you make the signing day after tomorrow?”
I sigh, relieved, and answer with nonchalance. “Sure.”
I was fearful that she’d have a fit when she gets to the part in the contract where he wants us to consider another location. I’m glad I’ll be at work when she reads it tomorrow.
Looking down, I realize that my hands are shaking, and I hope Jada doesn’t notice. She’s too absorbed in her budgets and break-even analyses.
The late dinner I whip up for us of broiled salmon steaks, asparagus, and Papas Bravas, the Brazilian version of oven-fried potatoes, delights Jada to no end.
“Thanks, roomie,” she says, chomping on an asparagus spear. “This is delicious. I’m so glad you’re such an excellent cook; otherwise I’d starve.”
“You know I’ve got your back. You just keep washing these dishes.” I smirk, and she snarls at me, but she knows our arrangement is a perfect trade-off.
We finish up, and the doorbell rings before our dinner can settle in our tummies.
Jada answers the door, no doubt delaying the inevitable clearing of the table as long as she can. I help her along by scraping off the dishes and stacking them by the sink. She returns with a bouquet of roses and two packages, one addressed to us together, the other to me.
I take the flowers and set them on the table as Jada prattles on. “The delivery man gave explicit instructions. You are only to open your package when you’re alone.” She hands me my box. Suspicion blossoms on her face. “What the fuck?” She looks at me and finds her answer in my guilty countenance.
Her eyes widen, and she gasps. “Did you screw Tristan White while I was gone?”
Knowing that I will not be able to lie convincingly about it, I nod helplessly.
“Well, how was he? Wait—don’t answer that until we see what’s in these damn boxes.” With that she sets the box in her arms gently onto the kitchen table and tears into it. Inside is a bottle of chilled, Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam Champagne. “Fancy stuff!” She crows, then reads the card.
“Ms. Jameson and Ms. Beale, please enjoy the flowers and have a drink of celebration on me. Here’s to a long and mutually satisfying business relationship.” Jada squeals and I jump. Tristan White brings out the uncharacteristic in every damn body. She runs to the cabinet and grabs two champagne glasses, rinses them, and returns with a corkscrew.
We have popped the cork and had our first sip before she drags me back onto the sofa in the living room.
“Okay, now spill.”
“In a moment of lust, weakness, whatever, I slept with Tristan White at his Gold Coast condo this weekend,” I say, like I’d just told her what I’d eaten for breakfast.
Jada glares at me. “You told me that Byron wouldn’t go down on you without me even asking, I know you can tell me more than that about your romantic interlude with Tristan fucking White.”
“That’s just it, Jada, there wasn’t a damn thing romantic about it. I had an itch, and he scratched it. End of story.”
“Don’t give me that,” she says. “He gave us more money than we asked for, and he just sent you a present. I think he likes you.”
If only you knew.
“He sent both of us presents. Let’s not make more of it than we should,” I say. “We have a business relationship with this man. As much as it would flatter me to think so, I don’t think the little piece I gave him will change that.”
“Then, fuck that delivery man. Open that package and let’s see what’s in there.”
Fearing that it might be some kinky BDSM thing he’s sent me, I decline. “No. Tristan is manic about his privacy. He’ll know if you’ve seen it, trust me.”
Jada pouts. “So, it’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s like that,” I say. Then I rush to reassure her. “I won’t fuck things up with Tristan for us businesswise, I promise.”
#
After showering and getting ready for bed, I grab my package and open it in the privacy of my bedroom.
I sigh, relieved, and answer with nonchalance. “Sure.”
I was fearful that she’d have a fit when she gets to the part in the contract where he wants us to consider another location. I’m glad I’ll be at work when she reads it tomorrow.
Looking down, I realize that my hands are shaking, and I hope Jada doesn’t notice. She’s too absorbed in her budgets and break-even analyses.
The late dinner I whip up for us of broiled salmon steaks, asparagus, and Papas Bravas, the Brazilian version of oven-fried potatoes, delights Jada to no end.
“Thanks, roomie,” she says, chomping on an asparagus spear. “This is delicious. I’m so glad you’re such an excellent cook; otherwise I’d starve.”
“You know I’ve got your back. You just keep washing these dishes.” I smirk, and she snarls at me, but she knows our arrangement is a perfect trade-off.
We finish up, and the doorbell rings before our dinner can settle in our tummies.
Jada answers the door, no doubt delaying the inevitable clearing of the table as long as she can. I help her along by scraping off the dishes and stacking them by the sink. She returns with a bouquet of roses and two packages, one addressed to us together, the other to me.
I take the flowers and set them on the table as Jada prattles on. “The delivery man gave explicit instructions. You are only to open your package when you’re alone.” She hands me my box. Suspicion blossoms on her face. “What the fuck?” She looks at me and finds her answer in my guilty countenance.
Her eyes widen, and she gasps. “Did you screw Tristan White while I was gone?”
Knowing that I will not be able to lie convincingly about it, I nod helplessly.
“Well, how was he? Wait—don’t answer that until we see what’s in these damn boxes.” With that she sets the box in her arms gently onto the kitchen table and tears into it. Inside is a bottle of chilled, Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam Champagne. “Fancy stuff!” She crows, then reads the card.
“Ms. Jameson and Ms. Beale, please enjoy the flowers and have a drink of celebration on me. Here’s to a long and mutually satisfying business relationship.” Jada squeals and I jump. Tristan White brings out the uncharacteristic in every damn body. She runs to the cabinet and grabs two champagne glasses, rinses them, and returns with a corkscrew.
We have popped the cork and had our first sip before she drags me back onto the sofa in the living room.
“Okay, now spill.”
“In a moment of lust, weakness, whatever, I slept with Tristan White at his Gold Coast condo this weekend,” I say, like I’d just told her what I’d eaten for breakfast.
Jada glares at me. “You told me that Byron wouldn’t go down on you without me even asking, I know you can tell me more than that about your romantic interlude with Tristan fucking White.”
“That’s just it, Jada, there wasn’t a damn thing romantic about it. I had an itch, and he scratched it. End of story.”
“Don’t give me that,” she says. “He gave us more money than we asked for, and he just sent you a present. I think he likes you.”
If only you knew.
“He sent both of us presents. Let’s not make more of it than we should,” I say. “We have a business relationship with this man. As much as it would flatter me to think so, I don’t think the little piece I gave him will change that.”
“Then, fuck that delivery man. Open that package and let’s see what’s in there.”
Fearing that it might be some kinky BDSM thing he’s sent me, I decline. “No. Tristan is manic about his privacy. He’ll know if you’ve seen it, trust me.”
Jada pouts. “So, it’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s like that,” I say. Then I rush to reassure her. “I won’t fuck things up with Tristan for us businesswise, I promise.”
#
After showering and getting ready for bed, I grab my package and open it in the privacy of my bedroom.
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