Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dark
Tall evergreen shrubs, trimmed to a pretentious perfection, line the fine gravel road as far as the eye can see. Sitting beside me in the backseat of her car, Penelope chatters nonstop about her love for the house we’re visiting. It’s her favorite of the six her family owns. I barely pay attention.
Once we pass through the arch and around the center fountain, we park in front of the sprawling, multimillion-dollar home and its abundance of boring-ass white.
Tony gets out to unload our luggage from the trunk as a butler, dressed in a suit, trots down the front steps, opens Pen’s door, and welcomes her.
They seem to know each other well, as she hooks her arm through his and they catch up like old friends.
Leaving Tony to do his job, I step out of the car and explore the place on my own, starting with the two-story-tall entrance and the double staircase leading to the second floor. Every room I come across is far too big, coated in sterile white with the occasional beige, and smells of blood money.
Penelope’s excited chatter reaches me as I enter a formal dining room with a table long enough to seat twenty. She comes through a door, glancing over her shoulder and waving to someone in the other room.
“Tell Maria thank you for the flowers and the chocolates. I’m so glad she’s here,” she calls before she turns to me, hooks her arm through mine, and leans up to peck my cheek.
“Hello, Darling, isn’t the place magnificent?” She bounces on her toes, vibrating with excitement.
“Sure.” I shrug, not seeing the appeal but not wanting to shit on her good mood either.
“Let’s change into our bathing suits and wait by the pool for everyone else to arrive.”
With nothing better to do, I shrug again and let Penelope drag me up the stairs, down a hall lined with a dozen or more closed doors, and into one at the far end.
She gasps at the ocean view that greets us.
A fresh, briny breeze ruffles the curtains as it floats through the open balcony door.
Disengaging from me, Penelope skips to our unpacked bags, strips down, and puts on a pale blue bikini, which is nothing more than a triangle of fabric to cover her tits and pussy.
She wiggles her ass at me as she settles the string of fabric between her cheeks. “You like?”
“Yes,” I lie, not caring all that much for her ass.
I’ve seen better asses. I’ve fucked better asses.
If I loved her, maybe her ass would do it for me, but given that I don’t love anyone that way, it’s just skin in a roundish shape with minimal cellulite and no stretch marks.
It doesn’t get my dick hard if that’s what she’s expecting.
If it’s some playful banter she’s hoping for, I’m not the man for that.
We’ve had an open marriage the entire time we’ve been together.
She’s more than welcome to get her kicks elsewhere.
Whether or not she chooses to do so doesn’t make a fucking bit of difference to me.
Listen, I know I’m a prick. I also know that I’m bein’ an asshole, given that this is supposed to be a nice getaway weekend to talk business and relax by the pool or on the beach. But I can’t relax. Not with Penelope, and sure as fuck not with Harold around.
Needing to get my head in the game, I drag a pair of black swim trunks outta my bag, strip naked, and put the damn things on. I’ve never worn these before. Hell, I didn’t even know I owned a pair until now.
“Do you like?” Pen asks from the doorway of the attached bath, where she’s grabbed us a set of beach towels and a bottle of sunscreen.
“These?” I tug my waistband.
“Yes. I think you look hot.” Her gaze rakes up and down my body.
The shorts are too short and tight. They hug my ass like a second skin and my bulge…
We don’t even wanna go there. Everyone is gonna know what I’m packin’, which, by the lip-licking Pen’s doing as she focuses on my dick, is the entire point.
Whatever. I’ll be eye candy if that’s what gets me through the weekend.
“Don’t worry, Darling, Poppy will be here soon enough, and she’ll be more than happy to help you relax. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your weekend, but this is important to Daddy.”
Oh. I’m sure it is. I just don’t give a damn what’s important to him.
“Is your mom gonna be here?” I ask as I slide on a pair of black sandals Penelope packed for me.
“No. Why would she be?”
“They’re married. It’s a family weekend. That’s the point, right?”
“Mom spends May through August in Spain every year.”
Ah. That’s why I haven’t seen her lately.
“So your dad is bringing…” I trail off for Pen to fill in.
“Ava.”
“Is she the one with the weird eyes or the one with the black hair?” I ask.
“The one with the black hair was Angela. Daddy ended that relationship months ago…” Penelope wrinkles her nose at me. “Ava’s eyes are not weird.”
They are, but I’m not in the mood to argue semantics. It doesn’t matter anyway.
Tucking my arms across my chest, I lean my hip against the dresser. “Isn’t she younger than you?” I ask, veering the subject to a place that’s sure to piss her off.
“They’re almost always younger than me, Max. You know this.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“No.” Pen huffs, hugging the towels a little tighter to her chest. “They’re always nice to me, and if they weren’t, Daddy would break up with them sooner than he does.”
I can see that. Given how much they’re attached at the hip. She’s a daddy’s girl, through and through, which is why I’d never speak badly about her father in her presence. She can’t be trusted to keep it between us, and I know where I stand. I’m the husband, and even that’s a stretch.
“And the other associates coming…” I hedge.
“They’re bringing their girlfriends, too.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod, not liking the sound of this. “Mm. So, they’re coming for sex. Are we supposed to participate in their orgies?” Meeting Pen’s gaze, I wait for her to lay it out.
Out comes one of her annoyed sighs. “Max.”
“What?” I snap. “Don’t act like men like them don’t bring their arm candy along to show off, then share it with their buddies.
That’s how this goes. What I’m askin’ you, which I should’ve asked before we got here, isn’t fuckin’ crazy, Pen.
I don’t wanna spend the whole goddamn weekend seein’ a bunch of old dicks and wrinkly ball sacks fuckin’ girls young enough to be their granddaughters. ”
Pen meets my ire with just as much heat. “You’re in your forties, Maxim. Don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical, given the age of your assistant?”
The words, “go fuck yourself, bitch,” tingle on the tip of my tongue, but I rein them in. “No,” I grumble instead and clench my fists until my hands hurt. “I didn’t hire her, and I have no intention of parading her around… unless…”
Hold up.
“Penelope… Did you…”
She’d better not have.
Raising her head high and straightening her back, Penelope speaks to me like I’m a fucking moron. “Did. I. What?”
“Is that why you invited her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Penelope, don’t play that bullshit with me. It doesn’t work.”
“She’s pretty.”
“And?”
“She’ll make you look good.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“You know what it means, Max.”
I can’t believe this bitch.
“So, I’m fucking her. That’s the plan. Not some blowjob to take the edge off, but to actually fuck her.” I wasn’t down with her coming in the first place, knowing what she was here for, but this…
Christ.
“Yes. You are here to participate. I can’t be a part of that.”
“But I can?” I snarl.
The bitch nods with all the bravado of a woman who gets what she wants and never backs down.
“Yes. You can and you will. When Daddy tells you to come to the Hamptons for the weekend, you come, you bring a partner, and you do things with that person or whoever else he tells you to do things with. Do you understand what I’m saying? ”
Oh. I am listening, loud and goddamn clear.
She’s lucky she’s a woman. That’s all I’m gonna say on that matter.
“I’m not touching those other girls.” I meet her fiery gaze head-on.
“They’re women. Not girls… And yes, you are. They’ve already consented to this.”
“I don’t give a fuck what they’ve agreed to. I’m not doin’ it.”
Pursing her lips, Pen shakes her head. For a beat, it’s just us, glaring at each other before she speaks, her tone as sharp as a whip.
“There’s a bottle of blue pills inside the pocket of your luggage.
I suggest that if you can’t do it, then you take a pill so you can.
It’s your job.” Done with this conversation, my wife flips her hair over her shoulder and, with a huff, marches from our bedroom in her bare feet.
Christ.
This fuckin’ woman and her fucked-up family.
I’m supposed to perform.
Ha. Fat chance.
Why would I fuck my assistant in front of a bunch of dudes?
To be a part of their…whatever the hell this is supposed to be?
No. I don’t think so. I don’t wanna be a part of anything they’re attached to.
I don’t even wanna be here. I’m not takin’ a blue pill, and I’m not touchin’ my assistant, no matter what Penelope demands.
The past few weeks have been shit enough, thanks to the lack of texts from my family. Pops was the only one to reply, and it wasn’t more than a few words. I haven’t responded or tried to reach out to any of them since. All I can think about is how I’ve ruined my life… and for what?
The club?
No.
I can’t even claim that anymore, can I?
It’s not like I’ve run a job in over a year. Not since the boat incident and the loose ends I tied up afterward.
Sure, I’ve done a few deliveries and other odds and ends, but even that was over six months ago.
Shoving off the dresser, I push the curtains aside and step onto the balcony.
It overlooks the pool and lush backyard.
The ocean shimmers in the distance as its breeze caresses my face.
A bush-lined path leads from the back of the house to the sand.
Fed up with my life, I grip the stone railing and drop my head between my shoulders.
Blowing out a breath, I close my eyes and work through the anger and desperation as I send a mental plea into the universe for guidance.
I wish I had one of Kali’s crystals to draw energy from. Maybe it would help. She seems to think so. But I left those, along with the rest of my belongings, in the same storage locker I parked my bike.
Happy female voices carry from the poolside below and are soon joined by the rumblings of men.
Christ.
I can’t do this anymore.
I don’t wanna perform.
I need to go home.
I need…
Fuck…
Dropping to my knees, the urge to cry burns my nose as I whisper, voice hoarse, “Whoever’s listening. I surrender. Fuck. I can’t do this anymore.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I count to ten to steady my breathing before I stand and peer over the edge of the balcony. Penelope and Poppy, wearing oversized sunglasses and too-bright smiles, look up from their loungers and wave.
“Come down, Darling. I saved you a spot.” Without a care in the world, Penelope gestures to the seat beside hers with the glass of wine in her hand. She’s a damn good actress, given what just went down in the bedroom.
Two can play at this game.
“Be down in a minute, babe,” I call before heading back into our room, where I rummage through the side of my bag for the bottle of pills.
In the bathroom, I slam them on the counter, ya know, just in case I need them, even though I won’t.
Then I pause to look at myself in the mirror above the sink.
“You’ve got this,” I growl and lean in to get up close and personal with the bags under my eyes.
They’re soft when I poke them. Grumbling under my breath at my dark, graying stubble and my abs too cut from not eating enough, I slap the wall of muscle.
The hollow noise echoes through the all-white room, making me cringe.
“It’s just the weekend. You’ve done this before.
You can sleep next week after you eat an entire cow. Now go act your ass off.”
The pep talk does fuck all to get me back on track.
Though a thick, juicy steak sure sounds amazing.
Come Monday, when we’re back in New York City, away from this hell, I gotta figure out a plan to get home.
Not Penelope’s apartment. Home. Home. If that means I gotta grovel on my hands and knees, I will.
I’ll do whatever I gotta do to get outta this life and back with my family, and I don’t mean my wife or Abby.
Kali’s happy, and Abby deserves happiness, too.
Which sure as shit ain’t with me. But they’re the mothers of my children, and that means something. I know it means something to them, too.
It’s time to eat crow.
But first…
I slide the bottle of pills into my pocket, just in case.