I Married a Master(41)
Author: Melanie Marchande

Of course, I wouldn’t be able to deny her all night. Eventually I’d pull her into some secluded (but not too secluded) room and fuck her senseless, with my hand on her mouth so no one would hear her scream.

"Are you okay?"

I jolted back to reality.

"Yes," I lied, shifting in my seat. She was pressed right up against my thigh; there was no possible way to adjust my ridiculous erection without her noticing. Whether or not she could see it now, I didn’t dare speculate. "Just had a long day. Somebody pissed in the senior partners’ Cheerios."

"Well, you don’t look it," she said. "Guess that witch hazel really works, huh? You’ll be the belle of the ball."

She was grinning, but there was a real appreciation behind her voice. I wished I had the presence of mind to enjoy the complement. I did look good. But all I could think about was my dick.

"No, I’m pretty sure that’s you," I said.

"Right." She rolled her eyes. "Amongst all the billionaire heiresses and their top-dollar plastic surgery, I’m sure I’ll shine like a diamond."

She had no idea how true it was, but I couldn’t find the words to explain it to her. Especially not now. We still had nearly half an hour left in our trip, and that was assuming some kind of divine intervention with the traffic. How could I possibly survive?

I started balancing chemical equations in my head.

By the time we arrived, I’d managed to will myself down to half-mast, and Jenna had subtly scooted to towards the other side of the car. I took a deep breath and reassured myself that this night was going to be just fine, even if it didn’t end with my fingers in her mouth and my –

"We’re here," Tim announced, just trying to break the awkward silence. I thanked him, and jumped out of the car to open Jenna’s door before she had a chance to. This time, she actually let me. Mindful that my groin was at eye-level as she slid out of the car, I kept the door between us so she wouldn’t notice the lingering effects of my little fantasy.

It was a pretty nice venue. Nothing special, but I could tell from Jenna’s expression that she’d never dreamed of setting foot in a place like this. It positively dripped wealth and excess, without being outright tacky. But it was very old money. High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, gold accents, even a damn cherub fountain out front.

Jenna was gaping. Wanting to steady and guide her, I laid my hand gently on the small of her back. The naked small of her back. She shivered a little at the touch of my hand, like it was too cold for her sensitive skin. My dick twitched.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

I moved my hand to her arm and returned to my equations.

We breezed through introductions predictably, as I slowly grew to hate everyone in the room for staring at her like that. There was an air of suspicion, of this one doesn’t belong. But there was something else in many of the men’s eyes, and I hated that even more. Why the hell didn’t I choose a more modest dress? Sure, she would’ve ended up looking like a schoolmarm compared to the rest of the women here, but at least I wouldn’t be left wishing I’d strapped a knife to my ankle. Appreciating a beautiful woman was one thing, but some of these assholes were just being disrespectful.

"Everybody’s staring at me," she murmured, as we made our way around the room.

"Told you," I said. "Belle of the ball."

She laughed softly. "I’m sure that’s not why. They think I’m a gold-digger."

"They’re not thinking about anything except the way you look in that dress," I said, heatedly. "Trust me."

Her little giggle warmed something in my chest. "Even the women?"

"Especially the women," I said. "Every single one in this room is at least bi-curious right now."

"I’d say the reverse is true for you, but I don’t know if you’d take that as a complement." She grinned at me. "So I’ll just say you look damn good, Benjamin Chase."

"Thank you," I said, sincerely. "Now, how does a drink sound? There’s an open bar."

"Seriously?" Her eyes widened. "God damn it. No one gets more free stuff than the people who need it the least."

"I’ve been saying that for years," I told her, heading for the glittering wall of expensive liquor. "If there were some way to donate all of this Grey Goose to the starving orphans, believe me, I would."

"Vodka martini," she said, when she reached the bar. "Dirty. So dirty I should be arrested for drinking it in public."

The bartender smiled politely. "Very good, ma’am."

"I was hoping for a laugh, but you know, that’ll do," she muttered, as I settled next to her. Our hips were almost touching, again. I was struck with the insanely innocent urge to just hold her hand.

A moment later, I realized I could. Should, even.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

"Laughing wouldn’t be professional," I said. "You’ll probably want to try your standup routine on someone else."

Just as we got our drinks, I felt someone clap me on the shoulder. As the vodka sloshed over my shoes, I turned around, irritation written across my face.

"Hey, my man! I’ll talk to you later!" the culprit called out, as he disappeared into the crowd.

I turned to Jenna, ready to answer her unspoken question in the form of a rant, but she was still staring after him. Her mouth was hanging open slightly. "You know Spencer Holloway?" Her voice was tinged with awe.

Briefly, I racked my brain for a reason why she’d know that name. "Yes," I said, looking nonchalant about it. He was certainly a bigger deal than I was – richer, and more influential, so it was only logical she’d be a bit star-struck. Still, a little twinge of jealousy wormed its way through my chest. "Why, are you a fan?"

Jenna’s eyes were like saucers. "He owns two of the biggest film studios in the world, Ben. Did you seriously not think to mention that you happened to know the guy who controls half of the film industry?"

I’d actually forgotten. Spencer put more of his effort into the telecom side of things, so we’d never talked about his entertainment empire. From what I understood, he was mostly hands-off.

"I don’t think he pays too much attention to all that," I said. "It was just a series of lucky acquisitions. Why, do you think he’ll give you career boost?"

"He could give me a career," she hissed. "Period. At least introduce me to him."

Honestly, I was surprised. I’d never seen this side of her ambition, and I’d always assumed she would have too much misplaced pride to care if I had any useful industry connections. Instead, she was like a shark who smelled blood in the water.