7 Talk

Claudel's Place turns out to be a high end club that has music and dancing along with drinks. The second we arrive, I can tell that this is not a place I'd be able to enter if I wasn't with Jackson right now. This is one of those black card only places. When we walk through the door it becomes even more obvious that I would not be here on any other day. Money oozes from these people through their perfect pores, perfect bodies, and are dressed in some of the best quality clothing available. No designer names are visible either, they don't need to be here.

I school my features to seem indifferent as Jackson escorts me to a seat at the bar.

"Good evening, how may I be of service tonight?" The bartender asks politely.

"Edradour Olorosso and a ginger cranberry mule." Jackson orders for us. I feel like eyes are on us, but I refuse to scan the room to see why. I have to be confident at a place like this. I'm still representing the company even though I am out with Jackson Morgan.

The bartender brings us our drinks and waits till we give him the nod that they were done to satisfaction. With that, we sip our drinks in silence for a moment before I finally straighten out my thoughts.

"So this is what you do for fun when you are not working?" I say using this moment to scan the room, spotting an older man on the dance floor with a younger woman, another dancing couple that are in their late fifties. Most of the patrons sit at booths with beautiful woman next to them, as trophies, or are talking with other men quietly. This is a place where empires make deals with others.

Jackson chuckles, "This is the place where I tend to work the least. I tend to not work only while I sleep anymore. That is the price of having the life everyone wants, you hardly get to enjoy it."

Taken aback by his candor and the fact I've had three drinks already, my mouth slips, "Than is it really worth it?"

Jackson eyes change, softening into something pained before hardening again, "Sometimes." His eyes warm looking up at me and there goes my control on my emotions. My butterflies are flipping out in my stomach with that warmth and I have to look away, even though I know he can tell I'm blushing.

"So what do YOU do, when you have free time?" Jackson leans closer to me, resting his body against the bar so he can see my face better.

"I..." What do I do? I shop for clothes, cook.. "I like to cook, nothing extravagant though."

"That's it? You don't draw anymore?" He raises his brows confused and disappointed.

Oh another thing he can remember about me, great! How does this man....? UGH!

It takes a lot of my self control to answer him, "Uh... yes, but not like I used to. It's more like little doodles when I need to clear my thoughts." I straighten myself up in my seat, feeling the alcohol more strongly now. I was not going to admit that I had probably thousands of drawings of him at my home from thinking of him over the years. "Um, I think it would be good for me to go home soon. I don't drink much and I'm feeling this drink." I say motioning to my nearly empty glass.

"Oh, of course." He motions for the bartender and slips him his card and a hundred dollar bill. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan." The bartender politely nods and comes back shortly with his card.

Jackson takes and offers me his arm, leaning closer to whisper, "Just in case you need a hand."

I needed a hand eighteen years ago, you jerk.

I want to push his arm away, but know that would cause a scene, so I take it. As we exit, I scan the room again, subtle and quick, noticing there are more eyes intently on us than those noticing us leave. These are eyes that are calculating, memorizing my face and taking note of my outfit. Thank goodness I was wearing all designer items that didn't have identifiable markers.

We take the elevator down, Jackson still holding my arm as he pulls out his phone and messages his driver to come to the front. He smiles and puts his phone away.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to get you tipsy. I was hoping the night would last a little longer. I've ... missed you, Lita. This was a poor choice to bring you too. We both were being watched like hawks and I did notice you were uncomfortable the moment we walked in there. I think that made you drink faster." Jackson doesn't meet my eyes when he says it. I think he may be afraid of my answer.

I take a deep breath and shake my head, "It's not your fault, I ordered the wrong drink I think. I was told that was a weak drink, but obviously not." I lean against the rail of the elevator still holding on to Jackson's arm. "Why have you missed me, Jackson?"

The elevator door opens at that point and we exit to the door where his driver is waiting. Once in the car Jackson asks to take me home and we're back in silence and the privacy window goes up.

"So are you going to tell me why you have missed me?" I turn in my seat to look at him.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before groaning, "I have missed you since my uncle got custody of me. I have not had a real friend since you. I thought I did a few times but eventually they showed their true colors to me. The other night was the first night in a long time I felt I could relax and just be myself again. Not the man my uncle tried to make me into."

I absorb that, feeling a little numb from the booze. "If you missed me so much... why did you never call me or write me? You just disappeared." I hate how small my voice goes.

Jackson grabs my hands and I snap my eyes up to meet his as he tells me, "I did, Lita. I tried to at least. I only found out after he passed that all my letters I asked to be sent to you, were never delivered. He kept them in his safe, after reading them." His eyes grow dark at the thought. "I never did understand why I never received word back from you. My uncle just made me take more classes and forced me to be so busy, that soon I didn't have the energy for anything except what he wanted me to do. When I found the letters I was livid. What could I do about it though? It had been so many years, I figured you had forgotten me and had gotten married or something by now."

So he did try to contact me? His uncle was preventing it? Why though? Another question comes to mind.

"Did you really not recognize me the other day?"

"Honestly, no, I felt you seemed familiar but the last time I saw you is the vision of you I had held onto all these years."

"Mr. Morgan sir, we've arrived at Ms. Xenos's residence." His driver says over the intercom.

Jackson sighs, "May I walk you to your door, Lita?"

I nod, pulling my hands from his as I grab my purse and the folder with the contract in it. I almost stumble out of the car, my heel catching on the lip of the door, but Jackson is quick to catch me.

"Thank you." I mumble, taking my keys from my purse and I go to unlock my door.

"Lita..." Jackson's voice has an unspoken plea in it.

"Yes, Jacks?" I turn to him and his eyes brighten from how they looked in the car.

"You.. will you be alright if I come in for a little while? I was hoping to speak with you some more, you know, I have some things I'd like to talk to you about still."

"I..." He looks like a puppy that's about to be put out in the cold. "I guess that's alright. What about your driver?" I motion to the car.

His stocky body instantly picks up, "I'll tell him to take a break for an hour or so, let him go eat or something." He steps forward into my foyer and instantly removes his shoes. I shut the door and step out of my own.

"I'll be right back, I'm putting these up and putting on my house shoes. You can put your coat in the closet right there." I point him to the coat closet and make my way upstairs, telling him over my shoulder as I grip the banister with one hand so I don't lose my balance, "Help yourself to something to drink."

I make it to the top and make my way to my room, putting my shoes up on my shoe rack in my large walk in closet. I find my house shoes and slip them on and take a look at my appearance.

I look amazing right now. I have a light flush to my skin, from the alcohol no doubt, but it gives my skin a healthy glow that I really love. I take my phone and take a picture of myself, so I can remember how I look later. How I looked for my friendly date with Jackson Morgan, who is currently downstairs in my house. I'm really starting to feel guilty now for being mad at him for so long. He had tried to contact me, but his uncle prevented that. Why would he do that?

I make my way back downstairs, still gripping the rail for fear of losing my balance. When I reach the ground floor, I let out a relieved breath and enter the kitchen. I need some water.

Instead I find Jackson with a bottle of red wine and two glasses set up.

He holds a glass up for me, "I hope you don't mind, I had my driver bring this in from the car. It's a lightly fermented, low alcohol content, wine. When you said you don't keep alcohol in the house, I thought that this would be more appropriate for you."

Oh.. "Thank you, that was thoughtful of you." I take it and sip it, finding I rather enjoy the flavor. "Oh, this is quite lovely. Thank you, Jackson. Would you like to sit on the sofa and talk? It's more comfortable there."