Descent From Grace: A Luxe Novella Book 1.5 (25 page)

There was the pull between her legs, followed with a cramp. She suppressed it by drinking the waiting, icy water.

  “I was going to say it appears you’re dating a wealthy girl, if I have a driver and all. So people won’t assume I’m a gold digger.”
  “I don’t care what people assume, just as long as you look good on me.” He grinned at her.

She really should have thought that job over; she was sexually attracted to the man almost as much as she was Ian.
  “So what were your big plans this week? Why weren’t you available sooner than Thursday? My dad had this golf thing and it would have been really fun bringing you to that. All you can drink, eat, golf, annoy the piss out of my father.” He smiled.

  “Surgery.” She took another drink of her water.

Seemingly with genuine concern, he asked her, “Everything all right?”
  “Yes.” She gave him an ensuring smile. “Just minor, and I’m still healing a bit so I have to ask you to please keep this strictly business.” She hoped that’d prevent him from attempting to arouse her.

  “Business? The business is a date.”
  “Yes. Casual conversation, light flirting, nothing like Saturday at the club.”
The waiter approached and smiled at her. “What can I get you to drink?”
  “I’m fine with water, thank you.”
Justin frowned, hoping she’d have a drink. “Just water.” He nodded to the waiter.
  “May I suggest the duck tonight. It’s glazed in a mulberry mustard with a side of potato artichoke salad.”
  “Thanks,” Justin mumbled, opening his menu and when the waiter walked away, he said, “I’m not eating that.”

Lilith laughed.

  “What’ll you have?”
  “I really want pizza,” she blurted, immediately regretting her classless blunder. “But I think Lamb Ragu.”

  “Pizza?” He laughed, setting his menu down. “You eat pizza?”
She looked up at him apologetically for her guileless blurt.

  “Occasionally.”

  “Then let’s do that.” He stood and pushed in his chair.
  “What?”
  “Let’s eat pizza. I don’t eat this shit, I thought you ate this shit so I picked this restaurant.”
  “Are you kidding?” She glanced around, nervous about walking out.
  “I’m not kidding.” He put his hand out for her to take; slowly, she put her hand into his and glanced around again.

He was paying, she had to leave if he wanted. The confused staff watched them walk out and when they stepped outside, Lilith started to laugh.

He smiled at her. “I’m really stoked you want pizza.”

  “You are?” She was still laughing.
  “It’s kinda awesome you eat pizza. Usually you girls like salads and shit.”
  “I like salads, but I love pizza. I thought I was going to offend you when I said that. I didn’t mean to say it.” She chucked and he smiled at her.

  “So what kind of pizza you like? What’s your favorite?”
  “Papa B’s,” she coyly admitted, waiting for backlash for her less than upscale selection.
  “Best calzones,” he said. “You’ve got good taste, Lilith.”

She smiled at him. “Call me Lily, okay?”
He didn’t like it; he didn’t particularly like Lilith either. After studying her for a few minutes, he asked, “Can I call you El?”

  “Uh. As in the letter?” She let out a confused laugh.

  “Yeah, but we’ll make it an actual name and spell it E L.” He grinned at her.

  “Okay, if you want.”

  “All right, El, let’s get pizza.”
  “Oh wait, I have to call my driver.”

  “Tell him to pick you up from my place, around eleven?” It was an encouraging request and she saw the optimistic look on his face.

Trying not to sound as alarmed as she was about a five-hour date, she repeated, “Eleven?”

Five hours with that man was going to be hell on her cramping ovaries.
  “Pizza, a beer, maybe a movie. Strictly professional.”

  “I thought I was supposed to make an impression on your colleagues, make it seem like you have a girlfriend?” The predominant thought beating in her head was it was a dangerous idea to be alone with him. Dangerous for her sex drive that was causing her pain.
  “I think we should get to know each other a bit so when I do present you as my fake girlfriend I won’t be clueless to who you are.”
  “You’re supposed to make that up. You’re paying for me to be whoever you want—”

  “Justin Borg!” a voice blurted. He looked over, knowing what to expect. Paparazzi. “Look over here, Mr. Borg. Hey, what can you tell us about The Flo’s trial? Is he going to prison?” The man kept his distance while snapping pictures.
Ignoring the shutter happy paparazzi, Justin leaned into Lilith, softly taking her arm. “I’m not paying you to be whoever I want, that’s not true,” he said into her ear then kissed her cheek. “Make that call, I’ll get the car.”

Completely baffled by the man obsessively snapping pictures of Justin, Lilith dialed Tony nervously.
Tony answered with haste, assuming there was a problem. “I’ll be there in two minutes.” 

  “Oh! No! Wait.” Lilith looked over at the cameraman who was complacently reviewing his captures. Turning her back to him, she quietly said, “I was just calling to inform you we’re going back to Mr. Borg’s. I’ll be ready by eleven.”
  “Going back to Mr. Borg’s? You ate already?”
  “No, we’re getting pizza.”
  “Lily, he hasn’t paid for sex.”
  “I’m not going to sleep with him!” she scoffed, too loudly. Embarrassedly, she looked back at the cameraman who didn’t seem to hear. She huffed. “Shit, Tony, just pick me up from there at eleven and I’ll call with any problems.”
  “Ian’s not gonna like this. He didn’t pay for you to go to his house. He’s supposed to be in public with you. I can’t get to you if you enter his home, it’s gated.”
  “I will tell him to let you sit in the driveway! You don’t even have to tell Ian. He’s getting his money, a lot of money. Tony, I don’t want to lose this client.”
Discontentedly he replied, “Yeah, okay. I need to have access to the house.”

Ian gave specific instructions that she’d be three hours while at dinner and possibly a short walk on the pier. Tony knew all too well that Ian didn’t like when plans veered when it came to the girls.

  “Miss,” the cameraman called to her, lifting his hand. “Hi, Miss?” He approached her. “How long you known Justin Borg?”

Lilith stared at him baffled and blinked a few times as Justin pulled up.

  “Don’t answer his questions, El,” Justin casually said while getting out of his matte black and red ‘69 Camaro to get her into the front seat.

Alarmed by the paparazzi, but impressed by the car, she didn’t know which to address first.

She opted for the inquisitive cameraman. “What was that?”

Justin glanced over at her as he squealed his tires. “What?”

  “Why was that guy taking your picture?”

He chuckled, looking back out the windshield. “You really don’t know who I am,” he muttered contentedly. “I’m a lawyer, I’m representing The Flo currently.” He shrugged like it was commonplace, but his paparazzi worthy status made her feel inferior, like he shouldn’t be using her as his public girlfriend. Looking over, he saw her distraught daze and he laughed, reaching out to touch her hand. “You’ll get used to it. They don’t give a shit about me. They want dirt on my clients.” His composed manner almost made her angry.

  “Do you represent a lot of famous people?” she asked in an insignificant tone.

  “Usually only famous people.”

  “So it’s not colleagues we’re supposed to be fooling, it’s the general public.”

  “Doesn’t really matter, unless you don’t want it to be fooling?” He cocked a suggestive eyebrow at her, wearing a huge grin.

With a flattered laugh, she said, “I told you I’m not on the market.”

  “Yeah well, not my style anyway. I’d rather have a fake girlfriend.” He unbuttoned the top button of his blue shirt that made his radiant eyes standout.

She ignored the comment and eased into the seat. “This is a nice car.” The car was sexy and nostalgic; she was in over her head with him and knew it.

  “V8?” she questioned looking over at him.

With a quick glance at her, he brought his attention back out the windshield then back to her confused.

  “What?” He didn’t think he heard her correctly.
  “It’s a V8, right? Original or.” She paused and looked into the backseat where bucket seats had been installed. “Is this a RS? Probably came with a straight-6, huh?”

He was speechless and gaping at her. At the last second he saw the red light and quickly stopped. Lilith laughed into her hands, unable to look at him, assuming he didn’t know anything about his car.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and looked at the road. “Rebuilt V8,” he responded then glanced at her. “You know cars?” His shock was slowly turning into a sexy smile.

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “A little bit. I helped my dad with his ‘69 Charger.” She glanced at him. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “And ’66 Volvo.”

He “humphed”, impressed and still shocked.

  “And a ’75 Camaro,” she modestly admitted.

Assuming she may have turned him off, she stiffened and looked out the window. In her head she kept telling herself she needed to shut up, he wasn’t paying to get to know her, he wanted a snobby woman to portray his girlfriend.

  “I’m fuckin’ impressed, El,” he finally blurted with elation.

Her stiff shoulders eased a little and she smiled at him. His gaze continued to shift from the road to her and the smirk he wore was too sinful to be innocent.

  “So your dad still have these cars?”
  “Uh, no.” She smiled, looking away from him. “He sold them.”
  “And what do you mean helped? Helped rebuild the engine?”
  “He did most of the work,” she humbly replied.

His second ‘humph’ she didn’t know how to read.

  “You charge a higher rate for rebuilding engines on dates?”

His grin was too enticing so she kept her eyes forward and chuckled.

  “Depends on how dirty we get.” The words floated from her mouth with ease, then immediate regret hit her.

So much for avoiding getting aroused.

Justin laughed hardily. When he looked over at her, he envisioned pulling over and taking her into the bucket seats in the back to get over his fascination with her. One fuck would ease his racing mind that’d been in third gear since the second he met her. His thoughts had been filled with her, especially after the night in the club and it didn’t sit well with him. His thoughts were no place for a woman to camp out; he only needed one thing from a female and that was a fuck.

The aphrodisiacal look on his face discomforted her because she too was envisioning getting a better look at his back seat and her ovaries were punishing her for it.

  “Have any other cars?” she quickly asked.

  “Yeah,” he disappointedly responded. He needed to have sex with her to get her out of his head and she was going to make it difficult. “I have a Jeep and a Diavel.”

She racked her brain to try and figure out who made a Diavel.

Noticing her confusion, he said, “It’s a bike.”
  “A motorcycle? Like a Ninja?”
  “Uh.” He laughed. “Ninja is Kawasaki, Diavel is Ducati, but yes, same idea.”
  “A crotch rocket.” She bit her fingertip to hide her grin from her subtle insult.
  “Sure.” He laughed at her trying to nicely insult him. “It’s a nice bike, laugh it up.”
  “I’m not laughing at you.” The laughter escaped her.
  “What do you drive?”
  “A BMW convertible. And when I’m feeling a little saucy, I switch it and put the top up.” She chuckled. “Only one car for me.”

His face hurt from smiling and laughing as much as they were. The way she made him laugh was something he hadn’t felt in years and he couldn’t explain what it was doing to his already inundated thoughts.

  “See, if you hang with me you get to play with a lot of different rides.” He grinned at her.
Intrigued, she asked, “What else you got?”
  “I have a wake boat, a pontoon, four wheelers.”

  “Impressive.” She didn’t mean that, she didn’t have much experience with any of those recreational toys.
  “More like fun.” He pushed a button on his keys and a tall iron gate slowly opened. The gate secured a large house with the lake just past the backyard.

Her eyebrows went up. “Do you live alone?”

  “Yep.”
  “Oh, my driver’s insisting on waiting in your driveway, is that possible?”
  “Twelve twelve,” he said; she stared at him, waiting for an explanation. “That’s the gate code. Day of my divorce.” He smiled at her, putting the car in park.

Lilith pulled her phone out to quickly text Tony.

LILY T
:
Gate code is 12 12. I’ll be out at 11

Following Justin into the spacious family home was like following him to a desolate island. The house was unnervingly empty, little to no furniture, no pictures on the walls, no blinds or curtains. It was immaculate with gorgeously designed interior, but it was a gorgeous hollow shell.