Dirty Diana by January James
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Thank you,” Jude wrapped his arms around me as the police car set off down the road. “Thank you for finally reporting that twisted maniac. Hopefully, it won’t be long before they find him.”
“If he was around here only yesterday, like Dree said, he can’t have gone far.”
“How long has your mum had the restraining order out on him?” Jude asked, squeezing me.
“Two years,” I replied, shaking my head, recalling our conversation.
Mum had been expecting my call. She’d been contacted by Rolling Stone when they first started compiling the article. But their announcement of my relationship with Aaron hadn’t come as a surprise to her then, either. She’d suspected something ever since I fled the country. A friend had told Mum they’d seen Aaron in Cambridge when he had no business being there.
After I graduated and disappeared off the face of the earth, Mum had rummaged through his belongings and found half-finished letters. For two years, he lied to her, saying he’d been writing poetry, recalling words his own parents had used with him, with his siblings, with each other. We both knew Aaron had had a difficult upbringing, so this explanation, while being a complete lie, was plausible.
One day, she found another letter, this one with my name on it, and confronted him again. He turned on her, a different person. It was as though he was some demon dressed up as a functioning human. He attacked my mother, beating her black and blue, with a temper he hadn’t revealed in six years. She was stunned but not stupid. She went straight to the police, which resulted in a frustratingly short prison sentence and a restraining order. His outburst changed him; he refused to speak to my mother, even when she visited him in prison. He wouldn’t give up any information about where I was, otherwise, she’d sworn to me over the phone, she would have tracked me down herself.
We stayed on the phone to each other for two hours; we had a lot to catch up on. But mostly, we had a lot of apologizing and forgiving to do. My mum deeply regretted not listening to me when I begged her not to marry Aaron, and I deeply regretted not telling her why. I was pleased to learn she’d been seeing someone else—a lecturer at the local college. He was quiet, undramatic, chivalrous—a completely different character to Aaron. I couldn’t wait to meet him, and I wouldn’t have to wait for long. Mum had agreed to come to New York the following week. After I explained the situation with the business, with Jude, with everything that was happening in my life, she insisted on coming to me. And I couldn’t wait to finally show her around the city that had become my home.
There was only one fly left in the ointment: Aaron was still out there. It wouldn’t be long, the police had assured me, before they’d catch him. His behavior indicated he was careless and they’d had other sightings reported. They would keep eyes on the area round the clock, expecting him to return within days. It would all be over quickly, they’d said. I hoped, with every fiber of my being, they were right.
* * *
“I’d like to make a toast!”I called out, trying to gain the attention of the jabbering voices around the table. We’d chosen Buddakan for the celebration because it was vibrant, buzzing, and had a seating area that could accommodate our entire team of now thirty-four people. The only problem was, it was so buzzy, I couldn’t hear myself think.
Jude bashed a fork against his champagne flute to quieten them down. As soon as I had everyone’s attention, I started.
“I just want to say a huge thank you and congratulations to you all. Today, we officially became Rebel Records!”
“Whoop!” came a collective cry from the table, along with clapping hands and stamping feet.
“This has been one hell of a journey,” I continued. “We’ve survived personal attacks, we’ve overcome a severely squeezed pipeline of promo opportunities, we’ve seen our enemies in broad daylight, and we’ve discovered who our friends in this industry really are.”
I scanned my eyes around the table.
“No ordinary team did this. We did this. YOU did this. This business isn’t just mine, or Jude’s, or the new investors’. This business is yours. Listen up…”
I held up a hand for complete silence.
“We’ve been fortunate enough to have found investors who believe in the biggest principle we stand by: that everyone has a voice and should be able to use it, no matter what. They know that without you, this business wouldn’t still be standing. And they want you to be rewarded, not just for everything you’ve done so far, but for everything you do in the future.”
I nodded to Marla who began to pass around letters addressed to each member of the team.
“Open them” I nodded, and watched as their jaws dropped to the table.
“Inside, you’ll find a bonus—a thank you for your hard work, your dedication and your belief. You’ll also find a letter welcoming you as a shareholder of the business. We’ve decided to run this label as a cooperative, meaning that you will get a share of its financial success every step of the way. Jude and I will continue to lead, but you are the directors of your own destiny—this label’s destiny. It’s in your hands as much as it is in ours.”
Faces looked up at me, tears rolling down cheeks.
“This is insane,” Carlos uttered beside me. “We own the label now?”
I squeezed his shoulder in response.
“A toast,” I reminded everyone. “To Rebel Records. To you.”
The entire team rose to their feet and clinked their glasses, still dazed by the news.
“Come on,” Jude said, tugging my hand. “Let’s leave them for a few minutes.”
* * *
I followedJude up the steps. I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d been planning the change for weeks. It was all I’d wanted, ever since Jude announced he was going to quit Empirical and join us on our solitary journey. I knew we were making that journey as a team and it didn’t feel right somehow to continue chasing profits for faceless shareholders who could be bought by the likes of Hoffman and his friends. We championed democracy for music; I wanted democracy for my team. Jude was right; they needed time to process the shock of becoming owners of the label, and they needed to squeal and cry with each other, and come to terms with it, together.
Jude found a table in a corner, sat down and pulled me onto his knee.
“Can’t I sit on a chair?” I moaned, squirming to get comfortable.
“No, come here,” he replied, tugging my ass into his crotch so I could feel him rigid behind his pants. “I want to play with you a little bit.”
My breath escaped my lips in a rush and I looked around at our fellow patrons, wondering if we could really do this without being noticed. Before I could protest, Jude slipped his hand beneath my long silk skirt and stroked his fingers along my thigh. I jerked suddenly, almost slipping off his lap.
“Easy, girl,” he whispered, bringing his lips to my ear.
“I’ve been wanting to feel you all fucking night,” he drawled, pushing his fingers beneath the fabric of my briefs. I brought my cheek alongside his so he could hear the pace of my breath.
“We’re at a work dinner,” I said.
“I don’t care.” He punctuated the sentiment by pressing his thumb down onto me, taking my breath away. Slowly, he circled it, eliciting a long, quiet, unrestrainable moan from my lips.
“You’re extremely wet, Diana,” he said, the hot air from his throat caressing the side of my face.
I couldn’t reply; I was biting my lip to stop any further sounds escaping. I was sitting in clear view of the rest of the restaurant with my boyfriend massaging my damp skin, prizing me apart, preparing to fuck me with his fingers.
“How long have you been waiting for this?” He whispered.
“All… night,” I managed.
“I’ll say,” he said, confidently. That was what turned me on so much about this man. He knew exactly where to touch me, how to bring me to the edge. He knew exactly what I needed, and when I needed it. He would seek me out in the kitchen or late at night in the reception room offices, knowing I needed to be relieved of some stress or another, and he would take my mind off the problem there and then, without even undressing me. His fingers were incredible, and he knew it. His tongue was incredible; the way he moved inside me was incredible. And he bloody well knew that too. It would have been infuriating if it wasn’t just so, damn, good.
“That’s it,” he cooed, pressing me apart, feeling my legs slip slightly outwards.
His fingers caressed my opening, even as I pushed my hips towards them, asking for more.
“Greedy, greedy,” he teased.
“You’re such an ass,” I groaned, biting his earlobe until he got the message.
“Here you go, baby,” he murmured, pushing two fingers slowly into my depths. I spun my face bringing my lips to his and moaned into his mouth. He instantly caught my kiss and moaned back into me, circling his fingers, feeling his way deeper. His thumb continued its torturous torment, pulling me to a peak. I needed more of him inside me.
“Please,” I begged, pulling apart just long enough to say the word. It came out lazily, desperately. He responded by pushing two more fingers inside, stretching me as wide as I could go. Then I felt his other hand on the small of my back. He parted his knees so I was perched on just one, then he rocked me, gently, back and forth, over the round of his thigh. His flattened palm pressed me forward onto his fingers, forcing them deeper, then held me as I rocked backwards, relieving me as his fingers pulled out circling my walls, before I was rocked forward again. He moved me like an instrument, bringing me down onto his hand and relieving me again, over and over, until I couldn’t take any more. The sounds reaching out from my chest into his became stronger and less patient.
“God, I want you so badly,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. They danced playfully.
“Later,” he promised. “Let’s deal with you first.”
He held my gaze while he pressed his thumb down, drawing another delicious breath of air from my lungs.
“Fuck,” I gasped, rocking harder.
“I’ve got you,” he said, then clamped his lips over mine, just as an uncontrollable cry began to emerge from deep within me. He took control of the rhythm as I shook helplessly on his lap, continuing to rock me back and forth, pressing down on my flesh, rubbing his thumb in small circles.
I almost choked with the intensity, blind to the hundreds of other diners seated around us. As my senses returned, Jude slowed our kiss, pulling back to pepper his lips against mine as my heartrate returned to normal.
“God, you needed that,” he said, quietly, as I dragged my eyelids open again.
“You’ve ruined me,” I replied.
“No, I’ve sated you,” he insisted. “And…” he drew me into him again. “I’m fucking harder than ever.”
I brought a hand down to the mound in his pants.
“Don’t…” he warned. “I’ll come in my jeans and that would be horrendously obvious. I can wait. But only just. Until I can get you the other side of my front door.”
I gave him a promising smile. “I need to freshen up,” I said, wriggling to stand.
“Well, don’t take too long,” he replied. “We’re spending another ten minutes here, then we’re going to let these guys get hideously drunk without the bosses around, and I’m taking you home.”