The Claiming of Sadie Graves (7 page)

“If you’re going to be associated with my company, your personal life is every bit my business.
Wild reputations are hard to erase” he says kindly.  He looks at me now with a hard-to-discern expression. I open my mouth to speak, dreading what comes out. “I’ll admit; I’ve been focused on work and my career. I haven’t dated much. And the last year’s work – the lingerie line, the couture – it’s been overwhelming. I haven’t had much time for socializing.” I keep my eyes down, hoping he won’t make fun of my lack of experience.

He doesn’t.

“Sadie, your work is lovely. Your ideas are unique. Tell me about the lingerie line?”

I relax, and
do. There are four bra designs: a back hook, a front hook, a halter style and a demi bra. Panties are mostly small – bikinis, thongs, and one boy short that has sold fairly well. I designed a corset, two different garter belts, and three teddies. Anna let me choose all the fabric, the stays, the lace and the underpinnings. I explain the choices, the options, and why I opted for certain selections over others. He listens without interrupting.

The whole idea was an experiment,
but the customers were thrilled. Past thrilled; jubilant, even. The first person to buy one of everything was a starlet going through a public and painful divorce. The paparazzi waited on our doorstep until her fit session was over. She came out, wagged our bags in their camera viewfinders, and hopped in her limo. Within minutes reporters were digging through our lingerie cabinets, their eyes wide with excitement. Four articles were out within minutes, bragging on the sexiness of our line. Anna laughed nonstop until the next day. And of course I was proud, though I couldn’t say anything publicly about my involvement in the lingerie line. As far as the media was concerned, Anna invented the whole thing.

I
describe that day to Lucas, and he listens silently. He still has my hand in his. By now, it’s warm next to his skin. He skims his thumb over my palm, his nail rubbing smartly against my lifelines. It feels amazingly personal. Too close for comfort. And so I draw my hand back, away from his grasp.

He allows me my freedom, but presses his body in closer.
“Thank you, that’s exactly the type of story I had hoped to hear. And now, I have one for you.” He shifts his body slightly, and sweeps his arm out to bring me closer to him in the confines of the limo. He pulls me immediately next to him, close enough to smell his scent, to feel his hard leg and waist muscles, to know our hips are touching.  He looks into my face.

“I’ve been looking for something to catch my imagination for quite some time, Miss Graves. I apologize that you’ve seen me with different ladies; I know I look ridiculous. You may think that’s how I operate. I assure you it’s not. But the minute I saw you, I had to know more about you.
I’m drawn to you. I want to protect you; to know you better. And I’m really interested in your art.”

He takes a dee
p breath, and he’s about to say something when we reach my apartment building. The limo pulls to a stop, and his driver comes over the intercom to announce our arrival. He rolls his eyes. Our time is over.

“We
ll, I appreciate your interest” I say noncommittally.
I’m trying to bear in mind; this is a guy who bought another woman a piece of my lingerie. On Tuesday.
I gather my belongings, and shift toward the door. Lucas makes a small sound, grabs me by the waist and pulls me back toward him. He positions my chin so my face is on level with his. He moves in close. So close. I can feel his breath.
You know I have to ask. I can’t kiss some man-whore. I just can’t.

“
Can I ask you something, Lucas?” I look down, away from his brown eyes. “What did Violet think about the item you bought her?” He pauses, imperceptibly. “I bought Violet something?” he says softly.

“Yes, my lingerie, I think?”
I raise my eyes toward his. He barks out a laugh, and reaches into his coat. “You mean this”; he passes me the small bag with ‘Rosenstein’ blazed across the front.

“
I’m not sure what’s in it, but yes. You haven’t given it to her?” He is within inches of my mouth now. “No, Sadie. Baby…it’s in
your
size. I had to ask Anna privately what you wore.”

He moves forward, letting his lips touch mine. I pull back,
surprised, and gasp. He takes the opportunity to open my lips and move his tongue inside my mouth.

Jesus
.

He moans, and begins to stroke my tongue with his own. It’s soft, exploring,
and tentative. His full lips are so sensual. They’re softer than mine. I melt to him, licking back into his mouth with curiosity.  He pulls me from his side onto his lap, pushing my skirt up and my legs on either side of his. I put my arms around his neck, and kiss him with a solemnity that comes from knowing I’m never doing this again.

He’ll never know this is my first kiss.
Never.

Pinkie swear
.

I meet his questing tongue with my own, matching his sweet caresses.
He tastes delicious, like mint.

Between my legs, I can feel hi
m. He’s aroused, and growing in size. His hips flex up to meet my body, and he makes a noise that’s somewhere between a prayer and a demand. His eyes are closed. I pull back away from him so I can remember what he looks like later. Dear God, he’s so lovely.
He bought me underwear. Lord, have mercy. What in the hell?

His
eyes pop open, his lips parted with desire. He has his hands on my hips, and then he’s rubbing all over me, hands sliding over the angora of my sweater, down my sides and to my thighs. His eyes go from my face to my breasts and back again, torn between the two. He settles his hands back lower, and begins to move me over him, grinding my crotch into his. I feel his cock against the seam of my tights, and already I’m wet. He rubs between my legs, through my tights. He rolls two fingers over the bud of my sex, letting me know he’s prepared to please me. I groan involuntarily.

He pulls me closer, licking into my mouth again
without stopping. He raises one hand to my left breast, slips it inside my sweater, and finds my nipple with his fingers. He squeezes gently, making a low sound in his throat. Then he pushes that side of my sweater back, pushes my bra cup out of the way, and takes me in his mouth. He sucks, and moans.

Oh. He wants me.
I feel it in every way.

And that’s when I have a panic attack.

My heart lurches and I feel my windpipe close.
I have to get out of the limo immediately
. I pull back away from Lucas, awkwardly trying to extricate myself from his arms. He looks dumbfounded. I’m already having trouble inhaling and I start to wheeze painfully, one hand held to my chest. I feel for the door mechanism and pull it open, almost falling from the limo onto the sidewalk in my haste. I grab my stuff clumsily, aware that my zipcard is attached to the outside of my handbag. Without saying a word, I dash from the limo doors to my building’s entrance, slide the card and buzz myself in.

Within seconds
, I’m inside, where I go into full panic mode. I can’t inhale. Once I’m past the vestibule, I drop to the smooth floor near the elevators, unable to help myself. The tiles are cool. I try to relax, willing myself to control my breathing. I lay there, out of sight of the front door, for about fifteen minutes – hoping I can manage my emotions.  Eventually, I’m able to sit back up; even to go upstairs. I rise, trembling, and push the lift button to the third floor.

I wonder how long the limo sat there. Not that it matters.

Shit. And people wonder why I don’t date.

Later, after midnight, I check my phone. T
here’s one lone text.

SADIE, I’M SO SORRY. I LOST CONTROL. IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN.  LUCAS

A solitary tear slips down my face.
Of course it won’t
, I think. I realize the bag with the underwear is still on the limo’s bench seat.
It will fit some other girl, I’m sure
. The thought makes my chest hurt.

I go to my room, shut the door and pretend I don’t hear Jenny when she gets home.
And for the first time in a long time; I cry myself to sleep.

“Find My Baby”

Moby,
Play

My cell phone
chirps early in the morning. It’s an email from Lucas.

Sadie:

I’m coming by Anna’s store today to take you to lunch. Please, be there.

Lucas Sutton,

CEO

Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division

I respond.

Lucas: I’ll be
working. Do you want to talk to me about Peter Emery?

Sadie Graves, Designer

Anna Rosenstein LTD, International

I get ready for work and head for the subway line, my coat and scarf making the bitter cold less noticeable. When I enter the train, I feel my phone vibrate.

Sadie: What do you mean by that comment? I was unaware that you knew Peter. How, exactly, do you know him?

Lucas Sutton,

CEO

Sutton Shield, Art and Property Division

Aha.
Interesting. I don’t respond immediately. I have to assume that Lucas thinks I have met Peter through his, um, extracurricular contacts. I’m suddenly irritated that he doubts me. Extremely irritated.

I wait until nine-thirty to respond. By then, I see I have a missed call from Lucas.

Lucas:

I met Peter last night. He dropped by the shop to ask me for a favor.

I thought you might be interested in, or perhaps behind, his request.

Sadie Graves, Designer

Anna Rosenstein LTD, International

My phone rings. It’s Lucas. Again.

I pick up. “Hello?”

“Sadie, listen to me. I love Peter like a brother, but I want you to stay away from him. He runs with a crowd that’s way too fast for you. Hell, they’re too fast for me. Do you understand? You are to stay away from Peter. And, from Violet.” He pauses to take a breath.

“Lucas, I’m having dinner with Peter next week.
It’s work related. Please, don’t tell me what to do or who to see. You don’t have that much leverage in my life.”

He’s silent for a minute; so
quiet that I pull the phone away from my ear to be sure he’s still there.   But he is. He’s just at a loss for words, so used to ordering people around. He sighs. “Listen, I’ll be there shortly. We can discuss this later. I simply know my friend and his proclivities. I’d like to keep you far away from that.” I make an “uh-huh” sound. “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” I ask.

He makes an irritated sound in his throat. “No. But we can discuss the rest in person.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye. In my opinion, that’s the height of narcissism.
I really, really hate people who do that.

I sit there staring at my phone for a few seconds, and decide that when Lucas Sutton drops by today…I’ll be long gone.

Lesson number one: never treat a red-headed girl with anything but respect, buster.

Lesson number two?

Easy.

See lesson number one.

Around noon I tell Anna I’m stepping out to run a few errands. She waves distractedly at me, and tells me she’ll see me when I get back. Her eyes never leave what she’s working on. That’s so Anna. I love how engrossed she can get in a project. Her cheaters are on the tip of her nose, and a shaft of light bounces a multi-colored prism from them – red, purple, violet and pink. She’s bathed in light. I memorize the way she looks, leaned over her drawing table, and grab my coat and scarf. 

I walk up and away from the atelier, and wander around Midtown East. I decide to eat something
, and walk until I see the Pret a Manger at Lexington and 47
th
Street. I walk inside and order a chicken and avocado salad, and a tea. I eye the desserts, but abstain. My phone starts to buzz at 12:38PM. Guess who? It’s Mister Social Calendar. He seems upset that I’m not waiting for him with baited breath at the studio. All the other women he knows, I’m sure, would be. That makes me jut my chin out with irritation. I ignore my phone, finish my salad, and walk a few streets over to the Body Shop to get some moisturizer. I struggle with dry skin in the winter, and applying this stuff makes my whole body relax. I pick up a flat round container of Aloe Body Butter and head back toward work.

I’m almost to Madison Avenue when I see him. He’s getting into a town car with the blonde I saw him with at dinner last night. That’s right – Lucas Sutton, with
a gorgeous blonde.
Shocking
, I laugh to myself.  They’re on the same side of the street as me, about one block up. I keep walking. They’ll be so engrossed in each other he’ll never notice me when they pass.