22. Stevie
twenty-two
stevie
“OH, STEVIE, it was so romantic,” Celeste says, a wistful look in her eyes. She sighs. “Just a perfect ceremony. I wish you could’ve been there.”
“I’ll be at your party next month. I’m sure it will be just as romantic.”
Celeste nods. “Absolutely.”
She looks pristine and perfectly put-together in a white sheath dress and ivory pumps, her blonde hair sleek and shiny. Not a strand out of place, as they say.
I’m a bit in awe of her.
She’s Socialite Barbie, with impeccable manners and an aura that pulses with a genuine sweetness. She doesn’t put on airs. I feel comfortable with her even though we are in totally different tax brackets and I’m here in clothes I bought off the cheapest website I could find.
“Ben is wonderful,” she says in the same wistful tone. It’s like she can’t believe her own luck. And I guess it’s definitely a flex to marry a billionaire real estate mogul. Hunter’s dad scares me to death, but maybe he’s nicer to his new wife. People contain multitudes and all that.
“He takes such good care of me,” Celeste continues, absentmindedly stirring her Arnold Palmer with her straw.
“He swept me off my feet. I was really beginning to think I would never meet the right person for me. I guess it’s true that older men make better partners.
Men my age are so lukewarm. They’re incapable of being consistent. You know?”
“How…old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I turned 30 in August. Yup, I’m a Leo.” She smiles. “Could you tell?”
“Oh, I could never guess someone’s sign.”
She laughs. “I love astrology. Ben’s an Aries and we are extremely compatible, according to the stars.”
I nod as if I knew that. “That’s so great.”
“So,” she begins, tucking into the cobb salad the waiter just placed before her. “You and Hunter. How long have you been dating?”
I stab a fork into my own salad, stalling, wondering how to answer her question.
Answering questions about my relationship with Hunter always feels so awkward.
There’s so much there that I don’t ever want to tell anyone.
But it’s not like I have to spill my guts to Celeste.
I can just pretend Hunter and I are dating for real and not in some weird sex contract.
“About two months,” I say, since that’s when we met, even though it feels like we’ve known each other for years. And I’m sure it looks like we’re dating to outsiders. I’ve met his family twice now. I’m having lunch with his stepmom. I go to his games wearing his jersey. I’m sleeping with him.
That’s…dating, right?
If I ignore that he pays me for sex, I can pretend we’re dating for real. I can even pretend he’s my boyfriend, maybe?
God, it’s crazy how much I want to call him that.
“Only two months?” Celeste asks. “Hunter seems very smitten by you.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. I could tell from the way he was looking at you the other night.” She smiles, eyes twinkling. This woman is clearly a romantic.
“How-how was he looking at me?” I can’t resist asking.
“Like you are the center of his whole world.”
Heat rises in my face. I wish there was a way to control blushing. I shift in my seat, feeling warmth travel all the way down to my toes. When I fail to respond, Celeste says, “I can tell the feeling is mutual.”
“I-I like him a lot,” I admit, pushing around my salad ingredients with my fork.
“Have you told him how you feel?”
I shake my head.
“Has he?”
I shake my head again.
“I’m sure you both will when the time is right,” she says, her tone gentle.
I look up from my plate. “Did you…and Hunter’s dad…?”
She laughs. “Benjamin said it first. I was so shocked. I didn’t expect it at all.
And then two weeks later, he asked me to marry him.
” She briefly puts her hand over her mouth, blushing slightly.
“It was a whirlwind.” Her eyes get all dreamy.
“I want to pinch myself every day. I can’t believe my luck. ”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you. It feels wonderful. Like I’m floating.
” She pushes her salad plate aside and folds her hands on the tablecloth.
“So, I wanted to ask you if you would be, not a bridesmaid exactly, but part of a ‘bridal party’ that’s really not a bridal party, but just some of my close friends wearing similar dresses.
I know it sounds kind of unusual, but I want to have, like, an entourage. ”
I almost drop my fork. “Me?”
“Yes, you, and three of my closest friends, and two of my cousins, and all your partners, of course.”
“But I’m not—”
“We’re friends now, Stevie. Oh, say you’ll do it. I have such a gorgeous dress picked out for you in my mind.”
I don’t know how I can say no to her when she’s looking at me with so much earnest hope. It’s a special day for her, and the least I can do is wear a dress she wants me to wear and pose for some photos.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
She claps her hands twice. “Oh, thank you! I’m having so much fun doing all the planning.
I should’ve been an event planner. Can you come for a dress fitting next weekend?
I’ll send you the address and time. It’ll be fun.
We’ll have champagne and some yummy hors d’oeuvres during the entire process. ”
“I’ll be there,” I say, and she beams at me.
We spend the rest of lunch talking about the party and all the little details. It’s going to be a huge production, but Celeste is fully into it, like she was born to do it. It might be a little too extravagant, but who am I to say what’s right or wrong for a high society event?
After lunch, I text Hunter to let him know I’m done, and he tells me to go to his place.
Anticipation zings through me as I picture him grabbing and kissing me, and…
more. Just the thought of it sends tingles all through my body.
Sometimes, it’s like my body isn’t even mine, because of how fully it’s in his thrall.
I drum my fingers against my thigh as I take the elevator to the top floor of Hunter’s building. I tell myself not to jump into his arms the second I see him. I need to keep my cool. I don’t want him to know how much he affects me.
Hunter’s front door is already open when I step out of the elevator. I walk in to find him sitting on the couch, watching something on TV. He doesn’t get up when I enter or as I walk toward him. He looks fully engrossed in whatever he’s watching.
Without a word, I sit beside him on the couch, unsure of how to act.
He looks so hot in a long sleeve white Henley tee and gray sweatpants. After a few minutes of silence that feel endless, he turns to me. “How was lunch?” he asks.
“Good. Fun. Celeste is so sweet.” I’m nervous from the way he’s looking at me. He seems…angry, but I can’t fathom why.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having lunch with her today?”
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t. Not before I asked.”
I roll my eyes. “So what?”
“So what? You’re supposed to tell me where you are at all times.”
I give him a look. “No, I’m not.”
“It’s in the fucking contract.”
My eyes widen. “You can’t be serious about that.”
“As a heart attack.”
I huff, rolling my eyes again. “I’m not your—”
He pushes me back against the couch cushions before I can complete my sentence. His hand grips my jaw tight, his lips centimeters from mine. My heart pounds. I will myself to look into his eyes. They’re dark with fury, and it turns me on too much.
“You’re supposed to obey my every command. Disobedience will be met with severe punishment. Do I need to show you the contract again? Seems like you’re forgetting what you agreed to.”
I’m breathing hard. His intensity is driving me wild. What is wrong with me that I’m always turned on when he’s being like this?
Squirming against his grip, I ask, “Are you going to punish me?”
He licks his lips. The hand that’s not gripping my jaw comes over my breast. He rubs my nipple with the pad of his thumb, and I suppress a moan. I can’t let him know I’m enjoying this as much as I am.
“Mm,” he says, eyes roaming over my face. “Baby definitely deserves to be punished.”
“If I promise to be good, will you still punish me?”
Slowly, he pulls up my sweater, revealing my white lace bra. He pinches my nipple through the flimsy fabric, and I gasp.
“It’s too late to be good now. You’ve been bad and you’re getting your punishment.”
His words make me wet.
His lips hover over mine and I’m desperate for a kiss, but he doesn’t indulge me. I squirm again, trying to get away. He presses his hard body against mine, pinning me in place.
“Don’t even think about it, princess. You’re not getting away from me.”
He lets go of my jaw and pulls down my bra, revealing my breasts, the nipples already hard and aching. I need his mouth desperately, on my lips, on my nipples, on my neck. Anywhere.
“Please,” I whimper.
He shakes his head slowly. “You’re not gonna get what you want today.”
He lifts himself off me for a moment, and I see my chance.
I lunge off the couch and take off running toward the hallway, passing his bedroom and heading toward the guest bedrooms. There’s a spiraling staircase at the end of the hallway that leads upstairs.
I take the steps two at a time. Whipping off my sweater as I run, I throw it behind me and adjust my bra.
I have to find a hiding place.
Hunter’s footsteps echo on the stairs. He’s not running after me.
He’s stalking me slowly like a panther. It makes me even more nervous.
I feel my IQ points dropping as I panic to think of my next move.
The hallway looms before me, several doors leading to different rooms. I have no idea where to go.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, princess,” Hunter calls out in a lazy tone. He knows I’m trapped. As his footsteps get closer, I panic and run into a room on the right, lock myself in the bathroom and press my back against it.
I take a deep breath to calm down even as anticipation and trepidation mingle in my heart. I don’t want him to catch me. I can’t wait until he catches me.