Saltwater Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (The Kisses Series Book 1) (15 page)

My phone chirped.
I’m going to make it up to you though.

How?

Tomorrow night. Wear something fancy. I’m taking you to La Maison.

I grinned. La Maison wasn’t the fanciest restaurant in New York, but it was pretty close. More important than the fanciness of the restaurant was the significance it held for Jack. La Maison was the restaurant that his father always took his mother for special anniversaries. It was where Daniel proposed to Bianca, so having Jack take me there meant something.

Do I get you all to myself?

I told Jeannette she’s fired if she interrupts us tomorrow.

I’ll be there with bells on.
I typed back. I hit send and turned off the light, snuggling into the soft down comforter. I would have to have Rachel help me pick out something; tomorrow was going to be a great day.

I
was a princess, a beautiful, only slightly slutty, princess. I smoothed the fabric of my dress over my knees as the car stopped in front of La Maison. The driver hurried out and opened the door, helping me out onto the sidewalk. I saw the people on the street turn and look at me, and was once again glad Rachel had helped me pick out my outfit.

The dress was a fitted black fabric that somehow shone purple in the light and had a slit up my thigh that my father would have considered indecent. It was made by a designer whose name I could barely pronounce, but who Rachel said was the biggest thing in fashion right now. I took a step and wobbled, but the driver reached out a hand to steady me. Rachel had chosen the shoes as well—black strappy stilettos that made me feel as tall as a New York skyscraper, but not quite as stable. Between the slit and the shoes, my legs looked long enough to make swimsuit models jealous.

My hair was piled in effortless looking curls that cascaded down my back. It had taken the hairdresser almost two hours and was anything but effortless. Rachel had procured me a diamond necklace with matching dangling earrings that I couldn’t afford if I used every paycheck in my lifetime. The jewelry was gorgeous, but I had this nagging fear that the earrings were going to slip out of my ears, or the chain would break on the necklace and I would lose one of the sparkling stones. I could just see them falling off and bouncing down the street as I scrambled to chase them in my  insane heels. The tabloid headlines would be spectacular. As a result, I checked impulsively every minute or two to make sure the jewels hadn’t abandoned me.

The restaurant was in a tall brick building from the 1920s. It screamed old money, and it was beautiful. I stepped inside, glad of the warmth in the restaurant. Someone took the simple black wrap Rachel had chosen to complete my ensemble and we headed into the main part of the restaurant.

Every eye in the restaurant followed as the maître d’ escorted me to the table where Jack was waiting. I sent a silent,
Thank you,
up to Rachel for making sure that they all saw something fashionable and worthy of a billionaire.

I suddenly understood how Cinderella felt arriving at the ball. Every head in the restaurant turned and watched as I floated gracefully through the tables. For once in my life though, I didn’t care that they were looking. The dress gleamed in purple highlights as I approached the only eyes that I cared about. Jack stood as he saw me, his mouth hanging open slightly. Our eyes connected, and I was Cinderella meeting my Prince.

Jack moved to greet me, pulling out my chair and waiting on me like a gentleman. As I approached the table, Jack reached his hand out for mine, to guide me into my chair and I reached back for him. Time slowed, and for a brief second, everything was perfect. I never touched his hand though, as a guest at the next table suddenly pivoted and took my picture.

The flash was blinding and I stumbled in my ridiculous shoes. I caught myself on the back of the chair, lights suddenly flashing from all directions. Jack had the first man’s camera in his hands, but more popped up, their flashes lighting up the room like broken lightning.

Cameras were everywhere, the waiters and guests making everything chaotic. There were too many cameras pointed in my direction. I panicked and turned to escape back the way I came, but the flashes were everywhere. I took a step forward, but a light went off directly in my eyes and I ran directly into something hard. Wheeling to catch myself, my shoes betrayed me and I fell to the ground. I came down hard on my wrist, a yelp of pain escaping. The restaurant went quiet except for the clicks and buzzes of cameras.

Suddenly strong arms surrounded me, picking me up and scooping me away. I buried my face into Jack’s chest, smelling his cologne, feeling his arms tighten protectively around me as he whisked me away towards the kitchen. His chest vibrated with a growl and I didn’t dare remove my face from the protection of his jacket. I could still hear the flashes popping as we disappeared behind the serving door and the startled yells of kitchen staff as Jack barreled through towards the back alley.

He stopped at the back door, the only sounds following us were of the kitchen staff chopping and sautéing. The photographers were yelling at the kitchen door, but security held the door closed. Jack set me down gently, making sure my feet were firmly planted before pulling out his phone and hitting a number.

“In the alley! Now!” he growled before slamming the phone back into his jacket pocket. I kept holding onto him, my fingers clinging to the starched white fabric of his dress shirt. A car peeled into the alley and Jack opened the back door and hurried me out into the blustering winter night, carefully shielding me from the wind as we stepped to the car.

“Are you alright?” He asked once we were in the car, his voice low and gruff. I couldn’t see his face in the dimness of the car, but I could hear the anger in his voice. I nodded.

“I think so. I hurt my wrist, but, I think it will be alright,” I said as I held onto the offending wrist with my opposite hand. It had a dull ache, but nothing a couple of pain relievers and a night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.

“Let me see,” he said gently. He reached over and took my wrist in his hands. They were so warm compared to the cold outside. He squeezed gently, his fingers searching for any injury.

“You’re shaking. Carl, turn up the heat!”

“I forgot my wrap at the restaurant,” I said quietly, suddenly remembering I didn’t have it. With my free hand, I checked the earrings and necklace to make sure I still had them. I felt a small sigh of relief escape my lungs at finding the jewels still secured to my body. Jack kept running his fingers along the sensitive skin of my inner wrist, making me forget the pain. It didn’t hurt anymore, but I didn’t take my wrist back from him.

“I’ll send someone to fetch it later.” His fingers stopped but he held onto my wrist.

“What happened back there anyway?” I asked. I was finally starting to feel warm, the air blowing out of the car heater getting the winter out of the car. I couldn’t stop shaking though.

“I made a mistake.” His voice was gruff, full of anger under the surface.

“What do you mean? There’s no way you could have known those paparazzi were going to be there like that. I mean, they chase me everywhere.” I tried to put a smile into my voice, but I knew it was still shaky.

“I have eaten at that restaurant a hundred times. When I made the reservations, I didn’t even think about their security. I should have let my security check the place out, but the manager said they had sufficient security for us. I didn’t have Rachel do it because I wanted to do this myself.” He held my wrist up. “I should have let her set it up. It is my fault you got hurt.”

“Jack, it isn’t your fault that I’m a klutz and I tripped—”

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “This happened because of me. The paparazzi have been after you since the moment they found out about you. I made the reservations and didn’t get enough security. This never would have happened if I were anyone else. This could have been much worse. You got hurt because of who I am. This isn’t fair to you. I am so sorry Emma.” His words never faltered, coming out sure and smooth, but I could hear the guilt threatening to overwhelm him.

“Jack, I don’t blame you. This could have happened to anyone.”

He carefully placed my wrist back in my lap and then pulled his hands away from me, as though he were afraid he would hurt me again.

“I’m sorry I put you in this position Emma.” All I could see was his silhouette in the dark, but his voice was all business. He never used that tone with me.

“Jack,” I started but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to talk to the businessman side of him. I fell quiet as the car turned into the parking structure for the penthouse.

Jack slid out and opened the door, helping me out as I tried not to trip over the dress. He let go of my hand as soon as I was free of the car, dropping it like it burned. I stepped towards the elevators, turning to see if he was going to follow, but he climbed back into the car.

“I’m going to have Rachel increase your security detail. I don’t want this happening again.” There was a coolness to his voice that I didn’t recognize. I stepped back towards the car and tried to smile.

“Will you come up and join me for some dinner upstairs? I think I saw some soup in the kitchen,” I tried.

“No. I’m going to go back to work. I think I’ll be staying at the office again tonight.” He reached for the car door, preparing to close it.

“Oh,” I nodded. I ignored the ache growing in my chest. “If you get done early, you know where to find me.”

He nodded, avoiding eye contact as he closed the door. I stepped up onto the curb and the car turned and drove away. I couldn’t see him through the tinted glass, but something inside of me cracked. I called the elevator and stepped in alone. What was supposed to have been a beautiful, magical, romantic evening, had turned into something sour, dark... and angry.

A
n insistent buzzing woke me. I kept my head buried in my pillow and fumbled around on the nightstand trying to find the off switch for my phone. I didn’t have to be up yet, and I still felt groggy and disappointed from the night before.

My phone slipped out of my fingers and clattered to the floor, still buzzing like an angry hornet. I thought about leaving it, but someone started pounding on my door. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep through the phone and the knocking on my door.

“It’s open,” I yelled, rolling onto my back and then throwing my feet off the bed. This was not the way I wanted to be woken up.

“You need to get up. Now,” Rachel commanded as she barged into my room. I was about to complain, but the stormy look on her face kept the words inside. She stalked over to my closet and began tossing clothing onto my bed.

“What’s going on?” I stood up and stifled a yawn before catching a satin dress shirt with my head.

“The Saunders!” She said it like it was an earthquake or an alien invasion. The finality and doom in her voice, combined with her sudden nervousness, made me go cold. “You need to get up and get dressed right now.”

I grabbed the suit she thrust at me and grabbed at the shirt that had fallen around my shoulders and scampered into the bathroom. I hurried through my morning routine, dressing quickly in the expensive dress suit. Rachel had a pair of stylish heels ready for me when I emerged. They were surprisingly comfortable and accented the outfit nicely. I glanced at myself in the full length mirror as Rachel pushed me out the door. Rachel had done a fantastic job shopping for me. I was amazed at how properly fitted clothes instead of baggy sweats actually made me look like a real woman instead of a lumpy sack of potatoes.

I hurried down the hallway after Rachel, trying desperately not to trip in my heels. Despite being fairly low and comfortable, I still felt wobbly on them. Especially after my incident with heels last night, I wasn’t keen on any shoe that wasn’t a sneaker.

Rachel stopped before the heavy wooden door leading into the main dining room. I rarely went into the dining room, choosing to eat at the more comfortable kitchen table or on the couch in the living room. Rachel turned and straightened my collar, her usually unreadable face pale.

“Address them as ‘Ma’am and Sir’. Do not contradict either of them, but especially not Mr. Saunders.” The way she said Mr. Saunders made it clear she meant Jack’s father. “Be more polite to them than anyone you have ever met in your life. Smile and be pleasant. For the love of God don’t tell them you are sleeping with Jack or have ever slept with Jack or even have ever thought of sleeping with him.”

I nodded, still confused as to what was going on. “Right, Sir and Ma’am. Be polite.”

“Mrs. Saunders is actually the driving force behind the two of them, but it is Mr. Saunders that wields the power in public. Pretend to ask him if you have a question, but it is Mrs. Saunders that you need to suck up to. Got it? Be brave. I’m not even supposed to be here right now, but I couldn’t send you into the lion’s den without a warning.” Rachel smoothed the fabric on my shoulders, and checked my collar one last time before flashing a nervous grin and moving out of the way for me to open the door to the dining room.

I opened the heavy wooden door, unsure of what to expect.

Inside, an attractive elderly couple was sitting across from one another, calmly sipping coffee and eating danish and scrambled eggs. It would have been a normal breakfast scene, if it weren’t for the ridiculously expensive clothing, the mahogany table with fine china, and the engraved silverware.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Saunders greeted me, setting her coffee cup down delicately on the table. She had short blonde hair swept up into an elegant style and dark brown eyes. Her features were petite, but age had put enough weight on her to make her solid. She still had high cheekbones and a regal manner that made me want to curtsey.

“Good morning. It is a pleasure to meet you both,” I said. I was glad my voice didn’t quaver despite my nerves.

“So you’re the one distracting my son and making him the center of the tabloid gossip,” Mr. Saunders said, gesturing to the stack of tabloids and newspapers on the table. The Saunders’ name blared out across several headlines, the picture of him carrying me like a child, wrath and concern battling his face. I swallowed hard and nodded.