Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ant
She tastes of home. And joy. And forever. And a fast and furious orgasm that sweeps her knees out from under her.
“Condom,” she gasps through panting breaths, hands tangled in my hair. In the past few days, I’ve got her addicted to multiple orgasms. My girl knows what she wants.
I hold her steady with one hand while the other reaches into the pocket of my pants, pulling out my wallet and finding the condom.
In a moment of sanity—or maybe it’s insanity—I hesitate.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.” We haven’t talked everything through. I don’t want her to have cause to change her mind.
Lil responds by pulling the condom from my hand and rolling it down my length.
And then I’m not thinking or wondering or second-guessing. I’m feeling. And the feeling is explosive as I stand, wrap her legs around my waist and slam into her still-pulsing pussy, grunting with each thrust.
“Ugh. Yes. Harder. Faster.”
I don’t need to be told twice. My strokes are long. Hard. Brutal even. And she’s coming apart again, the squeeze of her muscles sending me over the edge with her in a climax that steals the air from our lungs and the strength from our bones.
I try to ease us to the floor, but we fall in an awkward tangle of limbs, limp and satisfied on the glossy hardwood floor.
We lay silent in each other’s arms for long minutes, simply enjoying the feel of each other.
The sun is fully set when I finally clear my throat.
“So, about the shit Warren said …”
Lilavati rolls onto my chest and puts a finger against my lips.
“I should never have believed him. Or doubted you. And you were right; your business dealings have nothing to do with us.”
“I appreciate that, but I want everything out on the table. No room for misunderstandings. So, is there anything else you want to know? Ask. Tell.”
“You really didn’t see the story about him on the news?”
“Nope. I don’t often watch the news. I’m usually in the factory working on custom boards around that time. And even if I had, how would I have connected him to you? It’s not like Gordon is an uncommon name.”
Lil looks embarrassed. “So why did you say no to my fake dating idea, then change your mind?”
“I never said no. You raced out of the café so fast that first day, I never had time to tell you I was in. And the next couple of days I was busy meeting with a potential investor. I called you as soon as I had a spare minute.”
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” she whispers.
“That hurt, Lil, how willing you were to believe the shit he said.” I need to get that off my chest. I don’t want there to be anything left unsaid. Regret washes over her face.
“I know. And I’m sorry. It really wasn’t about you. It was about me. I’ve spent so many years hearing I’m not worthy. And then Warren just made it sound so … Ugh. He’s such a …” Lil can’t seem to think of a word bad enough, but I can.
“A manipulative, conniving, lower than a snake’s arsehole bastard?”
Lil laughs. One of her real, full-bodied laughs. I’ve never heard anything more beautiful.
“Yes, that. And I promise I won’t let him get in my head, ever again.”
“You won’t get the chance. Because I plan to spend the rest of our lives showing you how worthy you are, Sparky.”
Tears leak from her eyes again, and we laugh, then kiss. And kiss some more.
Lil’s phone rings from somewhere in the suite. By the time I find it, the ringing has stopped.
“It was your mother,” I tell her, handing over the phone.
Lil puts it on speaker to listen to the voicemail.
“Lili, it’s your mother. Where are you? The wedding supper is about to start. Please tell me you’re not with that boy.”
I huff out a laugh. “They really don’t like me, do they?” Understatement of the year.
“It’s not you—”
“It’s them?” I finish with a laugh.
“Yes. Well, maybe a bit you.”
Lil puts her phone on silent, and I help her up off the floor. We take a long, lingering and very satisfying shower before wrapping up in the hotel robes and ordering room service.
We’ve just finished eating, the dining table littered with empty plates, and are drinking the last of the wine, when there’s an angry banging on the door.
I consider not answering, but I know that will stress Lil out.
And there’s really no point delaying the inevitable.
This conversation—or should I say confrontation—is coming whether I like it or not.
I’ve barely got the door open when Warren storms through.
“You foolish, foolish girl,” he shouts, shoulder-checking me on his way past. “Are you so lacking in sense and morals that you let a handsome face take advantage of you, despite my advice?”
“Please, come in,” I mutter, letting the door drift closed behind a miserable Marion.
“Not answering your phone. Not coming to the wedding dinner. Ruining the night for your mother, who you have worried sick. Not to mention the disrespect you’ve shown Ross and Caroline.
If you expect to receive a single cent of your trust fund, you will not continue to disobey your mother and me like this. ”
Whoa. First I’ve heard of a trust fund. Not that I should be surprised.
But neither am I prepared to hear Lil attacked like this.
I’m about to tell him to get out when the fiery Lilavati that I first met—the one who accused me of being at fault in our accident—rises from her chair.
No longer the obedient, docile stepdaughter Warren is used to.
“What the hell are you talking about? That trust fund is coming to me from my grandfather and has nothing to do with you.” She’s like a phoenix, despite the oversized, fluffy white hotel robe, and it’s beautiful to behold.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, if I were you.” Warren wasn’t expecting pushback. He plants his hands on his hips to try and make himself look more imposing in the face of the strength radiating off Lilavati. “I’ll be speaking to your grandmother in the morning.”
There’s another knock at the door, and I open it to find the very person Warren just conjured. He’s miscalculated if he thinks she’s on his team.
“Hello, Grandie.” It’s hard to keep the amusement out of my voice. I pull the door wide. “Come on in. We were just talking about you. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, Ant. I have a feeling I might need it.” She takes a seat at the head of the dining table like the formidable matriarch she is. “I gather we’re talking about Lili’s trust fund?”
Four sets of eyes land on her.
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf. The entire resort heard you shouting, Warren.” There’s censure in her tone, but Warren sails on, oblivious of the warning.
“Your granddaughter,” Warren snarls, “against my specific instructions, has allowed this degenerate to remain in her life. She is clearly not of sound mind and shouldn’t be allowed access to her trust fund. She’ll no doubt sign it all over to him for his surfing business.”
“Not of sound mind?” Lil yells.
“You’d rather I sign it all over to you, I suppose?” With a smile, Grandie accepts a glass of the pinot gris I find in the fridge, before turning a look of impatient enquiry on Warren, who doesn’t get the chance to respond.
“I’d be careful what you say, Warren.” My voice is calm but as hard and cold as a glacier. “Accusations like that can land you in a world of trouble.” I move to stand behind Lil and put a hand on her shoulder.
Warren ignores us and continues to argue his point with Grandie.
“Better that than having it all disappear into the pockets of a grifter.” His face is now puce, spittle flying from his mouth as he gets himself more and more worked up.
“Stop. Just stop,” cries Marion from where she’s standing in the corner, which shocks us all into silence. It’s only now that I notice tears pouring down her face. “You have no right to threaten Lilavati’s trust fund!”
The fact that she has spoken up, and her use of Lilavati’s full name, render us all silent. Well, all except for Warren.
“I am your husband and her father. I have every right.” Warren turns on Marion, and for a split second, I think he might hit her. I take a step towards her, ready to intervene, but the moment passes.
Everything I’ve observed about Marion suggests she’ll back down. But she doesn’t. Her shoulders square, and despite the fear in her expression, she snaps back.
“But you’re not, are you? And that’s always been the problem.”
Holy shitballs. This conversation—this family—is about to go nuclear.
I catch Lil’s eye, and her mouth is agape, just as mine is.
“As usual, you’re talking nonsense.” Warren dismisses Marion with a wave of his hand. “If she wasn’t so much like you, thinking with her hormones rather than her head, we wouldn’t be in this position. So just stay out of it.”
But she continues to surprise us all, her voice gaining strength with every word.
“No, I won’t stay out of it. I’ve stayed out of it for too long. You will not speak to my daughter like that. I’d like you to leave. Now.”
Lilavati is speechless. Grandie is smiling at Marion as though she’s just taken the training wheels off her bike, and Warren is spluttering incoherently, face red, eyes bulging. And there’s that vein again, throbbing furiously.
“You heard the lady, Warren. Please leave.” I pick up the house phone. “Unless you’d rather I call security?” I threaten, just as he threatened me. I do love a bit of payback.
“You’ll regret this. All of you.” And with a flurry of curses and threats of dire retribution, Warren stomps out the door.