and tables and noise. Jake tries his luck at a few tables and soon looks bored. He’s never been much of a gambler; he prefers to have situations laid out in a way where he controls the players and always wins. It’s why he’s his father’s second-in-command, with his inherited skills. Although after the Hunter merger, I’m beginning to think his skills surpass those of Senior, seeing he knew how to play him well.
“You want to hit a club instead of this?” He is close to me, and he’s already fed up with the casino. I glance at a couple of women appraising him up and down and am mildly irritated. Maybe I should point him toward the two leggy blondes, go back to my room, and have my quiet night after all. Seeing them look him over like fresh meat, I pout; I’m irritated by it again, and I’m aware it’s unattractive. I glare and turn my attention back to him.
“Sure,” I declare defiantly as, from the corner of my eye, I catch the blonde girl licking her lips and thrusting her boobs forward, readying herself to approach him.
No doubt the slutty pair don’t mind group sex.
He grins happily, unaware of the female attention he’s receiving. I slide my arm through his possessively, throwing back my hair and sending the ‘hoes’ a signal.
Back off, he’s not interested.
***
The nightclub is dark and booming, and we get in quickly. Even though we’re far away from home, they know who he is, a common Carrero perk. I spot some well-known faces and gush when I realize there are some celebrities here, even more so when a couple of them wave his way. He’s holding my hand and pulling me through the crowds; Jake is never wary of unfamiliar places and new groups. He feels at ease wherever we go.
I’m trying to go easy on the alcohol, but Jake’s a seasoned drinker and frequents the bar for top-ups faster than I can drink. He has me half-drunk already, and I don’t know how many times he’s pulled me onto the dance floor, everything bumping and thumping around me. He’s a good dancer, and even though we have danced close at times, I get the impression he’s trying to keep a gentlemanly distance. He’s still flirty and having the usual banter with me, but he has a definite coolness now that we’re here. He is also relatively sober compared to how I have seen him fall into hotel rooms after a night out.
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