Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (24 page)

She shrugs and purses her lips, an expression which suggests that it’s vulgar to talk about such things but that, yes, it certainly did. Somewhere between an unimaginable and an extortionate amount of money, I presume.

“First, we’ll do something with your hair, to give an impression of the finished effect. Sit here, please.” She directs me to the dresser and twists and pins my hair until it sits in a series of twisted curls in approximate matching sophistication to that of the dress. She tucks in a few sparkling pins to adorn it.

“And so. Are we ready to reveal?”

I nod as she holds the door wide waiting while I raise the skirts and step back into the showroom. I know I’m stupid but will he think I’m worth all the money he’s spent?

Jack snaps upright. He freezes completely, his stare revealing nothing of his thoughts. My pulse pounds in my throat as his eyes travel down and up. He’s disappointed. He expected so much more than I’m capable of giving. I’m ready to turn tail as tears spark in my eyes. He pushes slowly to his feet and steps towards me. I’m vaguely aware that Meredith has discretely withdrawn into the back room again as Jack takes me by the upper arms, holding me at arms’ length from himself. His eyes travel slowly over me again embarrassingly lingering at the voluptuous breasts displayed in the sculpted bodice before he seizes my eyes with his own.

I hold my breath, waiting for it’ll-have-to-do. No time to rethink the situation.

“Exquisite.” The word come out in a hushed murmur, halfway between a sound and a thought.

“Isn’t it?”

“You, Tabby. It’s you. I knew it would be perfect. You give the colour meaning.”

I exhale. Jack likes it. He likes me in it. Suddenly it’s not my enemy. “It is lovely, Jack.”

“Because you’re wearing it.” Jack moves closer, slipping his arm around the curve of my back and touching his cheek to mine, breathing me in. It feels like he’s testing what we’ll feel like dancing together. With the press of his body from his muscular thigh between mine to his solid chest wall, all the longing I’ve crushed deep down inside me comes rushing to the surface in a dam-bursting torrent.

Jack places his lips against my ear and whispers. “I’m going to fuck you in that red dress.”

I’m not sure I hear him correctly. But he might just as well have pushed himself inside me, my sex clenches so hard. I moan. “Promise?”

I feel him smile against my hair.

He gives me a swift kiss on the lips to seal the deal and turns me round. He swats me on the backside. “Lock yourself in that fitting room before I tell Meredith to take a long lunch so I can ruin that pretty gown and despoil you.”

I glance back over my naked shoulder at him, just like I did this morning wearing nothing more than his shirt draped over my shoulder. I note the narrow-eyed cautionary glare, before I escape with my trashy thoughts intact. I’m grinning like an idiot. That thing he said does more to boost my confidence than a thousand Meredith’s with their flattery. Everything is faultless if Jack can react to me that way.

I overhear Meredith talking to him outside. “Do you wish her to try the rest of the collection, Mr Keogh?”

Collection? I recall Jack’s look of mild distaste at my regular clothing.

“Just one or two, I think.”

She re-enters the fitting room.

“There’s a collection?”

“Mr Keogh ordered business suits and daywear. Did you not know of this?”

Her surprised tone irritates me which is unfair of me, I suppose but I’m not admitting to her this has landed as a complete bombshell. “Oh, the business suits. I’d quite forgotten about them.”

I agreed to let Jack mentor me for four weekends and I only did that this morning. How dare he think he can dictate what I wear to work? I feel like marching right back outside and having it out with him but I can hardly do that now I’ve pretended to Meredith I know all about it.

I’m as irritable as a wasp trapped in a preserve jar. It’s unfair of Jack to presume so much. One minute he pays me a compliment and the next, he practically demonstrates I’m way out of my depth. I’m so not in the mood to accept there may be some truth in the clothes thing despite having seen how imposing Jack himself appears in his smart business attire. The gown is eased over my head and returned to the hanger.

“I’ve ordered a lovely range of lingerie too.” She opens a glass fronted drawer removing tissue-paper covered, coffee-and-cream silk and lace panties as far removed from my cartoon stretch cottons as it’s possible to imagine. Cutting the ribbons attaching the labels she hands them to me along with a beautiful matching deep lace scalloped bra. “Many women don’t realise how essential it is to start with the right foundation garments.”

“Yet men seem to think it’s essential they end up in them,” I scoff, staring at the sexy stuff Jack has ordered. We glance at each other and smile knowingly. But honestly? He thinks it’s okay to buy my knickers now?

“If you don’t like that set there are plenty more.”

“They’re incredible.” So I suppose it wouldn’t hurt just this once...

As I change, she draws back a dust cloth from a hanging rail to reveal quite a number of outfits. Selecting a sharp black pant suit, she holds it up for me to see.

“I ordered from a wide range of designers as I wasn’t sure of your tastes. I have the usual Alaia and Armani,” she says, replacing those garments and sifting through the rest of the rail. “You’ll love this season’s Stella McCartney. The Chanel is delightfully on trend too. I had these flown in from Paris.” She removes and holds up another item.

I stare at the tailored, lined jacket. Even I can see the sharp cut and designer flair I fail to achieve in the rather old, practical and mass produced clothing I wear into the office. “Are all these meant for me?” I can’t help but gawp at the extensive garment rail.

“As many as you wish to take and as suit your needs. We had better try on for fit.” Meredith hands me a classic white silk blouse.

The jacket I place over the top nips in at the waist and flares over the hips, highlighting the length of the matching tailored trousers. Black court shoes seat the hems perfectly and I look instantly taller and more impressive. I admit it to myself reluctantly.

“It’s very elegant.”

“No-one can fail to take a woman seriously in a suit that looks like that. Are you looking for a new position?”

I’m relieved Jack hasn’t shared my circumstances with her. “Not exactly. I run my own company.”

“Indeed, Ms Caid.” She looks suitably impressed. “As one business woman to another, clothing is so important in creating the image you wish to project, is it not?” She’s shrewd enough to understand my situation, just a little.

I warm to her a little more. I realise her own sophisticated clothing is part of what makes her seem a little bit intimidating. A look I might well be advised to adopt at work also. Two women trying to carve out a living in a difficult commercial world. We aren’t so very different.

I scrutinise my reflection in the mirror. Jack is right. Appearance is everything. Instantly I feel a little less overwhelmed and consider that I might have a little more presence already. Maybe even Jack isn’t always as confident as he appears on the outside. I decide to thank him for organising the clothing rather than berate him for it but I will insist on paying for it myself. It’s not like I don’t have the means.

I block wayward thoughts of how I paid for my mentoring this morning.

“I think Mr Keogh might like to see this transformation also?” Meredith is already being a little more cautious with me. She closes the shirt buttons to the throat, whereas I had left a couple open. Unbelievably, it makes all the difference to the power I project.

I step back into the showroom alone. Jack is staring out through the window into the mews, talking on his cell phone but turns when I enter. He’s just like any normal guy getting impatient waiting as a woman shops, I think, with some amusement.

His face lights up in appreciation as he ends his call. “Now that’s the sort of sharp clothing a powerful CEO should wear.”

Despite my best intentions I can’t help commenting. “What I wear to work Monday to Friday is my own business, Jack. I didn’t agree to let you dictate my entire professional life.” My voice tails off seeing Jack’s instant frosty expression. The
Boss
returns.

“But this is a mentoring weekend, Tabitha.” The warning note is back. He approaches and pops open a few buttons at the neck of my shirt surprising me when his fingertips skim my skin. “You’ve got to stop dressing like the intern and dress the way you want your management to perceive you.” He yanks the edges apart exposing a little cleavage. “And to impress the clients you hope to do business with.”

“And you, Jack?”

“You have potential.”

“That’s a no then. When you act like I’m incapable of even knowing how to dress, it doesn’t exactly give me confidence. I know I can do better. But all this is happening so fast. One minute I’m at university. Then Harry dies. Then all of a sudden I’m trying to run CaidCo. I haven’t had time to think about everything.”

“That’s why I’m helping you. I want to prepare you as much as I can but then you’re on your own. No-one will say I gave you an unfair advantage but I won’t have you thinking you never stood a chance. This is it. What you learn is down to you.”

Put like that, I feel mean for being so suspicious. “Okay, I get it. Thank you for organising the clothing. I’ll pay for it. I just got a tiny bit wary that you were trying to take over.”

“Managing you to help improve things. When I drive you to work on Monday morning you should wear that suit. Some of the clothes can remain at Belvedere while our agreement lasts and the rest can be delivered to your home. Whether you choose to wear them or not is your concern, but I promise you, it will make a difference to how you feel and how others perceive you.”

Jack flips another button until the opening is deep enough for a lot of cleavage and the pretty lace edges of the bra to be on show. It’s a bold move which makes me gasp but he holds my eyes steady with his. “Know when to be a bit provocative. Unsettle them. Show them you’re not scared of anything.” He lowers his voice. “But be wary of me. I’m not sharing you.”

That works. I am wary. And excited. I’ve never felt so alive.

The tension dissolves when Meredith pops back into the room. “Do you wish to try others?”

Jack answers keeping his gaze steadily on me. “The fit is faultless, as always, Meredith. Miss Caid will be wearing one of the summer dresses immediately and you can courier the rest out today. My driver will take charge of the Valentino.”

“And I thought I was the only possession that travelled under armed guard,” I say flippantly, brushing past them both.

Jack glares at me. I march into the fitting room and remove the business suit, handing each item back to Meredith to re-hang, retrieving my own skirt and blouse which now seems doubly frumpy. For the first time I acknowledge I dress like a penniless undergraduate who hasn’t given much thought to her appearance.

“Mr Keogh suggested you might like to wear one of the summer dresses,” Meredith reminds me, tactfully.

Little point arguing the matter. I won’t win. Meredith holds two aloft for me to choose between.

“That one.” I’m not about to reward him with a particularly considered selection but as they’re both lovely the gesture is token.

I pick a crystal studded shift dress in ecru by Alice Temperley with short sleeves and a high neckline. It looks fresh and demure against my pale skin and dark hair. However, it’s only by the time I’ve got it on that I realise how short it is and with the wedge-heeled sandals Meredith produces, it’s assumed innocence looks rather more provocative than I imagined. Still, it’s the weekend and as he’s reminded me, at the weekend, Jack gets what Jack wants.

As I emerge, he’s standing outside on the pavement next to the car speaking to Blackstock. I turn and thank Meredith for her help before joining them.

“Take the gown to Belvedere, then come and pick us up in a couple of hours. We’re going for lunch.”

“Yes, sir.” Blackstock grins at me before disappearing inside the shop. Even he can see the difference.

“Did I approve that dress?” Jack’s eyes expand, his jaw slackens as he stares at the length of my bare legs. His expression battles between disapproval and delight. “You look entirely too edible and on that note, I’m more than ready for a large glass of wine and some lunch.”

I suspect he’s working hard not to damage my fragile confidence, no matter what he really thinks. “Whatever sir wants.”

“Don’t be childish, Tabitha.”

Jack grabs my hand and marches off down the road, seemingly unaware I’m not used to walking in platform wedges especially wearing an uber-short posh frock. I have no idea what’s suddenly made him so tetchy but no doubt, I’ll pay for it sooner or later.

Chapter Twelve

Jack strides in silence to a little restaurant a few streets away. His fingers band my wrist as he tows me along like some miscreant he doesn’t dare let out of his sight.

I try to gauge the sudden change of mood. He isn’t exactly angry with me but seems sort of exasperated. Maybe irritated is a better word. I have no idea what I’m supposed to have done but instinct tells me not to complain, so I concentrate on keeping up in my new shoes. I can’t for the life of me imagine what has changed between us since leaving the shop. Jack’s so volatile, I don’t begin to understand his mood swings.

In the restaurant, he holds my chair out while I sit, back to being the perfect gentleman; leaving the waiter redundant. I simply can’t keep up with him. I look at the menu while Jack orders a chilled white Montrachet, a wine I’ve never drunk before, but I’m not about to show interest. He started this cold war so he can break the silence. Whatever’s narking him, I have plenty more reason to be annoyed than he does; like the whole clothes buying imposition for a start.

“What would you like to eat, Tabitha?”

“Don’t you want to tell me?”

Jack raises his eyes to mine over his menu. Ouch. Shards of frozen blue ice burn me. “I can if you want me to.” His voice is a caution.

I cave immediately. It isn’t easy to keep up a tough façade when Jack looks at me like that. “Sorry.” I decide it’s better not to push him when he’s in such a strange mood. After a moment his shoulders relax. Mine follow. Does my mood really depend so much on his?

“I’d rather avoid a demonstration of how to discipline insubordination. Please don’t goad me into it.”

Did he just say that out loud? Is what he suggested even legal? I can’t get my head around this whole mentoring dynamic. The waiter arrives at that moment with wine for Jack to taste. He, at least, knows instinctively who not to piss off.

“Just leave the bottle.” Jack’s eyes never leave mine and it’s an uncomfortable feeling. The waiter is dismissed without a word spoken. Jack has that rare skill. He simply freezes people out.

And I can’t let go of Jack’s subtle threat. He would. He really would. He might be referring to workplace disciplinary procedures but what exactly would he do to exact the ultimate control. Behave as I expect you to. Don’t question me. Don’t challenge me. Or there’ll be consequences. It was the same warning for Anderson in the boardroom. I’m increasingly conscious I’ve signed up for three more weekends of the same. Is this what he means by mentoring by example?

I’m still suspicions all this
help
is exacting some form of revenge. Even if he does owe Harry, he doesn’t owe me a thing. And he’s not the sort of man to suffer from a guilty conscience over moving on.

“Have you chosen yet?”

“Risotto.” It’s a snap decision.

“Good choice.” Jack signals to the waiter to approach. “Risotto and a steak. Rare. Green salad for two and some decent bread. Thank you.”

“Sir.” The waiter retreats.

“Your perfect employee.” I try to keep a straight face as I hold Jack’s stare, I really do. But I can’t help seeing the funny side of the waiter’s jump-to address to Jack. I laugh in spite of my intention to stay mad at him. I think I’m a bit hysterical.

Jack’s lips twist into a grin, thankfully. “I like it when you smile.”

“I hate when you’re angry with me.” Wow. That’s some admission to make.

He looks at me long and slow. “You haven’t even seen me angry. You’ll know the difference.”

I believe it enough to change the subject. “What are we doing after lunch?”