Blasphemous (Torn #3)(67)
Okay, I admit, that made me feel a little better. It was petty and I was in no way competing for Bass, but it was good to hear it anyway. “What happened to that woman you were talking about before? Progress, at all?”
“Ah, you haven’t forgotten.” He shook his head, looking away. “Nothing happened with her. These things you can’t force. If it happens, then it’s splendid. If it doesn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.”
Why leave it to fate when you can forge your own? I wanted to say, but instead I tried to understand what his words truly meant. “That’s a way to see things.”
“I’m not going to say that I don’t think of her, I do,” Jacques said with melancholy, wondering what made this woman so difficult for him to get.
“Me, too. I may hate his guts, but I do I want him to be happy. However, whenever I do think of him, I end up sad and upset. It’s been months now. I should be over it already.”
The Frenchman gave a shrug before getting me a drink from a passing waiter and handing me the French martini. “Who cares if it’s days, months, or years; does it make a difference? No, I don’t believe that. What happened to that other ex?”
Carter. “He’s there. We’re friends…” I implied, coquettishly.
“With benefits?”
I laughed as I carefully took a sip of my refreshing drink. “That we are, but I like it this way for now. I need some time on my own. No commitment or obligations. Free to do whatever I want.”
“Accompany me, greet my old friend while we make the ex jealous. I feel a little cheeky the more he sends me those deadly looks.”
Just want I needed. Thank God for the Jacques in the world. “How do we play this?” Beyond eager to comply with what he had in mind.
“I’ll lead and you simply act in awe of me.”
“Sure, let’s inflate your ego some more, why don’t we?” I teased as he loosely placed his hand behind my back, guiding me towards them.
Dimitris greeted Jacques when we got to their table. He even introduced Bass and Jacques in the same language. What caught me off guard was when Bass started speaking in French as well.
Okay, I had to get it together. I scolded myself when I was tempted to jump his bones as he sexily spoke the language I had no clue of.
Pretending not to be affected while Bass shot me murderous glares was a feat.
We were in a circular, white, lounge chair that could fit four to five people max. Jacques and I sat comfortably, with me leaning against his chest, while he played with my fingers atop the table, or seductively brushed my hair, or playfully traced the thin strap of my monokini. They were subtle and in no way over the top.
But it worked.
Bass was silently breaking before my very eyes while he blatantly stared me down, tomato red with jealousy.
Even when he was already about to pop his lid, he still tried to remain courteous because we were in Dimitris’s home and at his party. Bass wasn’t the kind to make a scene. No matter how hard he tried to appear composed, I wasn’t fooled.
When Dimitris and Jacques resorted back to English and began discussing racing and other sports, I decided to get up and excuse myself to use the powder room. Before letting me go, Jacques took hold of my hand and kissed it, eyes sparkled with naughtiness. “Don’t be too long, chèrie. I might miss you too much.”
Reaching to feel his stubble, I smiled with pure enjoyment. “Isn’t he just so amazing? My naughty Frenchman.” I bent over and gave him a sensual kiss. Not French, but somewhere in between sweet and sexy.
The main reason why I wanted to go in the powder room was to call Lindsey. The more I sat there with the guys, the more I thought about the shitstorm Lindsey was in.
I strolled indoors, towards one of the private powder rooms that weren’t open to the rest of the partygoers. Perks of being friends with the homeowner.
Taking my phone out of my purse, I let myself inside the gilded room with black granite wall and flooring. It had two, cream, Marie Antoinette chaise lounges and I immediately darted towards one.
Chapter 28
“They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!”
- C. Joybell. C.
Bass
I was seeing red as I strode to catch up with the woman who was walking with provocativeness, past caring that her ass was attracting a lot of attention or her cleavage that bounced with every step she took was instant-hard-on material.
She was in a flurry to get in the bathroom and I immediately pushed the door before it managed to close itself. That wasn’t on the top of the list of my incensed, past provoked, Neanderthal condition. No, that wasn’t the top one at all.
Emma looked up from her phone, taken aback at seeing me and I saw her anger come. “What the hell are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?”
Her anger be damned, I thought as I eyed her body scathingly, up and down, until she knew what I thought of it. “What in God’s name are you f*uking toying with here, Emma? If you want to slut yourself around, I advise you do it somewhere private.”