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I don’t know why that makes me feel better, and I smile. The tension leaves me shoulders.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Blake adds.
I nod and he escorts me to the bar.
Gregory Dillon is already there, and he looks well-lubricated already.
“If it isn’t the power couple of the weekend!” Dillon cries out. “You look lovely, Rachel! Just lovely.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and tries to pull me away from Blake.
“I think you should focus on your own wife, Greg,” Blake says with a smile, but his eyes are serious.
“Nonsense, it’s just a glass of wine!” Dillon cries out.
He’s close to me and I smell the alcohol on his breath. It’s only been a few hours since I met him on the runway, but he looks like he must have been drinking since then. Or even longer.
“Greg, let go of her,” Blake says, and the smile is gone. Dillon looks at Blake, and his smile slowly fades, too.
“God, what the hell happened to you, man? Since when do you give a shit about the whores you drag along?”
My stomach drops. Whores?
Blake clenches his jaw. “Don’t start with me, Dillon. You’re one of my best, but your fate isn’t set in stone with the company if you don’t watch your mouth.”
Dillon seems to get the picture and holds up his hands in defense, letting go of me.
“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He looks at me apologetically. “It was just a bit of fun.”
I nod and he steps away. Blake puts his arm around me, his hand on the small of my back, and he steers me to the bar.
“Sorry about that,” Blake murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Thank you for sticking up for me.”
Blake glances at me before he orders me a glass of wine and another whiskey for him. When we leave the bar, his hand is still on the small of my back. I shiver under his touch. He’s possessive, and I know I shouldn’t be thrilled about it. But the way he defends my honor is flattering, and the way he seems to feel about me makes me feel warm.
We walk to a table and sit down. Blake introduces me to Mrs. Dillon, who looks at me with a pinched expression. I can’t help her husband seems to be an ass.
The other two women, Mrs. Callahan and Mrs. Lawrence, don’t seem very welcoming either, but they smile politely enough before they start talking to each other again.
“I don’t think I fit in here,” I whisper to Blake.
“You’re just fine,” Blake says. “I wouldn’t worry about them.”
I nod. I’m not too worried about them. I’m more worried about what Gregory Dillon said at the bar.
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but—”
“You want to know about the whores Greg referred to,” Blake says. He knows what I’m thinking.
I nod. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place. I just—”
“It’s absolutely your place as my date tonight. And it’s not a lie that I’ve found companionship more than once. But it’s not as crass as he made it sound. We’re all human, Rachel, and a man isn’t made of stone.”
I nod. He’s right. And he has every right to do what he wants and with who he wants. I don’t know why the idea of him with someone else riles me up so much. I’m not supposed to feel jealous of other women who might have had his attention before.
Or who might get it again.
My feelings war against each other. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m an independent woman; I’m not ready for a relationship.
