Manhattan Blues
Alistair
Julian, Vera, and I slipped into the Waldorf Astoria just before midnight, the marble lobby gleaming under chandeliers. I lingered as the siblings exchanged a quiet goodnight, an easy intimacy in the way they smiled, before Julian stepped into the elevator and vanished behind its mirrored doors.
“How did it go with my brother?” Vera pressed close, her body warm against mine. Her voice dropped, laced with worry. “Do you think he suspects anything about us? I don’t want him to know yet—not with everything he’s dealing with.”
“Do you trust me?” I tilted her chin up, brushing my mouth over hers.
She kissed me back, soft but certain, before pulling just far enough to whisper, “I do. With all my heart.”
My thumb traced her cheekbone. “I won’t let you or your family down.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you.”
I let a grin tug at my mouth. “One more thing. Your room… or mine?”
The door shut behind us when we reached her hotel room, and I wasted no time. My hands locked onto Vera’s waist as I pressed her back against the wall. Every second apart had been a slow burn, and now I starved for her.
“Remember this?” I ground my cock against her hips, savoring the way she arched into me.
Her breath hitched, her nails biting into my shoulders. “Alistair, please.” Her body trembled, already giving me everything I craved.
“Please what? Please stop?” My mouth curved against her ear.
“Please keep going.” Her hand slid down, grazing the bulge straining my pants.
I chuckled low, dragging my tongue along the jasmine warmth of her throat. “I believe you’ve met him before.” I unzipped, letting my grin spread slow and wicked. “In fact, you know him well.”
“Oh, I missed him, Scotty,” Vera whispered, her fingers shoving my trousers down to free the thick length of me.
The air between us crackled, charged. “You on anything?” I murmured, already aching to bury myself inside her.
Her eyes flicked up, sharp even through her haze. “Are you clean?”
“I’m clean, sweetheart.” I worked the clasps of her dress until it pooled at her feet, leaving her gloriously bare.
“Me too,” she whispered, lips parting. “I’m on the pill.”
My gaze raked over her curves. I traced a slow line down her hip. “No underwear, hmm?” I teased, hand gliding over her supple skin.
“That’s right, no underwear, Scotty. You’re not wearing any either.” Her fingers gently brushed my pubic curls. Her touch felt sensual and arousing yet comforting.
“You know, two can play that game.” I lifted Vera’s buttocks and pushed her against the wall. She took the cue and wrapped her long legs around my hips, embracing them with her tight hold. Her wet folds welcomed my cock, allowing me to slip into her snugly.
“That’s it. That’s my girl,” I coaxed, feeling her sensational core sheathing me.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many hearts she had shot with her arrow of enchantment, making men and women succumb to her in sinful surrender.
Was I just another sorry soul lost in her snare of seduction?
I squeezed and rubbed Vera’s ass cheeks while holding her steady as my heart pumped faster in exhilaration.
Her tight core massaged my swollen shaft, and we started to thrust, gently at first, then vigorously.
“I’ve missed you.” Vera cried, throwing her head back. Beads of perspiration rolled off our hot bodies as every muscle worked in synchronized rhapsody, bringing us both to cry out in an orgasmic frenzy.
Moments later, we collapsed onto the king-sized bed, tangled in sweat and heat, our limbs refusing to let go. I buried my face against Vera’s skin, inhaling her raw scent, tasting the salt that clung to her body. She was addictive. Every inch of her.
“Thank you for helping Julian tonight,” Vera whispered against my chest.
“I didn’t do it for him, sweetheart.” I kissed her lips, letting them linger on hers. “I did it for you.”
The next morning, Vera turned toward me, sunlight spilling across her shoulders on Fifth Avenue. She toyed with a new Tiffany & Co. circle pendant—diamonds catching the light in tiny flashes, the 22-carat gold warm against her skin.
“How do you like my look?” she asked, her lips curving with that mix of mischief and vanity that always undid me.
“It suits you,” I murmured, kissing her soft cheek as we walked out of the store.
She thanked the security guard as he held open a side exit by the revolving doors, tossing him a warm smile and a wish for a good day. I caught myself watching her. Interesting. The women I’d dated before never bothered with gestures like that.
“Where to next?” Vera gazed down the street. “Shall we try Central Park?”
“Your brother would be jealous to miss out on the park,” I replied. Julian had flown back to Lester Harbor yesterday to tell his colleagues about a new benefactor for their research projects. That benefactor was me.
“Now’s not the time to think about Jules,” Vera said, stroking my arm as we walked to the park.
An hour later, after wandering hand in hand through the lush stretch of green, we sank onto a park bench beside a bronze statue of a sled dog. “Hmm, Balto.” Vera studied the statue. “Didn’t he lead a team through a terrible blizzard to bring medicine to heal the sick?”
“He did. There was a diphtheria outbreak in Nome, Alaska, in 1925. Teams of mushers and sled dogs traveled hundreds of miles and battled a blizzard to deliver medicine to the sick.”
“You remind me of Balto.”
“What?” I chuckled, tickling her hand as it rested on my knee. “So, I remind you of a dog?”
“You remind me of a hero who stood strong in times of adversity,” she replied. “It’s what you do for your businesses, be it oil, property, or a brothel. Your employees respect you because you’re empathetic. You connect with them, and you listen to them.”
“Have you been reading up on me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Vera offered a lopsided smile and tilted her head, letting the loose curls spill over her shoulder. “I keep up with the news. I watched a recent TV show about a new charity which helps the unemployed get back into the workforce.”
“Sweetheart, there was no mention of me in that program.” I chuckled, tickling her palm.
“There didn’t need to be,” she replied. “The Clemonte Foundation director conveyed all your core values during her interview. She discussed good stewardship, honesty, a healthy work/life balance, and good work toward a sustainable future.”
“Those are my parents ‘core values,” I said.
“They’re also your values, Scotty. I know the foundation is under your mother’s name, and I saw a clip of you helping the volunteers.”
“I’m busted.” I grinned, nudging my knee against Vera’s thigh. She shot back with her own playful tap, the kind of banter that belonged to lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other.
We left the bench behind and wandered through Central Park until Bow Bridge rose ahead, its white arc framed by trees and water glinting in the late light. I pulled her close there, kissing her hard, deep, letting the spell of the place wrap around us.
But the bridge wasn’t the only thing I’d brought her here for. There was something I needed to show my woman.
“What’s up?” Vera asked when I took her hand and walked to one of the park’s benches.
“Take a look.” I gave her a shy smile as I tightened my grip on her hand.
Vera’s gaze drifted back to the bench. She squinted, then leaned down to study the small bronze plaque gleaming on the seat.
May the natural beauty of this park last a lifetime for the generations ahead.
— The Scott family.
Her breath caught. Hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide and shining. “Alistair, this bench is yours.”
I had one hand in my pocket and pulled her to my side, giving her hip a firm squeeze. “This bench is for everyone. That includes you and your kids when you revisit this place.”
“My kids?” Vera pulled away, and her jaw dropped open.
“Look, I don’t want to give you false hope. You might move on and have kids of your own one day.”
She folded her arms. “Suddenly you’re playing God, and you decide how my life should be?”
“There’s nothing romantic about kids, and I don’t want to disillusion you by pretending I want more. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Vera.”
She shifted her stance, hands shoved in her jeans pockets. “I didn’t grow up believing my purpose in life was to become a parent.”
“That makes two of us.” I grinned, trying to pull her in. Bad mistake.
“Stop interrupting me,” Vera snapped, stepping away. "You keep assuming what I want. My entire career is built on facts, not assumptions. Assuming makes—"
"—an ass out of you and me," I finished. "I've heard the cliché, but this isn't a courtroom. It's us."
She shook her head, eyes blazing. "Then stop treating it like an interrogation."
"Fine." I lowered my voice. "Just answer one question. Do you want children?"
She hesitated, breathing deeply. "It’s complicated. Kids aren’t a life goal for me. But maybe someday, yes. I want that possibility open."
I turned away from her for a moment, feeling the ground shift beneath my feet. "That’s the problem. You want possibilities, and I need certainties."
Her voice softened, but the tension lingered. "Why can’t we just see where life takes us?"
"Because I’ve already been down that road," I shot back. "I have my son. I'm fighting for full custody, and the last thing I need is another battle."
"You think I want another battle for you?" she asked, hurt flickering through her eyes. "I’m not your ex-wife. I’d never do that to you."
"They all say that." The words slipped right out of my mouth, and I regretted it. Shit, that wasn’t meant to come out.
Vera’s eyes flashed with anger and betrayal. "Excuse me? They all say that? Am I suddenly like every other woman who's hurt you?"
"That’s not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" she demanded. "You keep pushing me away because of your past, and I keep forgiving it. Maybe I shouldn’t."
"Look, I'm trying to protect us both,” I said, fingers fidgeting
"From what? From me wanting a life with you? Wanting the choice to decide my own future?"
"From heartbreak. From complications neither of us needs."
"I think you’re the complication." Vera touched the necklace I'd given her, fingers trembling. "Is that why you gave me this? To soften the blow of pushing me away?"
"Don’t twist this around," I warned, frustration spilling over. "You know damn well the necklace meant more than that."
"Do I?" She unclasped the chain and dropped it into my palm. "If you think jewelry or money can solve this, you don’t know me at all. I’m not here for a payoff. I'm not a fucking prostitute you can buy. High-end escorts, sugar baby experiences, whatever you call them. That's not me."
"Hey, that’s not what I meant," I snapped defensively, stung by the implication.
Tears shimmered in her eyes. "No? Because that's exactly how it feels. I thought we had something real. But you're too busy running from your ghosts to see it."
"Maybe it’s better this way," I growled, heart hammering painfully. "Better to end this now before either of us gets hurt even more."
She stepped back, shaking her head. "You're not ready for a meaningful relationship. You’ve already made sure of that."
“Vera, my life is…” The words tangled up in my brain, ricocheting.
“It’s a fucking mess. Kids, marriage. I can’t even hold my own shit together, let alone someone else’s.
I can’t.” My mouth kept moving, but nothing landed right.
My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting—tapping, flexing, gripping air.
The static in my head amped up, drowning out reason, wiping away the softness of my feelings for her.
Heat crept up my neck. Anger and shame slammed through me, wildfire fast, and I couldn’t force myself back into control. “You don’t understand what I’m going through,” I blurted, clenching my fists. “Do you? No. I thought so.”
“Well then, if that’s how you feel, you and I are better apart.” Vera's face crumpled in pain, her voice hoarse. "Maybe one day you’ll realize not everyone is out to hurt you. Goodbye, Mister Scott. You'll be the one I'll never forget, for good times and bad."
I couldn’t move. My brain spun, replaying every word, every mistake, a thousand threads tangling and snapping all at once.
The necklace dug into my palm. Too cold, too bright, too heavy.
My fingers itched to do something, but I just stood there, watching her disappear, chaos thundering in my head.
This always happened: I opened my mouth, chaos spilled out, and I wrecked everything.
Was it my ADHD? Or just me screwing up the only thing that mattered?
Had I just destroyed the one good thing I had left?
6:28 a.m., Sunday, June 5
Daylight hit the city of Lester Harbor. I watched the sun’s amber hues warmed up the city skyline, painting it bright.
The world seemed small when you gazed at it from the forty-second floor.
I arrived alone in my apartment late last night after Vera took a separate flight back. What the hell was I doing?
I picked up the phone to check for messages from Vera. Instead, I saw Oliver’s message.
Congratulations, brother. You knocked up my wife.
Shit. It couldn’t be true. Could it?