AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Adeline has just recounted to the group of ten here tonight the story she weaved together months ago that we now use when asked how I proposed to her. It involves a spontaneous flight in my jet to Paris, a romantic weekend there, a famous restaurant I had closed to just the two of us for the proposal, the rock she’s wearing on her finger now, and many intricate details of the things we did in Paris that weekend. The parts about the jet and the restaurant are true; the rest is bullshit. People love to hear it, though, and Adeline is a talented storyteller, so they hang off every word she says. When I’m asked for the story, they’re lucky to get even a quarter of it.
Adeline rests her hand on my thigh and leans in close to me. “Jameson has his moments. I’m a very lucky woman.” She takes the opportunity to run that hand up and down my thigh, moving far closer to my dick than I appreciate. This is something she’s been doing throughout dinner; something we’ll be having words about later.
“That, you are,” says the woman sitting on my other side. She’s been eyeing me all night. Every time Adeline notices, she makes sure to touch me in some way. I’ve no fucking idea why. I just know we’ll also be having words about that.
We need to make people think we’re in love; we don’t need to go fucking overboard with it.
“So, Adeline,” a woman sitting across from us says, “how do you maintain your sanity with all the things posted about you on social media that I’m assuming aren’t true? I don’t think I’d survive it if it were me going through what you’ve had to deal with today.”
Adeline reaches for her glass of wine. I’ve noticed tonight that whenever someone mentions anything to do with her family, she reaches for that wine. I know the basics of her family and their history, the information my team researched for me. And I’ve had conversations and spent a little time with her mother and sister, but I’m fast forming the opinion there’s a lot I don’t know.
What I do know is that Adeline and her sister, Sabrina, grew up without their father after he took off when Sabrina was born. Adeline was three. Their mother struggled to hold a job, either waitressing or cleaning to earn money.
Adeline isn’t close with her mother but would like to be. She’s also not close with Sabrina. She does, however, tend to pay most of their bills from what I can work out.
Her family is a touchy subject and whenever I’ve broached it, she’s shut the conversation down fast. I haven’t been interested enough to dig more. My only requirement when we negotiated our marriage contract was to know the basics so that if Bill asks me anything, I can provide him with an answer.
Adeline sips her drink before answering the woman. “You get used to it over time. It’s my job, and I’ve been doing it for fourteen years, so it’s second nature now.”
“Yes,” the woman says, “but even though it’s your job, this must be hard. Dragging your family into it makes everything so much more personal. I don’t know how you do it.”
Adeline smiles, but it’s a tight, controlled smile. The one I know she uses when she’s feeling anything but happy about whatever she has to discuss. “It’s hard, yes, but I’m blessed to have a great team around me who help me get through it.” She looks up at me. “And now I also have Jameson. He’s my rock.”
“Well, you were right when you said you’re a lucky woman,” the woman says. “Whenever I have work problems that turn a little personal, my husband has no idea what I really need from him. He’s practical and solution oriented, whereas I’m looking for some emotional support, you know? Honestly, I just want him to listen to me, and nod, and give me some form of ‘everything will be okay’, but he just wants to tell me what he thinks I should do to fix it. I have no idea how we’ve made it through fifteen years of marriage without him figuring out I don’t find this helpful.”
That starts a chorus of agreement from the women around the table.
I reach for my drink and throw some whiskey down my throat while taking hold of Adeline’s hand that’s still resting on my thigh and placing it back in her lap.
Her eyes find mine as I do this, and they flash with what looks like satisfaction.
While the conversation around us is noisy, I take the opportunity to lean toward her and warn in a hushed tone, “You’re playing a dangerous game here.”
“And for once, I’m enjoying every minute of it.” Her eyes are fixed on mine as she takes a sip of her wine. Placing her glass down, she adds, “It’s almost time for your art tour. How fun for you.”
I work my jaw. “This is a conversation we’ll be continuing when we get home.”
“I have no doubt. You do like to play dictator with me, after all, so I imagine you’ve got a lot of new orders for me to follow.”
My phone sounds with a text, saving her from hearing my thoughts on that. Adeline thinks I’m dictatorial; she has no idea how little she’s observed of my dictatorial capabilities. If she insists on pushing me, though, she’ll learn fast just how wrong she was.
Shantel: Paulina wants to see you tomorrow. I’m shifting your first meeting to 1pm so you can fit her in.
Jameson: Make sure that time works for Hudson too. I want him sitting in on every meeting I have with her.
Shantel: You do realize that after working for you for five years, I’ve reached the point where I can read your mind, right? I’ve already scheduled him in too.
Jameson: Good.
Shantel: As you were.
“I like it when Shantel messages you,” Adeline says.
I glance at her, my brows pulling in. I’m unsure of where she’s going with this.
She gives me an amused look. “I can tell when it’s her by the expressions you pull. It’s like you’re simultaneously pleased with her and perplexed by her. I like it when people perplex you. It gives me great joy.”
“Is this conversation necessary?”
