In Love with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 2) (28 page)

Ughhhhh!

I headed straight to the closet and released my fists and shook other bag handles from my wrists. I wanted to lay out on the floor similar to the bags. But I forced myself out and into the bedroom to start undressing. That’s when I noticed a big ass purple gift box sitting in the middle of the bed. It was the size of the sitting stools in the closet. I lifted the lid that was lighter in weight than I expected and found a piece of paper on top of long pieces of tissue paper.

You’ve been preoccupied with clothes all day. I’m sure you would appreciate going without for just an evening. Strip and slip into these. They should all fit. Carlos will arrive at exactly seven o’ five to collect you for dinner. Please be prompt.

E.C.

A chill ran up my spine. A romantic gesture from Ezra? I checked my phone and saw I had enough time to shower, at least.
Do my legs need shaving?
My hair was still bouncing with body. Hopefully it would hold out, especially through a quick shower. Then my attention went back to the big box before me. Inside were a pair of cream leather, over-the-knee boots. I knew we were days into autumn, but damn! Ezra and Elle had the same mind for boots already. It was cooler out during the evening hours now and the temperature would only drop, so I figured I’d be okay. I dug again and found cobalt blue satin panties and matching bra, with a black garter belt and thigh high stockings. My temperature spiked and sex throbbed at the possibilities.

At the very bottom of the box was a neatly folded tan trench coat—
Red Valentino
at that—with an A-line cut and metal grommets decorated all over. There was no way I could fit it considering my extreme span of arms. I tried it on and sure enough, it was a perfect fit. I frowned at that discovery.
Just like Ezra to be so accurate
. I stood at the bed for moments long trying to think of what my husband was up to. When I couldn’t come up with anything I decided it didn’t matter. I was always game for whatever agenda that man presented. That was how I ended up here in his bedroom that we shared together.

After a thorough shower where I shaved my legs, spritzed fragrance where it counted, and added a little makeup to enhance the sensual flair, I was on my way downstairs with just seconds to spare. I sent Ms. Remah a text, letting her know I’d be out with Ezra for dinner and would be setting the house alarm. When I arrived at the front door, I spotted the black SUV waiting next to my
F-Type
. Carlos was prompt and that only increased my anxiety. After tending to the security system, I clacked down the stone stairs of the front of the house and saw Carlos waiting with the door opened for me.

“Hey, Mrs. C!” he greeted excitedly. “You look great.” Carlos smiled with sincerity.

I guess I did look nice. Instead of tripping off the fact I was damn near naked underneath, I had to consider how the trench coat fit me like a flared dress.

“Thanks, Carlos.”

I stepped high to get into the truck, making a quick work of it. We took off and I watched the day darken as the sun went down on our way into the city. There was little traffic on a Wednesday night in Lower Manhattan. I noticed we didn’t head to Harlem. That struck my interest. We stopped in SoHo, at a new construct. He let me out in front of the metal and blue glass skyscraper with an asymmetrical rooftop. I lost my equilibrium trying to stare at the steep top.

“Whoa there, Mrs. C!” Carlos caught me at the shoulders. “You okay?”

I was a little disoriented from being overly suspicious. “Yeah. Just clumsy,” I muttered as I recovered my balance.

“Good. Hang on…” He whistled sharply, blowing through his thumb and index finger. “Over here, akee!” he called for the concierge.

A Caucasian man with a black suit and patey top hat approached us and bowed shortly at the neck.

“Carmichael…waiting,” Carlos informed cryptically.

The man nodded again. “Mrs. Carmichael, Mr. Carmichael awaits you.” He took me at the arm directing me toward the entrance.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Carlos as I stepped cautiously in my new five-inch heels. We entered the pristine lobby laced in brass gold and black suede walls. The dozen or so people we passed were dressed formally, all men in jackets and women in heels. The elevator door opened immediately and I was instructed inside.

“The host will receive you on the twenty-fifth floor, Mrs. Carmichael.” The man pushed the button, stepped out then tapped the brim of his hat, taking another neck bow.

I caught my reflection on each mirrored wall. My darkly lined, smoky eye makeup with burgundy matte lips spoke of a scandalous agenda, one I had no clue of to say I’d dressed the part.

In seconds, and seeming motionlessly, the doors of the elevator opened to more piano music, but this time dim lighting and delicious aromas from food surged in the air. My spine straightened and shoulders rolled back as I stepped out. I was immediately greeted by a man in a fitted suit. He had dark silky hair and thick black rimmed glasses.

“Mrs. Carmichael, I’m glad you’ve joined us today. Welcome to the
Jux Supper Club
. Your husband is waiting for you. May I take your coat?” My eyes flew out their sockets at that offer. The man’s thin lips twitched into a knowing grin. “Very well. This way please.”

My heart hammered at a preposterous rate and rhythm now en route to my husband. Butterflies took off in my belly and my brain turned to mush. Was I really expected to show up at a fancy-as-shit restaurant bare underneath this coat? Could my garter belt be seen from behind? Was my makeup too much. I never knew with Ezra. Suddenly, I wanted to run. Like…turn right around and haul ass to the elevator.

Shit!

Carlos is probably gone now.

My feet clacked against the shiny black floors as I followed behind the host, towering his slender frame. I kept my eyes low to be sure to focus on my steps and not be a damn klutz and fall or skid. I could see from my peripheral that most of the tables were private, closed off with tall leather booths and lit by candles. The sounds of the piano filled the room, and out of nowhere a voice could be heard, serenading over the melodies. The sound was soft, subtle not to compete with the chords or overall individual whispers of various conversations going on throughout the palatial circular room enclosed by floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

“Mr. Carmichael,” I heard, cuing my feet to halt. “Mrs. Carmichael joins you.” I could see from the back of his head, the host nodded before stepping back, clearing a path for my viewing pleasure before leaving.

Goddamn, he’s handsome as fuck!

Before I could react to his stark big body covered in a dark blue three-piece suit and the same merlot
Ferragamo
oxfords that I met at my nose earlier this year, his delicious scent permeated my nostrils, titillating me. His beard was neatly cut, thick and full. His hairline was defined with precision, his scalp covered in meticulous waves. And his eyes… They were hooded to the point of appearing as though my husband was intoxicated. But I knew better. Ezra didn’t drink—
unless being tested by Ms. Remah for my hand in marriage
. His lips that were well defined against his dark, wiry hairs were parted as he stood frozen, inspecting my body from head to toe.

I swallowed hard, still nervous as fuck.

“Was your note a joke? A test to see how much submission your ‘submissive’ could give?” My tone was dry as my eyes danced all around the room before landing on his face.

Over my choppy breathing I could hear him murmur, “There was nothing misgiving about my instructions, beloved. You should know after two months of marriage, I don’t play games.” His eyes continued to peruse my body.

I switched hips to balance on as I waited for some sort of cue of validation, or direction.

“You are positively breathtaking, Alexis.” Although we were in a room filled with sounds of music and chatter, I could hear the staccato of his syllables.

My mouth fell again and I could swallow my damn throat. “Well,” I swung my chin into the air, to gather some strength. “You paid enough for it.
Jimmy Choo
, size eleven.” I paid a glance at my boots that had me matching his height. “You
are
a label whore.”

Those weren’t Elle’s exact words, but they felt right in the moment.

“I’ll be that for you, Alexis.” The solemn gleam in his eyes revved and upset me.

Only he could do this to me. Fuck with my head after the day I’d had…the revelation I had, seeing Elle so caught up in her man. The way I’d been experiencing Lilly, gushing over her unofficial fiancé. I couldn’t do this with Ezra.

Sensing my ire, his serene expression morphed into one of irritation sprinkled with confusion.

“Let’s have a seat. I’d like to know about your day.” He directed me inside of our private booth, and I sat and scooted further inside carefully, considering my costume. “Now tell me,” he began as he sat. “How did the shopping go?”

“You didn’t get a report?”

I caught a waiter, snapping a cloth napkin out before laying it on my lap. Another appeared pouring me a glass of red wine. My eyes went to Ezra.

“An imported Mourvedre,” he rasped. I had no idea what language he was speaking this time, but I understood it was in reference to the wine. “I would like to celebrate your new journey beginning tomorrow.”

“It’s an Australian pick,” the man pouring the inky purple liquid explained. “A 2004 Torbreck with potent boysenberry, blueberry, and lavender aromas merged with licorice, espresso, and musky underbrush. Most appealing for a dry preference.” He nodded with a soft smile before leaving the booth.

In an attempt to calm my rampant nerves, I took a sip, and as soon as the velvety liquid hit my palette I could feel the burst of dark berries dancing on my buds with the perfect amount of sweetness against the dry grapes. 

Whoa!

“Good?” A crooked smile formed on Ezra’s half hidden face.

“Really good,” I admitted.

“That pleases me, beloved. Now, please…about your day,” he pushed, taking a sip of his sparkling water.

I shrugged. “It was nice, I guess. Elle was cool. At first I didn’t know how well we’d hit it off. She just seemed…”

“Seemed what?” he asked.

“Just a little out of my league, is all.” I quickly grabbed my drink for another sip and my eyes skirted elsewhere, out of the booth.

“Uhn-huhn. I see.” I could hear him turning it over in his mind. “But things turned out well, it appears. Elle did call. She said she really enjoyed you. Apparently, you kept up with her mimosa and champagne drive.” I heard the amusement in his rasp. I could also detect the reprimand in his undertone.

“Elle was fun, down to earth.” I rolled my eyes, hating that I struggled with mixed feelings concerning her. She didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t make my reservations go away. “After a few words, I was able to warm to her. I’m sure the mimosas didn’t hurt. She made the mundane of a shopping spree adventurous.”

“Mundane?” he asked. “I would think two women would have a blast shopping together all day while drinking champagne.”

“Not with the tab you put before us.” I was finally able to meet his eyes. “That high limit made it exhausting. No wonder she was so organized and strategic about gaining my taste. She had a large order to fill.” It was my turn to reproach.

Ezra forged a smile as he straightened in his seat, removing his elbows from the table. In the next moment, well stuffed avocados were placed in front of us. I didn’t have to question how we missed the selection phase of this meal. I knew my controlling husband handled those ‘trivial’ details.

“Shrimp stuffed avocados,” Ezra informed.

I nodded while visually examining them. I’d never had it, but was game for trying out something new with him. His hands slid across the table discreetly. I wasn’t alarmed. In a beat I knew the man of God had to bless the food. I enjoyed this side of Ezra, when he was a submissive. When he uttered melodic words of exaltation that were poetic. It soothed something within and gave me a favorable impression of the man I married.  When he was done, I forked my first sample.

“Good?” Ezra eyed me cautiously from across the table. 

It actually wasn’t bad at all.

“I like it,” I answered after swallowing.

“So do you now feel more prepared, not having to worry about what you’ll wear?”

He wanted to continue our conversation.

“I do.”

“Would you like to go out again with Elle for more shopping, or is that something you’d prefer doing alone?”

I paused, mouth filled as I examined his question.

“Will you pay for it?” My forehead hiked.

“I wouldn’t mind, if that’s okay with you…but if you prefer your independence—”

“Did you pay her to do it today?” I cut him short, still struggling with these unfamiliar feelings. “She works in PR with millionaires, public figures. According to you, you don’t fit that bill. So how do you employ someone like that?”

Ezra’s head tilted and his brows met. I continued with my salad.

“Elle is an associate I know from a circle of friends. Stenton Rogers is close friends with her boyfriend, Jackson. I’ve been in touch with Jackson and Elle occasionally since the spring. Even more recently, I’ve been seeing her as an unofficial client for light counseling.”