Dangerous Passion

  All eyes were on her.

  “Everything OK, Scarlett?”

  “Um, yes, fine, thank you, Martha.” Scarlett's eyes bored into Isaac's. Exploring these deep blue crystals of wonder, she softened and released a barely-noticeable smile. Isaac reciprocated and continued to stroke the inside of her leg, ever-so-softly with his toes. She was melting inside as he, almost imperceptibly, stretched to caress her just inches away from her crotch. The attraction was immense. She wanted him now.

  Later, as the group sat with coffee and canapés and played board games, Scarlett deliberately sat herself to one side of Isaac, ensuring his mother was sat between them. She couldn't bring herself to look at him – to want him.

  “Do you still have Twister?” Martha inquired to Scarlett. “I have fond memories of playing that with you both. Perhaps we could play that later?”

  “Yeah, somewhere. I think it's in the lock-up. I can fetch it for you, but it might a little while to find it under all the crap in there.”

  “Don't worry if it's too much hassle, dear.” Too much hassle? Too much freaking hassle? Don't make me out to be lazy, you selfish bitch.

  “No, not at all. I'll go and fetch it now – I'm out of the game anyway.”

  Isaac's eyes widened. “I'm out too, actually. I can help you look – we might find it a bit quicker.”

  As Scarlett walked from the apartment and down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, she could feel Isaac's eyes boring into the back of her skull. Better that than his brother's fist, she thought. The lock-up was less than twenty yards from the back of the apartment block – the door obscured from view.

  Scarlett twisted the large key in the lock and swung open the heavy door. The light flickered on and Isaac closed the door behind him.

  “Hey, you've got some pretty neat stuff in here. Whose is the grandfather clock?”

  “My parents gave it to us but we couldn't get it up to the apartment. We're keeping it until we move.”

  As she stood rummaging through a cardboard box of old junk, Scarlett felt Isaac's hands move over her hips as his hot breath cascaded over her neck. He kissed her neck delicately.

  “Isaac... we really shouldn't....” She gasped with pleasure as he slipped his hand inside her jeans and shifted her legs as he slid his hand between them. Instinctively, she reached behind her and grasped his crotch. He was hard. So hard. God, she wanted him.

  Turning round, she scrabbled at his trouser button, unable to undo them anywhere near as quick as she wanted. As his trousers loosened, Scarlett pulled out of their embrace and yanked his trousers down with both hands, dropping to her knees with them. As Isaac exhaled with pleasure, she took him in her mouth.

  The sex was heavenly. As he thrust inside her, his warm, masculine body rubbing against her, she was in paradise. With a tensing of his body and a guttural groan, he filled her with his love.

  The lovers lay entwined as they caught their breath before redressing and sharing a passionate, knowing embrace.

  “Isaac, we really shouldn't be doing this. I mean, don't get me wrong – I want you so bad...”

  “Then what's the problem?”

  “Robert.”

  “Hah. Robert always has been a problem. Are you telling me you feel bad about hurting that jerk?”

  “You don't understand... Robert and I... Look, I know how he'd react.”

  “Sure. He'd be as upset as any guy. But the fact is he's an asshole.”

  “Any guy doesn't plow his fist into his wife's head and kick her down the stairs!”

  She regretted what she had said immediately after she said it. How fucking stupid can you be, S?

  “He does what?”

  “Please. Just forget I said anything.”

  “How can I forget?! Scarlett – you are a beautiful, sensational woman. You deserve far better than that. I know he's your brother but I want you to be with me. Ever since I first set eyes on you this morning I knew you were the one for me.”

  Scarlett scoffed. “What about all those women in Paris?”

  “Gee, girl. Can't you see I was messing around? I don't want any women in Paris. I wanted you to be jealous. I want you in Paris.”

  “You hardly know me, Isaac.”

  “Don't tell me you don't feel it too.”

  “Of course I do, but... it's mad. We've only just met and I've been with Robert for seven years.”

  “And you've had seven years of putting up with abuse and violence from him.”

  “But I can't just...”

  “Think about it. That's all I ask.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The snow began to fall as Scarlett and Isaac made their way back up to the apartment.

  “Did you find it?”

  “Find what?”

  “Twister. Did you find it?”

  “Oh. No. No... we, uh, we couldn't find it. There's too much junk. Does anyone want any more coffee?”

  As Scarlett stood staring from the kitchen window, Martha entered the room and closed the door.

  “So. Good, was it?”

  “Was what?”

  “Your little liaison with Isaac.”

  Scarlett's face reddened as she struggled to come to terms with what Martha was saying. How could she have seen them? The door was shut and there were no windows.

  “I... I don't know what you mean.”

  Martha's voice was half-whisper, half-shout. “You know damn well what I mean. You walked out of this flat looking like Audrey Hepburn. When you came back twenty minutes later your lipstick was smudged, your hair was ruffled and the back of your blouse was tucked into your jeans.”

  “I... It's snowing outside. It must have messed up my hair and... and made my makeup run.”

  “The snow doesn't tuck your blouse into your jeans! Do you think I was born yesterday?”

  Scarlett saw no point in trying to evade the truth any longer.

  “Martha... It was a mistake. I... I don't know what happened. But look, there are things you don't know about...”

  “You're damn right it was a mistake! Do you have any idea what it's taken for me to try and get this family back together again?”

  Scarlett couldn't help herself. “You broke it up in the first place, you stupid bitch! Robert told me all about the way you treated them when they were growing up – how Isaac left home at seventeen and traveled halfway across the world to Paris to be with a father he'd never even known. And you accuse me of trying to break up your precious little family?”

  “You have NO idea, Scarlett.”

  “No, I have every idea, Martha. After just twenty minutes having fucking fantastic sex with your darling son Isaac, I know him far more intimately than you ever will. And believe me, there are plenty of things you don't know about Robert either.”

  “I know everything about my son. He tells me everything. Don't you dare tell me otherwise.”

  “Oh, so he tells you how he throws me into walls? How he kicks me in the ribs? How he smashes his fist into my head?”

  Martha stood, stunned.

  “Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare! My son is many things but he is not a wife beater.”

  “You think what you like, Martha – you always have.”

  “Now, you listen to me, you little slut. You clearly have no respect for me, my son or my family but I certainly won't let you ruin it for the rest of us. I'm giving you one chance and one chance only. You put an end to this infatuation with Isaac at once.”

  “Infatuation?! You pathetic old woman. Isaac wants me!”

  “Isaac wants what's good for him and that certainly isn't a jumped-up, slutty little tart like you. I mean it, Scarlett. Knock it off at once or I will tell Robert exactly what's going on.”

  Scarlett shook with horror and rage as she watched her mother-in-law leave the kitchen. Even if I left Robert for Isaac, she thought, I'd still be lumbered with that old bitch. She stood, contemplating her future. How could she possibly tell Robert? If he was willing to
beat her black and blue over being late home from work or putting the place mats in the wrong order, what would he do if she told him she was leaving him for his brother? He'd kill her. Trying to suppress her stunted sobs, Scarlett's body convulsed with pain and anguish.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Straightening her blouse and wiping dry her eyes, Scarlett prepared to re-enter the dining room. Before she could begin her long, arduous walk to the kitchen door, it opened and Isaac stepped in. He walked over and planted his hands on her hips, reaching in for a long, lingering kiss.

  “Isaac... no. We can't.”

  “Well you weren't exactly saying that ten minutes ago,” he said flirtatiously, leaning in again.

  “I mean it. We can't. Your.... your mum knows.”

  “What? How? She can't do.”

  “She's not as dumb as we might think she is. She's just been in here and told me she'll tell Robert if we don't end it.”

  “So we'll tell him before she does.”

  “Are you serious? Isaac, I told you what he's like. He'd kill me.”

  “He wouldn't go anywhere near you, my sweet love. We'd be thousands of miles away in Paris.”

  “Oh, come on! Not this again! I can't just up sticks and leave. I have a life here—a family.”

  “Scarlett, you have no life and no family here. You have an apartment in the middle of a noisy city. You have a dead-end job and a husband who abuses you for kicks. In France it could be so different. There are beautiful, stunning farm buildings set beside luscious vineyards and miles and miles of outrageous countryside. The sun is always shining and the birds are always singing. In France, if you drop your smile for just one moment the sun shines brighter and the birds sing louder. Life could be so good, Scarlett. We could sit beside our beautiful farm building watching the sun set over the blossoming vineyard and enjoy the fruits of our love. I've never felt anything like this before, Scarlett. I feel a burning passion in my heart and a physical urge to love and adore you. From the moment I saw you I knew I wanted you with every beat of my heart. I am you and you are me. All I want is to love you for the rest of my days.”

  Stifling her sobs of elation and joy, Scarlett flung her arms around Isaac and pulled him into a loving embrace. Time flowed irrespective.

  “Did you mean that?”

  “Every word.”

  “Then yes.”

  “Yes?

  “Yes, I will go with you.”

  “Are you absolutely certain? We'll tell Robert?”

  “I don't know what to do about Robert yet. He'll have to know at some point.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the dining room, the six sat in stony silence. Scarlett, deep in thought; longing for Isaac and their future together, fueling hatred and anger at Martha. Isaac sat, numb. Not only had he fallen in love with his brother's wife, but he had discovered that his brother had been physically and mentally abusing her. Love was bittersweet. Martha rhythmically clenched her fists and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. The absolute shame and dishonor of the situation angered her deeply. Robert was the first to stir.

  “What's wrong with everyone? It's Christmas, for crying out loud!”

  “I think we're all just a bit tired, Rob,” Isaac said. “It's been a long day.”

  “Yeah, but it's Christmas! We should be full of festive cheer and celebration!” Robert's voice slurred under the influence of a few too many glasses of wine and champagne. Scarlett's parents sat in respectful observation of the scenario—ever the quiet, forgotten bystanders.

  Arthur and Veronica had been successful in their careers—both as academics. Arthur was a respected art writer specializing in Italian renaissance culture and Veronica was a biological chemist. Scarlett had always felt more empathy with her father's career choice and list of pastimes. She wondered whether perhaps her relative emotional distance from her mother had impacted on her perceived relationship with Martha. Maybe mother figures just weren't respected as highly as adult men in her world. Arthur had earned a steady and impressive income through his career but had never had reason to display any wealth publicly. He and Veronica lived in a three-bedroom house in Fairview and drove an '04 Buick LeSabre.

  Scarlett was an only child—she had had an older brother, Stefan, who died when he was four days old. Scarlett always felt a strange emotional bond with her brother—strange as he had passed three years before she was even born. In times of emotional pain and anxiety, she often thought of Stefan.

  It was amazing, some of the secrets many families keep. We all assume every other family is the perfect nuclear family but the secrets bubbling away beneath the surface tell an entirely different story. Take Martha, for instance. Sweet, innocent, perfect Catholic Martha. Aged sixteen, she had found herself in bed with a much older French businessman and had borne his child—the blue-eyed lover who sat opposite Scarlett now. Not content with one scandal, Martha had hastily married her then-boyfriend Les and declared that the child was his. Everyone could do the math, of course, but would not risk religious scandal by saying anything. Following Robert's birth, Les upped sticks and left, giving Martha another family scandal to try and cover up. When Isaac reached his seventeenth birthday—the age at which his mother had borne him—he too left home, citing his mother's overbearing Christian beliefs and detrimental attitude as his motivation and moved to Paris to find his father. Now, these two, perfect nuclear families met in the midst of another great scandal—one which could potentially blow them both apart. Once again, Robert broke the silence.

  “Well, if you're not going to say anything then I'm going out,” he slurred, struggling to rise from his armchair.

  “Going where?” Martha interjected—always the first to question her sons' actions and movements.

  “Just out. What business is it of yours, mom?”

  “Don't you speak to me like that, young man. It's Christmas Day and you'll sit here with your family.”

  “What, staring at the floor and contemplating mass suicide? No thanks—I'm going to the bar.”

  “To get yourself even more ridiculously drunk, I suppose?”

  “Yep. Anything's better than sitting here with you lot right now.”

  Martha sat stunned and open-mouthed as Robert left the apartment. Scarlett could see her rage boiling and knew it wouldn't be long before she broached the subject of her and Isaac.

  A few minutes passed before the silence was broken.

  “So, are you going to tell them?” Martha got straight to the point. Isaac made no movement; Scarlett looked up at her mother-in-law with don't do it eyes, not wanting to speak. Veronica took up the cue.

  “Tell who what, Martha?”

  “Tell you their dirty little secret and the shame they've brought on our family!”

  “Martha...” Scarlett made a halfhearted plea for clemency. Arthur and Veronica looked at Martha with offended astonishment.

  “You have five seconds to tell your own parents, Scarlett, or I shall tell them myself. Five.”

  “Martha, please, we...”

  “Four.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Three.”

  “Look, we can talk and try and sort...”

  “Two.”

  “Martha, for God's sake, please...”

  “One.”

  “I'm in love with Isaac.” The silence said more than any words could ever convey. Martha sat back sullenly with a look of accomplishment and derision on her face. She looked like the cat who'd got the cream.

  “We're in love, we had mad, passionate sex in the lockup and we're going to run away to France together. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?” Scarlett plunged her head into her hands and sobbed hysterically. Her mother came over to comfort her.

  Arthur knew not how to react. “Is this some kind of joke?” He let out a small chuckle as if to cue a punchline from one of the other parties.

  “It's no joke, Arthur.” Isaac remained calm but solemn.

  “But she's got a
husband! You're his brother!”

  “It's not quite that straightforward. There are things you don't know, Arthur.”

  “It seems there's a goddamn lot I don't know at the moment!”

  Scarlett raised her head from her hands, mascara streaming down her face which was red with fury and upset.

  “He beats me, dad. He punches and kicks me for no good reason and has done terrible, terrible things to me.”

  “Robert? No. He can't. You must be mistaken.”

  “How can I be mistaken, dad?”. Her father stood up and paced the room, trying to take in the gravity and meaning of the situation.

  “Scarlett, honey, every couple go through tough periods and have to work a little harder to make things work but this isn't the answer.”

  “It's not a tough period, mom! It's been going on for years.”

  “Years? Oh, my baby. You should have said something!”

  “How could I? I feel rotten and ashamed. Like it's all my fault.”

  “It's not your fault, baby. You just need to sit down and work things out.”

  “No, mom. Things can't be worked out. I'm not happy with Robert and I don't love him. Heck, I don't know if I've ever loved him. Everything happened so quickly and I didn't even get a chance to think things through.”

  “You're not exactly taking your time with Isaac either, sweetie.”

  “Mom, things are different with Isaac. He makes me feel like Robert could never make me feel in all the years we've been together. He makes the sun shine and the birds sing; he makes my heart flutter and I long to be with him every second we're not touching. Mom, I know you don't believe in instinct and love at first sight but I love Isaac with all my heart and I want to be with him.”

  Martha, having kept her mouth shut for at least two minutes, added her two cents' worth.

  “Pah! Love. What do you know about love? You made vows to my Robert when you got married. Vows in front of God. To love and to cherish. To honor and to obey. Til death us do part.”

  “Why does it always come back to God with you, Martha? God doesn't have all the answers.”

  “Marriage is a sacred vow, Scarlett. You made that vow to God and you will keep that vow to God.”

  “Just like you've been the perfect Catholic, you mean?”

  “I beg your pardon, young lady!”