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Chapter Six: Juliet
Iwent homeand took a shower, shaved everywhere, plucked my brows, painted my toenails, and tried on fifteen different outfits, then sat on my bed with my head in my hands. A minute later, I picked up my phone and composed a text.
Hi Fort. Sorry for the late notice, but I can’t meet you tonight.
As soon as I finished typing the words, I deleted them carefully so I wouldn’t accidentally send them. Then I retyped them.
Hi Fort. Sorry for the late notice, but I
Delete delete delete delete delete. I wasn’t strong enough to duck out of this dinner, not after I’d spent three hours getting ready, fantasizing about staring into his intense eyes from across the table. I went into rationalization mode.It’s not an actual date. He told me we could keep things friendly…
So I got up, put away my phone, and tried to dress in a friendly way. When Fort knocked on my door at seven-thirty, I was wearing an understated burgundy shift dress with a cropped matching sweater, and a layered glass-bead necklace. I’d done my hair in two loose French braids so it wouldn’t look like I was trying too hard. Then I let him in, and all my self-protective intentions fell away. He was perfection: sexy and handsome in a dark blue three-piece suit and a blue, diamond-patterned tie.
“Good evening, Juliet.” He reached out and touched the side of my waist, below my sweater. The contact was unexpected, and he quickly moved his hand away. “You look beautiful. I love that color. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good. Get your coat.”
I was halfway to retrieving it when his tone of command registered. I took my coat from the back of my couch and started to shrug into it. He was suddenly behind me, helping me put it on. I turned to him as I buttoned the front, but he was looking around my small apartment. It wasn’t a glossy penthouse, that was for sure. It was messy and utilitarian, furnished with eclectic furniture.
“It’s chilly out,” he said, taking a step back toward the door. He waited with a smile while I got my matching flower-embroidered clutch, and did a last minute check for lipstick, tissues, and apartment key. He didn’t touch me as we descended the stairs, but it felt like he was touching me, because he stood so close and he was so big.
He informed me that he’d hired a driver tonight so we wouldn’t have to bother with parking. I bit my lip against vapid, flattering comments as he ushered me into the sleek sedan. Yes, we were going in a private car to have dinner at the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in Manhattan. It was a big deal for a girl who’d been raised on the poor side of Knoxville, but I didn’t think he’d want me to fawn all over him about it. Instead, we talked about real estate and traffic, and how cold it was for the middle of October, even in New York.
When we arrived at the Ivy, the driver got out to open the door for Fort, then Fort turned to assist me like I was the Queen of England and he was one of my guards. He did it so naturally, so easily, taking my hand with the perfect amount of pressure to help me out of the car. When he put a hand at the small of my back to lead me toward the restaurant, I felt that touch between my legs.
Was he interested in sex, too? Did he want me? Would he make a move at the end of the night? He had to know I wasn’t rich or suave, or as experienced as he was in the BDSM lifestyle.
“Reservation for St. Clair,” he said to the maître d’.
“Of course, Mr. St. Clair. Right this way.”
I barely caught a glimpse of the intimate, ivy-covered foyer before we were whisked past other waiting couples into the main dining room. I think I made a sound when we entered, a startledoohorahh. I’d heard about the unique atmosphere, the interior woodland decor, but it was something else to see it in person, to walk through branchlike bowers into intimate dining spaces bedecked with trailing ivy and fresh bunches of flowers in low, warm light.
“This place is… Wow…”
He took my arm before I walked into a table. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Beautiful wasn’t the word for it. The Ivy was magical, so magical even Goodluck would have been impressed. Vines of glossy leaves delineated dining areas of varying sizes, some already filled, some waiting for the rich clientele who had the clout to reserve a table. Lights twinkled from within the vines and flowers, tiny, delicate pinpoints of illumination. A waiter brought menus, and I scanned the gourmet offerings.
“Does anything look good to you?” he asked.
“It all looks good. Wow, this place is just…”Wow, Jules, stop saying WOW like an idiot.
“Would you like some wine?”
“Sure, okay.” I shook myself. “I mean, no. I’m trying not to drink in stressful situations anymore, since…” I could feel the blush on my cheeks. “Since what happened that night.”
He looked surprised. “Is this a stressful situation?”
“No, it’s just…well…” My blush burned hotter. “I’m trying to make a better impression.”
“That’s right, we talked about that earlier. I won’t drink, either.”
“It’s fine if you want to.”
“I don’t.” He passed a hand over his face and smiled. “Not to belabor the night we met, but I keep thinking ‘Jewels’ when I see you.”
