Chapter 42
Anton
Iapprove of Genevieve’s idea of casual, even if it’s fucking dangerous.
Still-damp hair combed off her face.
A white sundress with big blue-green flowers all over it and a deep V at the front that provides a tantalising glimpse of the creases beneath her spectacular tits.
No bra.
Flat gold sandals.
Light makeup except for a slick of coral on her cheeks and lips, no jewellery, and skin that’s positively glowing.
‘You look beautiful,’ I tell her, and she flushes.
‘Casual enough for you?’
‘Perfect.’
I linger as Céd mixes her an Aperol Spritz in a goldfish-bowl glass and gesture towards the terrace’s seating area. ‘Here? Or down by the pool?’
‘Ooh, let’s do the pool,’ she says.
We settle on the long sofa in the pool’s clematis-covered pergola. Genevieve raises her glass to me, and we clink. She’s sitting upright, and I know I’ll need to work harder to ensure my beautiful guest relaxes in the way she deserves. Not that I can blame her for being on her guard.
‘How long have you had this place?’ she asks, looking around her.
‘Ten years, give or take.’
‘Did you have to do a lot to it?’
‘It was in pretty good shape, but we modernised the kitchen and extended the basement.’
‘It’s immaculate. And very peaceful.’
‘It’s neither of those things when my kids are around,’ I tell her. ‘Which they will be next month, when they break up.’
She settles back against the scatter cushions. ‘You have four kids, right?’
‘Yeah. Two from my first marriage and two from my second. Felix and Scarlett are both at uni, and my terrible twins, Amie and Annabel, are sixteen. They’re doing their GCSEs at the moment, which has been painful for everybody.’
She laughs. ‘Do you see much of them?’
‘As much as I can, yeah. Most of them are in London—Felix is at LSE. Scarlett’s at Harvard Law, but she’s promised to come and hang with her old man for a few weeks this summer.
I’m pretty sure the house is more of a draw than I am.
She’s already begun negotiations over how many friends she can bring with her and how often they can take the boat out.
’ I pretend to shudder. ‘She’ll make a great lawyer. ’
Genevieve is smiling at me. ‘She sounds like my kind of woman.’
‘She’d like you, definitely.’
She pats the cushion next to her. ‘I love the monograms. Very on-brand.’
I smirk. ‘Are you taking the piss out of me?’
‘They really are beautiful.’ She smooths an elegant hand over the embroidered W. I wish it was my thigh she was caressing like that.
‘Let’s just say three divorces proved an expensive lesson in the perils of his ’n’ her monogramming.’ I take a sip of my G&T. ‘I learnt my lesson a lot later than I should have.’
‘Not to get married, or not to get smug, couply monograms?’
I grin. ‘Monograms, definitely.’
Céd approaches with an enormous tray bearing Jean-Jacques’ fantastic assortment of canapés, and we halt our conversation as he lays the platters out on the coffee table and provides Genevieve with a quick rundown of each one. When he’s left us, I turn to find her assessing me through narrowed eyes.
‘What?’
‘Three ex-wives is… impressive,’ she says.
‘Not sure that’s the word I’d use. And why does it feel like a pretty lame euphemism when you say it?’
‘Because I’m trying to work out what it tells me about you,’ she says, cocking her head to one side. She lifts her glass and drinks as she continues to observe me.
‘Probably that I’m either a ruthless love ‘em and leave ‘em type or a hopeless romantic,’ I say lightly. ‘Or, obviously, that I’m impossible to live with. Which would you choose?’
‘A few weeks ago, it would have been the first or last. Now, I’m not so sure.’
I can’t help but be touched by her words as much as her confessional tone. If I’ve risen that much in her opinion, albeit off a low base, I must be doing something right.
‘They’re all wonderful women,’ I say, ‘and Carmen and Marie-Claire gave me the most beautiful children. I’ll never regret it, and when I went into each marriage, for whatever it’s worth, I did so with a heart full of faith and love.
But there are some things you can’t fake in a relationship.
I’ve learnt that the hard way. Finally.’
I look over. She’s watching me, her gaze softer than it was. I wonder if she’s remembering what I told her in my interview about my brand of kink being off the table in my previous relationships.
Because I am.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ I reach for a langoustine and dip it liberally in its lemony dip. ‘Like I said, I have no regrets. Langoustine?’ I hold it out to her, and she takes it.
‘Thanks. You certainly don’t sound like you’ve been put off the institution for life, though, which is impressive after three attempts.’
‘On the contrary. I’m an optimist. I choose to be that way. And yeah, I work hard, but I live hard too, and I believe love is a very important piece of living a full life.’
‘And sex,’ she reminds me.
I grin and raise my glass. ‘Amen to that. And Amen to Alchemy.’
‘But they don’t coexist for you?’ she asks. ‘Great love and great sex?’
I frown. ‘You make it sound like I believe I can’t have great sex with someone I’m in love with.
That’s not the case at all. I just haven’t found it yet in my relationships—I mean, not to the extent I’d like to have it.
You’ve had a front-row seat to my tastes.
They’re not for everyone. But it’s also painful having to constantly tamp down your desires because they make the person you’re with feel uncomfortable.
Or worse, because that person tries to make you feel like there’s something wrong with you for wanting that. ’
She nods vigorously, and points a finger at me. ‘That, right there.’
‘You’ve had that too?’ I ask her, and she sighs.
‘I did not mean to come down for drinks and launch into a conversation about our kinks with you.’
‘Come on.’ I spread my arms wide. ‘I’m partnering with your sex club, for fuck’s sake. The jig is up. Not to mention, I’ve had a front-row seat to your kinks, too.’
She purses her lips, though I suspect she’s less disapproving than she makes out, and then sighs again.
‘Okay, fine. Yes. I remembered what you said in your interview because it resonated with me, alright? Less the shaming, but more that feeling of not being able to have it all. Of wondering if I ever would. You know, lovely dates with great guys, and then the sex is shit. Or just… boring.’
‘Lucky you met me, then,’ I say, grinning. ‘I’m the whole package.’
‘And so modest, too,’ she grits out.
‘You know what I mean. You and I are the same, Gen. Can I call you Gen?’
‘Given you’ve seen me naked and I’m enjoying your wonderful hospitality, I can hardly say no, can I?’
‘If I’m modest, you’re gracious,’ I tell her. ‘But as I was saying, Gen. You and I are the same. Like it or not.’
‘Is this a date?’ she asks wearily. ‘Did you bring me here to seduce me?’
I pause and consider my words carefully. ‘I don’t like the word seduce. It suggests manipulation, which doesn’t sit well with me.’
‘You’ve manipulated me before,’ she argues. ‘When I signed the contract in your office.’
I frown. ‘I’d argue that was more opportunistic than manipulative. Yeah, I had an agenda. And I’d checked with the guys and with Athena that if the evening was to unfold the way I wanted, that they’d be okay with that. But I propositioned you, and you made your choice. You stayed.
‘And yeah, you could argue I’ve manipulated your desires, maybe. Like in the club, when I fucked that woman in front of you. But you didn’t give me much to work with. I had to play whatever hand I had to get some kind of reaction out of you.
‘As for now? I brought you here in the hope that if we spent some time together, you’d come to understand that we do actually get on well, that we have a lot more in common than you’re willing to accept, and that I have the utmost respect for you.
’ I stop. ‘Yes, my intentions are purely dishonourable. Fucking filthy. But you hold all the power here. All of it.’
She stares at me, those blue eyes huge as she absorbs what I’m telling her.
‘I won’t give you a hard sell,’ I tell her.
‘You’re my guest. I’d never want you to feel uncomfortable.
And if that happens, I’ll have Céd drive you straight over to the Carlton, no questions asked.
I’d love this evening to be a date, but if it’s just good food and wine and excellent conversation between two new friends in peaceful surroundings, then that’s fine too. Okay?’
I raise my eyebrows at her, and she swallows, then nods. ‘Okay. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ I sit back and cross my ankle over my knee. ‘And, over dinner, you’re going to tell me how you and those friends of yours ended up running the best sex club I’ve ever been to.’