Turbulence
Page 43

 Whitney G.

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“Well, I hate to break it to you, Jake,” I said, feeling angrier than I’d ever felt before. “But you don’t own me.”
“I’m aware.” His forehead touched mine and he slid a hand under my dress and between my thighs, tapping my bare pussy with his fingertips. “But I’m pretty sure, for however long our arrangement lasts, that I do own this.”
My breathing slowed as he pressed his thumb directly against my clit, but I didn’t back down.
“Our arrangement only covers sex with other people, not conversations with other people.”
“Is that so?” He moved his hand away, leaving my pussy throbbing. “Do we need to add a common sense clause about not letting other people put their hands on you and you fucking laughing about it?”
“He’s the CEO’s son, Jake. The press was watching his every move. What was I supposed to do?”
“Before or after he tried to fuck you?” He damn near shouted. “Do what you do to me so easily, walk away.”
“That’s your specialty, not mine.” I felt the sudden urge to slap him. “He was drunk and I was simply being nice in entertaining him.”
“You can be nice to anyone but him. As of this moment, he no longer exists to you, so don’t say as much as one word to him again.”
“When I see him on my way out, I’ll be sure to say goodbye. I might even say, Nice seeing you again.”
“Then consider this arrangement over.”
“Because I talked to Evan Pearson?” I was on the verge of losing it. “Because you feel like he’s some type of threat?”
“Because he’s my goddamn brother.” He said it so loudly that the woman who’d just walked into the gallery stopped dead in her tracks.
“Exactly.” His attention was still on me. “So, tell me right now, Gillian, is staying the hell away from my brother while you’re fucking me going to be that much of a problem for you?”
“No.” I stared him right in the eyes. “Because I won’t be fucking you anymore. I don’t need this.” I pushed my way past him and left, not even caring that the woman who’d walked in on us was Miss Connors.
 
 
GATE B19

JAKE
New York (JFK)—>Los Angeles (LAX) The flashing white fireworks from the gala lit up the sky as I sped out of the parking lot. My blood pressure heightened with every passing second, and I was sure if I didn’t make it home within the next hour, I was going to do something I might later regret.
I was used to seeing my father’s face plastered all over the magazines and commercials, used to reading his words and rolling my eyes at his every lie, but actually seeing him face to face tonight made me realize just how much I still despised him. How much Elite and everything he stood for repulsed me.

I turned on the radio so I could focus on something else, but as thoughts of my father slipped away, thoughts of Gillian came into focus. The sight of her in that half-of-a-dress and flirting with Evan. The fact that it actually made me react.
“Our arrangement covers sex, not conversations with random people...”
Bullshit.
I made it to the valet at The Madison and didn’t bother waiting for the attendant to approach my car. I stepped out and left the keys in the ignition, quickly rushing up the building’s front steps.
“Good evening, Mr. Weston.” Jeff held the doors open. “How are the skies lately?”
“Turbulent.” I went straight to the open elevators and up to my suite, still appreciating that I no longer had to double check security each time I came home. I opened all the windows in my living room, letting the cool night air sift inside. Then I walked into my kitchen and pulled out all my shot glasses, filling them with bourbon.
I knocked back two and my voicemail system turned on.
“Welcome home. You have two new messages. Would you like to hear them?”
“Yes.”
“Please say the password.”
I tossed back shot number three. “One, eight, seven, two.”
“Message number one...” There was a beep, then a raspy voice. “Hello? Is this Deluxe Catering? This is the number that’s—”
“Next.”
“Message number two.”
“Jake, it’s me.” Riley’s whiney voice echoed throughout the living room. “Jake, I know you’re home, so pick up...Okay look. Regardless of how you feel about me, Evan and your dad, we need to talk to you. It’s really important and we’ve been using any means necessary to get your attention for years. Can you not see that? Can you not see?” She sounded as if she was actually crying. “If you’re still listening...”
“Next.”
“No new messages. Would you like me to delete the most recent messages?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You now have thirty-six archived messages. Goodbye.”
I picked up my fourth shot, ready to toss it back, but there was a loud and sudden knock at my door. The type of rude and inconsiderate knock that could only come from Riley.
With the words, “Stay the hell away from me” on my tongue, I walked over to the door, but when I swung it open, I saw Gillian.
Soaking wet, she was still dressed in the emerald green dress from the gala. Her face was flushed red, and her chest was heaving up and down.
“Yes?” I raised my eyebrow.
“We need to get a few things straight,” she said, walking straight past me and into the condo. “We’re going to get through this right now and I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”
I slammed the door shut and tossed back my shot.
She crossed her arms and waited for me to look at her as her dress dripped water onto my floor.
“You can’t talk to me the way you did at the gala. You can’t ever talk to me like that again. I’m not your fucking doormat and I’m not some little doe-eyed girl who’s so desperate for your cock, that I’ll let you treat me any kind of way.”
“Gillian—”
“I’m still talking.” She cut me off, seething. “I am still talking, Jake. Not you. You’ve said what you had to say in the rudest way possible and right now, it’s my turn.”
I blinked.
“I know that you don’t really know me, that you don’t even want to know me outside of the bedroom, but you need to know this anyway. I have to be respected. Always. You will respect me for as long as we continue this arrangement and if you have a problem with something or “think” I’ve done something to betray what we’ve agreed on, you will talk to me like I’m a human being and not a goddamn possession.”
She paced the floor as she spoke, keeping her eyes on mine. “I’m the one who’s risking the most by sleeping with you. If we’re reported, I get an automatic termination, but since you’re a pilot you’d only get a slap on the wrist and a write-up. So, the least you could do is try to show me some respect. And you can start with an apology for blowing up on me the way you did in that gallery.” She suddenly stopped walking and let out a breath. “That was cruel and unnecessary, Jake. It was also very humiliating.”