The Passion

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

FELISHA

“ Y ou did what ?” I can feel the fire race through my veins at my father’s words at the breakfast table.

He had summoned me to a breakfast meeting up in his ivory tower penthouse before I headed down a few levels to the office.

“Well, Felisha, someone has to protect our family name from your stupidity. I wasn’t waiting for those useless Darby boys to waste my time. They don’t know a thing if they think they can find this vulgar creature that is blackmailing us.” He sips on his tea like he has no emotion involved in this whole situation.

“Damn it, you promised you would give us time to investigate it! You know you just put a price on that video by paying them off. The next time they need money, they will be back here threatening the same thing.” Pushing my chair back, I stand from the table before I can pick up the fruit on my plate and throw it at him at the other end of this stupidly long table.

“Sit down, Felisha!” His voice is full of authority that no matter how old I get, I can’t seem to shake the instant reaction to obey him.

I drop into the seat out of respect for a man that I don’t even think deserves it most days.

“Who is this we you talk about? I told you to stay away from that man who treated you like a piece of trash that night and left you in this mess.” He looks at me with his piercing eyes, almost challenging me to argue with him.

In my head I’m repeating over and over, “ don’t say a thing, don’t say a thing .” I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.

“It’s done, I’ve dealt with it,” he says, taking another sip of his tea. “We won’t need to speak of this again.” Sitting back in his chair, he lifts his cup in his hand, finger through the handle and his other hand holding it like it’s a trophy for his victory and he’s about to raise it above his head and cheer.

Such a pompous prick!

We have not had one discussion about this on our own since the day it happened, and I’m being told to just suck it up and get on with life. Accept what dear old daddy wants.

Well, he can just fuck right off.

I’m not letting this go. I want to know who is responsible, and even if I can’t trust that my security team is behind me because they take the orders from my father, I trust that Flynn’s team will keep on this. And although I want to distance myself from him, I need to talk to him and apologize for my father’s actions. Of course, I won’t come right out and say that, because I need to keep the outward image that I’m a united front with my father and our business, but hopefully, Flynn will be able to read between the lines.

There is something about Flynn, the way he can read me like no one ever has before him.

Something I long for but know I can never have.

“Fine, I have a meeting I need to get to.” I stand and this time don’t even look at him, turning my back and walking from the room, collecting my bag as I leave. I can hear the eerie silence of his penthouse. There is something about this place that never felt like a home.

Sterile, no warmth, and of course, not an ounce of happiness.

I live alone and so does my mother, but that doesn’t mean that our homes have no soul in them.

Both places might be filled with wealth and designer furniture and pieces of art, but they still have parts of me scattered around. Photos of Harper and me as we grew up, my mum and me on a trip we took a year ago where we traveled through India and spent time in an orphanage with the children who had lost their families through Covid and had nobody to take care of them. We went in under aliases, as we didn’t want any media to see us. This was just about what we could do to help. My mother grew up with nothing, and although she is still making my dad pay for his mistakes, she also uses his money for good. We made sure there was enough money to supply food for a whole year and have the building repaired so that they were all safe and comfortable. There is a fine line with donating, as there is such a huge need that you don’t want it all concentrated in one place, so we made anonymous donations all over the country to different organizations, just trying to help as many people as we can to find a better life.

On my mantle above the fireplace in my home office is a drawing from Ishan, a young boy who, after I had a box full of pencils and paper delivered to them, spent the afternoon drawing me. He’s eleven years old and has the ability of a fine artist, even at his age. He could make a living out of his drawings if he’s ever given the chance.

There is so much gratitude in that picture from him for the gift I gave him to keep on drawing. It reminds me every day what I have and to never take it for granted. The only person that knows I do these trips with my mother is Harper, and that’s the way I like it.

But my father’s home has not one photo or piece of his personality in it.

Not even a photo of his daughter that is supposed to be the heiress to everything he has worked hard to build for her.

You would think he would at least show that he is proud of me, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure he is. Because at the moment if you listen to his words, he sounds ashamed of me.

And as tough as I try to be, that still hurts.

When something hurts, I’ve learned to walk away.

“This is just what we needed. A weekend day-spa trip.” Harper’s voice wafts over me as we lie on the massage beds on the balcony of my villa in St. Tropez.

I wouldn’t exactly call it a day-spa trip when it’s in my house and the pampering comes to us, but hey, I’m not complaining.

“So you said when you marched me onto the plane without telling me where we were going.” My eyes are still closed, and I’m just trying to stay in the moment of bliss.

The masseurs have left, and we are still just lying naked under our towels with the soft ocean breeze drifting over my soft and supple exposed skin.

It’s been a month since the threatening email first landed in my inbox, and thankfully, nothing has happened after my father paid off the blackmailer.

Well, I shouldn’t say nothing, because it’s not entirely true.

Flynn and the Darby boys lost their shit at what my father did, just like I did on the inside when he told me, so part of me felt validated when they did too. Flynn wanted to come to the office and tell my father what he really thought of him, but I refused to let him anywhere near the building.

The only interactions I have had with Flynn since that night in his apartment are us yelling at each other over the phone and some very terse text messages.

Pretending to hate him has not been a problem, the more I see him all over my social media news feed, out with a different woman every night.

I was a fool for even thinking I could have been anything more to him than a one-night stand.

It was all I asked for, and I told him that straight up, but there was something different that night. A connection like no other I have ever felt.

If anything, it scared me enough to put up my walls even higher than they had already been. Because he is not the kind of man I would ever want anything more with.

We are too similar.

Dominant, controlling, opinionated, and workaholics.

Well, maybe I’m the workaholic and Flynn works enough so he can maintain his playboy lifestyle.

Anyway, I’m here to relax for the weekend and not think about anything back home.

“Do we really have to move from here?” Harper sounds like she is in her slowed-down state of bliss which is very rare. This woman is like me, usually moving at a crazy speed. It’s like she has something to prove and won’t rest until she does.

“I didn’t make the itinerary for this weekend, so talk to that woman… Oh, that’s right, that’s you.” We both laugh a little, and I know my moment of lying here in silence is gone, and I need to slip my gown back on and head to the shower. I love a hot stone massage, but the feeling of all the oil at the end, I’m happy to shower it off as soon as it’s over.

“Nice try. You aren’t getting out of going out tonight. You need to find some hot Parisian man to take your mind off the British playboy. I mean, you can tell me all you like that you hate the man, but it’s me, who has the Felisha bullshit radar installed. So, I’m just going to make sure we find a bigger dick and a man who knows how to use it so you can totally wipe Flynn off the top of the best-sex ladder.”

Standing up off the bed, I let the towel fall and reach for my robe. I’m not worried about my naked body on display to Harper. She has seen it so many times it’s just normal to her. My mind was too busy thinking about Flynn now that she has brought him up again that I wasn’t thinking clearly until her panicked voice jolts me out of my daydream again.

“Seriously, cover up. Who the fuck knows what photographers are lurking around here with long lenses. We already have one naked problem we are hoping has been buried, can you not give us another?” Harper stands in front of me still wrapped in her towel, covering me as I’m pulling the robe around myself.

“Ughhh. You won’t ever let me forget that, will you.” I hand her the robe that was still lying on the chair next to where she was lying. “Fucking Flynn Taylor.” I sigh, exasperated at the thought of that video.

“Yep, that’s exactly what you were doing. I didn’t watch more than a few seconds, and can I just say, that man has one fine tight ass. I can understand the reason you rate him so highly.”

“Oh my God, stop it. I thought we were here to forget about him. And don’t lie, you watched more than a few seconds.” Turning and walking into the house, I feel that deep sense of shame that always haunts me when I think about the people I know watching it. Sometimes I think it would be easier if it were only strangers that had seen it because I don’t know them and don’t care what they think.

Harper is right. I need to move past thinking about all this. It’s not healthy and is a distraction I can’t have right now. It’s only ten months until my fortieth birthday. The day my life will change forever.

I will become the new CEO of Kentwall Estates, and much to my father’s disgust, he will be retired from his position as the head of the business.

The old company bylaws set up by my grandfather state that once the oldest child of the current Kentwall owner reaches the age of forty then they take over control. It was to ensure that there is always someone of sound mind and youth running the company. This all came from my great-grandfather apparently being mentally unstable, and the family business was in jeopardy. My guess is he developed dementia, as he was in his seventies, but nobody ever diagnosed it back then.

So now this is the way our family functions, but the problem is that I don’t have any children yet, which is my father’s argument to the board. I need to be spending more time looking for someone suitable to procreate with, and my father should continue to run the company until I have a child born and the succession plan can continue. I know the truth behind it is that he doesn’t care if I have a child because he never really cared about me as his child. Although the truth is if I had a son, maybe that would all change, and I might get to see a different side to my father.

But since there is no man on my horizon, then I don’t even need to think about that.

“You know it’s dangerous taking me to a nightclub when I have had this much to drink.” Harper is giggling as the doorman moves the rope aside for us to walk straight inside.

Not sure I have ever lined up to get into any place or event in my life.

“Why would that make any difference? I have seen you be the spider to every fly in the room on too many occasions to know that it has nothing to do with the alcohol.” Linking my arm in hers, we walk into the darkened room.

The music is loud enough that you can feel it in your chest, while the lights are flashing over the dance floor where bodies are molded tightly together. You can smell the mixture of high-priced perfume, cologne that makes you take notice, and sweat from the high energy happening on that dance floor and not just from the dance moves.

Leaning close to her ear, I say, “It’s been a while since we have been here, but nothing has changed except the décor. It’s still the classiest pick-up place in the south of France.” Looking at each other, we just burst out laughing. Harper might not be the only one who has had a little too much to drink.

“Why do you think we are here, babe? Now let’s get you a man to play with tonight.” Harper drags me toward the bar to get another drink which may not be the best idea, but hey, we are here now, so why not.

I knew one more drink was not a good idea, but when I start on the third one after already deflecting a few men who have made their interest known, my rational thought leaves me.

I’m watching Harper out on the floor in front of me, making that poor Frenchman basically beg her to let him kiss her, while she’s letting him seduce her with his dance moves. With the private show in front of me, I don’t notice the man who has taken the seat next to me at the bar, until I feel his breath on my neck.

“Your friend is a prick tease. Are you too?” His voice is so deep and not French but instead American, which is no surprise. St. Tropez is the playground for the rich from all over the world.

I jump slightly and almost scream at being so startled but manage to hold it in and keep my composure.

“Depends on who the prick is.” Not wanting him to get the upper hand, I turn around on the seat straight away and look into a set of deep dark eyes, strong jawline covered in a five o’clock shadow, and long wavy brown hair.

“Interesting.” He is waiting for me to respond, but instead, I look toward Harper who is now leading her little puppy behind her back to where we are sitting.

“Who’s your handsome friend?” She raises her eyebrows at me, letting me know she approves already. She would, she loves a younger man and one with long hair. Not sure I’m into a cougar chaser, but I can’t hide that this one has piqued my interest.

“We haven’t quite got that far yet. She’s still deciding where I rate on the prick scale.” He stands to offer Harper the seat, although his eyes haven’t left mine.

“Okay, seems I’ve missed something here.” Harper takes my drink from my hand and starts to drink it. Quicker than she should, but she has obviously worked up a thirst.

“I don’t think you have missed out on anything tonight, my friend.” Lifting my hand, I signal to the barman. “Two still waters, please.” I deliberately don’t offer either man a drink until I decide if I want to take this any further.

“I think a British accent is one of the most beautiful on a woman.” My smooth American stranger pulls out his best shot, and if that’s it, then he has a lot of work to do to make it past this glass of chilled water I’m drinking.

“As opposed to a brash American one,” I reply, wanting to see how good at this game he is.

“I like to think of the word cocky when describing myself. Wouldn’t you agree?” He leans forward a little to add to his comment, “I’m happy to be that prick you want to tease tonight. I promise you won’t have to work too hard to get what we both know you want… my cock.”

And there it is. The turn-off I knew was coming.

There is a difference in a man who can hold his own in banter and innuendos with me in a way that has me wanting more, and a boy who just sees me as a conquest and who is desperate for me to drop to my knees for him.

“Like I said, brash was the perfect word.” Picking up my purse off the bar next to me, I step down off the stool and take Harper’s hand at the same time. “Sorry, boys, we have a car waiting.” We don’t, but it’s time to leave, and I also know that Harper has drunk too much for me to let her leave with any man.

“But…” she protests as I wait for her to say her goodbye. She rolls her eyes at me, because she knows she is going home with me whether she likes it or not.

“No need for the car, I can have our driver take you home once we’re done.” Ughhh, now his voice is starting to annoy me.

“Thank you, but we are already done.” Putting my arm around Harper, I start for the door. Part of me feels sorry for the guy who thought he was in for the night, and I have ruined his plans, but he can blame his friend for that.

Even though I hadn’t called the car, it’s already waiting for us, knowing my security would have called it as soon as I looked like I was moving from the bar. Doesn’t matter where in the world I am, Harper makes sure we are covered with at least minimal security. I hate having to live my life like this, but it is what it is.

“I wanted to go have sex with that guy.” Harper is pouting in the back seat like a child, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yep, pretty sure the dirty dancing gave that away, but let me assure you, tomorrow you will thank me for not letting you.” I look across at her already struggling to keep her eyes open now that she is sitting still.

“You’re just pissy because no one measures up to Mr. Wonder Ass in your eyes. I gave you a whole nightclub full of fuckable men, and you couldn’t even find one worth taking home.” I can’t help laughing at her drunk rant now.

“Mr. Wonder Ass. Oh, I’m sure he would love that name. But I can tell you now, he is the last person I want to be getting back into bed with again. I just didn’t find anyone who was worthy of me tonight, certainly not a boy who is trying to live out his older-woman fantasies. You promised to find me a man.” But damn you, Harper, for bringing up Flynn again. I thought tonight was supposed to make me forget him. Instead, all I will be able to think about is the vision on that video of that fine specimen of an ass on the man I can’t stand.

Why is the universe so cruel?

Feeling the weight of her head on my shoulder, I can already hear the soft snore of Harper’s that she gets when she has been drinking. Great, not only did the night not turn out how I was hoping but now I have sleepy Harper to get into bed too. Should have just stayed home like I intended.

As we are driving, I do something I shouldn’t and open the Google alerts I have on Flynn. I’m starting to believe I’m a masochist, tormenting myself by doing this. I keep telling myself it’s so I know if anything happens with the video, but the reality is that I can’t seem to shake him.

I wish there was nothing to see and the pictures were of boring things like business meetings, him leaving a hotel and getting into his car, discussions on the clothes brand he is wearing—but they’re not.

As usual, it’s the event he attended tonight with a very beautiful blonde woman on his arm. The photos of them at the dinner are nauseating, the way she is looking at him with her doe eyes. She has no idea that he’s someone who can’t be caught. No matter how good-looking you are or the pleasure you might bring him.

I scroll past it hoping to move on to something else, but of course, that’s not possible. The very next post is of him taking that same woman home at the end of the night. Posted less than an hour ago. And there is no mistaking what is about to happen between them. He is standing on the doorstep of her place, kissing her like she is his last meal. Clicking through to the next picture, and my stomach falls.

Damn these photographers and their long lenses!

The last image they have captured is Flynn pushing her up against the wall just inside the door, kissing her on the neck as he closes the door.

The burning of that image in my head hurts as it reminds me of our night together where he did the same to me.

I was nothing more to him than this woman is tonight.

He can’t keep doing this to me. Holding me hostage, as much as I don’t want him to. I’m stronger than this and determined to forget him.

If there is ever a man for me to want more with, it’s not a player like him!

Getting Harper into bed and settled, I have left her a note for when she wakes, although I don’t expect that to be for hours. And then I head back down to my car that is waiting for me.

I’m about to do something probably so stupid I will regret it in the morning, but I can’t think of any other way to fix my problem.

“Where to, Lady Kentwall?” my driver asks without looking at me.

“Les Caves du Roy, thank you.” Seeing the headlights of my second car containing my security detail pulling out behind me, I know they are probably all cursing me for going back out, but that’s what they get paid for. To follow a crazy woman who is going to find a man to fuck Flynn Taylor out of her system with.

Walking into the nightclub, I need another drink because the ones from earlier in the night have definitely worn off.

The fun-loving woman that was out with Harper before is gone, and with shoulders pulled back and my resting bitch face on, I stride with all the confidence I have toward the bar and order a scotch and then turn to survey the people around me.

And that’s when I see him.

Dressed in all black. Shirt open a few buttons, with a scattering of chest hair on display. His shirt sleeves rolled up showing me the strong veins running down his arms and what looks like a scotch glass in his right hand. His arms are stretched along the back of the red leather seat in his curved red cubicle where he is sitting on his own.

Our eyes lock, and the composed look of curiosity that comes across his face tells me this is more like it.

He tilts his glass to me in acknowledgment that he has seen me and is interested in whatever aura I’m obviously emitting right now. Normally I would make him come to me and do the chasing, but tonight I’m tired and determined to take my mind off my current life problems.

Walking slowly toward him, so not to look too keen, he doesn’t move an inch. He is a man who likes to be the boss, his body language is giving that away.

“I see we enjoy the same poison,” I say, sliding into the cubicle but not too close. Just to let him know that he might like to be in control, but I’m not doing all the work. I might be desperate tonight, but I’m still keeping my dignity.

“I enjoy many things, Miss…?” He leaves the question open-ended for me and raises his glass toward mine to clink to our meeting.

I learned a long time ago not to give my real name on nights like this, and I have a couple I rotate, but tonight, I’m Susan, the slutty fashion designer who is out on the town.

“Susan, and you are…?” The twinkle in his eyes tells me he knows that’s not my real name, but he doesn’t care.

“Fulton.” His one-word answer gives me shivers at the timbre of his deep voice. But instead of me being happy that he is a turn-on, instead all I can think of is another damn F name. What is with all the fuck boys’ names starting with an F.

But I’ll take it anyway, because that’s all I’m looking for tonight, another fuck boy.

“Enjoy your drink, Susan… and then I will take you to my boat and we will continue this conversation further.”

Oh, fuck, he’s good.

“I like to drink slowly.” I take a very deliberate small sip of my scotch, and it slides smoothly down my throat.

He doesn’t even flinch as he opens his mouth to reply. “And I like to fuck slowly… but firmly.” He takes the last mouthful of his drink and places it down on the table. “So, take all the time in the world, sweetheart. I’m a patient man.”

And as everything else starts to slip into the background, all I can think is thank God I didn’t hook up with that cougar chaser earlier tonight. That would have been like taking a ride in a cheap Volvo, when tonight I feel like I’m about to get the full luxury of a vintage Porsche.

Maybe this silver fox can show me what I’ve been missing with a much older man for once.

Deciding I’m not waiting, I take two big gulps of my scotch, almost burning my throat as they go down one after the other, and shake it off. Fulton stands and takes a few steps to stand in front of me.

His hand outstretched for me, I place mine in his rather large one, and he pulls me to my feet before I have time to say anything.

“Just because you might be in a hurry now, it doesn’t mean I will be. I chose carefully so I can savor my time of pleasure.”

Lifting my hand to his lips and placing a kiss on it, I almost feel like I’m about to cheat on someone but chastise myself for the stupid thought.

I don’t belong to anyone, let alone Flynn.

And I’ve given up on the fantasy that he will ever belong to me.

So tonight, I’m letting go and about to put my life back where it should be. Where I’m in charge of my mind, body, and soul.

And my womanly pleasure!