Chapter 5 – Alyssa
My boyfriend has been a surly bag of sour grapes for a whole week now. Something about Mr. Bradley being a “huge stupid dick” which is the pinnacle of crass talk for Julian. It only happens when he’s had a shitton to drink and makes stumbling around his penthouse look like an Olympic sport.
As it so happened, I was too distracted by schoolwork to give a shit. I finished most of my finals ahead of time (when possible) thanks to Julian’s giant distraction and Vern not having much for me to do at this time of year. How many women get paid to sit around a high-rise office doing their homework in the afternoon? No better scene for typing eight page papers about the American economy in 1982!
Julian has a business trip this weekend. As a congratulatory present to me finishing my junior year and as a way for him to chill the fuck out, he’s taking me along instead of hopping his private jet with Vern like he usually does. Oh, Julian and I have done some jet setting since we started dating, but nothing as glamorous as the east coast. The most we’ve done is Seattle and parts of California. He promises to take me to Hawaii this July and anywhere I want to go in the whole world right before I start senior year. How do I say no to that? It also tells me that he expects us to still be together then, which speaks to my young, romantic heart.
If this is what young love is, then I never want to grow up.
I take Julian’s hand as we descend the stairs from his private Gulfstream and step onto New England soil. Stu follows us, on the phone coordinating his local team that will follow us around for most of the weekend. I have no ill feelings toward Stu since he only ever does his job – and Julian is a tough boss, trust me, I know – but I can’t help but think that he’s so unnecessary right now. Julian is more than man enough to protect me should some whacko jump out of the bushes and try to rob us. Mr. Marcus does not skimp out on his workouts.
He stops to kiss me before lowering his sunglasses and turning to our temporary driver. “We’re heading straight to the hotel.”
“Yes, Mr. Marcus.” The driver already has the door open. Julian stands out of the way so I can get in first. It’s the little things, you know?
“We won’t be staying in the hotel for long, Lyssa,” he says to me, hand clasped firmly around mine. “So once we get there, I suggest you freshen up and change into something nice but comfortable. It’s going to be an interesting evening, to say the least.”
“You said as much before we left.” We’re meeting with Mr. Monroe and his team tonight and tomorrow so they can finalize their deal. Originally. Mr. Monroe was supposed to come out to Portland again, but his wife went into labor, what, a week ago? So Julian decided to take me on a quick trip instead, because Mr. Monroe is not leaving the same city his wife and newborn are in if he can help it. “What restaurant are we heading to?” I’m his assistant on this trip, so I should know, right? Except that was left up in the air all the way up until we took off from Portland. I can only imagine what Mr. Monroe decided in the five hours it took us to get here.
“We’re not going to a restaurant,” Julian says. “You’ll see.”
The hotel suite is exactly what I expected. Big, airy, and sparkling clean from top to bottom. The view of the city core almost rivals Julian’s view from his penthouse. Almost. That one is more romantic, of course, because I’ve looked at it a hundred times after making love with him. Nothing can truly compare.
But it’s almost enough to distract me from what Julian had instructed. He’s already in the bathroom changing into a fresh suit and touching up his five o’clock shadow. I open my suitcase and search for the business dress I was going to wear for tonight’s first meeting.
“Not that one,” Julian calls from the bathroom. “I know you packed a cocktail dress, Lyssa.”
“You do, huh?”
He pokes his head out, a mischievous grin that I can’t interpret spread across his lips. “Black. Slinky. Make it happen, Lyssa.”
How about that? I happen to have a slinky black cocktail dress in my bag!
Not sure how an open back, short skirt, and plunging neckline is going to pass at a business meeting, but I’ve long learned to stop asking questions.
Like I really should nod and smile when he reaches around me and wraps a black leather choker around my neck.
“Told you I’d get something made for you.”
I freeze, looking at us in the mirror. My black dress suddenly gets ten times sexier with a black choker resting on my skin. “What…?”
“Trust me, Lyssa, it’s part of the dress code of where we’re going.” He walks away in a cloud of sandalwood and cinnamon cologne. I’m left standing here wondering what the hell is happening.
I have a feeling we’re not going to the country club.
