His Pawn (The Manhattan Tales Book 1) (4 page)

Yes.
“No, I am not jealous.” I retorted and I felt my nose scrunch up.

I was acting overly defensive.  I could literally feel the heat from his body.  I sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling like a mindless bimbo, but I didn’t care in that moment.

He chuckled and smoothed a stray lock of my wild dark auburn hair behind my ear.  I felt my face flame at such an intimate touch and my stomach fluttered. What was happening? I was still bewildered, but I liked this attention from him.

“Perhaps you want a turn to see my other apartment? Do you want to feel what I would do to you there?” He asked with a grin.

Heated tingles suddenly shot from my core and settled down in the private area in my panties. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or if he was serious. I felt the heat on my face, realizing he couldn’t be serious.

“Don’t patronize me.” the words fell out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying, and I stepped away.

“Patronize you? Why would I patronize you?”  He asked. His eyes suddenly narrowed.  The intensity was returning two-fold.

How could he not think he’s patronizing me?  I thought this to myself as I balked up at him.
Me, of all women? 
I just couldn’t wrap my head around  the idea of Mason following through with his sexual suggestions.

Sex with Mason.  Oh, God.
There’s no way he would follow through with those suggestions, not with me.

  “I’ve seen who you dated before and the classy, sophisticated socialites and models you take to galas and charities.  Never in a million years would you even consider-”

He suddenly pressed his body against mine and leaned down, pressing his mouth against my ear.  It interrupted my negative thought process and caused my breathing to hitch.  I nearly spilled my wine onto his perfect kitchen floor. The scent of him enveloped me and I could see the contours of his perfect biceps through the silk of his button-down.

Oh. My. God.

“
Never
bring up my past dates.  Is that clear?”  His voice was so low, yet dominating.  It was intimidating.

“Yes,” I responded in a hushed whisper.

“I can’t hear you, Jilly Bean,” He coaxed in a deeper voice.

I was beginning to resent the way he referred to me by my nickname.  It almost sounded mocking.

“Yes,” I answered audibly this time.

“Good,” he seemed satisfied, although his lips were still nearly grazing my ear.  “And for the record, I was not patronizing you...”

There seemed to be more that he wanted to say, but he stopped at that. He still lingered in the position hovering over me.  I could feel his hot breath on my neck and I nearly melted into a puddle of goo.  His face moved closer to mine, and I thought he might actually kiss me. My heart fluttered like a hummingbird in my chest for those few seconds. I only had to move forward a few millimeters, and our lips would have touched.

“Okay,” I answered softly, remaining stiff and rigid from the contact.  I didn’t know what I should do.

He suddenly straightened and stepped back, assessing me quietly.  I didn’t know what he was thinking, but wished he hadn’t moved.

4.  Mason Woodward

  I could not lose my resolve, but I felt it slipping.  As I sat in my Chicago building, at a long mahogany table surrounded by men and women in expensive suits, I thought back to the previous night. 

  Initially, I pictured the same eighteen year old with wild hair and glasses.  I pictured the spunky but shy little sister of the man who betrayed me. Then she appeared from the Starbucks coffee shop and I found myself doing a double take.  She was beautiful.  There was a natural beauty about her and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I watched as her ponytail bounced while she pranced toward the car.

She was very nervous in her movements. 
I could use that to my advantage.
  I couldn’t hide a smirk when she knocked her head on the side of my town car as she ducked into the back seat.  Some things never change...

  Then, she wrapped her arms around me and I felt stiff.  I was not expecting
that
.  I’d forgotten that she and her mum were huggers.  I myself was not an affectionate person; I never did allow anyone in… but while this embrace was unexpected, it was not unwelcome. 

  The gentle scent of her lavender shampoo wafted to my nose and I found myself embracing her more as I breathed in the scent of her hair.  There was something unusually comforting about Jillian. It was instant, and I cursed myself silently for having such an impulsive feeling.  It was a feeling that I had never associated with another human being, not in many years at least.  I certainly never felt such familiarity with my own family.  During the ride to my penthouse, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. 

  She sat quietly, stiff and straight, while her hands fidgeted with her faded pink coat.  It was most likely a pick from the local thrift store.
I would have to change that.

  I rested my chin between my thumb and forefinger and pretended to stare out the window, although I kept my sideways glance on her.  I was trying to imagine how and why I felt so drawn to her.  We had history together… but that was not all of it.  And I could not deny that she was attractive. 

  She had a delicate round face, large dark eyes and plump pink lips that I wanted to bite… and don’t get me started on that little body. Even beneath the ugly faded coat, I could see that she’d developed a luscious hour-glass figure.
The things I could do to that body-
I shook the wolfish thoughts from  my head.  The plan was to lure her in with patience, not scare the poor girl away.  Patience would be my greatest struggle. 

****

And now, I could not focus for shit.  I’d flown from LaGuardia to O’Hare just so I could sit and daydream about some college girl? I snarled at myself for such foolishness. I did not build an entire enterprise and help my father manage his own company by doodling hearts and flowers on the side of a notebook.

“... Your thoughts, Mr. Woodward?”

That caused me to snap to attention.  I lifted my fingers from my chin and looked up as the presentation was finished.  The balding man at the front stood before a backdrop of graphs and percentages.  It was no doubt a good pitch and I thoroughly enjoyed his previous ideas.  They’d proven to be very beneficial to the growth and expansion of my hotel chain.

“Nicely done, Joe.  I want a copy of the proposal on my desk before I fly back to New York,” I answered.  I honestly hadn’t listened to a damn word he’d said at the front.  What was happening to me?

“Yes, yes of course, Mr. Woodward,”  the man answered, adjusting his tie, clearly unsatisfied with my answer.

I always had a much more hands-on approach to project development, and I could feel all eyes on me, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me.  Overnight, I’d become like a foolish school boy.

I needed to get back to New York to get this plan underway. The sooner, the better. I’d use her every which way, and then send her back to her brother with a clear message: 
You had your fun, and I had mine.

Originally, I’d planned to hit up one of my favorite strip clubs and bring one of the girls back to my hotel, or call up one of my Chicago favorites and have her ready and waiting for me, but I was now itching to get back to New York.  I dismissed the meeting and fetched for the proposal before taking a private flight back to LaGuardia. 

5.   Jilly Bean

After our brief moment last night, he showed me to my room.  Perhaps it was the wine, or fatigue, but I could have sworn he seemed conflicted about something. I assumed it was that he’d let me back into his life after he’d sworn off my brother and my family.

“You caught me just in time.  I have to be in Chicago tomorrow morning.” He was leaning on the door frame to my temporary bedroom.

“Oh,” I blurted.  I didn’t mean to sound so disappointed.

  “It’s only a day or so,” he responded.  “I’ll have Amy take you shopping tomorrow to pass the time.”

He gave me a grin. 
Who’s Amy?

“Shopping?  Why?  I have everything I need,” I pointed to my bright pink duffel bag.

I wasn’t trying to seem ungrateful, but Mason was already doing more than enough by opening his home to me.  It had been five years since I’d seen him and I was not about to let him spend money on me.  Plus, I had more pressing matters to think about than a new wardrobe. 

He stared at me blankly, perplexed.  Finally, he spoke.

“So long as you stay here, you represent me, Jillian.  I cannot allow you to walk around in…”  His eyes scrutinized my faded purple sweater, worn sneakers, and jeans that I’d gotten on sale three years ago at Kohls.

I pursed my lips, feeling my face flame bright red.
I look too poor to be associated with you.  I get it.
I kept my mouth shut, though, because I was grateful to him for even letting me stay there.  I suppose he had a point in some twisted way.

He still looked at me with a confused daze on his handsome face.  I suppose it’s not every day that a woman turns down a shopping spree on another man’s credit card.  Perhaps that’s what he was accustomed to… I wasn’t raised like that, though.

  “I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me tonight.  You didn’t have to take me in at all.  I can’t allow you to spoil me like that,” I said with a soft smile. 

  “And I can’t think about new clothes when I’m trying to figure out how to pay for my last semester of college. If I even...” I felt my voice trail off.  I couldn’t finish that last sentence. 

  A single dark brow quirked up as a lock of black hair fell into his eyes.  From the lighting in this room, I could see his eyes were a light brown with flecks of gold and green.  Thick black lashes surrounded his eyes. They complimented his olive complexion beautifully.
Breathtaking.

  “It’s all public relations, Jillian.  You must understand this.  If people are going to associate you living under my roof,
entering my hotel
, however short a time it may be, you must look the part.”

How long was he expecting me to stay here?
I faltered in my response, and then I blanched.  I didn’t realize I’d done this until I saw his cold gaze, eyes narrowed and he gripped the polished door knob very tightly.

I watched as his knuckles turned white and it dawned on me that he was not accustomed to anyone telling him, “no.”  Even when he was friends with Travis, Mason easily talked him into doing whatever he wanted.

“Fine,” I relented.  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint appearances.”

  “Good.  It’s settled then.  I’ll tell Amy to fetch for you at one o’clock.”  Then his hand left the door knob and he closed in on me.  I swallowed as his whole frame towered over me.  Again, I smelled the scent of his aftershave, or cologne.  His gaze bore down on me with the same intensity he displayed briefly during the car ride.

  “And you
will
finish college, if I have to force you.”  His voice was terse, and I fell into a seated position on the edge of the bed as I looked up at him, very surprised by such command. 

Said the man who never had to worry about a dime in his life…  But I kept that thought to myself.

  There was a heated tension between us as I looked up at him.  My face was level with his groin, but I dared not look at it.  For the hundredth time this evening, my face felt red and hot. 

He was still dressed in his expensive button down and black slacks. I waited with bated breath, hoping he’d lean down and pull me into his grip as his body enveloped mine. 
He’d pin me down and ravish my body.  His lips would envelop mine as his hand slid up my-

He suddenly backed away from me, which pulled me from my erotic fantasy.  His gaze was darkly fixed on my thighs, which I hadn’t realized were clenched together.  Then he looked at me and gave me a wicked smirk.

  “Good night, Jilly Bean.”  The wicked tone in his voice left me wanton as he closed my bedroom door. 

I exhaled deeply, feeling confused, extremely aroused, and empty.  This was
Mason Woodward
I was thinking about.  I’ve known him for years and I was so unlike his type.  There was no way he would go for a girl like me.  I couldn’t allow myself to have these feelings of attraction for him. The crush I had on him resurfaced tenfold, but I had to ignore it. I couldn’t allow my heart to be broken.  I should just be thankful for everything he’s done for me so far, and tomorrow before this “Amy” takes me shopping, I’ll browse every job site out there.

****

The following morning, I’d made some progress finding a few job postings that I could apply for.  I polished up my resume and created a few resume profiles on job search engines.  I was feeling optimistic, especially since Mason seemed to imply that I could stay at his place for a little while longer.  In fact, Amy was due to show up soon.

As he instructed, Amy showed up promptly at one o’clock.  She was tall and thin like a supermodel with copper skin and sleek dark hair that was cropped into a short bob.  Her personality was vibrant and charming.  She carried a large designer bag with her sparkling attire.  Really, it felt unreal to be going out shopping with someone who drew so much attention.  When we entered Saks and Barneys, the sales women instantly greeted her.  They exchanged air kisses.

  “This is Jillian,” Amy introduced me to them and I caught a fleeting glimpse of confusion on their faces before they also blew me air kisses.  It was awkward.  I’ve never greeted anyone like that, not even when I worked for the Sloanes.

The shopping trip was an experience to behold.  I grew up with mostly thrift stores and hand-me-downs, especially after my dad passed away.  Amy held a list and checked off the items as they were purchased.  I caught a glimpse of the list and saw that it was a typed email from Mason.

  “This is cute,” I grinned as I picked out a bright blue, flowy skirt.  I looked at the price tag and nearly fell over. 

  “No,” Amy quickly snatched the skirt and removed the price tag.  “Mr. Woodward has strict instructions that you are not to look at the prices.”

  “That’s because he knows I’d leave the store if I knew…”  I rolled my eyes.

  She chuckled.  “You’re adorable.  Go try this on.”  She held out the skirt to me.

  We spent hours flitting from one store to another and each time we went to pay for my purchases, Amy whipped out a sleek black AmEx card.  She specifically told the sales associate not to tell me the amount of each purchase.  It had to be thousands of dollars.  I felt guilty and uncomfortable.  I’d never had anyone spend that much money on me in my life.

Our last stop was at a very fancy boutique on Madison Avenue.  We stepped into the classy store, and I saw sleek, chic feminine lingerie and nightwear hanging on wooden hangers.  Some of it was very sensual, and these were the pieces that Amy pointed out.  Very risque designs were also outfitted on mannequins that lined the walls and storefront.    Naively, I assumed this last stop was one for Amy.

  “Amy, darling, such a pleasure to see you again.”  The sophisticated sales associated greeted my shopping guide.  More air kisses.  I received the same blank, confused stare as ten times before.

“I’m looking for some very specific pieces for Jillian,” Amy stated as she looked over the list that Mason had given her.     

  “Preferably red and black lace.  Dark violet is also acceptable.”  I did a double-take as I looked at Amy. 

  Wait, what?  

  “This is for you, and not me, right?”  I asked Amy in a hushed whisper.  The sales associate was staring at us.

Amy looked at me with a puzzled expression.      “No, I have specific instructions to outfit you in what Mr. Woodward has outlined.” 

She looked at me as though I’d already known about this last stop.  This type of lingerie was … not what I wore.  My face was a beet red at this point. 

“What is your breast size, dear?”  The associate asked me.

“Uh…”  My head was spinning. 

Mason was paying for my bra and panties?  Why? Nobody saw what I wore beneath my clothes!

I was taken into the back and my breasts and hips were measured.  From there, I was given bras and bustiers to try on.   

I saw the panties and thongs that Amy had picked out for me as she looked over the list. They were complete with thigh highs and garters.

They were… 
Oh. God.

My heart was thumping in my chest.
 
While I was in the dressing room, the sales associate handed me a dark burgundy underbust trimmed with black lace. 
What is this thing?

I tried it on, and noted the red blotchy spots on my neck and face because I was so flushed at this point.  I was
not
buying this underbust thing. This thing served no purpose whatsoever, my breasts were completely exposed.

The only sensible thought I could think the entire time was that this had to be some kind of misunderstanding on Amy’s part. 
Why?  Me?  He gave specific instructions for me to have these things?  What?
 

Again, Amy paid for the purchases and I had no idea how much money was spent.  I couldn’t even describe the undergarments that were purchased for me.  I was too shy.  I was squirming, feeling uncomfortable.  And this would show up on Mason’s credit card statement. 

Oh, God.