Closer (20 page)

Chapter Seventeen

My Mistress Inez.

His hot breath whispered down the sensitive nape of her neck as the flexing strength of his bare chest pushed against her body from behind her.

She held her breath when he said the words like a petition.

Let me take care of you.

No—
she exhaled, as if it was a punishment.  She had been so guarded for so long, it was the only answer she would allow herself to express.

Let me take care of you
, his voiced echoed while his hands wound around her torso, slowly enveloping her breasts into his palms.

She closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and released a moan as he massaged her into submission.  Through her ruffled panties, she felt the insistence of his hard cock against her backside, awaiting her consent. 
Would she allow him to dominate her
?  Would she be able to
let him conquer her with such a simple request—a request that promised to make things better and easier in her life and not harder or worse?

Let me take care of you
, he exhaled in her ear, stripping down her panties and pushing up her smooth shimmering gown.  The cool air washed over the sensual dimples of her tailbone just above the soft contours of her bare cheeks.  The teasing tip of his wet tongue circled over her cherry blossom tattoo before lapping the forbidden arcs of her backside.

He was determined to claim her
.

She reached back to stroke his shaft, feeling the need to divert his attention away from seducing her. But he drew away her hands, affirming his quest to fulfill her—and only her.  His hand slid over her thigh and cupped her pubic bone, teasing her clit before fingering her wetness.  She dropped back her head with a submissive sigh and gushed for him.  It was no longer possible to deny him.  There was only the possibility that she would deny herself.

I know it’s wrong.  It must be wrong…

The haunting lyrics of the jazz ballad drifted through her mind as his lips feathered down the erogenous curve of her spine, drawing out every vulnerable emotion she had guarded every time he gazed at her.  The possessive strength of his hands, grasping her hips.  The heat of his pelvis against her backside.  The firmness of his cock, pulsing against her cheeks with the full force of his desire.  Everything about his domination reinforced the sentiment behind his plea. 
He would take care of her—if she would only let him.

She groaned, savoring the way his agile fingers slipped inside her.  He confidently established a rhythm, building her up to an intolerable need before slowing his pace and teasing her more.  She fell forward onto her hands and clenched the black silk sheets as he spread her knees wider across the bed. 
She was surrendering herself completely to him
.  His strong domineering body loomed behind her.  She sensed what was to come, but she would never have anticipated how much she yearned for it.  Then, she gasped as the full length of his cock penetrated her with one intimate thrust.   He waited until she forced out her first exhale before rocking himself deeper and deeper into her. 
He would not stop until he pleasured her completely
. 

It was all too much too bear.  She muted her scream with every vibrating wave of pleasure, but the climax never came…she had been close, so close so many times before, and yet, Enzo was right.  She had never found a way to allow herself to come.  Not with him, not with anyone.

Let me be the one to make you come.
He said it like a sacred request.

She shook her head and whispered back. 
I can’t
.

You can, if you trust me
.

She shook her head and everything suddenly went black.
No, I’ll never trust anyone enough
.

* * * *

Ping
.

Inez’s phone roused her from her sleep.  She lifted her head from her pillow and glanced over to Luna’s crib, where the sunlight from the window streamed across its empty mattress.

Nana
.

She exhaled with exhaustion.  She barely remembered crawling into bed last night before Luna sensed her presence and awoke, wanting to feed.  Inez remembered nursing her in bed, but almost nothing else.  The entire night was already a distant memory, including her evening with Sven and her sexy wet dream.  She glanced at the clock.  8:30 A.M.  She paused and listened for Luna or her grandmother, feeling the prickling need to express milk.  But the upstairs bedrooms were silent.  They were downstairs, probably napping after breakfast, and neither one of them needed her now.  Relieved, she fell back into bed. 

Ping
. 
Ping
.
Ping
.

The urgency and rapidity of the texts forced her to sit up and retrieve her phone.  She scanned the messages.

Te echo de menos

Perdona
,
mi amor

Necesito verte tan pronto

Inez flopped back against her pillow.

Ugh, Enzo
.

She knew he would contact her—not to console her for using their private photographs in his public art exhibit—but because she recognized the flare of jealousy in Enzo’s eyes after Sven had kissed her.  And despite the fact that Enzo had slept around with half of the single women in Argentina, Inez knew Enzo would never willingly stand by and let another man steal her away from him. 

She stopped and considered the best response before resorting to the most honest one:
What do you want, E?

She sent it, despite already knowing the answer.  What he always wanted: another chance.

To see you
. 
And Luna
.

We’re busy
, she shot back. 

He pinged her again. 
You can’t avoid me forever
. 
Luna deserves to see her papa
.

Ah, the guilty paternity play
, she thought.  He didn’t use it often, but she had already grown used to it.  She considered her day before typing back her response. 
My grandmother and I are spending the morning with her, then I’m dropping her off at Sarah’s later today before work
. 

Good, I’ll meet you there
, he texted back.

Are you finally offering to babysit
?  It was a petty swipe at him, but she didn’t care.  He had been back for weeks, and there hadn’t been a single day that he had offered to take care of their child.

I don’t want to babysit.  I want to be a family
, he zinged back.

She rolled her eyes and considered turning off her phone.  We
are not a family, Enzo
, she finally sent back.

You are her mother.  I am her father.  We are a family.  Nothing will ever change that
.

Inez was pretty sure that his whore-o-thon in Buenos Aires had irrevocably changed that. 

Te echo de menos.

Inez stared at the words: 
I miss you
. 

He often had said that phrase in Spanish to her—usually when they were in bed together, even when she was right there in front of him—as his way of expressing that she still wasn’t close enough.  Every time he said it, it stirred deep, visceral emotions inside her, reinforcing the simple fairy tale belief that she had found her one true love who loved her back with all his heart. 

Now, she stared at those words, fighting their tempting promise of a happily ever after.  Fairy tales were for naïve virgin maidens.  She was an unwed penniless mother whose prince had slept around with the evil queen and whose heart had been turned into stone.  There wasn’t much upside in believing in fairy tales anymore.

How about the opera tonight?

The text appeared across her screen like a wayward dove passing through a bleak sky. 

Sven
, she thought, pretending not to feel anything when she re-read it.

I know you have your fitting with Ebony, but after that, we have the night off. 

The night off?
Inez texted back
.

Yes.  We’re not committed to any public engagements except for tomorrow night for the opening of The Spire
. 
So tonight is our night off
.

Their night off
.  Flustered, Inez held her head, uncertain about the implications of spending her “night off” at the opera with Sven van der Meer.  But Sven’s text-to-speech responses were faster than her ability to reply to him. 

Puccini’s La Bohème.  Box tickets at the Lyric Opera House, which is the antithesis of modern architecture.  Nothing should please you more
.

There was a pause before his next text pinged her phone.

Except attending with me.  Of course
.

A day ago, she would have rolled her eyes at his cockiness.  Now, she just smiled.

Plus, you promised to come back and check on me today
. 

She sat up straighter and edged in her response.
You remember that?
 

I remember a lot more than I probably should about last night
.

She felt her pounding heart beating in her chest. 
How much did he remember about last night?  His dedication to her during his speech?  His request to come with him to Shanghai?  His emotional, inebriated kiss goodbye?
  She reflected on all the intimate moments before opting to ignore all of them.

You’re a fantastic singer, BTW,
she replied
.

She paused and waited, noting how the flow of his rapid replies had been interrupted.  After a long pause of silence, he finally replied.

Just say you’ll accompany me to the opera tonight, and I promise not to drink, sing or remove my pants.

Then, like an omen, Enzo’s text pinged her.

You can hide from me now, but you can’t hide from me forever.  I will meet you at Sarah’s this afternoon.  Tell your new dentist boss that you are taking the night off.  Te quiero, mi mujer.

Inez stared down at his words: 
I love you, my wife
.

Ugh
, she hated him.  She hated him so much for having the ability to do
that
—dangle the promise of a future together and succeed in making her want to believe in it. 

She scrolled back and re-read Sven’s request: 
Just say you’ll accompany me…
  She had failed to reply, and now, he pinged her again after several minutes of silence.

Okay, I’ll infer that you’re not going to commit yourself to the opera tonight.  But does that mean you’re going to break your promise, too?

Inez paused, the weight of the world heavy on her heart. 
No, a promise is a promise
, she replied. 
I’ll be there at Ebony’s for the fitting.  But before that, I’ll stop by and check in on you
.

He pinged back without a beat. 
Good
,
I’ll be taking a bath
.

Chapter Eighteen

It had been almost a week since Inez remembered being able to sit down at the kitchen table, eat her breakfast while nursing her baby, and not be in a rush to go anywhere.

“You’re having man trouble, admit it.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yep, because you’re silent.  And when you’re silent, it usually means one of two things: you’re having money troubles or you’re having man troubles.”

“Or usually both.”

Her grandmother smiled and shifted her useless cataract-ridden eyes up to the ceiling. “You said it.  Not me.”

“Enzo wants to see Luna,” Inez finally confessed.  “And me.”

“Tell him he should have thought of that before he started sticking it every which way he could fit it.”

“Nana—” Inez sighed, exasperated.

“What?  It’s not true?  Or a blind old bird like me isn’t supposed to say it?”

“You’ve said it, like…fifty times.”

“Well, I’m senile.  What do you expect?”

“Nothing,” Inez replied, resigning herself to the fact that it was true.

“Look, dear.  Enzo knocked you up, left the country, and broke your heart.  I’m gonna take the heartache and the hardship he caused you to my grave with me, just so I can promise to haunt the hell out of him.”

“Okay, so let’s forget it’s Enzo, for a moment.  And instead, let’s just refer to him as…Bachelor Number One.”

“Bachelor Number One?” Nana sounded skeptical.

“C’mon, Nana.  Play along.  Like a game show…behind Door Number One is Bachelor Number One—sexy attractive artist from Argentina.”

“He sounds more like an unemployment candidate than a game show prize.”

“Long-term relationship of two years,” Inez continued.  “My first true love—”

“You’re young.  You know nothing about true love,” Nana zinged.

“The happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” Inez overrode her.

“Hey, what about our road trip to The Badlands?  Now,
that
was a rowdy good time.”

“You mean the trip where you almost shot a tourist with a pellet gun, just so we could speed away and pretend we were Thelma and Louise?”

“You have never screamed and laughed so hard in your whole damn life, and you know it.”

“Can I finish?” Inez insisted.

“Bachelor Number One.” Nana feigned a long-drawn out snore.

“Father of my baby.  Tells me he loves me.
And
…says he wants to be a family.”

“Cock-sucking bastard,” Nana cried out through cupped hands

“Nana!”

“Well, I’m just playing the part of a heckler in the audience.  You forget that I was a nurse at a veteran’s hospital for thirty-two years.  I didn’t last that long using please and thank you when they had to shit in a pot, I can tell you that.”

“Okay, forget it.  Let’s move on to Bachelor Number Two—”

“Bachelor Number Two, eh?  I like him already.”

“Handsome Dutch billionaire.  Rigid, stern, asshole by day, but charming, unguarded playboy by night.  Famous modern architect who’s leaving this Saturday for Shanghai to design the tallest towers in the world.”

“Hm…” Dubious, Nana chewed on her pancakes.  “Sounds like nothing but more trouble.”

Inez sighed in agreement.  “Yeah, and that doesn’t even include his bitchy ex-girlfriend with the crazy eyes who hates me because she thinks I’m sleeping with him, but it’s all just a charade because he’s actually paying me to pretend to be his new girlfriend.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been up to this week.  But you’re not sleeping with him?”

“No, of course not.  He’s my boss.”

“But do you wish you were sleeping with him?”

Inez answered with conviction.  “No, Nana.  It’s just a job.”

“Lying little slut!” Nana cried out again.

“Nana!”

“Well, I’m just calling it like I see it because if that were all true, we wouldn’t be playing this little game.”

“Ugh.” Inez buried her face in her hands.  “So does that mean a veto for Bachelor Number Two then?”

Nana shrugged. “What’s behind Door Number Three?”

“Endless nights of comfortable pajamas, homemade lasagna, and a marathon of watching weepy melodramatic Meryl Streep movies with her foul-mouthed grandmother and perfect princess baby daughter.”

“Sounds like you got your answer.”

“Yeah, I wish it was that simple.”

“So do I.” Nana nodded. “But I can tell you one thing for certain.  Whichever door you choose, make sure the bachelor behind it realizes he’s got you as a gift and not the other way around.”