Seriously? Is she really insinuating Vanessa isn’t smart enough to know when a mechanic is taking her for a ride? Talk about insulting.
“No, really. It’s okay, Ursula. The car is still driving fine. There’s no need for Eric to go through the trouble,” Vanessa insists.
“It’s no trouble, right Eric? Besides, it will give Ariel and I a chance to get to know each other a little more. Talk business one-on-one.”
Eric looks over at me questioningly, and my heart screams for me to cling to him and tell him that under no circumstances should he leave me alone with this vile woman. But I refuse to do that. I refuse to let her think that I’m afraid of her, or that she can intimidate me.
“It’s fine. Go outside and tinker with the car, grunt and pound your chest and feel all manly,” I tell him with a smile.
He stares at my face for a few moments to make sure I’m serious, and when he’s satisfied that I’ll be okay, he gets up from his chair, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he moves away from the table.
Vanessa gives me an apologetic look as she joins him, and they move out into the foyer together, talking softly until I hear the front door open and close.
As soon as we’re alone, I bring my hands up and start a slow clap as I stare at Ursula.
“Bravo. Excellent performance. Now it’s time to cut the shit,” I tell her, resting my elbows on the table and leaning towards her. “You knew who I was this entire time. Did you deny our application just because I’m dating your son?”
“I knew who you were the day you walked into that courthouse and I saw my son’s boat address on your paperwork. And by the way, it’s not your home. Our family owns that boat, something that you are not a part of. I don’t know what kind of gold digging ideas you have in that brain of yours, but they end right now,” Ursula informs me.
I throw my head back and laugh, letting out a sigh when I get it all out of my system.
“Jesus, and here I thought you and I would have something in common, since we’re both business owners, doing whatever we can to make a name for ourselves in this world where a man thinks just because he has a dick, he’s smarter than us and should make more money,” I reply. “I’m not a gold digger. I work my ass off, and I earn the money I make. I’m sorry if you don’t like how I do it, but it’s not illegal, and I’m proud of what I do. And so is your son.”
It’s Ursula’s turn to laugh, and the sound of it makes my skin crawl.
“Do you think he’d still be proud if he knew he was sleeping with a married woman?” she questions.
“I’m divorced. I’ve been divorced for two years. You’re going to have to do better than that,” I scoff.
“Do you honestly think I would let some piece of trash insert herself into my only son’s life and not do my homework? I thought you were supposed to be brilliant.” She sneers.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
My voice comes out shaky even though I’m trying so fucking hard to remain strong and in control.
“You know one of the perks of being the head of the board for the county? You have access to all sorts of files and legal documents,” she muses. “Your divorce paperwork was never filed correctly. Imagine that, another issue with you and paperwork. You signed it and did what you were supposed to, but it seems like your ex . . . I mean, your husband . . . never did his part. Such a shame, really. In the eyes of the law, you’re still married.”
All I hear is a whooshing sound in my ears as the blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy. I feel like I might tip over and off this chair at any moment.
Is that why Sebastian has been calling me and texting me, saying we needed to talk? Did he know about this? Jesus Christ, I’ve been paying that piece of shit alimony all this time. How in the hell does a mistake like this even happen?
I’m so busy trying not to pass out and thinking about all the way I’m going to slowly and painfully murder Sebastian that I don’t realize Ursula has moved from her chair to the one Eric vacated. She’s right next to me, leaning in close. I swallow nervously.
“I will not allow my son’s name, my family’s name to be tarnished by a whore who will never, ever be good enough for him. I will also not allow you to ruin his life and his business when word gets out that he’s been having an affair with a married woman. So, it’s time to decide, Ariel. What’s more important to you? This business of yours, or my son’s happiness and reputation?” she asks quietly.
This isn’t happening right now. Please, God, tell me this isn’t happening.
“I can change my ruling about this club of yours. You and your friends show up at the board meeting next week. I make sure it’s put at the top of the docket, you plead your case even though it will just be a formality at that point, and I vote in favor of reversing the denial, stating that a mistake was made. By this time next week, you will have the business license you need to continue working in this county,” she tells me.
“Let me guess. There’s a catch?” I whisper.
“Of course there is. This is business after all. You don’t get something like this for free. I reverse the denial at the board meeting where everyone will agree with me, and you stay the hell away from my son. He should be with someone like Vanessa. Someone cultured, with a college degree, who shares his Greek heritage and is worthy of a man like him. You stay with him, and you’ll bring him nothing but pain and embarrassment until he finally gets his head on straight and leaves you. And then where will you be? Alone and broke. Make the smart choice, Ariel.”
Do you hear that? That’s the sound of the combat boot flying off my foot and kicking me right in the gut.
Chapter 25: Tomorrow Is Going to Suck
On the drive back to the boat docks after brunch, I felt like a caged animal wanting to claw at the leather seats of Eric’s SUV and Hulk smash my way out of the window. I was so angry. And the worst part about it was, I couldn’t even tell Eric. How do you tell a man his mother is a lying, manipulative, conniving bitch who called you a whore and is trying to blackmail you? It’s obvious they don’t have the closest relationship, but she’s still his mother. The woman who gave birth to him, and took care of him (with the help of a nanny), and provided for him. It would break his heart.
So, I pasted a smile on my face and brushed off his continued apologies about how rude she was, and how he couldn’t believe she invited Vanessa over and tried to play matchmaker right in front of me. I laughed and told him it was ridiculous and didn’t matter. I told him I was a strong woman who didn’t intimidate easily and wouldn’t let his mother run me off. I told him I knew I was good enough for him and her opinion didn’t bother me.
By the time we got back to the boats and Eric had to go into work, I realized just how much it did matter. I still know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m good enough for him. I still know I could give him the kind of love he’s always deserved and do it so well it would blow his mind every fucking day he spends with me. I still believe I’m worthy of him and the love he gives me, whether or not I’m cultured or have a college education or share the same heritage as him. I know for a fact that if I were to sit Eric down and tell him everything she’s done and everything she said to me today, he would tell her to go to hell. He would cut ties with her and never speak to her again. I know he would stand up for me and support me and think it was completely ridiculous that my being technically married—which will be fixed as soon as possible—wouldn’t have any bearing on his reputation or his business. I can see it so perfectly in my head—his dimpled smile as he shakes his head at me, telling me I can’t get rid of him that easily and that a spare husband sitting in the wings doesn’t change anything.
Sitting in the middle of my bed, I stare down at the phone in my hand, rereading the messages that came in today from Cindy and Belle that I haven’t responded to yet.
Cindy: How did brunch go? Did the elitist snob fall madly in love with your charm? If she didn’t, I will cut her. CALL ME!
&
nbsp; Belle: Hey! Guess what? I learned how to make a Salty Chihuahua today. It has tequila in it and it’s delicious and I’m adding it to the menu of the future Naughty Princess Drinking Club. Also, it’s now your new nickname. Because you’re cute and salty and you’re an irritating, yappy ankle biter.
Cindy: Dude. DUDE. We just scored a corporate account. Holy shit. This is huge. They want us to do everything. Christmas parties, employee birthday parties, luncheons, business meetings. It’s a sex-toy company. I wonder if we’ll get free samples . . . CALL ME!
Belle: I just booked a location for my wedding. And before you ask, no, I will not make you be a bridesmaid and wear a horrible taffeta gown with poufy sleeves and a big bow on your ass. No bridesmaids. Just a small, intimate gathering with a taco bar. Mmmmmmm tacos. Vincent is mad at me because I just paid for the entire thing without telling him. Mama’s got the dolla dolla bills just rolling in, yo. It’s lit, fam. My wedding will be on fleek.
Belle: Sorry. We had a teen day at the library this afternoon. Teenagers are weird. And scary. Did you know that according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, teens often use slang words when talking about drugs so their parents don’t know? Holy shit. My last text to you could have said I like doing cocaine. Delete these messages immediately until I can do more research.
Cindy: We need to discuss who’s going to be doing all the administrative work now that you got on the pole and put Belle and I to shame. I’m thinking we should hire a business manager to take care of all of this shit because . . . math. Let’s get some drinks tomorrow night and discuss. Belle just sent me a text about a Salty Chimpanzee or some shit that we need to try. CALL ME, ASSHOLE!
What’s more important to you? This business of yours, or my son’s happiness and reputation?
Ursula’s words play on a loop in my head as I bite back tears, sending Cindy and Belle quick texts telling them I’ll call them tomorrow and fill them in on everything.
I know Eric’s reputation would survive the scandal of me still being married. It’s not the fucking 1950s anymore. But this business? I can’t let my friends down like that. I can’t tell them I picked a man over them, when we started this thing for the sole reason that we were three single women, all alone with no one to help us, in a man’s world, trying to figure out a way to get our heads above water before we drowned. And we did it. We fucking did it. We beat the odds and started a business that was successful from day one and continues to grow each and every day, without help from anyone else.
How could I possibly take that away from them? The Naughty Princess Club is how we each found ourselves and who we were meant to be. It’s how we all learned how to be strong, independent women who could do whatever we wanted if put our heads together, who helped and supported each other instead of trying to take each other down for our own personal gain.
“Princess, you home?”
I put my phone on the nightstand when I hear Eric’s voice out in the living room, clicking my iTunes app and moving myself back to the middle of the bed. I swallow back the tears and put a sultry smile on my face as he walks into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees me.
“Sweet Jesus. Am I in a porno right now? There are two hairless pussies on the bed.”
I am completely naked and laugh in spite of the anxiety burning a hole in my stomach, reaching over to pat Derrick Alfredo’s head as I lean back on one elbow.
“Only one of these hairless pussies is gonna show you a good time tonight, Sailor,” I tell him, removing my hand from Derrick’s head to crook my finger at him.
Eric removes his suit coat, tie, dress shirt, and pants faster than I can blink, and he’s crawling up the bed, covering his body with mine. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him down on top of me, memorizing the feel of his weight on me and how perfect my body fits with his.
“What in the hell is this shit playing from your phone?” Eric asks with a smile, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of my head as I slide my hands up his sides and around his back, pulling him tighter against me.
“Hey, this is Pink. Don’t dis Pink. She can rock or she can sing sweet. We’re doing sweet tonight,” I tell him, bringing one hand between us and pressing it against his cheek.
I don’t tell him that the name of the song is “The Great Escape.” I don’t tell him that when I hear the words to this song, I can imagine him saying all of these words to me. How he’s not going to let me escape. How he’s not going to lose me this way.
“We’re also doing candles, I see,” he says, smiling down at me, the flickering light from the votives I placed all around the room making his eyes sparkle.
Yes, I did soft music and candles and we’re going to make love. Don’t judge me.
He deserves this. He deserves to know that right here, in this moment, everything between us is real. He needs to be able to look back on this moment and remember that it meant something, even if I ruin it.
“Just don’t make any sudden movements or Derrick will fly off the bed, crash into a candle, and the whole place will go up in flames,” I warn him.
He laughs and I pull his head down to mine, cutting him off with a kiss. I can’t hear his laugh right now. I can’t deal with the goose bumps they always bring me, knowing I’ll never feel that again.
I pour my entire heart and soul into this kiss, reaching down between our bodies and wrapping my hand around Eric’s hardness, lining it up with my entrance. His mouth never leaves mine as he slowly surges forward, filling me completely, until my throat clogs with emotion and I kiss him harder to get rid of it.
He slides his arms under my body and holds me against him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cling as tightly as I can to him as he rocks against me, memorizing everything I’m feeling right now. The smell of his cologne, the heat from his skin brushing against mine, his breath against my cheek as he angles his head and deepens the kiss, his heart beating solid and sure against my chest.
My hips churn up to meet his, the tingles of desire shooting off like fireworks between my thighs no matter how much fear and dread is filling my mind, because of him. Because of the way he touches me, because of the way he kisses me, because of the way he moves above me with gentle thrusts, making me wonder if there will ever be a time in my life when I don’t want him.
The heels of my feet dig into his ass, pulling him in deeper, making him rock harder against me. His groin hits that perfect spot between my thighs over and over as he moves inside of me with gentle thrusts until I’m moaning into his kiss, moving my hips faster, needing this release to wash over me and make my brain shut the hell up so I can enjoy this and enjoy him and burn this moment and this feeling into my brain forever.
My orgasm hits me fast and hard, and I pull my mouth away from Eric’s to tilt my head back on the pillows and arch my back, shouting his name as I come. He starts moving faster between my legs, and then he’s burying his face in the side of my neck, chanting my name and pulsing inside of me.
He collapses on top of me, and I realize at some point the music shut off, and nothing but the sound of water lapping against the side of the boat and our heavy breathing fills the room. I want to keep my arms and legs wrapped around him and never let this moment end, but Eric slides away from me, having no clue what’s going on in my head right now. I watch him walk around the room blowing out the candles and shrouding the room in darkness, and then he comes back to bed, pulling back the covers for both of us before getting in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him.
“If we’re really quiet and don’t move, I think Derrick might actually go to sleep without licking his balls tonight,” Eric whispers in my ear.
I laugh quietly as he kisses the back of my neck and burrows down into the pillows behind me. Closing my eyes, I replay everything that just happened between us, just to hold onto it for a little bit longer because tomorrow . . . tomorrow is going to suck.
Chapter 26: You Are Goals
, Dude
“I left under the cover of night while he was sleeping, like a gutless coward. Like a ninja, quietly packing my things while he was passed out, probably happily dreaming about the amazing sex we’d just had. And not even a cool ninja. A ninja who cries while she makes five trips out to her car with all of her things, stubs her toe on three different tables, and has to rewrite the goodbye note seventeen times because trying to spell the word unfortunately at three in the morning was hard,” I ramble, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
“Look at this. LOOK AT IT! It’s called a capybara and I want one. It’s like hamster and a groundhog had a baby. Tell Mom to get me one.”
Ice cream dribbles down my chin as I hold another spoonful suspended by my mouth, glaring at Cindy’s daughter, Anastasia, when she shows me a photo on her phone.
“I’m having a monumental crisis here and you’re talking to me about a damn rat? You are useless as an advice giver,” I complain.
“I’m fourteen, and I’m distracted by shiny things. Besides, you’ve been on our couch, eating all of our food, crying, for two days. You’re boring me. At least change it up a little. Do some screaming, throw some things, light something on fire,” she says with a shrug. “I could get on board with that.”
Grabbing the canister of Pringles on the couch next to me, I crush up a handful and dump them right into my ice cream, staring at Anastasia the entire time I do it.
“We’re back, and we brought booze!”
I hold my spoon up in the air and twirl it around, hearing the rustle of bags as Cindy and Belle walk through the door behind me.
“Just dump it right in here. I’ll have a chip-booze-shake,” I announce.
Belle comes around the couch and snatches the ice cream container out of my hand.
“Hey!” I shout in frustration.
Cindy then grabs the five empty cans of Pringles as well as the one I just opened and shoves them under her arms. She starts to walk away, then circles back and grabs the spoon out of my hand.