Taylored to Perfection (Taylor Made Book 2) Read online

  “Graham, this is too much.” I look to him confused.

  “This last week, Emelia, I can’t begin to describe what it’s been like to have to see you every day but not come home to you. Not have you in my bed. Not have you around me. I didn’t like it.”

  His honesty disarms me.

  “There’s no way I can wear all this in the span of an affair, Graham. You spent too much.”

  “You know you are the first person that has ever complained that I spent too much on them. Everyone else wants as much as they can get.”

  “I’m not everyone else. I don’t need all these things. There’s nothing wrong with my clothes and borrowing from Jackson. I don’t need all this. I just need you.”

  Two large steps and he’s on me. His hands push the towel off and find my hair as his tongue drills into me. When he finally pulls back from me it takes him a moment to open his eyes, like he’s taking in my words.

  “Here.” He pulls out a drawer from the island in the middle. It’s filled with underwear. “I texted Jackson and asked him to add clothes to the closet in my office apartment and a drawer full of panties since I can’t keep myself from ripping yours off you.”

  “You understand, right?” I halt him, placing my hand on his cheek. He leans into my touch.

  “I understand. But I still want you to have these things.”

  “Temporarily,” I yield.

  “No one else has your ass, so not sure who will use them if you don’t. Jackson already had them tailored to you. You know…because you were tailor-made for me.” He smiles at his own pun and heads to his side of the closet.

  I have to admit Jackson did a great job. He added just enough high-end labels and just enough everyday labels to make me comfortable. He’s also added plenty of vintage pieces that I love. The shoe wall would give Carrie Bradshaw a shoe orgasm, and there must be $50,000 in purses alone. I run my hand over a traditional cream Birkin.

  “What are you thinking?” Graham’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He’s leaning against the wall watching me.

  “How many people I could help with the money you spent on me.”

  “Emelia, don’t over think this.”

  “Graham, I had no idea of your wealth. It’s hard for me to comprehend. I live paycheck to paycheck and to be handed a closet that values at about…” I trail off as I take in my surroundings, “…$320,000. It’s a little overwhelming. What are you smiling about?”

  “You. You are spot on with the figure. You have a mind for numbers.”

  “I’m good at my job.”

  “Yes, you are. Emelia, I give vast amounts of my money to charities. I do more for causes than any other businessman I know. I won’t apologize for the money I spend.”

  “I keep saying I need to Google you.”

  “You have no idea what I’m worth do you?”

  “Wrong. I know exactly what you’re worth. I just don’t know the dollar figure attached to your achievements. There’s a difference.”

  He smiles a goofy ear-to-ear grin and leaves me to get ready.

  “Mags?” Jules calls, entering the bedroom.

  “In the closet.”

  She whistles when she walks in. “He wasn’t kidding was he,” she says, scanning the closet. “It’s okay.” She sees the look of trepidation and unease in my expression. “You’ve never given a shit what people think before, don’t start now.”

  “You look great,” I tell her. “When did you make that?”

  “Yesterday. Just a little design I threw together.” I spin her around. She has on a simple red satin that fits to her torso then shoots out into a short flirty skirt. The front dips low between her breasts and has spaghetti straps.

  “Jules, if you set that at the right price point, it could be your signature piece.” I notice it has pockets. Beautifully simple, but elegant.

  “You think so?”

  “I do. I can think of several closets I could add this to tomorrow.” She blossoms under my praise.

  “What are you wearing?” she asks me.

  I point to the gold dress I have hanging from the display rod. I remove my robe and slide into a bra and panty set I laid out.

  “You know, it’s okay if you want to stay,” she says after making sure she is out of earshot of Graham.

  “I know. We’re going.”

  “Hey, babe” Adam enters the closet. “I’m going to get a beer with Graham while you go out, so just have Benji bring you back here.”

  “Benji? Who’s Benji?

  “My security,” she says dryly.

  “Adam…” Graham says, interrupting the conversation.

  “Dude, we’ve been over this. I’ve seen Mags in way less than….”

  “Adam.”

  “Fine. I’m leaving,” Adam concedes, but not before he runs his hand over my ass when he walks past me. Graham chases him into the other room where I hear a bunch of yelling that ends in Ben shouting, “Boys!”

  “Good lord,” Jules laughs, sitting on a bench while I finish dressing.

  “Perfect,” Jules says of my loose-fitting gold dress that falls about three inches below my crotch. It looks demure from the front, coming up high on the neck, but when I turn around, the back is cut low past my waist, skimming the top of my ass. It’s the perfect club dress. It has built-in flesh-colored boy shorts to make sure everything stays in place and there are no peek-a-boo accidents. My hair is in a low knot that showcases my back and keeps it tamed for the night. I top off the outfit with a metallic strappy heel that has me perched 4 inches taller than usual, making the dress appear that much shorter.

  “We’re headed out,” I announce as we enter the living area.

  Adam and Graham look us over, and then look at each other.

  “You know what, why don’t we go? You won’t even know we’re there,” Adam suggests.

  “No,” Jules says with zero hesitation.

  “At least mine’s covered,” Graham says to Adam. Jules gives him the evil eye.

  “Turn around, Mags,” Jules instructs, her eyes trained on Graham.

  I really don’t want to, but out of allegiance to my friend, I do as instructed, all the while knowing Graham is going to give her the rise she is pushing for.

  “Excuse us.” Graham puts his hand around my arm and leads me back into the bedroom.

  “Change.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did I stutter?” He crosses his arms across his chest, his feet hip width apart.

  “No.” I mirror his stance.

  “If you think I won’t make a scene because my family is here, you have gravely misjudged me.”

  “You are the one who said you approved the looks Jackson chose.”

  “Obviously it didn’t look like that on the hanger.”

  “Exactly. I’m not a hanger girl. Get used to it.” I take a step around him, but he moves back to block me. Hands on my hips, I step so close to him that I could touch his chin with my tongue.

  “Don’t fuck with me tonight, Taylor. I’m not in the mood.”

  I step around him, and this time he lets me.

  “I suggest you do a closer review of the closet while I’m gone. I won’t have this conversation with you again.” I bump into Ruth as I’m leaving, and she gives me an approving wink.

  “Ready?” I smile sweetly to Jules.

  “Yep,” she laughs, seeing I am in the same dress.

  “Who’s more covered?” Adam says mockingly to Graham as we make our way to the elevator.

  Graham stands there with his hands in his pockets, looking sexy as fuck. Maybe I should stay here, I think as my tongue wets my lips.

  “Hold on.” I put my arm out to stop the elevator doors from closing. I exit and walk up to Graham. Without touching him, I lean up to his ear and whisper so that only he can hear.

  “I love you.”

  His eyes turn the deep midnight blue that I covet. Just when I think he’s not going to respond, he winks at me, slow and
sexy.

  “Are we picking up the girls?” I ask Jules as we slide into the SUV helmed by her security detail, each one larger than the other. I assume one of them must be Benji.

  “Yes. They are at Joy’s.”

  I watch as buildings and lights move past us. I thought this is what I wanted, but the further I get away from Graham, the more I wish I had just stayed. The fact that I can’t land on a feeling is foreign to me. Why can’t I figure this out? Lock your shit down, James. Get control.

  “Emme!” Joy and Amanda sing happily when they see me. I have really missed them this week.

  “Hi girls! And Henry!” I clap when he climbs in. “I didn’t know you were coming?”

  “They insisted. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “I have a friend meeting us there. Teague. You’ve met him before, remember? We were best friends in high school.”

  “That’s right. He served in…” I can’t recall.

  “Special services and protective duties. I ran into him the other day and I think he is trying to get back on his feet. Had a rough year as I understand it.”

  We talk about our time away from each other the last few weeks, getting up to speed on a couple accounts and the happenings. I tell them how the mentor program is progressing and we talk about Jules’ collection.

  We pull up to the club, and the line to get in the club has to be two-hundred deep.

  “To be expected, I guess. This is the ‘it’ club right now,” Jules says.

  “Miss James?” A leather-clad striking blonde woman approaches me.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re expecting your party. This way please.” She motions to the red carpet at the front of the line.

  “Graham,” Jules says when she sees my confused response.

  The blond bombshell leads us to a roped off area with a view of the middle level called Purgatory.

  “Your evening is compliments of Mr. Taylor,” she says leading us to a table. As we sit, she pours five glasses of champagne. “Helen will be your mistress and will take care of you tonight. Please let me know if you need anything. May your desires be filled.” She gives a closed lip smile.

  “Well, then,” Henry says, amused by the celebrity-level attention, “to Emme and her mentor program.” He raises his glass and we all follow, clinking before we drink.

  The club is packed, and Purgatory is the floor most people like to be on. The bottom floor is loud and metallic, the top floor has no seating, clubbing only. The middle floor has a large dance floor, the bar, and VIP seating.

  “I’m your mistress, Helen.” A dark woman, also in leather, approaches our table. “What can I start your evening off with?”

  “Bring us five shot glasses and your best bottle of Tequila,” Jules instructs.

  “I’d like a bottle of water please,” I add before she walks off.

  “You’re drinking tonight,” Jules insists. “After the day you’ve had you’re allowed.”

  Right then, it hits me. The nagging feeling I’ve had since I left Ben and Harry standing in my office. I know why I couldn’t voice how I am feeling. I’m angry. Not at Harry, but at my Mama. I’ve never been angry with her or at her before. The thought rattles me and I throw back a shot before Helen has time to finish pouring the others’ drinks. She eyes me and refills my glass, leaving the bottle on the table. I look up at everyone to see who’s going to do the toast, to find all eyes on me.

  “To tonight,” I toast. To that, everyone salts, drinks and sucks limes, some coughing through the burn. I’m not a heavy drinker at all. Actually, I rarely drink much more than wine or beer, but I can hold my liquor better than most. I refill our glasses and raise mine again. I get the same cautious looks, but everyone empties their glasses.

  “Anyone want to dance?” Amanda is already moving in her seat to the music.

  “Me.” I point to myself and stand to my feet. The rest of the group follows and we make our way to the dance floor. This is just what I needed, some time without any thoughts in my head. No one wanting to know what I am thinking or how I am feeling. No thoughts about being too open with Graham too soon. No consideration for the full speed ahead approach my life has taken since meeting Graham. The lights pace with the pulsing rhythms, warping from dark colors to bright hues. An hour goes by before I have my first thought – I’m thirsty. We head pack to our seats and I pull up short when I see a striking figure at our table in all black.

  “Teague!” Henry comes around us and exchanges a manly hand clasp and pat on the back to each other in greeting. “Finally, someone to help me with all these women.”

  We take our seats and Henry re-introduces us and then fills us in on old stories. Teague nurses his beer while we finish off three more rounds of shots.

  While the others are distracted by the reverie, I check my phone to find a text from a friend in Memphis.

  Jess: Someone came by looking for you at the gym. Wanted your phone number and address. Asked when I had seen you last.

  Me: Did they say who they were or what they wanted?

  Jess: It was a man. He wouldn’t say. When I pressed him for more he left. Thought you would want to know. Hope all is well. Miss you!

  “A gift for you and your party,” Helen says interrupting my thoughts and texts, placing a round of drinks on the table. Jules and I look at the man she points to, while Amanda and Joy raise their glass to him offering their thanks. He looks like he’s in his mid to late thirties. Handsome enough.

  I do not respond to the man at the bar. I tell Helen, “I think I’ll pass. One of you can have mine if you like.” Jules and I opt for more shots and talk for several minutes. Amanda and I head back to the dance floor, dancing together until she gets a better offer. I dance by myself for a few minutes, enjoying the music when the guy who sent the drinks approaches me.

  “May I have this dance?”

  “Actually, I was just heading back,” I say politely.

  “One dance isn’t going to hurt anything.”

  “I’m in a committed relationship. But thank you.”

  His hand curls around my arm, pulling me back to him. My back bumping against his front. He runs his free hand down my exposed spine.

  “I promise you, I’m better than anything you have at home. He can’t be too attentive if he let you out in that dress shaking that ass the way you were. Begging to be fucked.”

  I pull my arm from his grip, leveling him with a death stare. He gives a creepy smile. I make my way to our table; everyone has moved out to the dance floor. Joy and Henry are laughing trying out new dance moves. Jules is dancing with a friend, and Amanda is dancing with some guy. Our mistress comes to check on “my needs” and points me in the direction of the restroom. I catch Jules’ eye and let her know where I’m headed. I’m relieved to be out of the music for a minute.

  Me: I miss you.

  Graham: You know where to find me, baby. ;)

  His winky face makes me smile, and I can’t help but get lost in a little daydream as I finish up in the restroom, which leaves me unprepared when I exit the restroom to see the dancefloor guy waiting for me.

  “I thought I’d join you.”

  Doing my best not to acknowledge him, I push past him to find my way to the VIP seating. He grabs my arm again.

  “Look, bitch. I don’t think you know who the fuck I am.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. And I don’t care.” I pull on my arm, but this time he doesn’t let me go. “You picked the wrong one today,” I warn him, letting him know that I’m not backing down.

  He ignores my warning and threatens, “You may not care, but Graham Taylor will care. He’s losing his edge, letting you out like this. Wearing that. When I’m finished with you, he won’t make the same mistake.” He attempts to run his hand up the inside of my thigh, but it’s pulled from me before it reaches its destination. He cries out in pain as it’s twisted behind him in a way that I am most certain causes a fracture. H
is knees buckle under him.

  “Put your fucking hands on her again and it will be the last thing you ever do, mother fucker. I’ll fucking cut your throat out.” Teague pushes the man away and glares at me. “You’re leaving.” He grabs me and pulls me through the club. I’m too stunned to respond.

  “You, too,” he says to Jules, grabbing her on our way to the door. She’s just as confused as I am.

  He puts us into a taxi that is dropping people off and climbs in behind us.

  “Teague, what are you doing?”

  “Someone give him an address,” he orders and Jules spouts off what I assume is Graham’s address.

  “What the hell were you thinking going to the bathroom by yourself?” he asks, incensed.

  “I had to pee.”

  “So you take one of the girls with you. And I can’t believe you girls accepted a drink from someone you don’t know. What would you have done if I hadn’t come out of the bathroom when I did?”

  “You don’t know who we are, but I assure you we had security. We were safe,” Jules insists.

  “Wrong. I know exactly who you are and Henry told me who you are connected to. And fat good that did, Emme.”

  “We’re here.” He opens the door and climbs out. We’re at Graham’s place. Teague hands the driver money and walks to the enclosed portico.

  “I have Emme and Jules,” he says to a man who looks to see Teague holding one of us in each of his hands. Confusion sets deep on his brows as he opens the gate for us, and Teague guides us up the stairs to the elevator.

  The elevator doors open, and Teague guides us off, still holding on to both of our arms.

  “You’re security is too lax,” he says to Adam and Graham who are walking towards us. “They give them too wide of a berth. The people I’ve detailed would never have that much space.”