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Post by Silas Rosier on Apr 3, 2010 5:55:30 GMT 1
The role reversal didn’t escape his attention. It had to have been only a week ago she’d been sitting on his desk and he’d been asking her almost the exact same question. He opted not to remind her; the memories of what had happened afterwards may be enough to ruin the rest of the night.
. . . .“You,” he answered, lowering his head to kiss the side of her neck, nipping innocently at the skin before tracing the pulse line up to her ear. “It wouldn't be anything else.”
And he was content to tell himself he was just parroting what she wanted to hear. And perhaps that was all it was. But perhaps he was just refusing to acknowledge the fact there may be a bit of truth to it. Absolute denial was just so much easier.
Their mouths were far too close again, hips fitting together perfectly, and hell, Silas had never been one for restraint with this sort of thing. Restraint was for later. He pulled her in, closing the space between them into a kiss, lips dragging hot, mouths opening, tongue tasting, testing, sliding in between, his hands slipping lower around her waist and content merely to hold her to him.
He pulled away. “Honey glaze optional.”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Apr 3, 2010 10:20:32 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Jac was only too aware of how this was panning out to be just like that night when she’d first given him the potion, but with one significant difference: Nobody would be walking in on them tonight. Until that point, it had been a glorious and unforgettable for all the right reasons. Pity Abraham had to spoil it. No matter, they would just have to re-enact the evening and play the ending out as it should have the first time.
“Mmm,” and Silas was starting out well. She tilted her head, a shiver running up her spine at the feel of his teeth grazing her neck, his warm breath caressing it. Jac knew he was under the thrall of a potion, but still, his words made her gut clench and a warmth fill her. Muttered into her ear, she could close her eyes and pretend it was real, that he meant it.
She moved in sequence, melting against him, adding an extra few inches to her height by lifting herself onto the balls of her feet and falling into that kiss with a sigh. It started slowly, building in heat and intensity until Jac’s patience waned. Silas might be content to just hold her, but Jac had other ideas. How did that glorious night start? Oh yes.
Jac broke the kiss with a devious smile and came down from the parlour step. She turned Silas and walked him backward to a leather sofa. She pushed him back onto it, and knelt on the floor in front of him. Projecting an air of control over the situation, with nimble fingers she loosened his belt and pulled it from the loops, dropping it with a clatter on the glass coffee table behind her.
Honey wasn’t a bad idea and an Accio produced a convenient pot of it from one of the many cupboards over in the kitchen. “I feel like something sweet.” Her voice was far from sugary, having a husky undertone that practically explained exactly what she intended. The rest of the evening followed a similar pattern, and the only eyes to get a free show were those of a house elf who retreated to her nest when the mess that was created became too much to bare.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Apr 6, 2010 16:57:18 GMT 1
It took a few minutes for either of them to regain their senses, both of them breathing hard, hearts pounding.
Jac was sweating, completely worn out, eyes shut, breathing, sprawled limp on top of him, resting with her head and hands on his chest. And… well... Silas had to admit… it was kind of hot.
Hell, who needed dinner anyway?
Her weight was compressing his diaphragm a bit, but he didn’t really care. Jac wasn’t too heavy, and the weight was comforting.
His arm found its way around her back and he settled it into a position where he wouldn’t need to touch her hair. Apparently honey didn’t lick off perfectly and he doubted Jac would appreciate having to wash it out. Finding a comfortable position, he leant his head back on the couch, closed his eyes and exhaled comfortably, mentally replaying the highlights.
All was good with the world.
He wasn't sure when he next opened his eyes again, but when he did, something caught his attention. Silas turned his head for a better look. The honey jar that had ended up practically tossed on the coffee table had managed to tip over, spilling all over the place and pouring in a thin sticky column all the way down where it was busy pooling over the carpet.
Well... crap.
Silas frowned, but couldn’t really summon the energy needed to be annoyed by it. It was an easy fix anyway. He’d deal with it later if the elf hadn’t by then.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t exactly just lie there on the couch forever. Aside from the warmth where their skin was still pressed (and possibly a bit stuck) together, it was starting to get chilly. Drying sweat and a lack of clothes would do that.
“I think... shower,” he proposed, running his hand gently a little further up Jac’s back. Hot water and steam was starting to sound appealing.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Apr 9, 2010 9:05:26 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Jac was quite used to post-coitus exhaustion by now, but it never failed to feel any less satisfying. There was something about sprawling next to a man who’d thoroughly tired out every muscle in your body, even ones you didn’t realise you had, that was inherently fulfilling. She wasn’t quite sure how long they dozed there, but when he began to shift and she started to notice the slight chill she figured it was probably longer than they’d intended. Even the floating lights had meandered off to dance lazily near the high ceiling, casting the rest of the room in a soft golden glow.
The woman shifted, and grimaced at the slight peeling sensation where her skin stuck to his. Erg, ingesting that much honey had to be criminal. Running her tongue over the roof of her mouth she could still taste the cloying substance among the salt of sweat and other things. She must have lapped up enough of it to sate any dessert cravings for a month. Still, despite the roughness of her tongue and tenuous state of her stomach, she would do it all again.
She gave a satisfied sigh, unstuck herself from Silas and settled back down, pillowing her head on his chest. His voice reverberated though his chest and she almost missed what he said. A shower sounded wonderful right now, but could she muster the energy to move? She grumbled good-naturedly, and after half a minute of enjoying his closeness, she propped herself up on his chest and looked up to his face. “Shower, hmm?” She asked lazily, “Didn’t I do a good enough job of cleaning you up?” She teased gently, shuffling up to place a soft kiss on his lips.
She had a vague recollection that they still had work to do, but that could wait until morning, right? Besides, after the shower they still had dinner to eat (if the idea still didn’t make her ill by then) and after that, presumably sleep. It was a level of domesticity that Jac had rarely if ever experienced and now she had a taste of it, she wanted more. It was oddly comforting, and slightly surreal. Thankfully, she could be distracted from the strangeness of normalcy by desk, sofa and shower escapades. Situations in which Jac felt much more at home.
With another sigh, she lifted herself over Silas and off the sofa, trying her best not to use Silas as a support. Nothing killed the mood like shifting your entire weight onto one hand on a less enforced body part. She danced between the coffee table and sofa, narrowly missing stepping in the pool of honey, and leaned over the back of the sofa to place another gentle kiss on the man’s cheek. “Shower then?” She ran her hand through his hair, a smiling grimace wrinkling her nose at the tacky feel of honey still on her hands, and now in his hair. “I’ll wash that off.” She promised. Her eyes made a purposeful journey down the rest of his body. “I’ll clean you properly this time. Lead the way.” She said, glancing toward the stairs.
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Post by Silas Rosier on May 1, 2010 7:33:34 GMT 1
Jac didn’t reply immediately, but Silas didn’t mind. He was in absolutely no hurry to move: this was far too comfortable. He just closed his eyes again, relaxing into the comfort of the sofa and the pleasant weight of Jac lying on top of him. It was only when he felt her take a deep breath and start to stir that he looked up to be greeted by the sight of Jac still lying on his chest, peering at him mischievously. “Didn’t I do a good enough job of cleaning you up?” she joked, and Silas grinned at her lazily.
Oh, most definitely.
She shuffled up, pressing a kiss to his lips which he happily returned. The taste of honey was still there, sweet on her mouth, but she pulled away before he could take proper advantage of it. Silas made an indistinct noise to voice his disapproval, but Jac was already up and gone.
He didn’t have long to wonder where she was off to before she reappeared above his head, inadvertently mixing some honey into his hair. He pulled a face, glancing up towards his forehead, but otherwise couldn’t muster up the will to be annoyed. Besides, the expression Jac pulled when she realised what she’d done was rather cute.
She hurriedly vowed to wash it out before meaningfully allowing her gaze to drift down. “I’ll clean you properly this time,” she promised.
... Okay, a shower was officially sounding like the most brilliant idea on the planet.
“Not if I get to you first,” Silas challenged, rolling hurriedly off the sofa.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ three days later Silas had never really given much thought as to what Jac’s house might look like. Probably anally clean, and full of the kind of furnishings you only bought to make visitors feel inadequate. It would have to be something large and prestigious – surely Jac would accept no less – and with the same detached, showroom quality of a place that looks good on magazines but you couldn’t actually imagine yourself actually living in.
Well, he was half-right. Anally clean was right; everything was packed and tidied without even the hint of a smudge and the kind of fastidiousness you’d assume could only be the fault of a neurotic house-elf or his late mother. Expensive furniture and lush upholstery were tastefully decked in every direction, but oddly not in a way that made it feel even slightly impersonal. It was downright homey actually, and the small size only added to the look rather than detracted from it.
Jac had insisted they needed to review the plan for Scores’ working capital and he hadn’t even bothered protesting; when Jac got it into her mind that something needed to be done, it needed to be done. No excuses. It was also law that someone’s lounge room was countless times more comfortable than an office, so, Jac’s house it was.
“Yeah, just double-check how much we’re liable for in the morning,” Silas grumbled, using a circular motion to rub his thumbs up the base of Jacarandas foot. Somewhere along the line they’d ended up lying on opposite ends of the same couch with her legs over his, and it hadn’t taken Silas long to decide her feet were much more interesting than numbers. “The net profit ratio should be up after the renovation so I don’t think we have to worry about solvency just yet. There’s a strong owners equity on the place, we’ll be fine.” Best translated as ‘We got plenty of cash, seriously, we’re wasting time here.’
Honestly? Jac was right that idle money was best put to work, but Silas was in no mood to punch any more numbers. That was what work hours were for. That, and unbeknownst to her, most of the money was being used. Just not on anything legal. Therefore, he felt fully justified in (un)subtly making it obvious he’d much rather be doing something else. Jac’s penchant for working even when it wasn’t required of her was a habit he’d never understand.
None the less, the stack of papers he’d abandoned on the coffee table and the clipboard lodged in Jacaranda’s hands seemed to be conspiring to try to guilt him into working. He glanced at the heap of parchment on the table and the discarded pair of glasses lying next to it, almost as though considering actually doing something. Nah, fuck it. He reverted his attention back to kneading the bottom of one of her feet.
“I’d rather keep liquidity higher than usual just until we break even again anyway. Just as a precaution,” he continued. “It’s a tip Abe gave me when I was first starting out and it hasn’t steered be wrong yet.” Silas suddenly shut up, glancing up at Jac cautiously. Mentioning Abe in her presence was something he’d pointedly avoided for the last few days, but a slip-up like that had been inevitable. Since day one they’d been like opposite sides of a magnet (well, on Jac’s side anyway. Abe had apparently changed his mind at some point and started tailing Jac like a mentally retarded Labrador) and he couldn’t imagine recent events would have helped.
Oh hell. He might as well test his luck; they couldn’t avoid the subject forever.
“What was the deal between you two anyway?” Silas asked hesitantly, trying to avoid a ticklish spot between Jac’s toes. He could guess, but still, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on May 2, 2010 21:27:08 GMT 1
Jac gave a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. This circular argument was giving her a headache. She’d been trying to get Silas’s money moving for hours, but he was adamant it was fine as it was. What was her job if not to improve his finances!? How was she supposed to get anywhere if he wasn’t going to take her recommendations seriously? Well… She knew one way to persuade him, but she’d rather not resort to that just yet. If she could win this argument the rational way, she would.
She gave a sigh, and despite the soothing feeling of his hands on her feet, she gave him a steady stare. “Come on, Silas, you pay me to look after your money. I wouldn’t suggest anything I wasn’t sure of!” She gave a huff and leaned back on the opposite arm of the sofa. Precautions? As if she didn’t set up her own precautions. There was always a safety buffer to keep them afloat if on the slim chance that her investments backfired.
Her pout turned into a hard glare at his reasoning. Abe!? He took Abe’s advice over hers!? She swatted him not so kindly with her clipboard. “Abraham is a professor of a school teaching children how to differentiate heart numbers from social numbers! He’s not qualified to give you advice on your finances! I’ve been up to my tits in your numbers for months, where as Abraham has been spending money on your tits!” She frowned, okay, she could have phrased that better. “What good is advice from a man who spends his on drink and women? Hmm?”
“What was the deal between you two anyway?” Oh that was the last straw. The tetchy accountant withdrew her feet and sat up straighter on the couch. Jac dropped her clipboard over the arm of the sofa and onto the pile of papers she had stacked up there. She was wasting her time with this. Teeth grinding, she jerkily pulled up her loose hair into a tail at the nape of her neck. So much for the night ending smoothly. Silas could spend a night without her, that’d teach him for ignoring her advice in place of Abraham’s.
She glanced back to her employer, but in typical fashion he still seemed to be waiting for an answer. “Fine. If you really want to know, we used to sleep together. It was a relationship of sorts. He broke it off.” And that was all she was willing to give on the matter. She stood and crossed the modest lounge room to an antique cabinet where a decanter of whiskey already sat out on the side. After pouring herself half a tumbler, she took a sip and glared pointedly away from Silas. She took a very strong interest in the glass doors of the cabinet where she could see a single fingerprint smudge.
With a grumble, she wordlessly accio’d herself a cloth and fastidiously wiped at the mark. Okay, so maybe that old topic was still a little sore, but Silas deserved a bit of the cold shoulder treatment after thwarting her position as his accountant. Jac had worked hard as a junior to get out from under Abe’s shadow, and she’d be damned if she was going to stand under it again willingly.
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Post by Silas Rosier on May 4, 2010 7:16:01 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Okay, yep. Definitely the wrong thing to say. Silas didn’t react fast enough and Jac’s clipboard rapped him firmly on the knuckles as he tried to dart his arm away. He made a noise of protest, shaking his hand as though to dispel the pain radiating from the bone, but otherwise didn’t respond further. He was all too familiar with violence to be bothered by something so comparatively mild as attack-by-stationary; he just hadn’t expected Jac to actually hit him.
The rant about Abe was far more predictable. Silas would have completely zoned out if it wasn’t for the fact Jac made a sudden and unexpected a gripe about Abe spending money on... Silas’s boobs? Hang on, wait, what?
Oh, right. Silas’s confused look faded as his brain caught up that she wasn’t literally talking about him, but rather the women under his employ. There was a pause when Jac noticed her odd phrasing and in other circumstances Silas would have laughed along over the misunderstanding.
If he had a modicum of sense he probably would have shut up at that point. Hell, he should have shut up. He even told himself to shut up. But, God knew he couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone. The follow-up question slipped out of his mouth against his better judgement and Jac’s feet were promptly retracted.
“Hey! I was warm!”
No dice. Jac straightened up with one of her trademark ball-shrivelling scowls and looked about ready to flounce out the door. Well fuck. He hadn’t exactly expected her reaction to be so fierce. How was he supposed to know he wasn’t even allowed to ask a (relatively) innocent question? She’d been hissing and spitting with Abe over their issues since day one and it was a miracle he hadn’t asked at all before now.
The answer finally came, but it sounded like it took as much effort for Jac to say as it did ripping out someone’s spine.
Silas was quiet for a second while he processed the information. The first part he might have guessed, but the second part came as a surprise. Abe had dumped her? That had to be a joke. In his current state even the very notion seemed inconceivable.
“He’s an idiot,” Silas replied.
It didn’t come out as an insult, more like a statement of fact. Of course Abe was an idiot. What the hell kind of a piece of tail must have come along for him to drop Jac of all people? Yikes. No wonder he acted like he’d been regretting it for most of his life; Silas would too if he’d done the same thing.
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on May 13, 2010 18:13:44 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]She watched Silas’s transparent reflection in the cabinet glass. He didn’t seem surprised, but she wondered what the delay was for. If he’d spent the whole of it coming up with that diplomatic response, he could have come up with better.
“Yes, he is. And you take his advice.” She said, turning to face him with a slightly less vicious scowl. So insulting Abraham worked a little bit, but Jac felt petulant enough to be righteous about it. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She folded the cloth back into a drawer and stalked over to her files. “You may as well go; we’re not getting anywhere tonight.” Work wise or play wise. She sat on the carpeted floor next to the papers, dutifully ignoring Silas. He could very well show himself out.
A page tore as she was trying to manually order the stack, and the accountant gave a sigh. What she wouldn’t give for an evening alone and a nice long bubble bath to ease off the stress weighing her down.
Abraham had a knack for making her feel bad and dwell on old memories. He’s been blissfully absent from her life and thoughts until she breezed into Scores only to find him there; the establishments most loyal patron. From then on he’d been interfering in everything. Her work life, her social life and even her damn sex life. Abe’s nose was too big for his own good, as were his oversized ears. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on May 17, 2010 16:13:32 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] Okay, so apparently he had trouble saying the right thing. Or, saying the right thing to Jac, at any rate. Other people he could manage, but Jac was a bit like traversing a minefield. Or perhaps he just had a magical ability to get on her nerves if their past history was anything to go by. You’d think he’d have learned to keep his bloody mouth shut by now.
Silas dragged his feet off the couch and onto the floor, sitting with his position forwards and resting his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have asked,” he said softly, fingers clasped. “I’m sorry.”
Any hope that things would turn out alright was dashed the moment Jac asked him to leave. Silas looked up nervously, caught off-guard. Well, shit, apparently he’d really put his foot in it. He stood, now disconcerted by the way she was sitting down and pointedly ignoring him.
Fuck. And it had all been going so well not three seconds ago.
Why did he even care so much? Jac was pissed, so what? She’d be over it in the morning, not a big deal. Yet for some reason he couldn’t explain, it was a big deal and he didn’t like the thought of running off with her angry at him.
“Come on, please. I don’t want to leave it like this.” He stepped closer. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re annoyed.”
... He seriously didn’t just say that.
Silas pulled a face, glad Jac was looking in the other direction.
Fuck. Okay, so maybe he cared a bit more than he should, but that didn’t mean anything. They’d been spending a lot of time together lately and it was totally normal that he shouldn’t want that tenuous rapport jeopardised...
Or perhaps he was getting particularly good at lying to himself.
At the sound of a page ripping Silas dropped beside her to one knee, tentatively reaching for her shoulder even though she was probably just going to smack him away with another book. “Let’s talk about something else, alright? I think we both need a break from all the work and frankly, Abe’s not worth the stress. You’re too good for that.”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on May 22, 2010 9:43:06 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]This was the point where men usually gave up. The girlfriend was pissed and rather than lower themselves to remedy the problem, they took the easy way out and left it for another day. Silas though seemed not to want to leave the tealeaves in the pot to stew, and started making vain attempts to sieve them out.
Not able to sleep, eh? Jac hid the slightest of smiles by looking to her lap and smoothing out her skirt around her folded legs. Okay, so that was slightly endearing, but she was still pissed. Without encouragement, Silas made a bold move forward and Jac turned her head and set her eyes on his hand where it rested on her shoulder.
She shrugged and he removed it, and she watched as he lowered it. Her lips pursed, and she looked up into his earnest expression that was becoming more common as the days wore on. She took note of his immaculately tailored suit, and sighed shortly. “Hmf.” If she could admit it, she might say he was right. Abe wasn’t worth the stress. “Fine. Do you want a drink?” A rhetorical question, what else would the answer be? The accountant got to her feet, retrieved the empty glasses from earlier and set about filling them (paying special attention to whose glass was whose).
The evening continued laboriously, Jac was short and snappy but by the time they went to bed, she was satisfied that Silas had suffered enough at her whim and she curled up against as any other night. It was quite commendable that Silas managed to put up with her mood for so long. She could say one thing for Silas Rosier: he had balls of steel.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Opening night. Scores was newly refurbished and utterly glamorous. The casino was wonderful, and Jacaranda’s eyes were bright at the potential for so much money to be spent. The celebration had already begun. The room was full of people bustling, the shouts of excitement, the ringing of machines and best of all, the clatter of chips and the jingle of coins. Jac was in heaven.
She stood toward the edge of the main room, looking out over the card tables from a raised platform that served as a bar area. All the tables were full, and the bar staff were working as fast as they could to dispel the crowds awaiting drinks. Every man wore a suit, and every woman a dress undoubtedly bought especially for the occasion. Scores Casino Opening Gala was the event of the decade, no upstanding wizard or witch could ignore the invitation when it came, written on high-quality parchment, sealed with wax embossed with the Rosier seal and delivered by a white dove.
Jac herself was wearing a silky off-white dress, trimmed with delicate silver markings. It floated about her legs, stopping just below the knees. It was strapless, clinging tightly to her torso with ruffles and folds that defined the shape of the skirt’s material. She wore silver shoes with a heel lower than her usual fare, and cascading silver earrings and matching necklace. Her hair was held up in loose curls, and she’d applied careful makeup to define her eyes and smooth the appearance of her face. Overall, she looked stunning. Naturally.
Now all she needed was Silas to complete the evening. Unsurprisingly after the opening speech, he’d been smothered by the crowd. She caught a glimpse of him occasionally in his sharp Italian suit, but it was hard to keep track with such a heaving crowd. But with the ring of money in her ears and a martini in her hand, she could wait all night. All the hard work paid off. This was bliss. |
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