How else should I react to being invited to dinner with two, deliciously attractive billionaires? Who are drop dead gorgeous with eyes that weaken my knees? Yeah, anyone would be freaking out. Luckily, I had a fashion mogul as a friend to help me find something.
I had an old cocktail dress I wore once to a mixer with the business association at school. It was a nude, pink color and pretty modest at the top, while the back had crossing lines. It stopped at my knees, and cinched my small waist to make my already ample hips look bigger. I had washed my hair in the shower, so once I applied some mouse it dried into thick waves.
“You look awesome. Don’t even worry. Just be yourself—well, less
of a bitch.” Sarai was putting my lip stick on for me and I rolled my eyes.
I had a few people tell me I was a bitch, or had a chip on my shoulder. But I just spoke my mind when people would rather I stayed silent. That doesn’t work for me. so, I just keep my head up and out of the gutter, and I don’t let people step on me. Being a woman in the business world would be hard enough, being a pushover or accepting defeat definitely wouldn’t work in my favor.
‘See? You look awesome!”
I stared back in the mirror. My eyeshadow was a lighter color to match the dress, and my cleavage looked amazing. And I finished it off with black, strappy heels. They gave me a few inches, so I felt less plumpy.
I don’t think I was ever ashamed of my body, but when everyone else is lithe and athletic, or looked like Sarai, I couldn’t help but wish my thighs were smaller, my hips not as wide or my breasts smaller. The only men in my life had come after me because of my T&A. It got really old.
“Thanks. What time is it?”
“Six-fifty.”
My heart skipped fifty-four beats before it tried to settle, and I felt it in my stomach. I knew this wasn’t a date, of course. They would both be there…but I can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. The two of them, together…I shook it from my head.
It was just a business meeting. A business dinner, rather.
If they were older, had graying hair and looked like the accomplishments before them, then I wouldn’t be so worried. But they didn’t. They were drop dead gorgeous.
Jake was ribbed with muscle, and they looked like they don’t come from conventional workouts. He was rough, and raw on the edges. Logan had that darkness to him, but it was contained and soft in a way. A very attractive way. Gosh, they are both so attractive. I felt every nerve in my body coming alive at the thought of them.
It had been four months since I last had sex. That had to be the problem, why I was acting so crazy.
Five minutes until seven, I descended the stairs with a go ahead from Sarai, and a promise to divulge all the secrets from the night.
I expected an older man and a town car, but outside stood a young man with low cut hair and a suit hugging every inch of his muscles. Do they only employ pretty people? Had I made that cut? I shivered at the thought.
“Miss Jackson?” He leaned off of the car, I couldn’t tell where he was looking because of his Aviators.
“Yes.” I tried to say confidently, but it came out like more of a question.
“Good evening.” He opened the door to the sleek, black luxury car. I think I caught the logo as a Lexus.
That was another thing about Logan and Jake. They weren’t too flashy, or overly conspicuous. You would never know if they were around you, or in your general vicinity because they didn’t make themselves seen like nearly everyone else of their status. It made me feel that much more at ease about dinner with them. There wouldn’t be a bunch of cameras or attention on us.
Their driver was quiet and kept his eyes on the road while I twiddled my thumbs in the back. I wished I could be studying, it sure would be a lot more relaxing. The drive was easy, twenty minutes later he was in the valet lane letting me out.
“Thank you.” I said, he simply nodded in response. I looked closer and knew I recognized him from somewhere. When Jake did promo work for his gym, he was one of the fighters. I should have known that’s why Jake looked the way he did, he still trains like a fighter.
The thought sent a swell of warmth right to my core. I entered the restaurant, unsure of where to go. The inside was calm, dim lights with dark table settings and cloth. I told the hostess what I was there for, and she led me to a back room.
Up the steps and to the right was a sort of private section, and I saw their figures sitting down.
“Your guest is here.” The hostess was a chipper young woman, eyeing them very indiscreetly. I don’t know why I suddenly felt jealous. After all, I was the one having dinner with them.
They both stood and turned to face me. I was weak in the knees, the only thing holding me up was my dignity and the fear of fainting. They both wore suits; Logan an ink black and Jake a cold gray. My goodness.
It wrapped every inch of their muscles, their powerful arms and heavy thighs. I was short of breath, but I composed myself to mutter a, “Hello.”
They both smiled kindly, and I shook their hands innocently. Though it felt more like an initiation to even more sexual feelings coursing through my body.
“Thank you for joining us. I know the notice was late,” Logan said. And Jake just stared.