A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (37 page)

I go to my closet to change, and Lucy arrives shortly with dinner and a cleaning lady, who goes straight to work in the office.  I still can't believe he busted that lamp, especially when I overhear him telling Lucy what happened.

"Damn, Cain," Lucy says with surprise and laughter.  "That was an antique. It cost almost $20,000!" 

"It was the best $20,000 I ever spent," Cain says, and it thrills and overwhelms to know what it was worth to him to give me just that one orgasm.

I wake Saturday morning to the sweet, vanilla scent of freshly made waffles, and as I lie there thinking about how wonderful Cain is for cooking me breakfast again, the anxiety about tonight starts to creep in.  Until now, the event at Torrey Crest Country Club has been part of an intangible future, but today it becomes real.  I look at the clock.  In less than two hours, Cain will turn me over to someone named Marcel for hair, nails, makeup, etc
.
, then I'll be zipped into that gorgeous, $5,000 gown and whisked off to infiltrate enemy territory.  I can't wait to see myself in the whole ensemble and Cain in a tuxedo, but I could wait forever to find myself in that den of country club she-wolves.  Part of me wants to believe I'm being melodramatic, but a quick memory flash back to Catherine offering me money to leave her son serves as a powerful reminder of the reality of it.

Cain will protect me
, I tell myself.  It's becoming my mantra.

As usual, breakfast is amazing, but even more so is the news that Cain has arranged to bring Marcel and his salon to me.  As much as I fight to hang onto the part of me that doesn't care about the things his money can buy, I cannot help liking the lifestyle he provides.  I don't need it and could easily give it all up and work as a bartender for the rest of my life, but it's nice to be taken care of.  I've never had that.

Standing in the kitchen after breakfast, I snake my arms around his neck and give him a long, adoring kiss.

"What was that for?" 

"For bringing the salon to me, for the dress, for everything."

"That reminds me.  I have something else for you," Cain says, taking my hand in his and leading me to the sofa.

"Having you with me all the time since Thursday night has been so perfect I don't want it to end.  When I go back to work on Monday, I want to find you here when I get home.  I want to wake up beside you every morning, and fall asleep with you every night.  I want to take care of you, and I'll make sure Nicole is taken care of, too." 

"Cain..." 

"Hear me out. I could buy Prometheus and fire you, but I don't want to force you.  I want you to do this because you want to be with me, not just to please me." He pauses as he pulls a crumpled envelope out of his pocket.  "My mother forgot to take this with her after she tried to bribe you.  Inside now are the starter checks for a bank account in your name.  She offered you that money to leave me, so if you ever do leave me, you will have earned it.  I want you to have it as security so you don't have to worry about anything, but I swear you'll never need it, Evan. I will move heaven and earth to keep you by my side."  I sit there stunned for a long moment.

"Are you angry?  Say something." He seems uncharacteristically nervous, and I just don't know what to say.  I do love the idea of using Catherine's bitchcraft against her, but...

But nothing!  You're not asking.  He's offering,
I remind myself, and before I even make the conscious decision, my head is nodding yes.

"Yes, you're mad?"  Cain scans my face.

"Yes.  No.  Yes, I'll quit," I say, and his mouth curves into a smile.  He pulls me into his arms, kissing me so feverishly that if not for the sudden knock at the door, we might have christened the couch here and now.  Hearing the lock click, we rise to our feet, but my head is still in the clouds as Lucy walks in followed by one man and a small army of girls in matching uniforms.  They're all either pulling or carrying silver cases.

"You have no idea how happy you've made me," Cain whispers in my ear, running the smooth backs of his fingernails down one arm before offering Marcel assistance.

With amazing proficiency, Marcel and company set up in the master suite, and when Cain said they were bringing the salon to me, he wasn't kidding. They are prepared to provide a massage, a facial, full hair and makeup design, paraffin wax, piercings, and hair removal
almost
everywhere if I choose.  Cain gave Marcel two limits.  Don't take too much length off my head or wax me anywhere that would require me to wear less than a thong.  It seems that despite his fabulousness, Marcel is straight.

"I'm sure Cain didn't mean to imply anything," I feel compelled to explain.  "He's just protective."

"Protective?" Marcel says with a laugh.  "Honey, try possessive, and I've never seen him this bad.  Don't worry, though.  If you want the kitty bald, my staff is more than capable, though I am the only one qualified to pierce it." He winks.

"I don't think I want either of those things," I say bashfully.

"But we're still doing your navel, right?" he asks.

I guess I did agree to that.

"It won't bleed through my dress, will it?"

"We'll bandage it up flat, and no one will even know you have it pierced."

"Okay, and what tattoo are you putting on Mr. Ballantyne in exchange for this piercing?" I ask.

"Mr. Ballantyne said that I am to ink anything you want on him."

Oh, my God!
  I can't believe he's going to go through with it!  I don't even know what to pick.  Marcel asks what tattoos I like on men, and though I really like wide, dark blue tribal bands around the upper arms, I would never ask Cain to permanently mark his beautiful body like that for me.  When it finally comes to me, I find just what I need in the nightstand drawer on Cain's side of the bed, and Marcel takes his tools to find Cain.

Turned over to his assistants, I am led to a massage table set up at the foot of the bed facing the windows overlooking the city, and with just a sheet between my bare ass and the rest of the world, several women begin massaging me.  It feels incredible, but I'm uncomfortable as hell.  That's how it all began, with a nightly "backrub" at bedtime that I originally took as fatherly affection, and because of what followed, I feel unclean, as if these women can somehow see it and are secretly squeamish about having to put their hands on me.  It's absurd.  I know that, but it's how I feel.

As I lie there fighting the demons in my head, a mix of jasmine and sandalwood drifting in the air, I suddenly hear soft, acoustic guitar music wafting in from the hallway.  It's a beautiful piece that sounds vaguely familiar, distracting me until this torturous massage is finally over.

By the time Marcel is packed up to leave, it's almost 6:00 pm.  They've done everything to me that can be done to prepare a girl for a night like this short of arming me with silver bullets to take down the she-wolves, and as I stand in my closet looking in the mirror, I'm astonished.  I've never had my makeup so flawlessly applied, and my hair has never been so perfect and shiny.  True to his word, Marcel has hidden the evidence of the new piercing even beneath this dress' tight, satin bodice, and they've pushed up my breasts to reveal perfect cleavage in the oval cutout of my gown.  When Marcel folds the mirror panes behind me, I see that the necklace seems more like a part of the back of the décolletage than a separate piece as the earrings sparkle behind wisps of dark hair, and the bracelet on my left wrist complements my long, naturally shaped nails in a shade of liquid gunmetal that Marcel mixed himself.  I can't believe that's me looking back.  I feel red carpet ready.

On his way out, Marcel takes me to Cain for his big reveal, treating me like a work of art as if my contribution to the outcome was nothing more than raw canvas.  It makes me feel shy, but I thoroughly enjoy the jaw-drop I get when he parades me into Cain's office.

"You look exquisite," Cain says, and as Marcel twirls me around before him, I feel like he may have created a version of me that stands a chance at not being outshined by Cain.

"No touching," Marcel warns as Cain approaches me.

"Yes, Sir," Cain says, his eyes never leaving me as Marcel slips out of the office.

"Fuck the party.  I want to rip that dress off of you right now," Cain growls.

"Shut up!" I say shyly, hearing the front door close as he pulls me to him.

"If I kiss you, will it fuck up Marcel's work?"

"Yes.  So put on your tux, and let's get this over with as quickly as possible, then you can fuck it all up."

"Yes, Ma'am." 

Moments later, he comes out in his black tuxedo pants and vest with his jacket slung over his shoulder, handing me his tie.

"I was hoping I'd get to see my mark on you," I say, my lip pushed out in a pout as I put the tie around his neck.

"And I wanted to see my ring in your navel." 

"I could demand that you take off your pants," I threaten.

"Not unless you plan to fuck me."

"You're a terrible sub," I remind him, and as I turn to walk away, he grabs my wrist, snapping me back to him, his front against my back.  He kisses my ear, carefully avoiding the dress' collar, and when I feel him growing hard, I rock my hips, pressing against him.

"From the minute we leave the club," Cain whispers, "I'm going to show you just how terrible a sub I am all...night...long."

The Charity Event

As Cain pulls the Maybach onto the 5 North toward La Jolla, the anxiety kicks in.  I've been doing well, all things considered, but now that we're on our way, it's all I can do to keep my hands from shaking.  As I wonder how I am going to maintain the confidence I need at the country club when I'm a complete wreck inside, I try to remember the names of all the exes.  Sunny, Victoria, Amber, Ann...Ana-something?

Fuck me!
I draw a blank, but remember them or not, they'll be there, watching me, knowing what it's like to be with Cain.  They've kissed him, shared his bed, touched him, fucked him.  He has done things to them...things I can't bear the thought of...his beautiful face...his lips...his tongue on these other women floods me with a burning jealousy.

If I don't get this in check, I'm fucked,
I think as Cain pulls to the side of the road just before the country club driveway.

"Are you ready?" he asks, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles.

"As I'll ever be," I say, an apologetic expression on my face.

Hold it together.  Don't let your insecurities show.

"Relax.  My mother knows she's on very thin ice with me, and if I have to leave your side for even a minute, I'll make sure you have a bodyguard."  He says it like he's kidding, but we both know I can't safely be left alone there.  Maybe Catherine won't make a scene at her beloved country club, but what horrible things would she say to me if there are no protective ears around?  It doesn't matter anyway. I have to do this. I cannot allow people like Catherine Ballantyne to diminish my worth.  That's my job.

"And remember," Cain adds, "there will be a lot of beautiful women here tonight, but they all pale in comparison to the woman on my arm."  Though shy about the compliment, it's the boost I need, and holding my hand, he pulls back onto the road.

The Torrey Crest Country Club, a grand structure of beige stone, is alive with light around the main entrance, causing the beveled glass doors to cast tiny rainbows on the walls. Young men in blue vests take keys as men in black tie and women in dazzling gowns step out of luxury cars and limousines.  It's all just a big cliché, but at least the valets aren't wearing red.

When Cain gets out of the driver's seat, he hurries around to open my door, and taking me by the hand, he tosses the keys to the valet, who frowns.

"Sorry, kid," Cain says.

"What was that about?" I ask as we walk toward the door.