CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(Matthew)
When I got home, the apartment was dark. At first, I worried that Charlotte wasn’t able to find the light switches. Then, my phone pinged.
Meet me upstairs.
I threw my bag, keys, and jacket on the floor and headed to the elevator as fast as my bum leg allowed.
“I’m in here!” Charlotte called as I exited. The doors to the master suite were propped open. “I’m putting things away.”
That was a good sign. Not just a sign that she’d spent a lot of money, but that she planned to stay. At least, for a while.
But I was not prepared to see how much real estate she’d taken up in the empty second dressing room.
Charlotte stood in the middle of the once stark white room, surrounded by racks and shelves and jewelry cases popping with color. She was as colorful in a lacy, hot pink bra and matching panties with little bows and naughty diamond cut-outs that gave flashes of her totally bare vulva.
“Did my princess do as I instructed?” I asked.
There must have been twenty pairs of high heels, alone. She even wore shiny pumps to match her new underthings.
“I did,” she said solemnly. “But never do that to me again?”
“Do what?” Send her on a shopping spree? “You’re not going to get self-conscious about spending my money, are you?”
She shook her head firmly. “No. Never. Today was awesome. But it started out overwhelming. Luckily, I ran into a friend.”
“You have friends in New York?” She’d never mentioned that, and I felt guilty that she’d come here to spend a week without making plans to visit them. “If you had told me—”
“She’s a new friend. We met at Ascend Red.” She gave me a saucy little smirk. “At the roulette table?”
“Ah.” I knew exactly who she was talking about. “I thought they holed up in their compound in the Hamptons.”
“Usually, they are,” Charlotte explained, turning to one of the recently empty clothing racks, now stuffed full. “She was visiting her sister in the city and couldn’t resist the shopping. I get the feeling she’s kind of a clotheshorse.”
I moved to one of the glass-topped jewelry cases, now filled with all manner of sparkly objects. “You don’t say?”
“And get this: She grew up poor. Like, poor poor. So, she knows all the things I need to learn and how weird it’s going to be for me.” Charlotte stopped herself. “I mean, if this becomes a long-term, serious—”
I caught her up in the crook of my arm and drew her to my side. “You know my feelings on that.”
She giggled and pushed away, refusing to address it by changing the subject. “Anyway, Sophie told me that rich men like it when you spend their money. That it makes them feel important and horny.”
“You’re definitely making me feel one of those things right now.” Her ass looked fantastic in her tiny pink thong. “And I would love it if you continued to spend my money, if it means coming home to this view.”
“She also said you’d like it even more if I spent over the fifty thousand.” Now, Charlotte sounded nervous. “So I spent…”
I waited expectantly while she bit her lip and looked truly remorseful.
“A little over two hundred thousand.” She held her breath, waiting for my reaction.
I didn’t have one, other than to be impressed. “Nice.”
“Nice?” Her eyes boggled. “I spent as much as some people spend on a house and you think that’s nice?”
“I think it’s yet another sign that we live in a capitalist dystopia from which none of us will escape, but when in Rome…” I spread my hands. “That’s not very much money at all, to me. I make more than that in interest on my bank account in a day.”
That was the wrong answer. She utterly deflated.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I cannot comprehend the amount of money you have.”
“It’s an immoral amount,” I agreed. But I wouldn’t go into all the philanthropic shit my money did annually. Frankly, it wasn’t enough.
“I…” She looked down. “Wow, I feel like such an asshole now. I was so proud of blowing all this money.”
“Hey. Don’t feel guilty.” I gestured around at all of her new treasures. “I’m stoked that you did this.”
“Yeah?” She asked, sounding unconvinced.
“First of all, you have nearly filled up this closet. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a good sign that you plan to stay.” I didn’t give her a chance to argue, though she opened her mouth to. “Second, if you look as good in the rest of this as you look in what you’re wearing now? I’m the luckiest man on the planet.”
“Yeah?” Her mouth slanted in a reluctant smile. “Okay. I guess I’ll believe you.”
“Did you and Sophie do anything else fun?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.
“No. Her arrangement is different than our arrangement,” Charlotte said with a wry roll of her eyes. “Honestly, is sex all you think about?”
“You’re wearing what I assume are crotchless panties. What else am I supposed to be thinking about?” I needed to sit down. I’d done a lot more walking than I was used to since before my accident. I sat on the white leather pouf near the shoes.
“She gave me a lot of tips about how to seem rich,” Charlotte went on. “For example, did you know that if celebrities are name-dropping a brand, like in songs or being seen in a lot of magazines with it, it’s not that fancy? Oh, and she said people like your family wouldn’t be into visible logos, so no Louis Vuitton luggage for me.”
“I’m not a fan of the color scheme, anyway,” I assured her.
“That’s why I got Tumi.” She gestured to a pile of assorted bags I’d walked past when I’d entered.
“You thought of everything.” I noted that the amount of luggage was not enough to pack all of the clothing, jewelry, and shoes she’d purchased. Another good sign.
Or I was reading into things too much.
“So.” She came over and sat in my lap, her fantastic, round ass on my good leg. “I don’t get a punishment, then?”
I placed one finger on her chest, between her barely contained breasts, and drew a line up the center of her throat, over her chin, to the slick, vibrant magenta gloss on her lips. “No. You have most thoroughly pleased your dragon.”
She gave me a slow smile. “I got lots of nasty underwear, in case you’re wondering. This isn’t all of it. And I’ll be wearing it this weekend, under my very appropriate clothing.”
I groaned in anticipation of the torture that would inflict on me. “I’ve thought of approximately six places I want to fucking rail you in my childhood home.”
Her nose scrunched up. “That’s disgusting.”
“That’s honesty.” I gave the small of her back a little pat. “Come on. I need something to eat before I give you your reward.”
“Yeah, I’m starving, to be honest.” She hopped to her feet and offered me her hand. “I didn’t
know how to get food here. Like, if I could order in and have them bring it up or what. And… I don’t know where the kitchen is.”
“Great. I’ve been negligent in my duties caring for and feeding you.” By now, my chef would have gone home. “I hope you haven’t been starving.”
I hoped that because I wasn’t sure what was in the refrigerator, and I was not much of a cook.
“I got McDonald’s on my way back from shopping. The driver you hired thought I was kidding.” Her cheeks flushed. “Let me put on some clothes—”
“Don’t you dare.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that an order, my dragon?”
I gave it a moment of thought. “Yes. I think it is.”
“What if I get cold?” she countered.
“Then… It’s a good thing you have a dragon to keep you warm. Are you cold right now?” I asked. When she shook her head, I gestured to the door. “Then let’s go.”
As we walked to the elevator, I explained, “The private kitchen is on the first floor. There’s a catering kitchen on the second floor, because that’s where the ballroom and formal dining room are.”
“I tried to retrace my steps from breakfast this morning,” she explained as we rode down. “I went into that dining room and through the door, but it went to storage. And I was afraid to go any farther.”
“Because you might fall out?” I joked.
She bristled. “Hey, I’m doing much better today. I almost sat on the sofa in the den.”
Considering the position of that sofa, an L-shape with its short side feet from the glass, it was an achievement for her. “I’m impressed. And that’s not sarcasm. I’m genuinely impressed.”
“I felt weird poking around your house.” She shrugged and we stepped off onto the first floor. “Intrusive, you know?”
“I should have given you the full tour, so you wouldn’t feel intrusive.” I guided her in the right direction. “But you’re welcome to intrude. You might live here one day.”
“Wouldn’t you love that?” she said with a snicker.
“Yes,” I stated flatly. No need to tell her that I already counted on it happening. “Now, if you’d kept on going through that butler’s pantry you went into earlier, you would have found the kitchen. But from outside…”
I steered her around the corner and past the dining room, to the nondescript kitchen entrance.
“I was so close!” She grimaced and pushed down the door handle, and we stepped inside.
As I predicted, it was dark and clean and deserted. I hadn’t remembered to ask Steven to leave dinner for us. At least, Charlotte would have a chance to write him a note about her breakfast preferences. But in the meantime… “You don’t happen to know how to cook, do you?”
“Not in this outfit,” she shot back.
“Fair enough.” I opened the brushed-steel refrigerator and squinted at the contents. There were a lot of ingredients. Not necessarily anything ready to go.
Charlotte started opening cabinets. “No canned soup or anything?”
“I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve eaten out of cans in my entire life,” I said, pulling out something wrapped in white paper. “At least, in my own home.”
“Not even college?” She hopped up on the balls of her feet to check another cupboard. “There’s no pasta in here, nothing.”
“I don’t eat much pasta.” I patted my midsection. “Carbs.”
“You can buy all the pasta in the world, and you don’t. That’s criminal.” She shook her head sadly for me.
“Hey, if I want pasta, I have a private chef that makes it from scratch. I’m not exactly deprived.”
“No, just depraved.” She closed the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about this: I get dressed, and we go out and grab something to eat.”
“I’ll call and get us a reservation.” It would be easy enough to get someone bumped from DANIEL or Le Bernardin.
“Or, we could go to a regular restaurant, where people don’t have to make reservations.” She frowned. “You have done that before, right?”
“Of course, I have. When I was in college, we got fast food all the time. I’ve even been to an Olive Garden.” Did I sound proud of that? I was a bit, but not from a “slumming” sense. I liked to think I was more normal than the rest of my family. More in touch with the real world.
From Charlotte’s expression, I gathered that wasn’t the case.
“You know what I’ve always wanted to try? Getting a hot dog from a cart like they do in the movies.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.
But my stomach clenched in fear.
“A hot dog cart?” On the street? Where there wasn’t even a place for the chef to wash his hands?
“Yeah, like, the guys who stand on the street and they’ve got hot dogs floating in scummy water and they’re like, ‘whaddaya want,’” she went on. “Have you…never done that? You live in New York.”
“There are multiple New Yorks existing in the same city. It’s like a multiverse.”
“You’re a dork,” she said flatly. “And what you’re describing is class separation, not a multiverse. You classist dork.”
Ouch. Not the dork part; I was fully aware that she maintained a dim view of my nerdery. But it stung to know that she considered me one of the ivory tower elites, refusing to rub shoulders with the common people.
“Fine. You want a hot dog, we’ll get a hot dog.” Were food carts even open at nine p.m.? “Go get dressed.”
I grabbed my phone and texted my driver. Do you know where to find a hot dog cart this late?
The things I was prepared to do for love.
* * * *
As it turned out, there weren’t many hot dog carts in Manhattan, and most closed up shop after the nine-to-five crowd had left the city. But my driver, Allison, knew of one who hung around until ten.
“But,” she warned me, “you’re hitting the tail end of the day. Expect shriveled dogs.”
Of all the words I expected to think of when approaching a meal, “shriveled” was possibly the second-most unpleasant. Charlotte’s earlier description of “scummy” still took the top slot.
It haunted me.
Still, her excitement was adorable. She bounded from the car in her gray cashmere joggers and hoodie before Allison could open the door.
“Are you closed?” Charlotte called as she hurried up to the vendor.
The man didn’t look up as he opened a lid on the cart, releasing a cloud of steam. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yay!” She gestured me over with a rapidly flapping hand while she ordered. “I want a hot dog with mustard and onions. A lot of onions.”
“And for you?” the man asked, bumping the brim of his baseball cap out of his eyes with his forearm.
“One with ketchup and relish. And…a Pepsi.” I nodded toward Charlotte. “Want something to drink?”
“A diet, please.” She cast me a glance and a shrug. “The sugar kind is too sweet.”
I’d be sure to let the housekeeper know before she went shopping.
“Sixteen bucks.” The man said, handing me my food.
That was it? I opened my wallet. All I had were hundreds. I handed one over and said, “Keep the change.”
“Did you drop a hundred dollars on hot dogs?” Charlotte asked as we walked back to the car. She was already making significant progress on her food, so she must have been hungry. Usually, she ate at sloth speed.
“I dropped sixteen bucks on hot dogs. I dropped eighty-four dollars on a tip.” It was hard to manage a precarious hot dog in a paper doily, two sodas, and my cane. “Can you—”
“Let me get that, sir,” Allison said, stepping away from the curb. She took the bottles from me and opened the door.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Charlotte said happily as Allison shut us in. “It was like the movies.”
“There are movies about people traveling the world. Climbing mountains. Having adventures.” My lips quirked up in a smile. “You wanted to emulate the scenes where people buy food off the street.”
She made a noise of dismay. “Adventures sound exhausting. Nonsexual ones, I mean. Climbing a mountain? No thanks. I don’t even like an incline on the treadmill. This is a big adventure for me, anyway. I mean, eating hot dogs in the back of a chauffeured electric Mercedes? When was that going to happen to me?”
I took a bite and considered her words.
Wicking a bit of mustard from the corner of her mouth with her ring finger, she went on. “You have to look at everyday life as being full of adventure, or you’ll get bored.”
“That’s…an unexpectedly wise statement to arise from eating a hot dog.” But she was right. If she hadn’t come into my life, would I have ever tracked down a street vendor and eaten a sixteen-dollar dinner in the back of my car?
“I’m not just great tits and a raging libido,” she said happily. “I have depth.”
“I never doubted that.” I was surprised at how that depth influenced me. What other daily “adventures” would I have in my life with Charlotte?
I couldn’t wait to find out.