57
The dance is pleasant, very grand, with an awesome East Asian theme. Authentic costumes are everywhere; exotic canapes and cocktails are flowing freely, and my eyes are dazzled with all the sparkling décor. There are many droning speeches before the dance gets underway and, as usual, the flashing of a million cameras. I’m so used to them nowadays that I never really notice anymore.
“Dance, Miss Anderson?” Jake is back in charming and happy mode and dazzles me with a gorgeous, relaxed smile. “Certainly, Mr. Carrero.” I take his hand and follow him through the crowd to join other guests; it’s a slow song, and he moves me expertly. Dancing with Jake is fast becoming one of my favorite past times. Like everything he does, it’s with a smooth, confident capability that seems annoyingly easy for him.
“It’s a good thing you have a young female PA,” I smile up at him, feeling relaxed in his embrace and letting myself ooze into him.
“Why is that?”
“Saves you having to wine and dine leggy blondes on short notice when you can’t be bothered or hungover,” I smirk, inwardly glad he has no date with him tonight.
“I guess. Although that stiff double whiskey sorted me right out.” He’s smiling; he seems relaxed tonight despite his earlier weird grumpiness, and he’s got that casual, laid-back vibe.
“What’s with that anyway?” I ask curiously.
“What’s with what?” He looks over my head and nods at someone trying to catch his attention, ever sociable Carrero. Back to swaying with me to the music, he seems distant suddenly, but I know he’s trying to avoid my Gestapo-like questioning.
“The lack of leggy bosoms lately?” It’s been in the back of my mind, his lack of playmates and sleepovers, for weeks now.
He shrugs and spins me around, pulls me back into his arm playfully, and lightly smacks me on the butt. I throw him a mock alarmed look; the tug of his grin is not lost on me, and I get that warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach at his good mood.
He’s so much more mellow since we landed.
“Lost your sex drive or merely misplaced it?” I press.
“Nope.” He’s smiling, but that guarded look is back with my probing. He’s being deliberately evasive, pulling out a bit of irritation from me.
Oh, so we’re playing the one-word answer game, are we?
He looks amused at my dry expression.
“Bored?” I press.
“So-so. Just taking a break,” he shrugs and looks over me again, winking at another attention grabber.
For goodness sake.
“You do that, do you?” I cock my head to the side, studying his chiseled jawline, the sparkle of his mystical eyes in this light.
He looks particularly handsome tonight.
“Sometimes.”
I doubt it very much. From my research of all his years of social endeavors, I'm sure I never saw a break in the flow of women, but maybe some of them were just stand-in dates like me, PAs, and assistants when he couldn’t be bothered.
“Are you sick?” I know I’m prying, but I pretty much live with him, and I know how much he likes a roll in the sheets, and, by my calculations, it’s been a while since the last one—a long while.
“Not that I’m aware.” He throws me a quizzical glance with raised eyebrows that says, “Where are you going with this?” but still smiling. He catches my hand and holds it to his forehead with a furrowed brow, asking, “Do I have a fever?”
I pull my hand free and shake my head at him in exasperation. We go back to swaying, but my brain is still mulling it over.
“You’re not …? You know …?” I hesitate as the telltale heat runs up my cheeks, and I curse myself for asking this.
“What?” he laughs now; I think he knows what I’m going to ask, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him. He has that amused look on his face, the all-knowing eye.
How does he do that?
“Having man problems?” I blush furiously.
God! I’ve become as nosey as him! And as inappropriate! Why am I even asking this?
“No. No ‘man problems,’ Emma. Don’t worry. My libido is still intact and waiting for you to name the place. Why are you so interested in my lack of sexual partners?” he asks, shaking his head and locking eyes with mine, finally being direct.
“It’s just … I’ve worked for you for a while now, and it’s the
first time there’s been a lull in … playtime,” I answer, my skin on fire, and I suddenly wish I’d never started this line of interrogation. I am practically squirming with awkwardness.
Why do I care so much anyway?
“You’re keeping tabs? Maybe a little bit jealous?” he smirks at me, twinkling in those alluring eyes.
“No!” I flush and realize my cheeks are flaming now; I must be bright red. He’s smirking at me as he moves me around in time to the music and pulls me against his chest, so we’re resting cheek easily to cheek, giving me a break from the interrogation. Instead, I’m enveloped by his warmth against my face. He moves my body against his expertly, slowly swaying us.
“I just need a little break from demanding, stroppy women; even casual sex can be a hassle,” he shrugs flatly.
“I see. So, am I just the stand-in date from now on then?” I ask seriously, a tingle of annoyance at that fact.
“Never! You’re always my number one girl.” He throws me a mock shocked look as though I’ve offended him. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. I don’t think I’ve seen you warm to a single female I’ve dated,” he states as a matter of fact, then spins me and brings me back to his face, tipping his chin down so his nose grazes my shoulder when he pulls me in. His breath fans my naked skin in this strapless dress, giving me goosebumps. It’s a little red number and far too molded to my body for my liking. He presses his ear against my ear intimately, the new position meaning my face is almost buried in his shoulder and neck, closer than moments before. I’m a little breathless, and this is not a platonic pose to anyone watching, especially as this dress is all cleavage and Jake’s looking directly into it.
“I didn’t know I was meant to warm to any of them,” I stumble over the words, conscious that I’m suddenly lightheaded and overly aware of how well our bodies fit together and how sexual this feels.
“You’re not. It’s up to you; either you like them or don’t.
It doesn’t matter … not one of them is permanent.” He moves back to his previous hold, giving me some breathing room again, and I exhale with relief. He lifts his hand from my waist and waves at someone behind me, then returns it to its warm spot on my body, pulling me in a bit closer, if that is possible. I’m practically part of his body like this.
“What do you see in them?” I’ve mulled this over every time I’ve met one, never seeing the connection, and I can’t stop asking these dumb questions. He raises his eyebrow, followed by a smile which says, “Really?” and I feel stupid.
Okay, so he’s a man! And they’re all drop-dead gorgeous with scantily covered, lithe bodies and huge boobs; every one has been stunning, in that fake, plastic over-manicured way.
“I mean, besides that?” I falter drily.
“Nothing, hence why they’re all temporary. None have your cute little face, perfect figure, or sexy little personality.” He throws me another flirty grin. I think eye-rolling has become my most used facial expression since meeting him and his cheesy lines.
“So, another deliberate move by smooth Mr. Carrero then?” Another premeditated gameplay? Maybe we’re not so different after all, both controlling our lives so fluidly.
“Pretty much.” The music tempo changes slightly, but it’s still a slow song. He lifts my hand a bit higher, checks his watch, then puts his arm back to its previous position. He’s getting bored being here, all the Jake signs coming out. We’ll be leaving soon at this rate, but I want to know …
“So, you avoid women you might want to make more permanent?” I press on like a dog with a bone.
“Mmm-hmmm, makes sure I don’t get too involved. Waiting on you to hurry up and confess undying love, Bambina.” He winks at me and flexes his eyebrows knowingly.
“You’re exhausting. You know that?” I sigh again, exasperated
by him at times. “So? What is your type if it’s not leggy boobs with killer nails?” I push, smiling shyly but determined. His eyes flicker to me thoughtfully for a moment, then he shrugs.
“Someone real. Maybe short, blonde, blue-eyed with a name like Emma.” His grin is over the top, full-on charming Carrero, and I resist the urge to bop him on the head. He’s never serious about this stuff. Ever! I exhale heavily.
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