26. Sadie
26
SADIE
S omewhere between the mud bath, the soak in the hot springs and the deep tissue massage, I arrive at the conclusion that I need a new plan.
My time with Cale is short. Some boldness is in order to make the most of it. These are modern times. There’s no reason why I can’t take the initiative.
The chemistry between us isn’t my imagination. Our relationship just took an unusual trajectory. That’s all. Most people have at least a few dates before they go exchange vows but tradition isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I had the traditional relationship once. Look how well that turned out.
Cale and I can iron out the details later. Right now I just want to be with him.
One of the great disappointments of my life happened when I woke up this morning with a slight hangover and realized the night was over. I had fallen asleep before Cale returned.
Worse, he was already awake and dressed. He was also the middle of leaving me a note to say he’d be behind closed doors with Richie all day. When I asked if there was anything to worry about, he shook his head and frowned at a newly arrived text on his phone.
Cale was so distracted he didn’t even notice the way I deliberately let the strap of my nighty fall down my shoulder. Before he left he threw his black Amex card down and told me to go have fun with it. Then he hurried out the door before I could scramble out of bed and convince him to stay.
However, I didn’t have time to mope for long because Kiki showed up to collect me for breakfast. She simply shrugged when I asked her why the men were being so mysterious.
“There’s always something happening,” she said with good cheer. “It can’t be that big of a deal.” Then she asked if she could try a bite of my waffles.
Kiki’s words weren’t at all reassuring. I’m left with the uneasy reminder that Cale is part of a world he’ll never be able to share with me. While hopping from one spa activity to another, I’ve had plenty of time to observe the wives of Richie’s entourage. Kiki and Donna and the rest of them aren’t even slightly bothered by whatever might be going on. They are used to being kept out of the loop and do not care. They’re content to gossip in their plush spa robes and pretend all is well.
Fascinating. And more than a little jarring.
In mid afternoon Cale sends a text to check in and let me know we’re expected to show up for another group dinner. I hold my breath when I type out a reply.
What are the plans after dinner?
An agonizing eternity passes in the ten seconds it takes him to answer.
Whatever you want.
BOOM! I nearly fall off the massage table with excitement.
This is destined to be our night. No food poisoning or grumpy mob bosses will get in our way.
But as I conduct a mental inventory of my packed wardrobe, it all seems inadequate. My best dress was the one I wore yesterday. I could wear it again but Cale’s jaw likely won’t drop. What I need is something that will make his jaw drop.
“Kiki,” I say to the massage table on my left. “Can you please help me with something?”
She listens and her eyes light up. “Have you seen the boutique by the main building lobby? No matter, I was there yesterday. They have exactly what you’re looking for. Oh, and you’ll need full hair and makeup. I have to get my roots done anyway.” She snaps her fingers at an attendant arriving with a bunch of towels. “My friend and I need to be squeezed in at the salon. It’s an emergency.”
The woman looks doubtful. Kiki grabs her bag and withdraws a handful of hundred dollar bills. “Work miracles,” she says and seems to consider the matter settled when the staff member runs off with the cash. She sits up on the table with a white towel barely covering her huge breasts and gives me a naughty smile. “Working on Donna’s grandkids tonight, huh?”
I sit up on my elbows and speak the truth. “I want to give Cale Connelly a night to remember.”
She claps her hands with delight and the towel falls, giving me more of a view of Kiki than I ever wanted to see. “I swear on the life of my eldest daughter we will Pretty Woman the hell out of you.”
Kiki sure does keep her word. How fortunate for her eldest daughter. I’m barely recognizable. The dress is silky and black with daring slits all the way up both sides. Due to the plunging neckline and spaghetti straps, a bra is impossible. Because the dress is long and because I’m short I’m wearing very high strappy heels that I can barely walk in. This is a little nerve wracking but I’m willing to take the risk.
Also, I have new respect for makeup artists. The one in the salon worked a miracle. I had no clue makeup could be so transformative. As for my hair, it was decided to just trim the ends and straighten the curls. The effect is dramatic. The look is capped off by stacked gold necklaces chosen by Kiki and a pair of oversized gold hoop earrings.
Everyone else is already in the dining room. Kiki has planned for us to arrive last.
“Here.” At the last minute she drapes a sheer black scarf over my shoulders. “Just a little bit of cover so you don’t start a riot.”
I’ve never felt sexier. And more self-conscious. My most fervent hope is not to fall in my stilt-like heels. All the sexiness will probably be cancelled the instant I fall on my face.
Kiki drops back and lets me enter alone. Appetizers are already on the table and there are multiple lively conversations creating a buzz. The first one to notice me is Richie Amato at the head of the table. He stops talking and leans back in his chair to take a long, appreciative look that will make me feel icky if I dwell on it.
A very loud wolf whistle pierces the room. I can’t tell where it comes from but now all heads are swiveling to find the cause.
Cale sits beside an empty chair. He’s facing away and he’s the last to turn around. When he does turn around, he freezes. Our eyes meet. His jaw does not drop but that might have been an unreasonable wish. He doesn’t move or blink as I cross the room with tiny steps and a silent prayer that I won’t take a tumble in these heels.
Once I succeed at the Olympic feat of reaching the table with no disasters, Cale stands and pulls out my chair.
“Missed you today.” I tip my face up for a kiss.
He grazes my lips, just barely, and moves his mouth next to my ear. “I think you need to borrow my jacket again.”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
Cale sighs and waits for me to sit before plunking back into his own chair. I can’t be sure but he comes off as kind of moody. Is there a dress code no one told me about?
A couple of younger guys across the table are openly leering. One of them mutters a comment and the other one snorts with laughter. But their faces grow instantly pale when Cale’s head snaps in their direction. They look down, feigning sudden intense interest in the breadsticks on their plates.
“I think you two would be more comfortable sitting on the floor,” Cale says. “Since you can’t behave like men then you can eat like fucking dogs. Don’t you agree?”
All other conversations grind to a sudden halt. The two men who are probably around my age, maybe younger, glance around on a nervous hunt for allies. They find none.
“I think that’s a good idea,” says the big guy sitting across from us. Since yesterday I’ve learned he’s Vinny, Kiki’s husband. “They can come back to the adult table when they learn some respect.”
Richie finishes sawing at the slab of red meat on his plate and points with his steak knife. “You boys listen to your Uncle Vinny. And make your apologies.”
Incredibly, they mumble out words of apology and slide off their chairs. Everyone else returns to their wine and their appetizers while cracking jokes and acting like nothing odd just happened. Meanwhile, I’m sure my face is on fire with embarrassment.
“Think I’ll order the ziti,” Cale says and hands me a menu. “How about you?”
I move the tablecloth and peek under the table. Yes, there they are. The two young men are actually sitting cross-legged on the floor and miserably eating with their plates in their laps.
“Cale,” I hiss while grabbing his arm, “tell them they can come back to the table.”
He acts as if he doesn’t even hear me and takes a leisurely sip from his water glass.
This is ridiculous. I’ve now lost my appetite and only order a Caesar salad.
The two empty chairs sit there like an accusation. All I can see of the two men who are on the floor is the tops of their heads.
Kiki, who is unbothered by the plight of her nephews, is very loudly lavishing praise on my makeover. Cale barks at the waiter to bring him a shot of whiskey. The only other time I’ve seen him drink was the night of our wedding.
“Bring me one too,” I say to the waiter, and then add the word, “Please.”
Cale stares at me. There’s an unfriendly quality to his expression. I raise my chin and stare back.
Kiki raises her glass. “Cheers to the newlyweds. Cale and Sadie, here’s to a lifetime of happiness. Just hurry up and get going on that happiness because Donna’s still waiting to be a grandma.”
“Woohoo!” hoots Donna.
Our whiskey shots arrive. Cale downs his in one gulp. I try to do the same and choke on the first sip.
Kiki pats my back. Cale snorts out a laugh. I’m not a fan of whatever new attitude he’s sporting right now.
When the attention at the table has gone elsewhere, I take the opportunity to lean in and have a quiet chat with him.
“Cale, you can’t let those guys eat their dinner on the floor.”
He mulls this over and drapes an arm across the back of my chair. “Listen to me,” he says, keeping his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Those two fuckers insulted my wife . It’s a matter of respect. Now let it go, Sadie.”
Do I have another option?
This version of Cale worries me. I want the real Cale back. The one who calms me down during a thunderstorm and carries me out of a wedding after I’ve vomited on the bride and prompts me chatter on endlessly about Bright Hearts during our late night phone calls.
What I’m seeing now is the ruthless and unpleasant side of Cale. The Cale who belongs to his uncle.
Speaking of Richie Amato, I see that he’s watching us. Again. This time he seems entertained.
The food arrives but I’m less hungry than ever. I pop a crouton into my mouth and don’t even taste it. Cale impales ziti on a fork like he’s at war with it. All around us, mobsters and their wives carry on like it’s Mardi Gras.
Cale doesn’t get to have a monopoly on being annoyed.
Who does he think he is?
He confides nothing, he comes and goes as he pleases and throws his credit card at me as a consolation. Now he’s showing just how much of an obnoxious bully he can be and ordering me to keep quiet.
For heaven’s sake, it’s as if I’m a real mafia wife.
This sudden indignation along with a hefty dose of sexual frustration, major disappointment, and a vague buzz from two sips of whiskey are responsible for my next move.
“Honey, your plate looks so good,” I say in a sugar sweet voice. “You don’t mind sharing, right?”
Before he can say or do a thing, I slide over and hijack his lap. He can’t very well shove me off. That wouldn’t look good. It would seem as if we’re not really married or something.
Despite my irritation, the feel of his body is instantly addicting. To borrow the corniest of phrases, my loins quiver .
Cale’s sharp inhale of surprise is satisfying. The way he balls his right hand into a fist when I shift my weight is even more satisfying. This is what I want from him. To drop the mask he wears for his uncle and give in.
To prove a point, I arch my back and roll my hips, ever so slightly. Then again. His breathing hitches. He’s working hard to smother a groan.
Now I really feel him. The fabric of my dress is thin and he’s packing a cannon inside his pants. On the inside, I’m aching for more. But to anyone watching, I’m just mildly digging into my husband’s plate of ziti. Cale isn’t the only one who can put on an act when required.
“Awww,” Donna says. “You two are so cute.” She holds up a cell phone to snap a picture.
My response is to turn my head and fasten my lips to Cale’s. Donna gets her picture. Cale gets a taste of my tongue. Everyone hoots and applauds.
His green eyes are now fierce. A war of anger and lust is being fought behind them and he can do nothing about either one.
Flashing a charming smile to my husband, I return to making myself cozy in his lap. This includes wiggling around enough to drive him crazy. I’m driving myself crazy too. So many hours have been spent fantasizing about how it would feel to take him inside me. Only a few layers of fabric separate us and I can hardly stand it.
“Take a bite,” I say and direct a forkful of ziti into his mouth, earning another severe glare.
He snaps his fingers for another whiskey shot. When it’s delivered he downs it in a flash.
I’m startled when his big hands capture my hips. He massages lightly, then his fingers dig in harder. The buzz between my legs rises to a fever pitch. The way he moves my hips around is slow and deliberate. The muted lighting works in our favor. Along with the fact that half the table is already drunk and the other half is busy eating.
But I wonder if the two guys sitting on the floor can see the show. If they can, I don’t care.
Cale grinds into me harder. An extremely sensitive spot is grazed. I bite my tongue to keep from squeaking. Every throbbing second is sweet torment.
I’ve given up trying to eat pasta. Cale’s fingers sneak through the slit in my dress and find my right thigh. In order to avoid moaning, I grab for his glass of water and gulp down a mouthful. His fingers trail upwards and find the elastic band of my panties. One finger hooks its way inside. I nearly choke on the last sip of water. Cale is issuing a dare. If this keeps up I’m going to come right here in front of the room and I’m sure he knows it.
Cale withdraws his hand and smoothly takes the water glass I’m clutching. He takes a casual drink and sets it down.
“Hey Richie,” he calls. “My wife is kind of tired. You mind if we take off early?”
Richie Amato waves a hand. “Go ahead, kids. Have a nice night.”
Cale lifts me to my feet and braces a firm arm around my waist. One of the bodyguards moves to open the door for us and Cale waves him off.
“Get working on those babies!” Kiki cheers as Cale steers me out of the room.
Neither of us answer her. Cale’s arm doesn’t leave my waist and he walks briskly, forcing me to keep up in my heels. Not a word is spoken between us as we cross the courtyard, pass the hot springs, and reach the lodge building where we’re staying.
It’s only when we’re about to enter our suite that I dare to take a peek at his face, which is downright thunderous.