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“Now, go, my greedy girl,” said Jason with a wicked smile, and she grinned.
She adored being his greedy girl.
Chapter 16. Service
Jason glanced down at the buggy. Joshua gave him a bubbly grin then burped up his latest feed. Unperturbed, his father gifted him a beaming smile. Turning to look at Gemma, Jason’s facial expression changed and she had a telltale sinking feeling in her gut.
“One thing, Gemma. I asked you to do one thing for me yesterday.” His eyes drilled into her sockets. “What was it?”
She backed a step away from him and returned his gaze with bewilderment.
What the fuck have I not done? Gemma racked her brain and
nothing came to mind about yesterday. It had been a typical Wednesday. He hadn’t asked her for sex since the weekend, too busy and pre-occupied with other matters in the evenings. So what had he asked her to do?
~
Wednesday had been a routine day, but Thursday turned into a less-predictable one. Gemma showered, dressed, and gave Joshua his breakfast. Her path didn’t cross with Jason’s until she waved him off. He’d dashed out the front door, ear pressed to his mobile phone, wearing a grim expression and then, a few minutes later, she let in Clara. They discussed meal plans for Joshua and by nine o’clock they’d mapped the day out. Gemma would take Joshua for a morning walk while Clara would concoct more enticing food for Joshua to try.
Then, Jason’s text arrived.
Meet me at my tailors. 10am.
A summons. Peeved at the intrusion into her day, she slammed the mobile on the table and went to tell Clara the change of plan.
“I’ll take Joshua with me. At some point, he will need a feed from me.”
Clara agreed and returned to peeling pears in a bowl.
Gemma didn’t query why Jason wanted her. Years ago, she might have replied with a question. Now, that approach seemed like a pointless exercise. After months of rules, she’d grown accustomed to the idea he had the power to summon her. Not that she wasn’t curious. She lined up a number of options, all silly fantasies and many making her predictably aroused, but she conceded none of them fitted with the location. His tailors?
The car halted outside the ancient Savile Row establishment, which made bespoke suits for the well-to-do. The exterior of the building looked more like a Georgian townhouse than a shop. The white brick facade didn’t have a huge window display. A single mannequin occupied centre stage, displaying an immaculate suit. Gemma peered through the glazed window, her belly fluttering with butterflies. She’d never been to Jason’s tailors.
Her chauffeur for the day, Gibson, helped transfer the sleeping Joshua into his buggy. After assisting Gemma with negotiating the stiff front door, Gibson abandoned her and returned to sit in the car.
The antiquated exterior appearance continued into the interior with wood panelling and brown-leather-backed chairs. Gemma manoeuvred the buggy around the vintage furniture, and the place reminded her of the Dickensian bookshop she’d worked in when she left University.
She sniffed. A different smell, not book dust. The room smelt of cloth and the finishing fluids that embalmed them. A faint musky aroma, almost masculine. All of her favourite clothing boutiques smelt of lavender or roses. There was no sign of Jason.
A cough. She jumped and turned. A well-dressed man. Would she expect differently in a tailors’? Old, probably of her father’s age, with thin grey hair swept back from his balding head.
“Can I help you?” His eyes narrowed, and extra wrinkles appeared on his forehead.
“I’m supposed to meet my husband here,” explained Gemma.
He scrutinized her then stared down at the sleeping child. “Are you sure you’re in the right shop? The department store at the end of the street sells suits.”
Her hands morphed into angry fists. The effrontery! Before she could snap back at him, she caught her appearance in a full-length mirror. Stretch pants. A long T-shirt hugging her hips and thighs. About her neck, the teardrop necklace. No other jewellery, nor expensive watch or handbag. To the shopkeeper, she was a typical mum, with baby snot deposited on her shoulder and an unidentified mark of food spread down her bosom. It was all she strived to be—an ordinary mother, except now, she expected extraordinary levels of service. Her appearance shouldn’t matter. She stood firm and folded her arms over her heaving chest.
“No. This is my husband’s tailors’. Far as I’m aware, he’s been coming here for over ten years.” Gemma flicked a strand of hair out of her eye. Her platinum wedding ring glinted under the lights.
He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Mrs Lucas?”
“Yes. My husband?”
“Apologies, of course.... He’s in the fitting room.” His facial expression switched from snooty to rueful. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
