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She glanced over to see a single, intimate table. Firmly pressed white linens. Tall candles in a crystal candelabra. Two place settings in a formal style.
And Julian.
He rose when he saw her, then moved to pull out her chair, gesturing for her to take a seat before taking his own. He reached for the decanted bottle of red wine. He poured two glasses, handing one to her. “You’re late,” he said.
There was no emotion in his eyes. Not that familiar flicker or spark or that essence she’d been so drawn to before.
She still didn’t know what tonight was all about. Julian had said he had a proposal for her. She’d thought he meant . . . well, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she couldn’t deny part of her had hoped he had something non-business related in mind. But now? Now he wasn’t touching her. Wasn’t moving into her space. Wasn’t giving off any kind of sexual vibe.
Had she read him wrong? Was this a business meeting, after all?
She pulled back into herself.
“You’re assuming I enjoy red wine,” she answered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms defensively across her chest. If he was going to pull back on the sexual tension, two could play that game. And she’d win.
He smiled. “This is a 2012 Shiraz from Livingston & Co. in New Zealand,” he said calmly. “And it’s your favorite.”
Stunned, she stared at the poured red wine that reflected brilliantly on the white tablecloth from the glistening lights above.
“How did—”
“Last night you were wearing a Chanel lipstick, No. 3,” he continued. “The night at the mansion, you wore Christian Dior Rouge No. 999. Your dress is Marc Jacobs, the scar on your left knee is from a backpacking trip to Costa Rica your junior year of college, and neither your ex-fiancé nor any of your other lovers, I presume, have been able to bring you to orgasm.”
She gasped at the confirmation that he knew all her secrets, the minor and that major.
Julian ignored her gasp and instead raised his glass. “Salut.” He swirled the wine in the glass and held it to the light of the small lamp on the table. “Excellent wine. You do have quite exquisite taste, I must say.” He tipped his head at her and added wryly, “Although the jury’s still out in terms of your taste in men. Rex was an asshole of the finest order.”
She chose to ignore that last statement. No sense in letting him get more under her skin than he already was. “You said you had a proposal for me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I think it’s best if you just get to it.”
He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Business, business, business,” he teased. “Is everything always about business for you? Is that how you view intercourse?”
If she’d been sipping her wine, she would have choked. “Excuse me?” she sputtered.
“The act of the penis entering the vagina,” he said, tilting his head as if more curious than challenging. “Do you see it as nothing more than a transaction? A brief contract? A deposit in the bank, perhaps? For him, of course. Because why else haven’t you come?”
“That’s not . . . I don’t . . . ” She sucked in a deep breath.
Rex had obviously told him.
Before or after their fateful encounter on the upper floor?
Was that why “Jay” had been so attentive? So fucking skillful with his tongue? Had he viewed her as a challenge rather than a woman? Had she imagined that light in his eyes? Disappointment filled her, settling in her stomach like lead, weighing her down. She cleared her throat. “Are you going to tell me your proposal or not? Because if not, I’ll call myself a cab.” She reached for her clutch.
He tapped his fingers on the white tablecloth and watched her squirm under his steady gaze. “Do you come when you masturbate?”
No! the answer screamed in her mind. Not since . . .
She gritted her teeth and riffled through her clutch, her fingers desperately searching for her phone. “Not. Your. Business.”
“Have you tried stimulation with a shower head?”
“I’m leaving.”
And yet I’m not standing.
Because she knew if she stood, she’d run. And wasn’t she done running away?
Julian seemed unperturbed. “What toys have you experimented with in the past? Vibrators? Dildos? That sweet butterfly that makes you feel like your pussy’s being licked?”
