Chapter Twenty: Rare
Sienna
Lincoln was true to his word. At exactly six o'clock his driver pulled up to the curb outside my townhome. I figured Lincoln would be the type to be punctual, so I lingered by the front door five minutes before six, glancing out the peephole to make sure I wouldn't be late. When I saw he finally arrived, I didn't want it to seem like I was standing here waiting for him, too eager, so I gave it about two minutes before I walked down my steps, through the iron gate, and met him at the passenger side door.
The cologne he put on almost makes me moan in appreciation—a mixture of cedarwood and sage as he holds the door open for me. "Always a pleasure, Sienna. You look beautiful."
Heat creeps up to my cheeks as I avoid eye contact with him and climb inside. His driver glances at me in the rearview mirror and smiles, nodding in greeting, and I send one back before Lincoln joins me in the backseat.
I wasn't sure what to wear for this occasion. It was a business meeting technically, but it was also informal. Deciding on a knee-length black skirt, and a chiffon black tank top tucked in to match, I threw on a pink blazer on top and some gold jewelry, and black pumps that make my legs look fantastic. I thought it was too much, but Lincoln can't seem to stop staring at me.
"So, what should I know?" I ask.
"About what?"
"About your family. You know, politics, other topics I might want to stay away from...sensitive things."
He arches a brow. "Are you trying to impress my family?"
I scoff and shift in my seat to face him completely. "Business meetings, potential clients, are more than just a deal, Lincoln. It involves persuasion, getting a background on them, knowing exactly what and what not to say to get them to work with you."
Lincoln has an expression on his face I can't read, but it quickly becomes replaced with that same cocky grin of his that he always wears. He shifts towards me so that one knee is brushing against mine, resting the side of his head on the headrest. I gulp as I watch his hand run through his perfectly gelled-back hair, little strands standing on end from the movement. From his chiseled jawline to his evident cheekbones, to his muscular arms being strained against the white t-shirt he's wearing, he's truly a work of art. I wonder if he realizes that. "Did you do that to me?" he asks.
"What?"
"Research me?"
"Of course. I research all my clients. You, however, didn't need my charm. You seemed to have made your mind up about me before you even stepped into that coffee shop. Besides, this is about your family, not you. They're who I'm trying to win over."
Letting out a sigh, he gives in and sinks back more into the seat. "My mother is a kind-hearted woman, but she cares about the wrong things. Status, money, and events she throws seem to be at the top of her priority list. Her heart is in the right place, but material things always win over all of that, which is why I'm afraid Jett might sway her to sell."
"And Jett? What is he like?"
Lincoln sniffs in disapproval. "Money-hungry, too sophisticated, slimy car salesman, arrogant, flirtatious, rude..."
"He seems delightful," I mutter.
"All I need you to do is convince my mother. I could give two fucks about Jett. If you want to chop his balls off, I won't blink twice."
I nod and rest my head against the headrest, gulping loudly when Lincoln reaches over to grab my necklace. He twirls the gold chain I have—a tiny heart—between his fingers, and I hate the way my heart hammers in my chest. I hate that my first instinct is to take him right now in this car, not even caring that Robert is in the front seat.
"Who is this from?" he murmurs.
"My mom. She got it for me on my sixteenth birthday."
"You don't speak to each other anymore?"
My eyes soften at the memories of her, of both of my parents, but just as fast as they enter in, I block them out and cross my arms over my chest. Lincoln's effort is applaudable, I'll give him that, but I told him once that I didn't want to talk about this. We are just fucking. I'm not going to open myself up to him when this will only fizzle out in a few months.
"Have you thought about how you're going to ask me to make it up to you?" he asks, changing the subject, "for the favor I asked?"
I run my eyes over his fingers with one hand continuing to twirl the chain, watching as he pushes two fingers into my tank top with the other, underneath my bra cup, then pushes his entire hand inside to grasp my breast, those same two fingers twisting my nipple.
Robert is no doubt seeing all of this, but the feeling of Lincoln pressed against me like this is clouding my judgment. I don't care if Robert watches this.
I can't think about the fact that I'm comfortable with a man touching me for the first time here ever since...him. I can't think about what this means. All I know is that it feels good, and I don't ever want it to stop.
"You have to want something..." Lincoln says, "tell me, Sienna."
My back arches off the seat when his other hand trails down my stomach, then pauses at the waistband of my skirt. He's used to being in control, but I think after meeting me he's found his challenge. I'm not going to make it easy on him for many reasons.
I take his hand out of my bra and push his other one off my stomach, eyeing his hard cock pitching a tent in his jeans. "I think I'm going to leave you with blue balls during this dinner," I tell him, quiet enough so Robert can't hear, "and then, when you're so frustrated and angry that you just can't take it anymore, I'm going to spread my legs for you in this car on the way home and you're going to take all of that anger out on my pussy with your tongue."
He groans and tries to grasp his hard-on, but I playfully smack his hand away. "I'm going to leave you with blue balls after I get what I want. That is how you're going to repay me. An orgasm with nothing expected in return."
Arching a brow, he lets out a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. "What a cruel little thing you are."
The car comes to a stop, and I wait for Lincoln to come around and open my door for me. I take his hand while I step outside, gawking at the mansion placed in front of me. I didn't even notice it as we were driving in, but holy shit. A large, red brick home with black accents stares back at me, ivy running all over the sides. It reminds me of my townhome, only an upgraded version.
We're standing in a circular driveway, with a huge three-tiered fountain in the center. Hedges twice the height of Lincoln surround the property, secluding us in a bubble of our own.
"Come on," he says. I watch as his hand extends for mine at first, but then he seems to realize that this is a business meeting, dropping it to his side again before he leads the way up the brick steps. There's a huge brass knocker on the front that he bangs loudly, and a woman in a uniform answers it.
"Hello, Mr. Nash," the woman says shyly. She blinks up at him with adoration, and it's hard to ignore the twinging in my stomach at the thought of her being interested. "Your family is waiting for you in the sitting room."
He smiles at her. "Thank you, Katherine."
I follow him into a large room that's three times the size of my townhome in itself. Gold antique furniture surrounds a massive fireplace, and directly above it is a portrait of a man who looks almost identical to Lincoln, only an older version. His father.
"Oh, there's my handsome son," a woman, who I'm assuming is Lincoln's mother, gushes as she rises elegantly from her seat. As excited as she is, she's careful about her actions. She walks gracefully to him and wraps him in a warm embrace, my heart swelling when Lincoln smiles and hugs her tighter. I can see how fond they are of each other, and just for a second, I wish things with my family ended differently.
Another man is sprawled out across one of the couches, his long legs dangling off the side, his head resting on the palm of his hand as he scans me over from head to toe. I'm assuming this is Jett, instantly spotting the similarities between him and his brother. Structured cheekbones, jawlines that could cut glass, and blazing blue eyes that make you weak on the spot. The only difference between them is their hair color. Rather than Lincoln's black, silky locks, Jett has wavy blonde ones wrapped in a bun on top of his head that he got from their mother.
"This is Sienna Stone," Lincoln says and extends a hand to me, "she runs the largest media company on the East Coast. I've hired her to rebrand the business, and I wanted her to discuss the ideas she has with you."
I visibly see Jett roll his eyes. Lincoln wasn't kidding when he described his brother as rude, I guess.
Focusing my attention back on Lincoln's mother, I remember everything he said about her in the car, putting myself straight into business mode. "It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Nash. Your home is stunning. I can't help but notice, but are those couches from that furniture shop downtown? Next to Bergdorf's?"
Her eyes light up. "You can call me Estella, and yes, actually, they are. You know it?"
"It's lovely. I own several pieces from there."
His mother is calculating me in her mind, approval already setting in. I can see it. A woman that shops at the wealthiest furniture shop in New York must be wealthy herself, and it's helping my case. Not that I necessarily want to seem like I'm bragging, but to win over his mother, I have to.
"And where is it that you stay?" she asks.
"The Upper East Side," I reply, and then his mother smiles, reaching to shake my hand. Her fingers are perfectly manicured, and when I wrap my hand with hers, I'm blown away by the blazing blue in her eyes, just like Lincoln's and Jett's. Her blonde hair is cut into a short bob that frames her face, straightened to perfection, and she looks young. It's obvious she's had surgical work done, but she went to the right people. She looks like she could be their sister.
"Well, I'm looking forward to hearing about your plans," she says, "please, have a seat with us. Would you like a drink? Katherine can make you something."
Right on cue, Katherine rushes back into the room and stands right next to the bar, waiting for further instruction.
"Wine, please," I request, "anything dry will be fine."
Lincoln places his hand on my lower back after ordering a whiskey straight, and his mother doesn't miss the contact. Her lips threaten to turn into a smile as we all settle around the fireplace until Jett suddenly rises to his feet and saunters over. "Am I not to be introduced?" he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Lincoln. I can feel his body tense beside me.
"Jett, Sienna, Sienna, Jett," he mutters, uninterested as he takes a large gulp of whiskey when our drinks arrive.
Jett takes my hand and brings his mouth down to kiss it, and as soon as his lips meet my skin I pull away instantly. I was expecting a handshake, but again, Lincoln said his brother was a flirt, I should have known he'd do something like this. "A successful businesswoman, how rare."
"Jett," Estella warns, but her son doesn't scare me, nor intimidate me. I've dealt with worse.
"It's okay," I reassure her and sip my wine, offering Jett a sly smile, "I'm used to men who make less than me trying to obtain dominance. It's never worked, though."
Lincoln chokes on his whiskey, Estella is shocked at first before she turns impressed and looks up at Jett again. "Women are more than capable of running a successful business, Jett. If you're going to be rude to our guest then leave. I didn't raise you both not to have manners."
"Hey." Lincoln throws his hands up in defense. "I've treated Ms. Stone with nothing but professionalism and kindness."
"And why do I think that's not the case at all?" Jett snaps, but when he catches his mother's evil glare he straightens his posture and fixes the tie on his suit that he wore to a family dinner, which I also find weird. "My apologies, mother, of course, I'll be respectful to Ms. Stone."
But he makes it known that he's checking me out. He stares at my breasts and then rakes his eyes down to my toes, then back up. Lincoln wasn't lying when he said Jett had creepy car salesman vibes.
"Is dinner ready?" Lincoln asks, and it's not until now that I see his knuckles are white from holding his glass of whiskey so tightly. I've never seen eyes so capable of showing so much emotion, but right now, Lincoln's eyes are the color of ice. Jett notices too, a grin of satisfaction etched onto his face.
I've concluded that his brother is a dick, and although he's trying to make this dinner go poorly, trying to push Lincoln to his breaking point, it's not going to stop me from winning over their mother. I will win, and his mother will decide to give my company a chance to help them.
After all, being a successful businesswoman is what I do best.