Chapter 12
Ivy
“I’m going to Paris on a business trip,” Damien announces. I look up from my cereal bowl to watch him as he spreads jelly on Lake’s toast. It’s been a week since Lake learned Damien is his father, and the novelty of that information hasn’t worn off yet. Lake wants Damien to do things with him and for him. Last night when I came back from work, I heard splashes and laughter coming from Lake’s room and saw Lake enjoying a bath while Damien poured water on him. Late that night, they took two video game controllers and played a game together. Sometimes it felt like they deliberately picked activities that would exclude me. Little by little, Damien is taking my son away. I don’t want to think like that, but it’s I can’t stop, and it’s keeping me up all night.
I chew down the cereal I had just scooped. “Enjoy Paris for us.” Meanwhile, I will get a divorce and Lake and I will get out of dodge. Or at least until the custody matter between Damien and me has been settled.
“I’m taking Lake with me,” he says.
My spoon slips out of my hand and clutters onto the marble counter. “Excuse me?”
He dips his knife into a jar of peanut butter and spreads it on the toast before giving it to Lake. “Have you ever been to Disneyland Paris?”Lake, who immediately takes a bite as soon as he holds the toast, shakes his head, mouth full and smeared with brown and red blobs.
“Would you like to visit?”
He nods his head vigorously.
Damien nonchalantly says, “Lake wants to come.”
“What the frig? No!”
Lake’s face fall. Through a mouth full of toast he says, “But I’ve never been to Disneyland. You said we would go.”
Embarrassed at my sudden outburst, I calm myself and turn to Lake. “What I mean is honey, we can’t go now.”
“Why not?”
I scramble for a plausible excuse that won’t make it obvious that I don’t want the two of them alone in a foreign country. Damien might be a good father, but I don’t trust him yet. He’s experienced the good and fun Lake. He hasn’t experienced the tantrum-throwing, stubborn Lake. If Lake were to spend more than a day with someone he barely knows and in a place, he’s never been to, I guarantee he would start acting unruly and demanding to come back home. Heck, even though he enjoys staying with Damien, he still asks me from time to time when we will be going back home.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” I say to Damien.
Reluctantly, he gets up from his stool and follows me outside the breakfast room. He leans against the door, waiting for me to speak. He’s wearing a two-piece suit that is immaculately tailored and makes him look like the handsome Wall Street devil the papers like to call him. No one has a right to look this good. Especially not him. I cross my arms and straighten my posture. I’m a grown-up now and I am not easily swayed by a cute face, I tell myself. “You can’t just go to a foreign country with my son.”
“I never said you weren’t allowed to come. You can always tag along.” His gaze caresses me in its usual manner of both undressing me and finding me repulsive.
“I can’t just up and leave for Paris and follow you like a dog. Some of us can’t just change our work schedule.” Ever since the DNA test, Damien has been working from home to make up for time with Lake. Another mark for Damien in the ‘good dad’ column. I haven’t also failed to notice his two assistants, Nicole and the other one whose name I always forget, coming and going into the apartment bringing him work. Terry as well.
“Why not? I thought you owned the place?”
“And the place needs to be run.”
“I’m sure you don’t bake the croissants, Poison Ivy. You can come with us or not. The choice is up to you.”
***
We arrive in Paris in the evening the following day and we are immediately whisked to a grand nineteenth-century style hotel. I hate to admit it, but it’s the kind of place I love staying at. It’s as if he picked my choice even though he never consulted me. Lake was too excited to sleep on the plane, but as soon as we touched ground, he knocked out and had to be carried by Damien to his hotel bed.
“Do you want something to eat?” Damien asks after he lays down Lake. The question is so out of left field, I’m too stunned to answer at first. My stomach grumbles on my behalf. “Wanna grab a bite?” In Paris with him? The wise part of me screams no. It’s foolish to follow him to wherever he’s planning to take me. We’re in the city of lovers, after all. But the other part of me, the more reckless part, is curious.
I nod.
“Stay with him,” he says to Nicole as we exit the hotel room. She was hovering by the door and I was a bit surprised to see her there, but Damien doesn’t seem to think anything of it. What’s up with that woman? I refused to bring Greta along as good as she is with Lake. I don’t want Lake to be attached to a nanny or think it’s normal to be close to a stranger and not your own mom. Now I’m regretting that decision. Something in me is telling me not to trust Nicole. Nicole, however, for all my misgivings seems harmless. She nods and enters the suite.
“Your assistant is weird,” I say to Damien as we enter the gold-trimmed elevator.
Damien presses the lobby button. “Funny. Everyone else seems to think she’s professional.”
“And weird. She’s always—hovering.”
Damien cocks an eyebrow. “Around me? She kinda has to. She’s my assistant.”
“I don’t mean it like that.”
“Like what then?”
“She’s in love with you. She reminds me of my pathetic self when I was a teenager. The way she hangs around your every word. The way she looks at you. Everything.”
He bellows out a laughter that makes me feel irrational. “Am I sensing some jealousy coming from you?”
“No!” I said it too quickly.
He chuckles again, turns his attention to the floor numbers going down, and thrusts his hands in his pocket. We ride the rest of the elevator alone and in silence until we arrive at the lobby. Even at a time late as this, it is busy with several guests coming in and out of the hotel.
“Where are we going?” I ask Damien as he strolls toward the exit. “I thought we were eating at the hotel restaurant?”
Damien gestures his head to the side. “There’s a place I want to try out.” And marches ahead of me. I follow him.
We walk into the cool Parisian night for a few minutes until we reach a fancy restaurant nestled in between two large buildings. It’s the type of place one might miss if they aren’t aware. It is also the type you reserve a table three weeks ahead of time. Damien, however, doesn’t seem bothered by all that. From the wad of cash that passes from his hands into the hostess’s, it looks like he bribed her and she gives us a table close to the window with a view of the Eiffel Tower.
“We need to talk,” he says after we order our meal.
“You said so earlier.”
“I know what you’re up to.”
My heart thuds that much faster. He can’t be aware I went to the lawyers. It’s probably not what he’s referring to. I shouldn’t panic. “Being dragged by you halfway around the world is what I am up to.” I try to sound as nonchalant as I can. “And I don’t know, eat food with the father of my child.”
He leans forward. “You mean the one you want to take away from me?”
I stay silent, afraid that the next words I say might sink me.
“I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t the choice of your lawyer. Chester and I were in the same fraternity. He was surprised to find out that not only do I have a son, but his mother is planning on getting full custody.”
Fuck that slimeball. Of course, he and Chester know each other. They have a couple of years difference in their ages, so they probably went to college at the same time. Chester is an old family friend, and I never thought he and Damien would know each other. Or at least be on good enough terms to communicate. I went to the only person I thought would be good enough and unafraid to go against a known titan.“Chester should know there’s something called client-attorney privilege.”
“Why do you want to take Lake away from me?”
“Didn’t you promise to do the same to me? Don’t act as if you don’t want to fight me for him.”
The server chooses this moment to bring the wine. We remain silent as we both watch him pour the burgundy liquid into the glasses. After he’s gone, Damien picks his glass, swirls it, and takes a sip. “To be honest, I wanted to when you first learned about Lake. I wanted to take him away from you. I wanted to be the only one to raise him. To do you what you did to me. You’re not exactly the kind of person I would have thought would be a good mother, but I have to say, after staying with you for the last couple of days, I’ve—” His gaze rests on mine. “I’ve changed my mind somewhat.”
My eyes narrow. “What game are you playing at?”
“One where Lake has both parents. There’s no need for us to fight.”
“You want joint custody?” I don’t mind that at all, actually. Many parents have shared custody, and it seems to work fine. Now that I have money of my own, I can move closer to Damien, so we don’t have to live too far apart.
“I want us to stay as we are right now. As husband and wife. We don’t have to divorce.”
It’s my turn to take a sip of the wine. My fingers tremble slightly as I hold the stem. This is what I wanted. What I dreamed of all those years when I took care of Lake all by myself. What I dreamed of before Lake. When I was young and na?ve. But now that it was in my hands, it felt cold. He wants Lake, not me. He wants to give Lake a stable home, and who am I to deny my son that?
“How long do we have to keep up the charade? Five years? Until Lake is eighteen? You hate me so much you call me Poison. You don’t want to live with me that long.”
He shrugs. “You’re tolerable.”
“And what about other women? I doubt a playboy like you can tolerate a cold bed. I don’t want you teaching my son that he can cheat on his wife.”
“We can satisfy each other’s needs in that department.”
My breath catches in my throat. The restaurant shrinks to this table. To just the two of us. I gaze into his eyes. He’s serious. He wants me? “I thought you hate me.”
“You are very tolerable when it comes to…” He let the sentence hang in the air. His gaze turns hot and sears my clothes off. He’s stripping me down with his eyes and I have never felt so naked while so fully clothed. Heat pools at my center as images of Damien pleasuring me on that big bed of his flicker in my mind’s eye.
The server arrives with the first course and during the entire time the server puts the plates onto the table, Damien’s gaze never wanders. Not even to the visual feast in front of us. When the server leaves, I clear my throat. “You’re not thinking this through.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I want to be with Lake as much as I can. Sharing custody is out of the question, and so is taking his mother away from him. I think I can handle what? Eleven years of being your husband for his sake.”
“Thanks for the ringing endorsement.”
“I mean, you’re a shit person but a competent mother. It’s life’s greatest mysteries.”
“Way to start a marriage.”
His gaze softens. “I’m sorry about that. I won’t call you Poison Ivy. How about that?”
It’s a small concession, but I take it. Having both of us around to raise Lake will be better for him. And besides, what harm is there in Lake having his father around?
“Eleven years is a long time to be in a fake marriage.”
“I thought you said you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Is this your way of punishing me? Taking all my best dating years so that after ten years of being together, no one will want me?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for my son.”
I stare into his eyes. There are no lies hidden behind those gray pools. He’s telling the truth. It’s not as if there’s anyone I want to be with, anyway. When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with one man, Damien. And in the eight years he’s been out of my life, I haven’t been in a serious relationship. Most have been single dates except Brad, who hung around longer than he needed to, hoping I would relent and make him my boyfriend. That didn’t work.
“Fine,” I say. He cracks a small smile, which he quickly wipes away. It’s as if I saw a side of him that wants me. Ridiculous notion. We both turn our attention to the food. Great freaking food, I have to admit. The entrée is just as delicious and artistically presented as the first course, and by the time dessert arrives, Damien and I are talking like old friends. Mostly it’s him asking me about my friends or people who used to be my friends. I’ve lost contact with most of them, but I have enough information on a few to carry a conversation.
After we’re done eating, Damien takes me to another store. This one is on the same side of Paris where the restaurant is. The fancy side. It’s a jewelry store. I don’t know much, but I can tell the pieces in this store are expensive from the service alone. A man in a well-cut black suit and white gloves greets us in both English and French.
“We are looking for a ring,” Damien says.
“For the mademoiselle? An engagement ring, yes?”
“And a wedding ring.”The man nods slightly and orders two women behind the counters dressed similarly to him to bring out their finest collections while he directs us to a sitting area. Whoever this man is, he can tell the difference between a regular person and a rich one.
“You don’t have to,” I say to Damien as we stroll over to the plush sofas.
“If we’re going to go for the long haul, we might as well do it right.”
We take our seats and a few moments later, the man and one of the women come to us with trays stacked with black boxes, while the second woman trails behind them with a tray of champagne and two flutes.
“What does the madame have in mind,” the man whose name tag says Jean puts the boxes on the table and opens each one.
“I don’t know darling, what do you like?”
They’re all big and ostentatious. The type to feel heavy on your hand and inconvenience the smallest manual labor. “Do you have something a little smaller?”
Jean hides his disappointment well and snaps his fingers. The woman with the tray of boxes steps forward, places the boxes on the table, and opens each one just like Jean did. “These are smaller, but not by much. I look at each one, trying to gauge which would be the least expensive. I know he can afford it, but I don’t want to burn a hole in his pocket just for the sake of it. He’s always thought me to be a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t know how money works.
“Don’t you have something more… elegant?”
Jean squints, and then his eyes brighten. “Ah. I have something madame will absolutely love.” He gets up and goes to the back of the store. A few moments later, he comes back with a box in his hand. This one is a little bigger than the other ones. “It’s a set. Unlike what you have seen before.” He opens the box to reveal three rings. Two platinum gold wedding bands and an engagement ring with two emerald stones crossed together like a heart. The stones aren’t as big as the other rings, but they are delicately shaped and designed beautifully. I gasp without meaning to and take the ring into my hand. It catches the light well.
“We’ll take those,” Damien says. “Right darling,” he adds when I whip my gaze to him.
“It’s beautiful.”
Damien takes the ring and slides it onto my ring finger. An innocent act, but one that makes my nerves tingle nonetheless. “It matches your eyes.” His hand lingers on mine a little longer than necessary, but when he lets it go, he drops it as if he’s burned.
Jean happily instructs his underlings to collect the rings while he leads us to the counter. He writes a note and slides it over to Damien. Jean tries to be discrete, but I’m able to read the sum. My eyes bulge at the amount. It’s in the millions. I almost remove the ring on my finger, but Damien simply nods and hands Jean a black card. The transaction is over and done within a few minutes. Damien takes my hand again and places the wedding band on top of the engagement ring. He takes the other wedding band and places it on his own hand.
Guilt is still gnawing at me by the time we make it to the suite. “I didn’t know it would be that expensive,” I say in the elevator.
“If we’re going to fake it for eleven years, we have to make it as believable as possible. At least to Lake. I don’t want him thinking his father and mother don’t love each other.”
“Right. Of course.” Lake might not understand now, but later, when he’s older, he will probably wonder why his billionaire dad never gave his wife an engagement ring.
“And besides,” he adds, “Nolan and Jacqueline paid very close attention to your ring at brunch. The elopement excuse was enough for cheap rings bought in a hurry, not for a long-term thing.” He’s right too, although I wouldn’t call those rings cheap. I’m pretty sure the cost ran into the thousands.
Nicole is still in the suite when we return. She jerks up from the couch when Damien opens the door, like someone who had fallen asleep. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Damien says to her.
She shakes her head. “It’s no trouble at all.” She’s beaming, but her smile falters when she sees the rings on my hand. If her disapproval of me wasn’t clear before, it is now, but I don’t think Damien sees it. Instead, he thanks her for keeping Lake company and bids her goodnight. Something tingles at the back of my neck when she passes us by on her way out.
“She definitely likes you,” I say when the door closes.
Damien shakes his head. “You’re seeing things.”
“She was ogling at my ring.”
“You left without a stone on your finger and came back with one. It’s only natural for her to wonder.”
“Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when she tries to give you a hand job during a meeting,” I say casually, even though the mere idea gnaws at my gut. It’s Damien’s presence. Now that we’re in each other’s company, those feelings I used to have of him are returning and making me have irrational thoughts of wanting to claw the eyes of anyone who likes Damien. And possible jet lag. Maybe if I sleep, the thoughts will be gone by tomorrow.
“Where are you going?”
I turn to Damien. “Bed? Where else?”
“Our room is over there.” He points to his room.
“Our. Room?”
“Loving husband and wife, remember?”
The thought of Damien’s body radiating heat next to mine is enough to make me blush. “I don’t think Lake would care if we sleep in the same bed or not.”
“Maybe not now, but if we’re going to get comfortable with each other, we better start now.”