Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (23 page)

Jack pulls me from the periphery of their cosy little twosome but it’s too late. I’m prickly as a nettle. “Meredith, I’d like to introduce you to Tabitha Caid.”

Meredith turns her head towards me but her body stays firmly in his direction. Her expression is friendly but I’m certain that’s more for his benefit than for mine. “The lucky lady.”

Jack smirks at me, highly amused because clearly I’m so not. “Indeed.”

I’m revolted by the way they discuss my supposed good fortune at being Jack’s little project. I don’t know what he’s got to look so smug about either. They clearly share some knowledge I don’t.

I decide to play the cool sophisticate and hold out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms?”

“Meredith, please.” She takes my fingers and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Welcome to my emporium, Ms Caid.”

“Sure.” I’m already too thorny to extend the first name courtesy back.

She soon returns to where her real interest lies – Jack – responding to his presence, tossing her head and laughing at his words, in a way that licks maddeningly at me yet I can hardly blame her. Wherever he goes, Jack is a presence. Especially amongst women. I stand apart and observe their actions as they exchange friendly chatter about inconsequential things and her eyes devour his physical assets.

The masculine energy he projects is so potent, how can any woman help but respond in an overtly feminine way? He’s intelligent, a force of nature, completely self-possessed. Everything about him reveals an air of competence and flair.

Her eyes skim the thick dark hair falling towards his Arctic eyes, rimmed with lashes black enough to make the blue almost hurt if you stare into them. The lean, hard build of his body and his uncompromising jaw-line reveals a mature virility, yet the Jacob Cohen jeans and blinding white t-shirt, that looks so street, add a youthful quality that seems as treacherous as quicksand. Woe betide any woman who allows herself to be deceived into stepping there.

What the hell am I doing? An overwhelming need to get as far from this charade as possible heaves inside me and I suck at the thinning air surrounding me.

What on earth makes me think I can pull any of this off? Attending the Commerce Ball as if I’m one of them or running CaidCo in the face of opposition from my own management team? Harry’s management team. They’ll never accept me. What gullibility ever made me believe I might interest a man like Jack Keogh? My chest constricts, the room darkens and my safety net of courage sags round me like a tent with dissolving poles.

The two of them turn and stare. Jack takes me by the arm as I blink up at him like I hardly recognise who he is.

“Are you alright?” Concern rings out as he turns to the sales-woman. “Water please.”

He scoops up a crushed velvet upholstered chair resting back against the wall as I feel the room spin. Jack lowers me into the seat and hunkers down in front of me while the woman disappears through the back door.

“Tabitha?” He speaks softly to me.

Slowly I focus on his face, his quiet strength. “Dizzy. I feel a bit... dizzy.”

“Do you want to go home? We can do this another time.”

“The ball is tonight.”

“Fuck the ball.”

His language makes him less perfect somehow. More real. Would he really give up the year’s most important business event to help me? I drag down a deep breath.

Meredith returns with a glass of water, holding it out to Jack. He tips it to my lips feeding me small drops. “I just felt giddy for a moment.”

“Are you unwell?”

“I’m fine.”

Jack turns and speaks to the proprietor. “Can you give us a minute?”

I’m momentarily distracted. Only Jack would feel completely at ease dismissing a person in their own establishment. If I had even a fraction of his self-belief, I could whip the management at CaidCo into shape without a qualm.

“Tell me what the matter is.” He pushes me to answer, totally demanding. I feel a bizarre safety in my growing acquaintance with it.

“I panicked.”

“Over trying on a dress?” He looks at me in disbelief. His brow creases forcing my accustomed urge to reach out and ease it away. I dig my fingers safely into the padded velvet beneath my thighs instead.

How can I ever explain how I feel? How could Jack begin to understand the crazy feeling of being out of your depth in a rising tide? I don’t understand it myself except it’s been entrenched in me ever since my parents left me behind to deliver humanitarian medical aid during the civil war in Sierra Leone and never returned.

“It’s the ball, this whole thing.”

He relaxes visibly. “The ball is nothing. A chance to see and be seen in the right circles and you’ll look beautiful. You’ll make an impact, turn heads, especially in the dress I’ve chosen for you. No-one will ever forget you were there with me.” His expression is so assured.

But he doesn’t know the impact our reunion has had on me. “I’ve had a lot to deal with.”

“Do you want to call a temporary halt to our arrangement?”

Does he? He sounds a little less convinced of his plan. I’ve never heard Jack sound ambiguous before. I shake my head. I can’t give up now. “No. I do need help.”

But exactly what do I need help with? This strange deal which gives CaidCo the right to pitch? The chance to be around Jack again? The order he attempts to bring into my irrational, senseless world? I breathe slowly in 5-2-5 time afraid I’ll get dizzy or panic again if I think about it all too much.

“Are you sure? We can rethink the way we’re moving forward, if you’re not ready for this level of intensity.”

I won’t let this craziness beat me. I push myself upright in my seat. “Show me this dress then.” I smile at Jack to reassure him I’m okay. I’m not going to back out of anything over a stupid panic attack.

He cups my cheek, kissing me gently on the lips. It’s just as well I’m sitting, I think. That sort of thing doesn’t help me rebalance.

He stares at me. “I have high hopes for you, kitten.” He calls to Meredith at the back of the shop. “We’re ready for the fitting now.”

She appears instantly but who would keep Jack waiting? I stand and follow when she gestures me into the fitting room, still hearing Jack’s words. High hopes.

His voice follows us. “I’m waiting right here for the first viewing.”

I glance back to see Jack perched on the edge of the chair I’ve just vacated. His elbows rest along his thighs, one fist clenched in the other palm, his eyes reading me as I disappear behind the little white door.

The fitting room reminds me of a set-designed Victorian boudoir. Bronzed mirrors line the walls casting flattering, soft-focused reflections in every direction. A vast display of scented lilies, with their staining pollen-filled stamens meticulously removed, stands on a draped table in one corner. The walls and carpets are soft cream with muted lighting permeating every corner and one starkly revealing spotlight flooding the raised dais in the centre. With an antique dresser and stool off to one side, all that’s missing is the brass bed.

But my sight is already captured by the dress hanging on its padded satin hanger, high up on the wall. I know immediately it’s the one Jack has chosen for me and my heart rate soars immediately. The garment’s intense colour has a visceral impact.

“Vintage Valentino. In signature blue-blood red. An exclusive piece designed in the 60s.” Meredith’s tone is hushed, like she might have been all but sworn to secrecy over its provenance. “Its value is beyond reckoning.” She stares at the incredible garment with a sense of deep awe, as if regarding a master’s work of art and a smile of pure pleasure radiates from her features. “Only a man with extremely deep pockets and profound influence could acquire such a treasure.” She turns to me and regards me with a quizzical expression. “For a very special woman.”

It’s spectacular. Shocking. “It’s magnificent.” Look-at-Me it commands. But for me?

“Isn’t it? And you’re the fortunate woman.”

I tear my eyes away for a moment to stare back. Does she think I’m blessed for getting to wear this dress or for being the woman with Jack?

“I’d rather imagined myself blending into the background at the ball, quietly observing the wildlife at play.”

She laughs. “No chance wearing a gown like this. It wants people to see it.”

“That’s what worries me.” It takes confidence to even choose a dress like this. The sort of confidence Jack has in spades. But it will take major confidence to wear it. Something I’ll never have in a million years. “I like it.” And I hate it. And the thought of Jack waiting to see me wear it – or it wear me – has waves of faintness washing over me.

“He chose well, no? It will look striking against your dark chocolate hair and ivory skin.”

Ivory? I feel ashen. My attention snaps back into focus as the woman sweeps my hair into a cascade on my head, entirely comfortable with the familiarity of touching a stranger. I reach out to feel the garment as a prelude to wearing it. It’s a bit like stroking a tiger before making it jump through a hoop of fire.

Meredith introduces us properly, gathering the folds loosely between her fingertips. “Italian silk. The finest. Valentino red. The best for the best.” Her intonation makes her sound almost envious. But she surely means Jack. Panic threatens to engulf me again. I wrestle it back down. I don’t want the woman to call Jack to the rescue. I need to do this. To face my irrational fears.

“Are we ready to try it on, madam?”

“Yes. I am.” Appear confident, no matter what you feel inside.

I remove my blouse and kick off my flat shoes, all too conscious of the drabness of my daywear in comparison to the spectacle of extravagance before me. The woman unzips and holds the dress with a familiarity born of long association with haute couture.

“Remove your bra, please.”

Oh. “Of course.” The garment is strapless and I’m not in the communal changing room in a high street dress store. Coyness isn’t an option. I remove it glancing at my full breasts in the mirror.

I wonder about the sort of women Jack is in the habit of bringing here. Part of me would love to question Meredith while I have the opportunity but I know anything I hear will only hurt and I expect she’s far too discrete to tell anyway. Asking would only embarrass both of us.

“You have a wonderful figure, my dear. Mr Keogh has made the perfect choice of gown for you. Not everyone can carry a statement piece like this one.”

I’m astounded she thinks I might be in with a chance, before I realise she can hardly suggest otherwise. The dress is dropped expertly over my head, manoeuvred into place and zipped shut. It swirls onto the floor around my feet.

“It’s too long.” Of course, it will have been created with some willowy woman in mind but it enhances the feminine shape of my breasts, waist and hips. Valentino knew how to dress a woman. I can’t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“We need the shoes, of course.”

“There are shoes?”

“Naturally. The woman retrieves a box from the shelf behind her. “They’ve been dyed to an exact match.”

How long has Jack been planning this occasion? I picture him rummaging through my cupboards to find me something to wear. Is that when he made these decisions? And I’m simply fulfilling part of his six month plan.

A pair of very high stiletto heels in perfectly matched Rosso Valentino silk are placed on the floor before me. The woman takes my elbow to steady me and bends down to lift the skirts and ease my feet into the shoes. Everything fits perfectly. I can’t stop myself contemplating the reason she knows my dimensions so well. I wobble for a second before securing my balance.

“The length is perfect,” she says walking around me. “The gown is perfect.” Meredith runs an appraising eye from head to foot. She halts, smiles and gently touches my cheek. “You are perfect in this gown,” she corrects herself. She tugs and primps a little, here and there, raising my bosom into the internally structured bodice without a trace of awkwardness when her hands dive inside to lift my naked breasts. “No further alterations are required. Excellent.”

It is a perfect dress. I feel like royalty. Sophisticated, serene, elegant and gracious. For a few seconds. Now if only I can hold on to those feelings until the ball ends perhaps it won’t be such an endurance. Especially with Jack by my side. I imagine him standing alongside me in the mirror as I assess my transformation into the lady in red.

“Mr Keogh will wish to see you, I think. The gentleman doesn’t wait.”

My eyes fly to Meredith’s in the mirror. How well does she know Jack’s temperament? How many times has she stood here dressing one woman after another for Jack’s pleasure? It just happens I’m Jack’s toy this time. How will I match up to all those others? Those women? Do I even care to?

Meredith addresses my hesitation, answering my unspoken insecurities with kindness. “He’ll be honoured to be the lucky man who accompanies such a lovely young woman.” Is my need for reassurance so obvious?

I blush. Sales patter, I tell myself. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Meredith looks at me incredulously and I hope I haven’t been impolite. She’s been very sympathetic. “It’s a beautiful dress and it must have cost a lot of money.”