Free Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy by Charlotte Eve Page A

restaurant, which was now thinning out, the lunchtime rush nearing its end, and then fixed his cold steely gaze on me once more. “Jessica, I didn’t get where I am by holding back. You understand what I’m saying?”
    I nodded, but the truth was, I didn’t quite understand.
    “What can I say?” he continued. “I’m an admirer of the female form. I think it’s pretty much a perfect design and clothes should compliment that. Yours do. Congratulations.”
    I was still somewhat taken aback: in all my twenty-two years on this planet, I don’t think anyone had quite talked to me in that way before, and I wasn’t sure quite what to make of it.
    “Well … thanks, I guess,” I practically whispered, my breathing a little short now. And I found myself shifting uncomfortably in my chair, as if to escape Blake’s painfully direct gaze, uncrossing and recrossing my legs, unable to ignore the subtle but insistent little throb that had begun, right at the center of me …
    “Anyway,” he said, “let’s get to it. What have you got?”
    I pulled the iPad from my bag and opened up the portfolio before passing it across the table to Blake.
    He took the tablet from me and sat back in his chair, his face fixed and serious as he scrolled slowly through my many pages of preliminary designs, sketches, ideas, all the while betraying nothing of his thoughts. For a moment I thought I saw his dark brow flicker in dislike but really, it was impossible to tell.
    The moment seemed to take forever, the background noise fading away as Blake stared down at my designs with a ruthless intensity.
    Then, finally, he looked up, his face cold and humorless. “Is that it?” he said quietly and I felt pierced by a cold spear of shock.
    He doesn’t like them.
    It’s obvious.
    I’ve messed up, big time.
    “I, um … well, I …” I began, but really, I didn’t know what I was about to say. “Yes,” I concluded eventually, deciding that excuses or explanations just wouldn’t fly. “Yes. That’s it. That’s everything.”
    He scrolled back through the images a second time, almost as if he was doing it on purpose, dragging out the awkward silence for maximum effect, letting me stew, before he finally spoke again.
    “These ideas are good,” he said finally. “But I’m not looking for good . I’m looking for perfection. These just aren’t quite right. They’re not … me .”
    At this, I felt the first jolt of anger.
    I’d worked damn hard on those ideas, and if they weren’t ‘him’ then that was because it was still hard to know who he really was!
    I mean, what did he think I was, some kind of freaking mind reader ?!
    “Well,” I said, keeping my rising anger as much under my control as I was able, making sure to keep my voice slow and steady and even, “perhaps that’s because I don’t really know very much about you … You’re rather … how can I put this … mysterious?”
    At this, an odd, sly smile spread across his face.
    “Oh, am I?” he said, again nodding to himself. “Okay, perhaps you have a point. You want to know something about me?”
    “Yes,” I said, genuinely. “I really do …”
    He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to go through with his threat, then reached into the breast pocket of his blazer and pulled out a small, jet-black business card, clipped at the corners to resemble the shape of an old-fashioned cinema ticket, almost flinging it at me.
    “What’s this?” I asked, picking it up off the table, examining the expensive finish, just a simple silver address embossed into one side, and the words ADMIT ONE in a beautiful, elegant typeface on the other.
    “I host a party, last Friday of the month. Come down. It’s exclusive. Bring your boyfriend, too.”
    And with that he flicked a second ticket at me.
    “Thanks,” I murmured, slipping the tickets into my bag with a shaky hand.
    “I hope to see you there,” Blake said quietly. The more I got to know this complicated