Chapter
THIRTEEN
If Julia had been the type of woman to employ teenage-girl terms, she would have been squeeing over her hot AF bae. Even though she and Warren were keeping it low-key, she was totally pumped.
Legit.
She walked into the front door of her studio and deposited two trays loaded with tall skinny lattes on the reception counter. Marco looked up from the computer and blinked.
“Are we throwing these at someone today?” he asked politely.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, whatever that means.” Julia waved her hand at the coffee. “Distribute those to the others.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Let’s not overdo it.” Julia strode toward her office. “I want the Deck the Halls programs on my desk by ten, the Zuzu photo spread finalized by ten-thirty, and the schedule for the lookbook shoot completed by eleven.”
“I knew Christmas miracles couldn’t last,” Marco muttered.
Julia closed the door behind her, shedding her suede coat before she sat at her desk. She opened her Montblanc agenda, pleased to see a number of checkmarks beside her list of action items. She was getting it done. Like she always did.
Her phone rang with a call from Holiday Festival committee member Minnie. For the first time since she’d taken on the task of coordinating Deck the Halls, Julia answered the call without a sinking feeling of dread.
“Hello, Minnie,” she said brightly. “This is Julie.”
“Hello, Julie. I wanted to confirm everything for this weekend. Santa’s Sleigh and the Sugar Rush Kid Zone will be open Friday starting at four for the first night of the festival, then all day Saturday. Deck the Halls will start at six, expected to run for three hours, concluding with the fireworks display over the ocean.”
“Perfect.”
“It’s all set?” Minnie almost sounded surprised.
“Yes, it is. Happy Holidays.” Julia ended the call with a smile. Damn, she felt good. All loose and warm, like a marshmallow swimming in hot cocoa.
“Package for you.” Marco strode into Julia’s office with a box wrapped in brown paper.
Julia opened the box to reveal a 1000-piece puzzle of a London Christmas scene with lighted windows, snowy sidewalks, and a double-decker bus turning the corner.
As if she had time to complete a 1000-piece puzzle.
“Gift for my nephew,” she said in answer to Marco’s raised brows. “I’m leaving early this afternoon. I need to finish organizing the Christmas Day festivities at Warren’s. Anything I need to know about Deck the Halls?”
“Sounds like everyone is ready to go,” Marco said. “I have the Jingle Belles scheduled to come in at two on Saturday afternoon to get ready for the show. Speaking of which, have you decided what you’re going to wear on performance night?”
Good heavens. She’d been so busy thinking of everyone else’s costumes she hadn’t considered her own. How odd.
“Maybe the green Versace. Take out a few options for me. I’ll try them on later.”
She spent the morning refining the designs for her “older woman” clothing line, thinking she really had to come up with a better way to describe it. After lunch—Marco brought her a gourmet plate of grilled salmon, wild rice, and an asparagus salad—Julia headed to Ocean Avenue to finish up a few things for the family gathering on Christmas Day.
She turned to the “Xmas Day” page in her Montblanc agenda, where most of the action items were checked off. The Stones didn’t exchange extravagant presents during the holidays, given that none of them actually needed anything, but Julia liked giving her nephews and niece personal gifts they would like—a botany book for Hailey, a travel backpack for Adam, a fountain pen for Luke, a wood-carving set for Evan.
For the past few years, she’d bought Warren a model kit, but he’d been getting away from modeling lately. Maybe she needed to get him new hiking boots, given his increased outdoor activities.
She paused to look in the window of a baby and children’s boutique. Soft booties and blankets, fuzzy stuffed animals, tiny onesies and jumpers. A shadow of regret passed through her. Was there ever a time in life when what if wasn’t a question? What if she’d had a baby? What if Sam hadn’t left her? What if Rebecca hadn’t died?
She opened the door of the boutique. A little bell announced her arrival, and a saleswoman approached.
“Can I help you find something today?” she asked pleasantly.
“Yes,” Julia said. “A… friend of mine is expecting a new granddaughter any day now. I’d like to get her a gift for the baby, but I don’t know what she already has.”
“Oh, no problem. We have so many options, and honestly, it never hurts for a baby to have more than one of something.”
Julia spent the next hour perusing all the store’s offerings. By the time she left, she had a bag full of organic cotton baby girl clothes, an organic fleece stuffed elephant, a baby rattle made of polished cherry wood, and an untreated Indian-wood play gym with little hand-knit animal toys.
She returned to her car, a bit surprised to realize it was the first time she’d ever bought baby clothes herself. Whenever someone she knew had been pregnant, she’d always sent an assistant to purchase a gift, or she’d ordered something online.
Maybe she should add that to her Before Fifty list. Buy baby clothes.
She checked her phone, where a text from Warren was waiting.
WARREN: Tonight, put on the black La Perla chemise.
JULIA: How do you know I have an LP chemise?
WARREN: Saw it in your drawer this morning.
JULIA: You went through my lingerie drawer?
WARREN: To pick out what you’re going to wear tonight.
JULIA: What if I don’t want to wear it?
WARREN: You sure you want to play that game again?
A little tingle of anticipation went through her.
JULIA: Maybe.
She set the phone aside and started the car. Or maybe she’d make up a game of her own. With her own rules.
Knowing he was alone at home, she drove to his house. He was in his office, looking incredibly sexy and rumpled in his white dress shirt, his tie loose and the shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.
Julia closed and locked the door behind her with a sharp click. He glanced up, eyeing her over the tops of his reading glasses.
“Remember when you told me you like taking control?” she asked.
“Uh huh.” His gaze skimmed over her YSL suede dress and stocking-clad legs. “You like it too, if I recall.”
“What would you do if I gave you an order?”
Interest sparked in his brown eyes. “Try it, and you’ll find out.”
“Move away from the desk.”
He pushed his chair back, leaving a space between him and the desk.
“Take out your cock.”
He stared at her for a second before a curse broke from his lips. He shifted to unfasten his belt and lower his zipper. Julia’s breath increased as she watched him. He had such a fucking beautiful cock—long and thick with that big, smooth tip that she wanted to lick like a lollipop. He held the shaft in his palm, his body tensing with restraint.
Julia pushed away from the door and approached, her blood starting to heat. Even in the short distance from the door to his desk, he grew noticeably harder, his shaft thickening and expanding in his loose grip. Arousal curled through her.
She edged herself between him and the desk, her gaze still on his growing erection. He tightened his fingers around his shaft, a heavy breath escaping him.
“Let go of it,” Julia ordered.
He released his cock, which stuck out of the fly of his trousers like an invitation. Julia pushed his chair back a bit more and sank to her knees in front of him. Before he could move, she placed her hands on his thighs and leaned forward to take the tip of his cock in her mouth.
He groaned, fisting his hand in her hair. “Fuck, Jules…”
She gripped his thighs, only touching his cock with her mouth. The taste of him flooded through her. She lowered her head slowly, taking him in inch by inch, as his fist tightened in her hair and his muscles tightened with urgency.
“Lick it,” he said.
She pulled back, her breathing fast and her skin hot. “You’re not giving the orders.”
He groaned and rested his head on the back of the chair. Julia smiled to herself and sucked his cock into her mouth again. She took her time, tracing the pulsing veins on his shaft, swirling her tongue over the damp head, wiggling her fingers down to cup his heavy testicles.
She squirmed and pressed her thighs together to ease the ache in her clit. She pulled back and took a breath, her lust spiking higher at the sight of his wet shaft, the tip now darkened to the deep color of a plum. She rose to her feet, steadying herself on his thighs.
“Take off your… shit.” He bit the order back, his glazed eyes on her breasts.
Julia grasped the hem of her dress and wiggled it up past her hips.
“Christ, you’re killing me.” Warren’s gaze snapped to her garter belt and stockings—and complete lack of panties. “You’ve been walking around like that all day?”
“Mmm. Felt the air tickling my pussy every time I took a step.”
“Naughty girl.” He straightened, reaching to slide his hand up her thigh.
Much as she craved his touch, Julia slapped his hand away. “God, you are such a control-freak. You have to do what I say.”
“Then tell me to touch you.”
“You can touch me after you make me come with your cock.”
Warren gave a hoarse laugh and leaned back in the chair, working his trousers and boxers down. “I would be more than happy to follow that order.”
Julia straddled his thighs, bracing her hands on the back of the chair as she positioned herself. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She lowered herself onto him, his cock easily sliding through her slick folds and into her. Lower and lower she slid, her body tensing as she took him in until her ass rested on his thighs and the length of his shaft throbbed inside her.
God. Her blood pulsed in rhythm with his. He brought his hands up to either side of her head, bringing her lips down to his. He slid his tongue into her mouth, bit down gently on her lower lip. Heat bloomed inside her, spreading tendrils through her veins.
“Move.” His voice was guttural with need.
Deciding to ignore the fact that he’d technically given her an order, Julia lifted her body and brought it down again. Pleasure shot through her. Warren’s hot breath rasped against her neck, his hands sliding down to clutch her ass. She rode him harder, straining to find a rhythm, tension spinning and coiling through her blood. His thighs tightened beneath her.
“Fuck, I can’t wait much longer.” His fingers dug into her ass. He thrust upward as she sank down, creating an explosive heat that made her blood burn.
Julia moved her hand to the slippery button of her clit. One touch was all it took. She cried out, her body convulsing around his shaft as bliss rolled and pitched throughout her entire body. She shuddered, still feeling him pulsing inside her. With a muffled grunt, he drove upward, thrusting deep before filling her with his release.
Julia gasped, draping her arms around his neck as she went slack against him.
“You are the GOAT,” she murmured.
He pulled back to look at her. “Did you just say I was a goat?”
“Greatest Of All Time.” Julia kissed his nose. “You wouldn’t understand millennial slang like I do.”
“I guess not.” He straightened as she eased off him. “But I definitely 143.”
Julia arched an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
He smirked. “Look it up, dime-piece.”
Julia stood behind her desk, studying the sketches her assistant Anisa had placed in front of her. She crossed her arms and frowned, tapping her fingernails on her sleeves.
“So this is what you’ve come up with now?” she asked crisply.
Anisa nodded. “Um, I was going for trendy and… stuff.”
Julia gave her a sharp glare. “You just about put me to sleep with that description.”
Anxiety flashed in the younger woman’s eyes. “But do you like the designs?”
“Not if that’s how you’re going to describe them.”
Anisa shifted her weight from one stiletto heel to the other and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She stared at the sketches she’d put on Julia’s desk.
Julia snapped her fingers. The sharp crack jerked Anisa to attention.
“Look at me,” Julia ordered. “If you want to succeed in fashion, you must know how to interact, no matter how intimidating a person is—and believe me when I tell you this industry is filled with people who will kiss you one minute and stab you in the back the next. Now stand up straight, look me in the eye, and tell me what the fuck your vision is for these designs.”
Anisa put her shoulders back and took a deep breath. Though her hands trembled, her voice was steady as she said, “I want these designs to appeal to creative people. Artists, writers, photographers. So they have to be comfortable, with fabrics that move and breathe, and styles that are a bit edgy and innovative.”
“Now distill that into a few words.”
Anisa bit her lip, then said, “Creative… comfortable, and… uh, compelling? No, captivating?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Creative. Comfortable. Captivating.”
Julia studied the designs again, then gave a short nod of approval.
“Well done,” she said. “Bring me the prototypes when you’ve finished them.”
Anisa stared at her in shock. “Are you serious?”
“Am I ever not serious?” Julia sat back down behind her desk and waved for Anisa to take the sketches away. “Now go away before I do something silly like tell you you have talent.”
Anisa scrambled to gather the sketches, clutching them to her chest as she hurried to the door.
“Anisa,” Julia called sharply.
The younger woman stopped and turned, her eyes still wide with disbelief.
“You do, you know,” Julia said. “Have talent. A great deal, from what I’ve seen so far.”
A radiant smile bloomed over Anisa’s face, transforming her from a pretty girl into one of great beauty.
“Thank you, Julia.” She backed away, still holding her sketches close. “I mean… really, thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me… thank you.”
Julia flicked her hand to the door. “Go.”
Still smiling, Anisa turned and hurried away.
Julia focused on her emails. If she were the type of person who enjoyed making other people feel good about their talents, she’d have been smiling too.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Oh, look at that. She was smiling.
Her intercom buzzed.
“Gird your loins,” Marco advised. “Vincent Peck of Evermore Associates, line one.”
Her insides went cold.
“Should I hang up on him?” Marco asked.
“No, I’ll take it.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, and switched the line.
“Hello, Vincent,” she said coolly.
“Julia. I know I’m on your shit list,” he said. “But I just heard some interesting things about you through the grapevine.”
“What did you hear?”
“That you might be tapping into an underserved and unique demographic,” Vincent said. “Maybe I can give you more advice.”
“You didn’t give me advice. You insulted me.”
“Potato, potahtoe. I’d like to take a look at your new portfolio.”
“I’m sure you would,” Julia said dryly. “But I’m afraid my portfolio will be too mature for you.”
“Come on, Julia, business is business, right? Don’t hold a grudge. Appear didn’t work out for us, but that doesn’t mean this won’t.”
“If you’re interested, you’ll have to do some groveling to get back on my good side.”
“If I like what I see, I’ll wear a hair shirt to win you over.”
Julia agreed to give him access to her online portfolio and hung up the phone. She opened her sketchbook and drew a quick caricature of Vincent Peck wearing a hair shirt. She added it to the portfolio and emailed him the link.
Never let it be said she wasn’t a professional.