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Wait, what the fuck was that?
Uneasy, I hesitated, but then stepped inside when she looked back at me.
No. I hadn’t felt that smile in my chest. Maybe lower, as I imagined seeing that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick, but that was it.
Jami was curled up on the couch with a book and barely glanced at me. “These are for you,” I said, offering the roses.
She lifted an eyebrow as she accepted them, but there was no softening in her eyes, and definitely no smile. “Thanks.”
She rose and went to join Jessica, and I watched them fill vases for the flowers. At least Jami hadn’t tossed them on the couch and gone back to her damn book. I’d take whatever progress I could get.
Jessica’s smile meant more. It wasn’t the same professional smile I’d seen from her during most of our interactions. It was softer and gave me hope that I could get past her defenses and get her into my bed, if not tonight, then soon.
I was eager to discover a whole new set of things about her. What she looked like under that dress. The sounds she made when she came. How prettily she could take my cock in her mouth. Her pussy. Her ass.
“I’m ready,” she said as she came back over to me.
I held out my arm and she took it. I thanked the stars that it was June, and she wasn’t going to cover up that dress with a coat.
As we made our way down the stairs, she asked, “I did a little research after you told me about your family’s foundation, but I thought you could tell me a little more about what they do so I don’t come across as completely ignorant.”
I could honestly say this was the first time any woman had ever said anything like that to me. On the rare occasions I brought women to events with me, they mostly wanted to know the people they’d be meeting, what everyone would be wearing. While I hadn’t expected her interest, once I thought about it, it didn’t surprise me. Jessica was an intelligent woman who didn’t pretend to be otherwise.
I smiled as I realized I might actually enjoy this evening for something more than the anticipation of what might come after.
* * *
The last fewminutes of our drive to The Beekman, Jessica and I discussed what we’d tell my family about our relationship. I definitely didn’t want any of them knowing this was a business arrangement, even though I had a feeling my father would approve of that more than a real relationship. I couldn’t risk one of them accidentally saying something to the wrong person and I knew the truth wouldn’t sit well with the general public.
So we’d stick with something simple and fairly close to the truth. We’d say that we’d met at work, hit it off, and had been on a few dates. As our relationship progressed, it would seem natural to my family, and when we divorced after a year, I’d just say that we weren’t compatible.
My family knew me well enough that they’d easily accept that as the whole truth.
If Jessica was anxious about meeting my family, she didn’t show it. Her composure was flawless as we entered the event room, and she didn’t even blink at the virtual who’s who of New York high society who filled the guest list. Politicians, philanthropists, old money and new, all coming here to see and be seen.
“Derrick! Good to see you, my boy.” Senator Fitzpatrick clapped me on the shoulder with a hearty laugh and then turned his attention to Jessica. “And who is this lovely lady?”
“Yes, Derrick,” a dry voice came from behind me. “Do introduce us to your date.”
My smile tightened as I turned slightly to acknowledge the silver-haired man coming over to stand next to the senator.
“Good evening, Father.”
I felt Jessica tense, but her expression didn’t change from the pleasant, bland mask that I recognized from some of her interactions with me.
“Senator, Father, I’d like you to meet Jessica Ellis. Jessica, this is Senator Douglas Fitzpatrick, a longtime family friend, and my father, Bertram Thomas.”
She held out her hand to the senator first. “Pleased to meet you, Senator.”
I clenched my jaw as Fitzpatrick held her hand a little longer than necessary, but she didn’t complain, so I held my temper.
“And Mr. Thomas. A pleasure.”
I could tell by the surprise in my father’s hazel eyes that Jessica had given him the sort of firm, professional handshake that was more common in business than it was at something like this. He took it as a compliment though. He might’ve had specific opinions towards women when it came to relationships, but he respected the ones who were just as work-minded as he was.
Not that Jessica was anything like Bertie Thomas.
Thank God for that.