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"Yes," I lie.
He nods and reaches for my hand. My heart kicks up a notch when he laces our fingers together and gently tugs me closer.
"No one is going to question you. It's just like the first time we met."
I nod quietly. I know he's right.
"You'd be surprised how many people don't bring their spouses to events, including women. They're just as bad."
I reel back, a little bothered. It's sad how easy people cheat.
"Is anyone faithful these days? God."
"Being in a committed relationship is more than rainbows and butterflies. It takes more work than people expect. Communication and compromise is where it's at, but no one realizes that until it's too late."
Damn. He has a point.
"How depressing. Thank God I never plan to marry."
His brows bunch together. "Really?"
"Ah, yeah. Just based on my line of work and what I've seen, I'd rather be single forever."
"Until you find that one person who just gets you in every aspect of your relationship. That's when it'll be worth it."
"What else?" I ask, needing to move on. I highly doubt I'll be able to find a two-in-one man after all the men I've been with, and one who is okay with what I do. It sounds like a pipe dream and not something I want to focus on because it'll just make me depressed. Not that I ever planned to get married, as I’d said, but I would never lie to my spouse about my past either. With my luck, one of my clients would be end up being a brother—or father—to my imaginary husband.
The bartender asks if we'd like another drink and James declines. We leave the bar and make our way to the elevator.
"I would never censor you, but please try to refrain from talking about the size of my cock this time, if you can."
I blush, and briefly roll my lips between my teeth. "He had it coming."
"Val," he warns.
"He did!"
James just stares. I can see the laughter in his eyes, but he holds steady and I concede.
"I make no promises, but I'll try not to say anything." As we step into the elevator and the doors close, I can't help myself. "I wasn't wrong, though. You are hung like a stallion and fuck like a beast." I laugh, and so does he.
* * *
Three hours of making small talk with his coworkers, and James has hardly left my side. We've been upstairs in a small, intimate private room that overlooks the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows, this one-of-a-kind skyscraper view is something I've always wanted to experience. I find myself gazing out the window while James talks. Every so often he gives me a little tug and I smile at him. There's an open bar and the display of towering hors d'oeuvres is picture perfect. James keeps offering to get me food, but I'm rarely hungry on jobs, something I keep reminding myself I’m on. I think it's the nerves that just get to me, and even though I'm a little more relaxed now, my stomach is a mess.
James gives me a little squeeze. His arm has been wrapped around my back with his hand resting on my hip the entire time, like he doesn't want anyone to steal me away. His possessiveness is appealing and even more so when he drops kisses to my temple. He's even included me in conversations, something my other clients rarely do. I'm to be seen, not heard, a few have told me. The conversations are a drag. Talk about politics and who's positioning for partner, who closed which case and how much money a firm made, who was arrested for embezzlement and fraud. So much schmoozing and ass kissing that I have to wonder if they recognize it for what it is… Ladder climbing. It's boring as hell, but I remind myself that for
five million dollars, I'll make it look like I'm eating out of the palm of their hands.
After all, money talks.
No one has talked down to me at least, which is a plus. It's something I always worry about and it makes me slightly uncomfortable when it happens, but I guess that's what the booze and pills are for. Funny enough, though, it's not usually the men who say anything. They just look at my client with envy. It's the women who are the worst.
Like this one woman who hasn't been able to take her eyes off James. I'm not jealous. I'm secure and confident in my skin, but she's grating on my nerves because she's clearly eye fucking him. He's looked at her a few times.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he says, looking down at me. He turns me to face him so we're chest to chest and his hands dance down my waist and swoop over my lower back. "You've made it bearable. I hate these things, but it's a must for work, you know? Keeping face is why I am where I am. No one is going to take what I have or try to one-up me."
I smile pleasantly at him, my hands flat on his chest. "It wasn't as bad, but, James? If you look at that woman in the hideous yellow frock one more time, I'm going to bite your dick when it's in my mouth tonight," I say, my voice sugary sweet. I pat his chest and flutter my lashes through the knives I'm throwing at him. "Understand?"
