17. Deanna
DEANNA
“Are you sure about this?” I lean across the back seat of the town car to whisper at Prime as we glide through the city and out toward the suburbs.
“Sure about what?” He remains staring out the window, barely acting like he knows I’m there.
Which is strange. Not that I mind, but usually he’s obsessed with looking at me, like he can’t help himself. Now it’s like he’s bothered by something, only I can’t figure out what.
“You don’t think I’m a little… you know?” I wiggle both wrists. Twin diamond bracelets glitter in the street lights filtering through the tinted windows.
He looks my way. His expression softens. “A little beautiful?”
A flush falls across my cheeks. Even in a bad mood Prime’s got that magnetic charm. All these years and he’s never quite turned it on me before, and now that he is?—
I have to admit, it’s intense.
And I like it, God help me.
“I was thinking more overdressed.”
He waves a hand at that. “It’s a formal gathering.”
“I know, but come on? Floor-length ballgown?”
“You’ll be fine, believe me. I’m in a tuxedo.”
“You’re always wearing a suit. A tux is just a fancy suit.”
“Ricardo and his wife are important people, and his guests will all be powerful and well-connected. I want you on your best behavior tonight, do you understand me?”
I elbow him in the arm. “Worried about me embarrassing you?”
“Not in the slightest, but I thought I should be clear about my expectations regardless.”
“I take it I’m working then.”
“You could call it that.”
“Alright then. I’ll break out my best party jokes. I can juggle too if that’ll be better?”
“Not funny.”
“Oh! Balloon animals!”
He catches my wrist as I pretend to make an elephant. His grip is firm as he leans in close. “Best behavior, wife, or I promise there will be a punishment waiting for you at home.”
“Are you threatening me right now?”
“Yes I am. Any issues this evening, and I will rip that expensive dress off your body and spank your pretty ass until it’s raw and pink and only when you’re shaking and begging will I finally sink my big dick into your lovely, warm, soaking wet pussy, and I will have my way with you until I’m satisfied. Do you understand?”
Oh shit. My mouth falls open and I gape in alarm, heart racing, a tingle buzzing between my legs.
“You… you can’t threaten me with sex!”
“I didn’t say sex. I said I was going to spank and fuck you, Deanna. There’s a big difference.” He releases my wrist and turns back to the window. “Enjoy the drive. We’re nearly there.”
Well fuck. I shift to my side of the car, head spinning. What the hell is with this guy? One second he’s saying how beautiful I am, and the next he’s threatening to fuck me into oblivion if I somehow embarrass him.
This party is important, that’s obvious. Whoever these people are, Prime wants to impress them. But since when does my husband care what anyone thinks?
He’s always been a maverick. Prime moves through the world like he expects it to bend to his ideas of what’s wrong and what’s right. Norms are more like suggestions in his mind.
Despite him breaking every rule imaginable, he’s still wildly successful and popular. Everyone loves him. I’ve seen women literally fall over themselves trying to get close to him and men aren’t that much different.
So why’s he suddenly acting like he cares about anything?
It’s bugging me as the car pulls into a long driveway.
A perfectly manicured lawn with cute bushes and gorgeous old trees leads to a massive house.
We’re in the Gladwyne neighborhood, a town right in the Main Line, Philly’s oldest and most influential area.
Old money still lingers in this place, and I’m guessing this Ricardo guy’s got plenty of it.
We’re let out before a set of palatial steps outside of which two men in dark jackets are waiting.
One comes to my side and offers to help me out of the car.
But Prime’s already there. “I’ll escort my wife, thank you.”
I take his offered elbow, not sure what to say. He pats my hand like I’m his darling and we walk up through a set of double doors and into the most lavish home I’ve ever seen in my life.
Marble floors. Dangling chandelier. Old paintings on the walls.
Voices and laughter echo off the high ceilings.
I’d guess twenty people are in the entry alone, though there are several other rooms and a sprawling kitchen and living area toward the back of the house.
It takes a lot of effort to keep my head from swiveling around like a freaking moron.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I whisper to Prime as he leads me through the people, pausing to greet several men who call out to him.
“You get used to it.”
“I’ll let you know when that happens.”
He seems amused by my naivety, which is fine, better than being annoyed. Prime seems subdued by his standards, and this might be the first room I’ve seen him enter without getting mobbed by a dozen different people demanding his attention.
It’s strange, seeing him as only a piece of the crowd, when he so clearly stands out. The men pale in comparison to him, not a single one of them remotely as big or handsome.
Prime plucks two glasses of champagne from a passing tray.
I clutch mine, feeling out of place, but he was right.
All the other women are equally done up like we’re headed to the strangest awards ceremony possible.
Diamonds glitter at throats full of Botox.
More than a few faces are trapped in a vague expression of alarmed joy.
Meanwhile, their husbands have slicked-back hair, Rolexes on their wrists, and laugh loud enough to make the floorboards tremble.
“There you are!” A man I vaguely recognize from the wedding approaches. He shakes Prime’s hand. “Glad you could make it.’
“I appreciate the invitation, Ricardo. You know my wife, Deanna.”
“Yes, yes I do, hello darling, you look beautiful.” He kisses my cheek. His lips are paper-dry. “Prime, I need to borrow you for a while. There’s a pool game happening and it’s damn good action.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave my poor wife to fend for herself in these shark infested waters.”
Ricardo guffaws, obviously amused. “No worries on that front, my home is perfectly safe. But hold on a moment. Donatella! Donatella! Come over here!”
An equally rotund woman extracts herself from a nearby group and meanders to Ricardo’s side. She’s in her sixties, round, dyed black hair, eyes done up with so much blue they look fake, her obviously designer dress unflattering and absurdly glittery.
“Ah, the famous Prime is finally here. Everyone’s been talking about you.” Donatella shakes his hand, beaming. “And the woman who manages to nail him down. How did you do it, darling? No, wait, don’t tell me here where your secret might lose its power.”
“Take care of poor Deanna for me, will you? I have to make use of Prime.” Ricardo leads him away through the crowd and I catch only a vague frown from him before I’m dragged to sit with the ladies.
Parties aren’t my thing. They never were, even when I was going to them back in the day. I’m not socially inept though and I can hold a conversation with anyone, but right now I feel like I’m surrounded by a bunch of bored dentists and they all want to rip my freaking molars out.
Ricardo’s wife goes on and on about the color of her drapes and how she hates them and how boring her cleaning ladies are and how she thinks the gardener is sexy but he’s also stealing from them and her children are little spoiled shits and she hates her cousin and on and on, a vile litany of bile and nastiness, all of which her court of dickhead hens gobbles up like they need pure hate to keep them alive.
I nod along, make the proper noises, act like I’m offended that her dry cleaner’s charge what sounds like a reasonable rate considering she must be the most annoying customer in existence.
I’m asked only cursory questions and it becomes clear that I’m the least important person in this circle.
Which is fantastic. I drink more champagne and try to study the room.
I have no idea what this party is for and I’m thinking there might not be any specific event, which means this might be my future playing out before my eyes, a very scary thought.
There’s more laughter, men smoke cigars on the back patio, a woman is so drunk she falls from a chair, and after an hour I can’t handle it anymore.
The stink of perfume is overwhelming. I make an excuse about needing the bathroom and slip away to a quieter part of the house.
The place really is gorgeous. I try to picture my parents living here and it totally eludes me. The amount of wealth on display could pay for my father’s care for ten lifetimes. If we had even a fraction of this net worth, I’d never have to worry about my mother ever again.
I’d say we should eat the rich, except that terrible lady back in the kitchen probably tastes like plastic injections and snake venom.
I make my way upstairs. There’s a family portrait hanging in the hall: Ricardo stands proudly beside his wife who is seated on a white horse while three young children are gathered around them, presumably their awful kids.
I’m trying not to laugh at the idea of Donatella getting onto an actual, real-life horse, when there’s a bump in a room nearby.
I should go back down, but curiosity gets the better of me.
I creep over, figuring I can claim ignorance if I get caught.
Only one room has a light on, the door open a crack.
I push it, peering through, and find a big library, a massive oak desk at the far end, with several tall filing cabinets beside it.
And there’s my husband, rifling through them.
It takes a second to process. Prime’s concentrating on the papers, flipping through quickly, closing one drawer only to use some tools to get into the next. He’s picking a lock, I realize with a jolt, and I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be seeing this, whatever Prime’s doing is wrong.