He nods, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips.
“I can’t possibly wear this,” I gasp, my mouth falling open as I look at this crazy-ass thing dangling around my neck – it must studded withfiftydiamonds at least, if not a hundred, each one probably worth an insane amount of money. “If I lose it ...”
“You can throw it down a drain for I care,” he laughs. “It’syours, Jennifer. I’m giving it to you. To keep. But I’d prefer it if you justwore ittonight.”
“Marcus,” I gasp, reaching up to touch this amazing necklace dangling so perfectly from my neck, somehow totally completing my outfit, even though he couldn’t have possibly known just what I was wearing. “I don’t know what to say ...”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he murmurs in reply, leaning in to place the most delicious kiss on my neck. “Come on. Let’s go. Otherwise we’re going to be late ...”
Twenty-Four
Marcus
I normally fucking hatethese kinds of things. I mean, they’re all exactly the same. Glitzy ball rooms, crammed full of the same boring investors and socialites, the same old faces, each and every one of them out to get something for themselves, everyonenetworking– yes, even at a supposed ‘Charity’ function such as this.
But tonight?
Well, tonight feels kind of different. And that’s all down to Jennifer.
I’m so glad to have her here with me, by my side, looking so gorgeous. And I’m excited too – excited to show her off.
She looks simply stunning, and I can tell from the envious looks I’m getting from nearly every single man in the room that I’m not the only one who thinks it.
“Ah, Marcus!” a woman’s voice says behind me. “I see you’ve decided to bring along adatefor once! And who is this ravishing creature, may I ask?”
I turn around to face Elizabeth Falcroft, heiress to the Falcroft Industries fortune, one of our biggest rivals, who in the last year alone have probably cost us close to a quarter of abillionin losses.
“Ah, Elizabeth!” I smile back, utterly polite and gracious even though Falcroft poached one of our biggest clients from right under our noses, less than two months ago. “This is Jennifer Adams. Jennifer, this is Elizabeth Falcroft.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Jennifer says politely, giving Elizabeth a warm and sincere smile, kind of catching this cold and calculating woman off-guard with her sincerity.
“Oh, your dress is justfabulous,” Elizabeth gushes, obviously impressed by Jennifer’s outfit. “Where in the world did youfindit?”
I shoot Jennifer a quick glance. Damn. Why did Elizabeth have to ask that of all questions? And I can see in Jennifer’s eyes that she’s panicking now, trying to work out what she can possibly say, without giving away our little ‘arrangement’
“Yes, Jennifer has excellent taste,” I cut in. “In fact,” I add, “I think she has the makings of a fantastic designer.”
“Oh fabulous! Just fabulous!” Elizabeth laughs, taking a large gulp of her champagne, before her huge cat-like eyes latch onto some other poor unsuspecting guest and she saunters away from us to wave him down.
“Fashiondesigner?” Jennifer whispers incredulously, her lips curling in a puzzled smile. “Where the hell didthatcome from?”
“Let’s just say,” I reply, quick as a flash, “that whileyoumay be blind to your own talents, it certainly hasn’t escaped me that you’re very knowledgeable when it comes to clothes. Weren’t you telling me, just the other day, that you made almost all your own outfits for your last job?”
“Well, yes, but that’s just because I was flat outbroke,” she laughs. “I couldn’t afford to buy clothes so I had to make them out of necessity ...”
“So what?” I reply. “It doesn’t matter. I saw your sketchbook, Jennifer. You’ve got real talent. And when I look at you, I don’t just see a ‘broke girl’ who’s making her clothes out of necessity. I see an extremely talented young woman who wears her own excellent designs. And if you don’t mind me saying so, your body is also the most excellent advert for your work ...”
Twenty-Five
Jennifer
Does he really mean that?I’d never even allowed myself to dream that someone likemecould be a fashion designer. But the way he’s talking right now, guess itdoesn’tsound so crazy after all. I really could go to college to study it, couldn’t I?! Especially with the money I’ll have at the end of this week ... If the arrangement still stands, that is. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it again since our last conversation ...
“Come with me,” he murmurs just then, leaning in towards me.
“What for?” I ask, confused as to why he’d want to leave the main ballroom, especially when he’s about to make his speech, but even as I’m asking the question he’s grabbed me by the arm and whisked me away into a small side room, just off the main foyer – a dark little wood-paneled room which seems to be being used as a cloak room, although luckily there’s no attendant here right now.
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking in confusion around the dim little room. Why on Earth does he want me to come inhere?
