ã€ŠBeg For Me (Morally Gray Book 3)ã€‹


 Beg For Me: Chapter 1

    My mother once told me the key to happiness is to never depend on others to give you the validation that you can only give yourself. It took me years to figure out what she meant by that, but I finally realized it boiled down to one thing.

    Stop giving away your power.

    As I watch my ex-husband pull into the driveway, his pretty young fianc¨¦e in the passenger seat beside him, I recall all the ways I contorted myself to please him and wince.

    All that effort for nothing.

    ¡°Okay, Mom. See youter.¡±

    Harlow gives me an awkward one-armed hug. Before she can run to the car, I pull her in for a tight squeeze. Irritated, she shakes me off.

    ¡°Rx. I¡¯m only gone for two weeks.¡±

    Duffel bag in hand, she lopes off with her father¡¯s confident stride, carelessly flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.

    Fourteen. No longer a little girl, not quite a woman.

    It¡¯s a dangerous age.

    As she climbs into the back seat of the Mercedes, Nick opens his door and steps out, unbuttoning his ck zer as he approaches me. In Ray Bans and Ralph Lauren, he¡¯s the picture of California cool.

    He takes off the sunsses to gaze at me. ¡°Hey, Soph. You¡¯re looking well.¡±

    The voice that once vowed to love me until death is as smooth as silk. His warm brown eyes are smiling. I¡¯m instantly on guard.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    A wrinkle appears between his brows. ¡°Why does anything have to be wrong?¡±

    ¡°You got out of the car and came to meet me at the door. You¡¯re wearing the face you wear when you want something. And Brittany looks more timid than usual.¡±

    Nick nces over his shoulder. When she sees his narrow-eyed stare, Brittany stops chewing her thumbnail and shrinks lower in her seat.

    A sh of irritation crosses his face before he can hide it. There¡¯s nothing Nick hates more than weakness.

    I think that¡¯s why I married him. Strength by osmosis. Twenty years ago, I didn¡¯t know self-esteem can¡¯t be borrowed. You have to earn it yourself.

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong. I just wanted to tell you the news in person.¡±

    ¡°What news?¡±

    ¡°Britt¡¯s pregnant. We¡¯re having a baby.¡±

    He has the decency to nce away to give me a moment to recover. When I¡¯ve caught my breath, I offer my congrattions.

    He nces back at me, his expression wary.

    ¡°I mean it, Nick. I¡¯m happy for you both.¡±

    That might the single most generous thing I¡¯ve ever said. It¡¯s also a huge fucking lie, but I¡¯ll die before I¡¯ll admit it. I gaze over his shoulder and pretend I¡¯m the Mona Lisa, enigmatic and aloof. The essence of dignified restraint.

    Restraint is one thing you can never have too much of, especially when your wounded inner child is screaming for blood.

    Nick says softly, ¡°Thanks, Soph. That means a lot.¡±

    We stand in silence for a moment until he shoves his sunsses back onto his face, ready to end the conversation. His five-second attention span has expired.

    ¡°You¡¯re stilling to the wedding, right?¡±

    The audacity. I¡¯d wrap the garden hose around his neck and strangle him with it, but I¡¯ve got two witnesses. ¡°No, Nick. I¡¯m noting to the wedding. We¡¯ve been over this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good for Harlow if we¡¯re all friends.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between being friends and being friendly. The answer is no.¡±

    His lips tighten. Other people¡¯s boundaries have never been his thing. Hopefully, it doesn¡¯t take Brittany over a decade to figure that out like it did for me.

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about itter. I¡¯ll make sure Harlow calls you while we¡¯re gone. You look great, by the way. You finally lost thosest ten pounds.¡±

    He turns and strides back to the car, oblivious as usual to the grenade he tossed over his shoulder.

    The man genuinely believes he just paid me apliment.

    They pull out of the driveway, my ex, my daughter, and the poor misguided girl who thinks she won. What she doesn¡¯t know is that it was never a contest between us. Nick didn¡¯t leave me for her. He left because I grew into something he couldn¡¯t handle.

    A woman with a mind of her own.

    I watch them drive away down the street, still shaken by the baby news. Then I shut the front door and lean against it with my eyes closed, willing my stomach to settle and my pulse to slow.

    After I¡¯m grounded again, I head into the kitchen and clean up the breakfast dishes, then go around the house picking up Harlow¡¯s mess. I can tell what room she¡¯s been in by the trail of discarded clothing she leaves behind.

    Because I¡¯m her mother and not her maid, I drop it all into a pile in the middle of her bed for her to sort through and put away or wash when shees home.

    Just because I don¡¯t want my house to look like a bomb went off inside it doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to bend myself into a pretzel doing chores she¡¯s perfectly capable of doing herself. While she¡¯s living under my roof, she¡¯s got responsibilities.

    Other than abuse or neglect, nothing ruins a child more than lenient parenting. Every weak, selfish adult grew up around people who failed to set rules.

    Full of possibilities, the weekend stretches out ahead of me. I¡¯ve got a to-do list a mile long, but I need an outlet after the unsettling conversation with Nick, so I change into workout clothes and drive to the gym.

    It¡¯s full of attractive people half my age with twice my metabolism, some of them filming themselves on their phones as they exercise. I find an empty treadmill, drop my car keys and phone into the cup holder, and stick my earbuds in.

    I¡¯m just about to get started when I notice the person beside me.

    He¡¯s good-looking in that outdoorsy, Malibu surfer way. Tousled gold hair, bronzed skin, blue eyes. Teeth so straight and white they could be veneers. Muscr in all the right ces. He exudes health, confidence, and a certain kind of self-possession only enjoyed by those who¡¯ve never had to worry about money their entire life and never will because of their family¡¯s massive wealth.

    ¡°Carter McCord. Hi there.¡±

    He turns to me with a movie star grin. ¡°Hi, Sophia. Fancy meeting you here. How are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m great, thanks. You?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±

    I give him a polite smile, then turn back to the treadmill and punch the button to start a programmed workout. A gorgeous young woman in full hot-girl-summer mode walks by, checking out Carter as she passes.

    I¡¯m not having a hot girl summer. I¡¯m having a bog witch summer. Every gray hair I get I¡¯m celebrating because it means I¡¯m closer to being the swamp queen of my dreams, a frightening, feral thing living in a kingless wilderness with wild indulgence, bound to no one and nothing but my growing cat colony and my untamed soul.

    I should start practicing my hissing.

    I nce at the Adonis next to me, wondering if he lives in the neighborhood. I would have thought he lived behind gates in Bel Air with all the other billionaires, not down in funky Santa Monica near the beach. Then I see the expression on his face and forget about where he lives because his glower is so surprising.

    I follow his gaze.

    Across the gym against the wall of mirrors between the free weights and the squat rack is a boy of maybe fifteen in a wheelchair. He¡¯s trying to get to the weights, but a trio of bodybuilders is blocking him. They¡¯re jaw jacking and flexingpetitively, giving each other friendly shoves and throwing fake punches, their loudughs bouncing off the gym walls.

    The boy keeps trying to slip around them but can¡¯t. They¡¯re an oblivious wall of muscle. After another few unsessful attempts to get closer to the rack of free weights, he gives up and turns his chair away, wheeling slowly toward the locker rooms with his head hanging low.

    I nce back at Carter, but he¡¯s no longer there.

    I pull out my earbuds in time to hear Carter call out, ¡°Hey, man! You need a lifting partner? I was just about to do some sets.¡±

    The boy stops and peers up at him doubtfully. His answer is low, lost under the hum of my treadmill. Whatever he says, Carter listens to intently, then nods.

    Then Carter swaggers up to the three muscle-bound jocks and ps the biggest one on the back.

    When he spins around, bristling, Carter presents him with a dazzling grin.

    There¡¯s a split second where I think Carter is about to lose his front teeth, but then he starts talking and the three muscle men start smiling, and all of a sudden, everybody¡¯s best friends.

    Carter walks back to the boy in the wheelchair and escorts him over to the free weights. His three new amigos usher the boy into their circle.

    A serious conversation begins between the five of them with a lot of head nodding and chin stroking and thoughtful expressions. Then Carter points at the weights, and the bros jump into action.

    Everybody starts doing sets together.

    Except for Carter, who ps and hoots and smiles like a game show host at the rest of the guys, counting reps aloud and dispensing high-fives onpletion.

    I¡¯m impressed by his enthusiasm. He would¡¯ve made a great little league coach. The only thing he¡¯s missing is a whistle around his neck.

    His strong, tanned neck, which I¡¯m not looking at because I¡¯m not attracted to men who were still unborn years after I¡¯d started my first period.

    No matter how good they look in tight athletic wear.

    By the time I¡¯ve gone three miles on the treadmill, what appears to be an indelible lifelong bond has formed between the weightlifters, the boy in the wheelchair, and their leader, the COO of thergest media corporation in the world, a man with enough self-confidence for the entire continental United States who has a better hair dresser than I do.

    My workout finished, I gather my things, hop off the machine, and avoid looking in Carter¡¯s direction like every other woman in the ce is doing.

    I¡¯m probably imagining that he¡¯s ignoring them and looking at me. My hormones have been ying tricks on me the past few years. My rusty ovaries could be throwing onest house party before turning off the lights and locking the doors for good.

    Either that or he was hoping to talk business. He called a surprise meeting with our boardtest year to talk about a merger. Nothing came of it, but I¡¯ll never forget the way he strutted around the board room like a stallion out to stud.

    That Carter didn¡¯t seem at all like the type of man who¡¯d help a boy in a wheelchair, much less notice his existence.

    I¡¯m not sure why I should be, but I¡¯m d to be proven wrong.

    That night as I work the vibrator between my legs, I picture that it¡¯s his golden head between my thighs. I orgasm so fast, it¡¯s a personal record.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 2

    I awaken Sunday morning feeling refreshed and happy. Thatsts for about ten minutes, until I get a call from my brother, Will.

    ¡°She fell again,¡± he says tly when I answer. No friendly greeting. No surprise there.

    ¡°How is she? What happened?¡±

    ¡°What always happens. She tripped. It¡¯s a miracle she hasn¡¯t split her head open yet. I don¡¯t understand why the woman can¡¯t put her hands out and break her fall like a regr person. She justnds t on her face and ends up looking like someone¡¯s been using her as a punching bag.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s bruised?¡±

    ¡°ck and blue. And her nose is swollen. I¡¯ve gotta take her to the attorney¡¯s office tomorrow to sign some papers. I¡¯ll probably get arrested for elder abuse.¡±

    ¡°You should go to the emergency room right away. Get a CT scan to make sure there¡¯s no bleeding on her brain.¡±

    Will ignores that. ¡°She¡¯s getting worse, Soph. One of these days, she¡¯s really going to hurt herself. Break something. We need to talk about our options.¡±

    He means putting her into a nursing home. As if we haven¡¯t already had this conversation.

    ¡°Dad didn¡¯t want her to go into assisted living.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, Dad¡¯s not here anymore, and I¡¯m not a registered nurse. She¡¯s starting to make messes, Soph. You understand what I¡¯m saying? In her underwear.¡±

    Depressed by that news, I put a hand to my forehead and close my eyes. ¡°Okay. I hear you. I¡¯ll look into home care. Maybe we have someonee in a few times a week, make it easier for you¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not listening. I have a job. I have a life. I can¡¯t do twenty-four-hour care for our mother anymore. I¡¯ve been doing it for almost five years. I¡¯m burned out. She¡¯s eighty years old, and she¡¯s falling apart. She has to go into a nursing home.¡±

    ¡°We could be looking at six figures a year.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you can¡¯t afford it.¡±

    That makes me chuckle. ¡°You seem to be under the mistaken impression I¡¯m rich.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Not even close.¡±

    ¡°What about the divorce settlement? Nick¡¯s a big-time music producer. You must¡¯ve gotten a nice chunk of money from him.¡±

    That presumption¡ªamon one, and wrong¡ªsets my teeth on edge. ¡°I¡¯m not getting into the nitty gritty of my financial situation, Will.¡±

    After a beat, he says tly, ¡°Fine. Then Mom goes to live with you.¡±

    Bullseye. He knows I¡¯d rather be hit by a speeding train than live under the same roof with our critical, cantankerous mother. I¡¯ve still got the emotional scars from when we were children.

    ¡°We both know that¡¯s not happening.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. I¡¯ll send you an emailter with some options. Do your own research, see what you think, get back to me. This needs to happen sooner thanter. We need to make a decision by the end of the month.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the big rush?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to Paris with Trishie.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Trishie? What happened to Pam?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. We¡¯re still together.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    He flips on the haughty switch and sharpens his ws. ¡°Don¡¯t judge my lifestyle, Soph. Plenty of people practice polyamory. Maybe your marriage would¡¯vested if you¡¯d been a little less uptight. Nick might¡¯ve had needs you weren¡¯t meeting, you ever think of that?¡±

    That stings, but I don¡¯t take the bait. This is just ancient sibling drama not worth getting drawn into on a beautiful Sunday morning.

    ¡°Send me the information. I¡¯ll look it over and get back to you. And take Mom to the emergency room, please.¡± I disconnect without waiting for any more daggers to be thrown.

    I love my brother, but he doesn¡¯t make it easy.

    After showering and getting dressed, I decide to ride my bike down to the local coffee shop. It isn¡¯t until I¡¯m standing in line that I realize I recognize the broad shoulders and tousled blond hair of the man in front of me.

    Even though he¡¯s facing away, I could pick him out of a police lineup. I must¡¯ve studied him more closely at the gym than I thought.

    Like I¡¯m doing now, for instance. Molded into yellow Lycra cycling shorts, his sculpted butt is a thing of beauty.

    ¡°Hey. I know you.¡±

    Startled from a daydream about sinking my teeth into his naked ass, I nce up to discover Carter has turned around and is grinning at me. Hispanion, a fit young blonde poured into a hot-pink Lycra cycling kit, smirks at me briefly before dismissing me to continue a discussion on her cell phone.

    Great. She caught me staring at his butt. This day so far is wonderful.

    With a serenity I don¡¯t feel, I smile politely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met.¡±

    When his grin falters, I sigh. ¡°I¡¯m kidding. Don¡¯t mind me, it¡¯s been a rough morning. Hello, Carter. Nice to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Nice to see you too. You okay?¡±

    Whatever my expression is doing, it must be dire. My poker face is legendary. ¡°Yep. Couldn¡¯t be better.¡±

    We stare at each other for a beat before his prettypanion tugs on his sleeve. The line has moved forward, but Carter doesn¡¯t budge.

    Our eye contact feels intense. Bordering on intimate, as if we¡¯re both naked and he¡¯s buried inside me.

    How irritating that I¡¯m the only one who thinks so.

    He says, ¡°Do you live around here?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m on sixth, off Wilshire. You?¡±

    ¡°North of Montana on twenty-third. Just moved inst month.¡±

    Interesting. That¡¯s a good neighborhood, but it¡¯s not a gatedmunity. And it¡¯s certainly not Malibu, Beverly Hills, or Bel Air, where all the other one percenters live.

    It¡¯s probably a second home. Or third. Or where he keeps all the vitamins he¡¯s obviously taking.

    ¡°Carter. Come on.¡±

    Hispanion is clearly irritated now, but he doesn¡¯t seem to be in any hurry to turn away from me. I don¡¯t like that he¡¯s ignoring her, however, so I nce around him toward the register.

    He takes the hint and walks forward a few steps, then turns right back. ¡°So is this your favorite ce for coffee or do you juste here because it¡¯s close to your house?¡±

    ¡°Actually, my favorite ce is the little caf¨¦ inside the Brentwood Country Mart. Do you know it?¡±

    ¡°No. What¡¯s the name?¡±

    When I tell him, he pulls out his cell phone from an inside pocket in the waistband of his shorts and adds it into his contacts. Then he looks up, grinning.

    ¡°Thanks. I love discovering all the local hot spots. Where do you shop for groceries?¡±

    The blonde rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and starts texting someone. I notice the graduation cap charm with the year on it on her bracelet and wonder if it was college or high school she received a diploma from this year. She¡¯s a literal baby.

    When did young people start looking like children to me? I¡¯ve got shoes older than this kid.

    ¡°Whole Foods mostly. Trader Joe¡¯s too.¡±

    I don¡¯t add that Trader Joe¡¯s has my favorite fiber supplement because I¡¯m not pathetic.

    ¡°What about good restaurants? What do you rmend¡±

    ¡°There are lots. What do you like?¡±

    ¡°Food.¡± Heughs. ¡°I¡¯m basically a roon. I¡¯ll eat anything. But sushi and Thai are my favorites.¡±

    Hisugh is as charming as the rest of him. Two women sitting at a table near the windows gaze at him with their hearts in their eyes. Or maybe it¡¯s their vaginas. I suppress a smile and tell him the names of my favorite sushi and Thai ces, then mention a hole in the wall in Venice that has the best pasta outside Italy.

    ¡°Have you been to Italy?¡±

    I nod. ¡°Florence is one of my favorite ces in the world.¡±

    We strike up a conversation about travel while his youngpanion seems about to expire from boredom. Her dramatic sigh can probably be heard from down the block. I want to tell her to be quiet, the adults are talking, but I¡¯m only that condescending on the inside.

    We reach the register. Carter¡¯spanion orders for both of them, not asking what he wants. She obviously already knows. They must have been dating for a while.

    I can see the appeal. Together, they¡¯re Barbie and Ken. Iconic blonds with megawatt smiles and a fondness for tight neon clothing.

    I catch myself thinking something unkind about what gravity will do to her perky breasts during perimenopause and realize with chagrin that I¡¯m jealous of her.

    How clich¨¦. I¡¯m better than this.

    I send the back of her golden head the most apologetic smile I can muster. Then I remember that a real bog witch would have already devoured her and feel like a failure all the way around.

    Carter and his blonde move aside, and I ce my order with the cashier. After I¡¯ve paid, I walk to the other side of the shop and peruse a refrigerated case of organic bottled juices while I wait for my name to be called.

    I¡¯m in the middle of wondering just how revolting a kale and prune blend would taste when Carter walks up beside me.

    ¡°How¡¯s it going over at TriCast? Are you enjoying the position?¡±

    I turn. He¡¯s gazing down intently at me from his considerable height. His blondepanion is now outside the store in front of the ss windows, talking on her cell. She holds a frothy pink-and-blue blended drink in her hand that looks like something you¡¯d get a toddler at Disnend.

    ¡°I am, thanks. It¡¯s challenging but rewarding.¡±

    ¡°You seem like the type who¡¯d like a challenge.¡±

    There¡¯s warmth in his tone, but he¡¯s not smiling. I can¡¯t decide if he¡¯s teasing me or if that was a genuinepliment. Or something else altogether.

    Is he flirting with me?

    We gaze at each other for a long moment. The eye contact is intense. Nick couldn¡¯t look me in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time, which makes this all the more unexpected.

    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do like a challenge. I didn¡¯t realize until I was in my thirties howpetitive I actually am.¡±

    ¡°Thirties? You don¡¯t look a day over twenty-five.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Don¡¯t bullshit an older woman, my friend. Our BS detectors are fine-tuned, and we don¡¯t have the patience for games.¡±

    He studies me in silence for a moment. ¡°I want to ask you something personal, but I don¡¯t want to make you ufortable.¡±

    ¡°How intriguing. Go ahead and ask.¡±

    ¡°Are you single?¡±

    That¡¯s thest thing I was expecting. I¡¯m so surprised, I¡¯m momentarily speechless.

    He says sheepishly, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s none of my business. It¡¯s just that you¡¯re not wearing a ring, and I want to ask you out.¡±

    I go from surprised to shocked. A little confused too. He¡¯s with another woman, yet he¡¯s hitting on me? Is this what everyone¡¯s doing nowadays, the polyamory thing?

    When I don¡¯t respond quickly enough, his cheeks turn ruddy. He nces away, shifts his weight from foot to foot, and clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is gruff.

    ¡°I guess I should¡¯ve known you wouldn¡¯t be interested. Well, it was nice seeing you. Take care.¡±

    He turns away, clearly embarrassed and in a rush to leave. I reach out and touch his arm.

    ¡°Not so fast.¡±

    He stops and turns his head to look at me warily. His cheeks are still stained that ridiculously appealing shade of red. Never in a million years would I have thought such a handsome, self-confident guy capable of shame, but he seems as if he¡¯s wishing for the power of invisibility.

    ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, you¡¯d like to take me on a date?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡±

    I nce toward the windows. ¡°What would your girlfriend think about that idea?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a girlfriend.¡±

    ¡°Does she know that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Katie¡¯s just a friend. Wait, are you saying yes?¡±

    He turns to face me, his energy intense and his gaze unblinking. I¡¯m not used to being the subject of such unwavering concentration. I have to admit, it¡¯s pleasant.

    Still. The man is at least a decade younger than I am. And I¡¯m not entirely convinced about his rtionship with the blonde. And this could be a ploy to try to pry inside information from me about TriCast.

    After all, we¡¯re in directpetition with one another. This shy routine could all be an act designed to lower my defenses. He did make a pitch to our board. Maybe he¡¯s trying a more indirect route this time.

    But my hand is still resting on his arm, and he¡¯s still staring at me with that ttering concentration, and my oh my, the things I could teach this beautiful boy.

    ¡°How old are you, Carter?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-nine. How old are you?¡±

    ¡°Forty-four.¡±

    I wait for him to react, but he only licks his lips. We stare at each other as the temperature rises, my heart skips a beat, and my armpits and panties grow damp.

    I sternly remind myself of my ns for a bog witch future, hexing the local vigers who wander too near and avoiding men at all costs.

    Especially young gods with beautiful blonde ¡°friends¡± and cutthroat reasons to sleep with me.

    ¡°How about tonight? Are you free for dinner?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s such a good idea.¡±

    His grin is beautiful and breathtaking. ¡°That¡¯s not a no. You¡¯re considering it.¡±

    Despite my misgivings, I smile. There¡¯s just something so charming about him, especially when he¡¯s not feeling so sure of himself.

    ¡°I¡¯m considering considering it, but I have my doubts.¡±

    He steps closer, his blue eyes shining dangerously bright. I still haven¡¯t dropped my hand from his arm. It¡¯s interesting to note that I have no intention of doing so anytime soon.

    ¡°Tell me your doubts. I can help you get over them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡±

    Our smiles are coy. Our held gazes crackle. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m flirting with him, but here we are.

    ¡°Well, for starters, you could be trying to gleanpany secrets from me.¡±

    ¡°Glean? I don¡¯t even know what that word means, but I swear, I¡¯m not gleaning anything.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. A likely story.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s totally true. You know it, too, or you¡¯d already have stopped touching me.¡±

    I drop my arm to my side. My entire face flushes. I tell myself it¡¯s just another perimenopause symptom, but don¡¯t believe it.

    ¡°Carter, I¡¯m a mom.¡±

    ¡°Cool.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m fifteen years older than you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I caught that.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯repetitors.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re not. Ourpanies are. Let¡¯s go to that Italian ce in Venice you like. I¡¯ll pick you up at seven. Here, put your phone number into my contacts. I¡¯ll text you when I¡¯m on my way, and you can give me your address.¡±

    He whips his cell from his waistband and hands it to me before I¡¯ve even had time to blink. I stare at his phone, trying very hard not to smile.

    I nce up to find him so focused on me, it¡¯s almost as if he¡¯s wishing he had X-ray vision so he could see directly into my brain.

    ¡°I won¡¯t talk business with you.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡±

    ¡°At all. I mean it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give one single fuck about work, yours or mine. I want to sit across a table from you and spend a few hours wondering how I got so lucky while watching you eat and staring at your perfect face and praying you¡¯ll let me kiss you goodnight. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I want.¡± His pause is brief but potent. ¡°For tonight, anyway.¡±

    I open my mouth to speak, find that no words are forting, then do the only reasonable thing left to do and enter my contact information into his phone.

    I hand it back to him with a warning.

    ¡°One dinner. It¡¯s not a date. We¡¯ll split the check. And if you¡¯rete, don¡¯t bother ringing the bell because I won¡¯t open the door.¡±

    I walk out of the shop without another word, not realizing until I¡¯m at home that Ipletely forgot about my coffee.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 3

    The rest of the day is spent in deep regret.

    I can¡¯t believe I gave Carter my phone number. I also can¡¯t believe I¡¯m letting him take me to dinner. It¡¯s a good thing he didn¡¯t give me his number, or I¡¯d have canceled the minute I got home.

    Which I suspect he knew. If so, I¡¯ve underestimated him.

    But I have to admit how intrigued I am. I doubt we have much inmon, but the chemistry between us is real.

    When his calles at quarter to seven, I¡¯m sitting in my living room sipping a ss of white wine, surprised by how nervous I feel. ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°Hello, Sophia. It¡¯s me.¡±

    I recognize his voice but decide to make him work for it. ¡°You¡¯ll have to be more specific, sir. I have dozens of suitors calling all day long.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°I bet you do. Okay, see if this jogs your memory. My first name starts with a C and ends with A-R-T-E-R.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. The billionaire.¡±

    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a character w.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know you well enough yet to know if all your money has ruined you.¡±

    ¡°Yet? That sounds promising.¡±

    His tone is warm and teasing. He¡¯s flirting with me again. It¡¯s worrisome how much I like it. ¡°I thought you were going to text me.¡±

    ¡°I was, but I wanted to hear your beautiful voice.¡±

    Trying not to smile, I say, ¡°You don¡¯t have toy it on quite so thick.¡±

    ¡°I want you to like me. Besides, it¡¯s true. Your voice is gorgeous, like everything else about you. What¡¯s your address?¡±

    The way hepliments me is both ttering and suspicious. I¡¯m not used to such easy praise from a man. I can count on my left hand the number of times Nick gave me a sincerepliment. One without a caveat attached, the way he told me I looked good because I¡¯d finally lost ten pounds.

    My mother is the same way. Maybe that¡¯s why I felt sofortable with Nick in the beginning. His derision felt like home.

    I give Carter my address. We continue to chat about light, inconsequential things until I hear a car pull into my driveway. Rising, I look out the living room windows to see him emerging from a Lamborghini painted the searing shade of the sun.

    I open the door and watch him approach, grinning, his cell phone held to his ear.

    ¡°Mr. McCord. You¡¯re early.¡±

    ¡°You told me not to bete.¡±

    ¡°Do you always follow orders so well?¡±

    ¡°Maybe you should give me a few more and find out.¡±

    He reaches the front step and stops in front of me. He looks me up and down, the phone still at his ear. ¡°Jesus. You¡¯re radiant. I feel like a cockroach standing in front of a Caravaggio.¡±

    I lift my brows. ¡°You know Caravaggio?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let this pretty face fool you, sweetheart. I¡¯m a lot smarter than I look.¡±

    We¡¯re smiling at each other, standing two feet apart but still talking into our phones. It¡¯s silly but fun. yful. Something my ex never once was.

    Stop thinking about Nick.

    Disconnecting the call, I lean against the door frame and take him in. Six-foot-something of strapping good looks and that boyish-but-devilish grin.

    He¡¯s dangerous, this one. I¡¯ll need to be careful. I can already feel my bog witch melting like warmed butter.

    He raises his arms shoulder height andpletes a slow turn, allowing me to inspect his outfit. In light gray cks and a button-down white linen shirt with the cuffs rolled up, he¡¯s casually elegant. The tattoos on his muscr forearms add an unexpectedly sexy edge.

    ¡°Do I pass muster?¡±

    ¡°Not bad for a cockroach.¡±

    We smile at each other for a moment longer until he nces over my shoulder into the house. ¡°Your ce is nice.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. So is your car. I see you have a thing for the color yellow.¡±

    His face falls. It¡¯s only for a fraction of a second before he recovers and pastes on a smile, but I catch it and am horrified to realize he thinks I¡¯m mocking him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if that came out wrong. I didn¡¯t mean it as a dig. I like yellow too. It¡¯s very cheerful. I actually wanted to paint the house yellow when we first moved in, but my ex acted like I¡¯d asked to sacrifice kittens in a Satanic ritual, so it never happened.¡±

    Carter frowns. ¡°He said no to you?¡±

    ¡°He did.¡±

    ¡°What a dick. I¡¯d have let you paint the house purple and hot-pink if you wanted.¡±

    I study his expression, surprised to find it sincere. A little flutter of pleasure warms my belly, spreading lower until I¡¯m amazed that such an innocentment about house paint could leave me turned on.

    Only it¡¯s not really about house paint. It¡¯s about fulfilling my desires, which my vagina apparently knows.

    Careful, Sophia. It¡¯s one dinner, nothing more.

    ¡°Come in for a moment and let me get my handbag.¡±

    I turn and walk through the foyer, conscious of Carter following. I try to see the house through new eyes, wondering what he really thinks of it. ¡°Nice¡± is such an ambiguous word. It can mean anything from ¡°okay¡± to ¡°hideous,¡± depending on the speaker.

    I imagine his ce is all ck leather furniture and reflective ss surfaces, a sexir where he brings his young blonde dates after dinner for some athletic fucking in front of one of the many mirrors hung for just such a thing.

    I¡¯ve never had sex in front of a mirror. I don¡¯t know why the thought of it now should give me such a tingle.

    Except of course I do, but this is going to be dinner, not a hookup. I didn¡¯t even bother to shave my legs.

    I grab my bag from where I left it on the kitchen table and turn, startled to find Carter right there, not two feet away. ¡°Oh. Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi. I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m standing so close.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t look it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, technically I¡¯m only sorry that it made you have that nauseated expression on your face, but if I thought I could get away with it, there wouldn¡¯t be any space between us at all.¡±

    We gaze at each other with our arms at our sides and the small space between us vibrating at a high, dangerous frequency.

    All it would take for us to be kissing is for him to lean in.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel nauseated. I do, however, think maybe I shouldy a few ground rules for this dinner you¡¯re taking me to.¡±

    Blue eyes alight, he smiles. ¡°You sure like rules.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes, they¡¯re necessary.¡±

    ¡°Like when you go on a date?¡±

    ¡°Like when young men who want to mergepanies with mine tter me so extravagantly and forget about the concept of personal space. And this isn¡¯t a date.¡±

    He considers all that for a moment, his head tilted to the side, his expression pensive. ¡°I have some thoughts. Permission to share them.¡±

    I suppress a smile. He¡¯s just so damn adorable. ¡°Sure. Shoot.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Okay, here goes. I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I don¡¯t give a fuck about our businesses, but I know you don¡¯t know me well, so I don¡¯t expect you to take my word on it. Also, I¡¯m not ttering you when I say you¡¯re gorgeous. I¡¯m expressing how I feel. If you¡¯re ufortable with that, tell me and I¡¯ll stop. If you don¡¯t tell me to stop, I won¡¯t, because I don¡¯t want you to have any doubts about how attractive I think you are. And finally¡­¡±

    He closes the space between us with a single step and gazes intently down into my eyes. His voice turns throaty. ¡°This is definitely a date. Wanna know why?¡±

    Against my better judgment, I do. ¡°Why?¡±

    He reaches up and lightly rests two fingers on the vein throbbing on the side of my neck. His smile is small and smug.

    ¡°Because your heart¡¯s beating as hard as mine.¡±

    For a split second, I think he¡¯s about to kiss me, and I¡¯m electrified. But he grabs my hand instead.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go eat. On the drive to the restaurant, you can tell me all about yourself, and we¡¯ll both pretend you weren¡¯t just secretly hoping I¡¯d kiss you.¡±

    I follow him to the door, concerned that not even my unshaven legs can put the brakes on this runaway train.

    It already feels as if it¡¯s going off the tracks, and we haven¡¯t even had appetizers yet.<hr>

    We sit across from each other at a small table draped in white linen and lit by votive candles. The scent of roasted garlic and the strains of a Pini opera fill the air. The ce is tiny, with room for only half a dozen tables along the brick wall opposite the bar.

    ¡°I love it,¡± Carter pronounces, looking around.

    ¡°Wait until you taste the food. It¡¯s excellent.¡±

    As if summoned, a waiter in a white apron appears at our tableside. In a thick Italian ent, he wees us in, hands us menus, and rattles off the night¡¯s specials. Then he looks at me expectantly.

    I say, ¡°Carter, do you drink red wine?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Fabrizio has an excellent Amarone on his list. Would you mind if I order a bottle?¡±

    He leans back in his chair, drapes an arm casually over the backrest, and smiles at me.

    I take that as an affirmative. After a brief discussion with Fabrizio to confirm the vintage listed is actually avable, I order and send him on his way. When I turn my attention back to Carter, he¡¯s still smiling, but now he looks impressed.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never known anybody who speaks Italian.¡±

    I unfold the napkin over myp and try not to let the admiration in his tone affect me. Nick thought my dedication to teaching myself thenguage was baffling. Not to mention a total waste of time.

    ¡°I went to Italy on my honeymoon a million years ago. Thought it would make things easier if one of us couldmunicate with the locals. Getting around and all that.¡±

    ¡°Did it?¡±

    I nod, remembering how irritated my new husband became after ten days of having me trante. Even then, even though it made the trip so much easier, he hated not being the one in control.

    It¡¯s amazing how red those gs are in hindsight.

    Carter leans forward and braces his forearms on the edge of the table. He sps his hands together and gazes into my eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s a sore spot, your ex.¡±

    Startled by his observation, my first instinct is to issue a denial. But I take a breath and tell him the truth instead. ¡°Yes, actually. It is.¡±

    He studies my face for a moment. It¡¯s obvious he wants to ask me for details. That he doesn¡¯t is somehow both sweet and satisfying. It also makes mefortable enough to reveal a little more.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything dramatic. He¡¯s not a bad person. We just¡­grew apart.¡±

    Then he started sleeping with his assistant, but it was already over between us by that time and had been for years.

    The end of a marriage is never the day the divorce is finalized or when the papers are filed. It¡¯s not even when the love dies, because lovees and goes and can always be found again if both people aremitted to doing the work.

    The end of a marriage is the day you realize that whatever your partner says or does makes no difference to you one way or another.

    So when I found the text messages from Brittany on Nick¡¯s phone and stood there feeling nk when I should¡¯ve been crying hysterically, I knew it was time to call awyer.

    ¡°How long were you married?¡±

    ¡°Twenty years.¡±

    It hangs there between us, a number not that much smaller than the entire time he¡¯s been alive.

    ¡°Do you regret it?¡±

    ¡°Being married?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°You can¡¯t regret the choices you make in good faith. I was young and in love. Things don¡¯t always have tost forever to be considered a sess.¡±

    ¡°Even though you got divorced, you think the marriage was a sess?¡±

    ¡°I do. I learned a lot. About myself, mostly, but about life too. And I got my daughter out of it, so yes, I think my twenty-year marriage that ended in an amicable divorce could be called sessful.¡± My chuckle is dark. ¡°Not that my mother agrees with me. She would¡¯ve pushed my dad in front of a speeding car or put rat poison in his coffee before she¡¯d divorce him.¡±

    ¡°¡®Until death do us part,¡¯ one way or another, huh?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. My poor father probably slept with one eye open every night.¡±

    Carter¡¯s about to ask another question when Fabrizio returns with the wine. He presents the bottle to me for approval, then opens it and pours a measure into my ss. I sniff, swirl, and sip, closing my eyes as the dry spice and juicy berry vors coat my tongue.

    ¡°Perfecto, Fabi. Grazie.¡±

    ¡°Prego.¡±

    He bows slightly, then fills my ss. He fills Carter¡¯s next, trying not to be obvious that he¡¯s giving him a curious once-over. Ie here often, but always alone.

    He¡¯s probably wondering if Carter is my nephew.

    I don¡¯t care what he thinks, though. This isn¡¯t my grandmother¡¯s generation. Women work outside the home, we can get mortgages and credit cards in our name without needing a husband to co-sign, and we can enjoy dinners with younger men without shame.

    We can even have hot sex with them if we want.

    Hot, sweaty, satisfying sex on all fours in front of a full-length mirror.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to know what you¡¯re thinking right now,¡± says Carter as Fabi retreats.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you don¡¯t. Try the wine.¡±

    He obeys me without making a disapproving face as Nick always did if I forgot to add a ¡°please¡± in front of any request. I know it¡¯s not fair to makeparisons, but the difference between the two men is so striking, I can¡¯t help myself.

    I also can¡¯t help but wonder if he shares Nick¡¯s distaste for performing oral sex.

    Judging by the way Carter¡¯s gazing at me while suggestively running his tongue along the rim of his winess, probably not.

    ¡°Are you being purposely provocative, Mr. McCord?¡±

    He bats hisshes innocently. ¡°Me? Provocative? Never.¡±

    We share a smile. I wonder if he¡¯s ever made love with a mother before or if all his conquests have perfectly t and tight abdomens where stretch marks and C-section scars would otherwise be.

    How bizarre that I¡¯m entertaining this line of thinking. I am not having sex with him. It¡¯s a meal, nothing more.

    We make small talk and drink wine. We order appetizers and entrees. We share a fewughs and a few awkward silences, our eyes meeting again and again in a way that excites me, but I wish didn¡¯t. In the middle of my tortellini, I realize I¡¯m grinning down at my food like a lunatic.

    I¡¯m enjoying myself. How inconvenient.

    ¡°You have a killer smile.¡±

    I nce up from my te to find Carter staring at me intently. Ignoring my fluttering pulse, I aim for nonchnce when I answer. The man is obviously an incurable flirt. There¡¯s no need to encourage him.

    ¡°That¡¯s what all the boys say. How¡¯s thesagna?¡±

    ¡°So incredible, I¡¯d cry, but I don¡¯t want you to think less of me.¡±

    ¡°Quite the contrary. A man who can cry without shame is a hero in my book.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m about to burst into tears.¡±

    I press the grin from my lips and silently admire how the candlelight turns Carter¡¯s skin to burnished gold and glints off his hair in sparkling tinum highlights.

    I typically prefer dark-haired men, but the beauty of this blond Adonis is undeniable. That cleft in his chin has a certain appeal too. And the shadow on his unshaven jaw adds a rugged aspect to his looks that I like.

    I debate the merits of telling him that but decide to go with something less superficial than his appearance.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to pay you apliment. Try not to let it go to your head.¡±

    ¡°Wait, let me get ready.¡± He props his elbows on the table and cups his hands eagerly behind his ears. ¡°Okay. Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re different than I thought you were.¡±

    He lifts his brows. ¡°That¡¯s your idea of apliment? I¡¯d hate to hear what it sounds like when you¡¯re being critical. My poor ego might never recover.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if you¡¯d stop talking for half a second, I could borate.¡±

    Leaning back in his chair, he makes a zipper motion across his mouth, then smiles.

    ¡°You¡¯re very friendly¡ª¡±

    ¡°What, like a Labrador? I¡¯m a family-friendly dog?¡±

    ¡°Carter. Be quiet.¡±

    When he drawls, ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± and slow blinks, I swear myst stores of estrogen are released directly into my bloodstream. The surge of heat that courses throughout my body is liable to set the tablecloth on fire.

    ¡°You¡¯re friendly in a way that¡¯s unexpected. Like what you did for that boy at the gym. It was very decent of you.¡±

    He studies me in silence for a while. ¡°You thought I was a self-centered rich prick.¡±

    I make a head motion that¡¯s neither yes or no. ¡°I didn¡¯t really know what to think. You were extremely cocky at that board meeting. And your family has a certain¡­reputation.¡±

    ¡°As cutthroat. We are. But only in business.¡± He pauses, then chuckles. ¡°That¡¯s not totally true.¡±

    ¡°How do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, if I were my oldest brother Callum, I would have already kidnapped you and locked you in my basement.¡±

    I say drily, ¡°He sounds like a real charmer.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s an arrogant, controlling, overbearing asshole, but I have to admit, the guy knows how to get things done.¡±

    Though his words are less than ttering, there¡¯s no animosity in them. I¡¯m curious about his family. ¡°Are you close?¡±

    ¡°We see each other all the time at the office. But close? As in, tight? Not really. Callum¡¯s not close with anyone except his wife.¡± Heughs. ¡°And I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s just Stockholm syndrome.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like that¡¯s an interesting story.¡±

    He chuckles and shakes his head, which I take to mean he doesn¡¯t want to borate. Instead of peppering him with more questions about his oldest brother, I pivot to the middle one instead.

    ¡°I heard about Cole¡¯s car ident when it first happened, but there¡¯s been nothing in the news since. How¡¯s he doing?¡±

    ¡°For someone whose personality used to be as dark as a dungeon in Drac¡¯s castle, he¡¯s doing great. I credit his fianc¨¦e. The woman is a saint.¡± He smiles. ¡°You¡¯d like her.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a badass too.¡±

    Swirling my wine, I smile back at him. ¡°You don¡¯t know that I¡¯m a badass. Maybe I¡¯m a sheep in wolves¡¯ clothing. A marshmallow masquerading as a meanie.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, I know exactly what you are.¡±

    The boldness of that statement intrigues me. As does the intimacy in his eyes. Something about his expression suggests his knows all my darkest secrets.

    ¡°And what might that be, Mr. McCord?¡±

    Gazing straight into my eyes, he doesn¡¯t hesitate when he answers.

    ¡°My future wife.¡±

 Beg For Me: Chapter 4

    Sophiaughs. When I continue staring at her without smiling, she stopsughing and makes a face at me.

    ¡°Very funny.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a joke.¡±

    After a pause to consider me in narrow-eyed silence, she buys more time by taking a sip of her wine. Then she sets down the ss, delicately wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin, ces the napkin to one side of her te, and pins me in a gaze of ferocious scorn.

    God, I love it when she does that.

    ¡°I thought I made myself clear that this wasn¡¯t a date.¡±

    ¡°You did.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t believe you. And people don¡¯t have to date to fall in love.¡±

    She blinks. ¡°Love? You¡¯re getting a little ahead of yourself, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°No. You¡¯re just behind.¡±

    Her look of disbelief turns into a frown of disapproval. I¡¯m pissing her off, but not enough for her to get up and walk out. Yet.

    Comfortable walking that tightrope, I smile and pour more wine into both our sses.

    ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll pretend I¡¯m joking. I love that dress you¡¯re wearing, by the way. Red is fantastic on you. Brings out the fire in your eyes. Not that they need any help. Those beautiful brown eyes of yours could light up deep space. What should we talk about next? Unless you don¡¯t want to talk, which is fine. I¡¯m happy to sit and look at you. You¡¯re the best thing I¡¯ve seen in forever.¡±

    She runs her tongue over her teeth like she¡¯s imagining ripping out my throat with them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if this nonsense works on girls your age, but I¡¯m not interested in ying games.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯re on the same page.¡±

    ¡°And not that it matters, because this isn¡¯t a date, but I don¡¯t date the delusional.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not delusional. I¡¯m determined. I knew the first time I saw your picture I wanted to be with you. I think you¡¯re the most beautiful woman in the world.¡±

    A stare downmences. I sense I¡¯m in danger of being stabbed with a dinner knife, but if that¡¯s the price I have to pay, so be it.

    I didn¡¯t get this far so I could pussyfoot around. If this is my only shot, I¡¯m giving it everything.

    Besides, if worsees to worst, I¡¯ll have Callum kidnap her and lock her in my basement.

    Sophia reaches for her wine. She sips it slowly, considering me. When she sets the winess down again, she appears less homicidal.

    ¡°Almost anything you want to know about mypany can be found on the web. It¡¯s public information.¡±

    I sigh heavily. ¡°Not this again.¡±

    ¡°Or is it dirt on the principals you want? If so, you won¡¯t get it from me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit about the principals. I can find out anything I want to know about your board through background checks, a PI, or aputer genius I know who once hacked into NASA¡¯s mainframe and intercepted the source code of the International Space Station.¡±

    After a beat, she says, ¡°Must be a good guy to have on payroll.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not on payroll. He¡¯s a friend. And he¡¯s a she, incidentally. Her name¡¯s Tabitha West. And before you ask, no, we¡¯re not involved and never were. She¡¯s married to a retired Marine I owe my life to.¡±

    Sophia deliberates all that in silence, her expression slowly changing from irked to intrigued. She wants to know all about that carrot I just dangled in front of her, but is too proud to go there.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to ask if you were involved,¡± she says. ¡°But I do have a request.¡±

    ¡°Anything.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t spit that out so fast. You don¡¯t even know what it is.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what it is. Whatever you ask me for, you can have.¡±

    She says archly, ¡°How about your head on a tter?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want me dead. Not tonight, anyway.¡±

    ¡°What makes you so certain?¡±

    I look at her mouth, then back into her eyes. My voicees out husky. ¡°Because I haven¡¯t made youe yet.¡±

    She holds my gaze unflinchingly, her face impassive, her posture rxed. The only tell to the storm I sense raging inside her is the pulse thrumming hard on the side of her neck.

    ¡°You¡¯re obviously an intelligent person, Carter, but this is reckless. You can¡¯t just go around saying sexual things to women. You¡¯ll get yourself into legal trouble.¡±

    ¡°I apologize if I¡¯ve offended you. But you don¡¯t have to worry about me being sued for sexual harassment because I never speak this way to anyone.¡± I pause to read her expression, but it gives nothing away. ¡°Are you offended?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, no. Don¡¯t smile, you¡¯re still in trouble.¡±

    The way she said that, all shing dark eyes and low, threatening tone, sends a thrill of excitement through me. My dick stirs.

    The fucker likes it when she¡¯s mad at me even more than when she smiles.

    ¡°What I was going to request before you decided to throw your manners out the window was that you rx.¡±

    ¡°Rx?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Turn off the charm. Dial down the intensity. Stop flirting so outrageously. Thisvish love bombing of yours is making me ufortable. Deal?¡±

    By now, my dick is throbbing. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s because Sophia is so angry or because she said this was a date without realizing it. I try to keep my face very somber when I answer.

    ¡°Deal. I¡¯ll dial it down. I promise.¡±

    She pauses to see if I¡¯m sincere. Whatever she finds on my face or in my eyes, it must satisfy her, because she murmurs, ¡°Good boy.¡±

    If I thought I was hard before, those two words stiffen my dick until it¡¯s painful.

    Stifling a moan, I stare at her, wondering how I¡¯m going to get through the night pretending I don¡¯t want to kiss her.

    And how the hell I can get her to call me her good boy again.

    After a moment, she shakes her head and turns her attention to the bar. Her profile is stunning. Upswept dark hair, long neck, elegant posture¡­the woman is as regal as a queen. I open my mouth to tell her that, but catch myself in the nick of time.

    I clear my throat and settle back into my chair, focusing on my wine instead of my aching dick, and give her space to restart the conversation.

    Just as I¡¯m getting worried we might sit in silence for the rest of the night, she casts me a coy sideways nce and smiles.

    ¡°What are you smiling about?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking I¡¯d like to pay you anotherpliment, but I might wait to see how you behave.¡±

    ¡°Now you have to tell me.¡±

    She arches one dark eyebrow, indicating I should watch my demands. I soften my tone and try to appear harmless.

    ¡°Please?¡±

    ¡°All right, but don¡¯t forget that you¡¯re still in detention.¡±

    A vivid fantasy of me sitting at a desk in a ssroom and her standing over me, holding a ruler and threatening to pull down my pants and spank my bare ass with it, leaves me speechless and makes my hard dick twitch.

    She takes my silence as obedience and smiles wider.

    ¡°You¡¯re direct. I like that.¡±

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t like me saying all those things.¡±

    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t decided yet if it¡¯s genuine or you¡¯re full of shit, but either way, I appreciate the effort.¡±

    She nces down and toys with the stem of her winess. ¡°So if you are being genuine, I apologize for being testy.¡± Then she nces up and res at me. ¡°But if you¡¯re full of shit, I¡¯ll never speak to you again after we split the check.¡±

    Fuck, I want to kiss this woman so much.

    I want to kiss her all over her face and body, her wrists and thighs and feet. The only problem with that is that she doesn¡¯t want me to, and I suspect I¡¯ve graduated from walking a tightrope to an even more dangerous situation.

    I¡¯m standing at the lip of a bottomless ck chasm, and she¡¯s deciding whether or not to give me a hard shove over the edge.

    I say gruffly, ¡°I can tell you something that might make you believe I¡¯m being genuine, but also¡­you might get mad at me.¡±

    ¡°Why would I get mad at you?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯ll think it¡¯s unhinged.¡±

    ¡°Why would I think that?¡±

    Her stare is piercing. I try not to squirm in my chair. My dick is pulsing, my heart is racing, and a herd of bulls is stampeding through my stomach.

    ¡°Because it is unhinged.¡± I add hopefully, ¡°But also maybe romantic.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just tell me what it is, and let me decide.¡±

    There are about four dozen things I¡¯ve done in an effort to meet her, but I choose one of the more innocent-sounding ones. Because I know if I tell her I moved into her neighborhood just so we could ¡°identally¡± bump into each other, this conversation is over, and I¡¯ll probably get served with a court order to stay at least five hundred feet away.

    ¡°The meeting I called with your board.¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    ¡°It had nothing to do with a merger.¡±

    She studies me for a moment. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll bite. What did it have to do with?¡±

    ¡°You.¡±

    After a moment, she repeats carefully, ¡°Me.¡±

    I nod, holding her gaze. ¡°I needed to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Needed.¡±

    Her tone is soft and hard at the same time. I don¡¯t know what it means, only that it isn¡¯t good. ¡°Don¡¯t be mad at me for telling the truth.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t anger. This is genuine confusion. Why go to all the trouble of organizing a bogus meeting when you could have simply called me up and asked me out?¡±

    ¡°Would you have said yes if I did?¡±

    She stays silent, but her pursed lips give me the answer.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so.¡±

    The waiter arrives. He asks if we¡¯d like him to clear our tes. When Sophia nods, I panic that she¡¯s about to jump up from the table and run out. I ask for dessert menus to buy some time.

    She sends me a pointed look, then shakes her head in exasperation. But she stays in her chair and doesn¡¯t tell him to bring the check, so I breathe easier.

    The moment he walks away, she says, ¡°The way you acted in that meeting.¡±

    ¡°Like I think I¡¯m king of Earth? Yeah. It¡¯s a thing I do. My therapist says it¡¯s ovepensating for feelings of deep insecurity.¡±

    She takes a moment to consider that. ¡°You¡¯re in therapy?¡±

    And probably will be forever. Instead of saying that aloud, I nod. ¡°I¡¯m working on myself so my baggage doesn¡¯t be everybody else¡¯s burden.¡±

    ¡°Carter, that¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. But you look surprised.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that I don¡¯t know many men who¡¯d admit they need help.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about your ex.¡±

    Herugh is small. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m talking about my ex. You¡¯re inconveniently perceptive. God, this is the strangest conversation I¡¯ve ever had.¡±

    I grin at her. ¡°It¡¯s a good one, though. Admit it. You¡¯re having fun.¡±

    Now herugh is wry. ¡°Fun isn¡¯t exactly the word I¡¯d use, but you¡¯re interesting, Carter. I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    The waiter returns with two dessert menus. He presents them with a flourish, offers a rmendation, then asks if we¡¯d care for after-dinner drinks.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take a Frangelico, please. Neat. Salted rim. Sophia?¡±

    ¡°The same.¡±

    ¡°Prego.¡± Fabrizio retreats. Now Sophia is staring at me with more than a hint of suspicion.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to ask you a question. And you¡¯re going to tell me the truth.¡±

    When I don¡¯t say anything, she prompts, ¡°You will tell the truth. Promise me.¡±

    I exhale slowly, then nod, my body full of dread and my stupid hard dick still straining in her direction.

    ¡°What¡¯s your real rtionship with the girl you were with at the coffee shop?¡±

    ¡°Katie¡¯s just a friend.¡± Sophia looks doubtful, so I keep going. ¡°It only took two dates before we realized it wouldn¡¯t work out. But we both love to cycle, so we still do that asionally.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well, I can see why you would¡¯ve wanted to date her. She¡¯s a very pretty girl.¡±

    ¡°Which reminds me, she said you¡¯re sexy. She wanted to know if you were into girls. She likes older women. We both do.¡±

    Sophia opens her mouth, then closes it again. She takes a thoughtful sip of her wine.

    ¡°That¡¯s ttering, but I don¡¯t do the group thing. Watching my brother juggle multiple partners at one time convinced me that takes a certain emotional flexibility I don¡¯t have. I guess I¡¯m too territorial.¡±

    There¡¯s an underlying coolness in her tone that I don¡¯t understand until it dawns on me that she thinks I¡¯m trying to get her into a threesome. I rush to reassure her.

    ¡°Me too. I don¡¯t share. And in case I didn¡¯t make myself clear, I wasn¡¯t hoping you¡¯d say yes about being into girls. I want you to myself.¡±

    She stares balefully at me, her brows drawn together and her lips pinched, then suddenly startsughing.

    ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡±

    ¡°Does this little routine of yours actually work?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Ohe on, Carter. You¡¯re good-looking, charming, and rich. You must have women throwing themselves at you all over the ce.¡±

    My heart rolls over like a dog performing a trick for its owner. ¡°You think I¡¯m good-looking?¡±

    She sighs. ¡°My point is that this Casanova love machine act is unnecessary. And you did promise to rx, remember?¡±

    ¡°I remember. But it isn¡¯t an act or a routine. It¡¯s not something I do with other people. It¡¯s you. You¡¯re fascinating.¡±

    Her wrinkled nose is impossibly cute, even though it indicates she¡¯s displeased with me.

    ¡°Not to make it weird, but I¡¯ll tell you why if you want to hear it.¡±

    She debates it silently, her gaze roving all over my face. Finally, she lifts her chin, giving me permission to proceed.

    ¡°That piece Power magazine did about you right after you took on the role of COO at TriCast blew me away. Your confidence. Your poise. Your fucking intelligence. You used words in that interview I¡¯ve never heard of before, and I¡¯ve got a very expensive education.¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve read about you, most of your time at college was spent far away from the library.¡±

    Herugh is throaty. Teasing. I fight the need to lean over the table, seize her face in my hands, and kiss her until she¡¯s breathless.

    ¡°I take it you¡¯ve seen my Wikipedia page.¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°I like to keep an eye on thepetition.¡±

    ¡°That story about the yacht party with the girls¡¯ volleyball team waspletely exaggerated. And we¡¯re notpetition.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but we are.¡±

    ¡°Not even a little bit.¡±

    ¡°No? What would your father say if he knew who you were having dinner with right now?¡±

    Iugh. ¡°He¡¯d burst a brain vessel. We¡¯d have to put him on life support. Except he has one of those do-not-resuscitate orders, so tomorrow, we¡¯d start nning his funeral. It¡¯d be worth it, though, Sophia. It would totally be worth killing my dad to have shared a meal with you.¡±

    Chewing the corner of her lower lip, she tries hard not to smile. ¡°You were right. I do think you¡¯re unhinged. Herees Fabi with our drinks. Try not to say anything outrageous for the next ten minutes, and I¡¯ll consider letting you give me a kiss goodnight.¡±

    Whatever she sees on my face makes her add sternly, ¡°On the cheek.¡± Then, after a moment, she sighs in exasperation. ¡°I meant the cheek on my face, Carter, but if you don¡¯t get your mind out of the gutter, I will make you kiss my ass. And get down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness for your terrible manners!¡±

    I stare at her, suppressing a full-body shiver of excitement at the image her words painted in my mind.

    I¡¯ll beg her for anything she wants, but it damn well isn¡¯t forgiveness I¡¯m after.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 5

    When the checkes, I insist we split it. Carter merely smiles and pulls out his wallet.

    ¡°How about we let Fabi decide. Then it¡¯s fate.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as fate.¡±

    His smile grows wider. ¡°Said like a true cynic.¡±

    I want to say I¡¯m not a cynic, I¡¯m a realist, but somewhere in there lurks a hint that I earned my clear-eyed view of life from long experience, and I¡¯m not about to start talking about our age difference again.

    Over the course of the conversation, it¡¯s be clear that not only is he fine with it, he might actually prefer that I¡¯m older.

    I¡¯m already in enough trouble as it is.

    When Fabi returns to collect the check, he finds us both holding out credit cards. Without batting an eysh, he plucks Carter¡¯s Amex from his fingers and turns around and leaves.

    My dinnerpanion oozes satisfaction.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t fate, Carter. That was sexism.¡±

    ¡°Actually, that was romance.¡±

    When I level him with a look, heughs again.

    ¡°Some of us believe a gentleman should court ady.¡±

    ¡°And some of us spent years fighting to be taken seriously as an equal only to discover certain men prefer a quote-unquote dy¡¯ because those delicate creatures have been trained to be passive and meek. And nobody¡¯s courting anybody. You¡¯re way too sure of yourself for my liking.¡±

    He tilts his head back and gazes at me through half-lidded eyes. ¡°Hmm.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®hmm¡¯ me. I¡¯m serious.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that Shakespeare line? The one about protesting too much?¡±

    ¡°Gee, I don¡¯t know. Why don¡¯t you lean on your pricey education to remember?¡±

    ¡°God, you¡¯re devastating when you¡¯re flirting.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not flirting with you.¡±

    ¡°Teasing, then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not doing that either.¡±

    We gaze at each other across the table, smiling and toying with the stems on our elegant little crystal liquor sses and most definitely flirting.

    I feel like a retired racehorse that¡¯s been cooped up inside a dreary dark barn for years but is finally getting a chance to stretch my legs and let the wind rip through my mane as I tear up the track.

    ¡°You¡¯re having fun, though,¡± says Carter. ¡°I can tell you¡¯re enjoying yourself.¡±

    I smile and sip my Frangelico. ¡°Only because this is my favorite restaurant. And who doesn¡¯t like a free meal?¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re going to make it hard for me. Okay. Challenge epted. I should warn you, though, I always get what I want.¡±

    I¡¯d ask how he¡¯s so damn overconfident, but the giant silver spoon in his mouth he was born with would impede the answer.

    ¡°That¡¯s something we have inmon, then.¡±

    He grimaces. ¡°Don¡¯t make it sound like it¡¯s the only thing.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Not by a longshot. We¡¯re bothpetitive too.¡±

    Recalling what I told him at the coffee shop, I nod.

    ¡°And we both love to eat.¡±

    I guess I went after my tortellini with more gusto than I realized.

    ¡°And we both love Hozier.¡±

    ¡°How do you know I love Hozier?¡±

    He smiles. ¡°The interview in Power magazine. By the way, you know that reporter was into you, right?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t tell by those questions? He had you so far up on a pedestal, he was looking right up your skirt.¡±

    I scoff, shaking my head. ¡°He was perfectly professional.¡±

    ¡°You think so? Because he called me the week after the article was published to see if I¡¯d agree to an interview. His angle was a sh-of-the-media-titans thing. He gushed about you like a schoolgirl over a pop star.¡±

    I¡¯m unsure if this is another of his extravagances or if he¡¯s being truthful, but either way, it makes meugh. ¡°He was old enough to be my grandfather.¡±

    Carter¡¯s gaze grows intense, and his voice turns throaty. ¡°Age means nothing to desire. The heart wants what it wants.¡±

    I really hate to admit it to myself, but this cocky blond billionaire really knows how to push all my buttons. Just the way he¡¯s looking at me makes my pulse race.

    Aiming for nonchnt, I say, ¡°Have you been studying these lines in a book?¡±

    He grins. ¡°Why? Are they working?¡±

    ¡°Not even a little bit.¡±

    We stare at each other across the table as the air all around us detonates with heat. I don¡¯t recall ever being this physically attracted to someone. It¡¯s like some mad scientist cooked up a batch of supercharged sex pheromones and dumped them both over our heads.

    Holding my gaze, Carter demands softly, ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re thinking right now.¡±

    ¡°That I¡¯ve had too much wine.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re entertaining inappropriate thoughts about me.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Would it be inappropriate if I told you my dick is so hard for you right now?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Too bad. It is.¡±

    Smiling, I rx back into my chair, swirl the Frangelico round and round in the ss, and allow myself to luxuriate in hisser-focused attention.

    Maybe that¡¯s what¡¯s so intoxicating. It¡¯s not the alcohol, it¡¯s his unwavering concentration.

    It¡¯s his unapologetic desire.

    It¡¯s him.

    ¡°You¡¯re so goddamn beautiful,¡± he says gruffly.

    ¡°Stopplimenting me. I¡¯ll get a big head.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll never stop. You¡¯re my idea of perfection.¡±

    My heart is throbbing, my skin is hot, and I¡¯m restlessly squeezing my thighs together. Still, I manage to sound aloof. ¡°All this effort for a goodnight kiss? I wonder what you¡¯d do if the stakes were higher?¡±

    Without missing a beat he says, ¡°Anything you asked. Anything you wanted. I¡¯d blow up my whole life for one night with you. And if I thought you¡¯d give me more than that, I¡¯d blow up the whole fucking world.¡±

    The restaurant disappears. All the background noise of people eating and talking fall silent. What¡¯s left is the two of us and our held gazes in a crackling hot bubble of lust.

    I don¡¯t mean for it to, but my voicees out breathy. ¡°You don¡¯t even know me.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know me either. But you feel it too, this connection. I know you do.¡±

    For a long, breathless moment, I teeter between recklessness and restraint. I stare into those intense blue eyes with the oddest sensation of being sucked in, as if a dangerous riptide is dragging me under.

    I want to kiss him. I want to taste his skin. I want to feel him inside me and listen to him groan in pleasure as I sink my fingernails into his back and roll my hips to meet his thrusts.

    I want to ride him and take my pleasure from his strong young body, and I want it all with such sudden, fierce need, it frightens me.

    Then my cell chimes with a text, and the spell is broken.

    I recognize the particr tone. I set it for one caller specifically, to ensure I¡¯d know it was him trying to reach me without having to look.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t normally check my phone during dinner, but that¡¯s my brother. I apologize, but I need to take a look.¡±

    Sensing the moment is gone, Carter sits back in his chair. ¡°Of course.¡±

    I dig my cell from my purse and unlock the screen. Emailed you the info on options for Mom, Will¡¯s text reads. I¡¯ll call you in the morning.

    I quickly text back. What happened at the hospital? CT scan clear?

    Three bubbles appear then disappear. He doesn¡¯t answer.

    When I mutter a curse, Carter says, ¡°Everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Our mom fell this morning. Banged herself up pretty good.¡±

    ¡°Oh no. Is she in the hospital?¡±

    I nce up to find him gazing at me, concern clear in his expression. ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like it. I told Will to take her right away to get checked, but¡­¡±

    He studies me while Ipose another text. I¡¯m not looking at him, but I feel his attention.

    Tell me you took her to the ER, Will. And if you didn¡¯t, GO RIGHT NOW.

    I wait for a response, but don¡¯t get one. For all I know, he already turned off his phone.

    Worried and annoyed, I shove my cell back into my handbag and send Carter a stiff smile. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. Is there anything I can do to help?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s sweet of you, but no.¡±

    ¡°Do you need to call him? I¡¯m fine waiting.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do any good. He won¡¯t pick up.¡±

    If the bitterness in my tone surprises Carter, he doesn¡¯t show it. He says gently, ¡°Yeah, brothers can be a real pain in the ass, can¡¯t they?¡±

    We share a wryugh. ¡°You must know all about it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s another thing we have inmon. Irritating siblings. Is he older or younger than you?¡±

    ¡°Older by two years.¡±

    ¡°Any other brothers or sisters?¡±

    ¡°No, just us.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re the baby.¡±

    I don¡¯t know why he sounds so pleased by that until I realize he¡¯s the youngest sibling too. I nod. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m the baby. But Will¡¯s the favorite. When we were growing up, my parents always acted like he could walk on water. He could do no wrong in their eyes. And now let¡¯s talk about anything else but me. Tell me about yourself, Carter. What¡¯s it like being filthy rich?¡±

    He studies me for a moment, his expression serious. ¡°It can be great. It can be awful. Mostly, I don¡¯t think about it, except when someone judges me for something I didn¡¯t choose.¡±

    Embarrassed, I close my eyes and pass a hand over my face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was rude of me.¡±

    ¡°No, I get it. It¡¯s a legitimate question. Most people can¡¯t imagine the kind of life I was born into. It isn¡¯t all rainbows and unicorns, though. Money makes people¡­¡±

    He trails off into silence. Gazing off into the distance over my shoulder, he looks as if he¡¯s lost somewhere in the past.

    Somewhere dark.

    ¡°Change?¡± I offer.

    He meets my eyes again. His voice is t.

    ¡°Do crazy things.¡±

    Inspecting his face, I say, ¡°You mean like host wild yacht parties with a bunch of underage girls from the varsity volleyball team?¡±

    After a beat, he shakes his head as if to clear it and pastes on a smile. ¡°Yeah. Exactly.¡± Heughs ufortably, avoiding my stare.

    He¡¯s lying.

    I don¡¯t know how I know, only that I do. Everything he¡¯s said up to now has been true, no matter how outrageous. But this small, seemingly unimportant topic is the one he chose to be disingenuous about.

    ¡°Money makes people do crazy things.¡±

    Like what, for instance?

    I don¡¯t ask because I know he wasn¡¯t talking about himself. I don¡¯t sense he was talking about his family either. I think he means that his family¡¯s money makes other people do crazy things.

    Somehow, that¡¯s even more unsettling.

    On impulse, I reach across the table and touch his hand. He starts as ifing back to himself from somewhere unpleasant.

    I say gently, ¡°Thank you for asking me out. I¡¯ve really enjoyed our dinner. I like you more than I expected I would, and whoever made you have that expression I just saw deserves to get kicked in the teeth. And now I want you to take me home so I can give you that goodnight kiss.¡±

    He stares at me silently, his lips parted and his breathing shallow.

    Then he jolts from his chair, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me hard and deep in front of everyone in the restaurant, not breaking away even for an instant when people start pping.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 6

    We drive home in silence, the rumbling purr of the luxury car¡¯s engine underscoring my confusion.

    I was so certain this was silliness. A whim to satisfy my curiosity, nothing more. But he¡¯s charmed me and surprised me with his maturity. For someone who could afford to build a colony on the moon and send everyone on Earth to live there, he¡¯s surprisingly normal.

    Then there was that kiss.

    That kiss.

    Erotic and possessive with an edge of desperation, it knocked me right off my feet. If I wasn¡¯t clinging to his shoulders, I probably would¡¯ve puddled onto the floor.

    I still feel drunk from it.

    A new and disturbing thought intrudes: he¡¯s obviously had a lot of practice.

    When I speak, I¡¯m looking straight ahead out the windshield into the night. The dark is always good for confessions.

    ¡°I met my husband at a football game my senior year in college. I was a Bruin, he was an alumni of USC. The Trojans won by andslide. They ughtered us. We didn¡¯t even score. I wonder sometimes if I should¡¯ve taken that as a sign.¡±

    A few blocks pass before Carter speaks. ¡°You said you didn¡¯t believe in fate.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I was talking about going into things with open eyes.¡±

    ¡°Lots of people went to USC.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying I think you¡¯re like him because you attended the same school.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you saying?¡±

    I turn and look at his profile, handsome and strong and so very, very young.

    ¡°I don¡¯t do casual, Carter. I wish I could. It would make life easier, but I¡¯m not built that way. Since the divorce, I¡¯ve gone on eight dates with men I met online. I won¡¯t go into the ugly details, but they left me convinced I¡¯m better off concentrating on my career and raising my daughter than trying to find another rtionship.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll be alone for the rest of your life?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not alone. I have family. I have friends. I have a vibrator. It¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°Wow. Those must¡¯ve been some pretty shitty dates.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea.¡±

    We drive for a while, both lost in our thoughts, until we pull up to a stoplight and he turns to me, his gaze and energy intense.

    ¡°You think I¡¯m too young for you.¡±

    Iugh softly. ¡°The thought had urred to me.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯ll break your heart.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t gotten that far, but it does seem inevitable.¡±

    ¡°A wedding could be inevitable too.¡±

    My God, the pure sincerity of that. The innocent insanity. The sweet delusion. I reach up and stroke his cheek.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure a wedding is in your future, crazy person, but it¡¯s definitely not with me as your bride.¡±

    ¡°Would you say that if we were the same age?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t entertain hypotheticals. We¡¯re not the same age, and we never will be. The light is green.¡±

    ¡°You like me, though.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±

    ¡°And you liked that kiss.¡±

    ¡°Are you hearing that honking? We¡¯re holding up traffic.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit about traffic. Look at me, Sophia. Look at my face. Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see.¡±

    Car horns re behind us. Someone leans out a window and shouts. Carter stares at me unblinkingly, his energy and attention focused on me and me alone.

    ¡°I see psychosis.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit.¡±

    ¡°I see a man ignoring his promise to rx.¡±

    ¡°That was during dinner. Dinner¡¯s over. I¡¯m done rxing. Can I kiss you again?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    He exhales hard and grumbles, ¡°Damn. I shouldn¡¯t have asked.¡±

    He¡¯s so deted, I take pity on him. I lean over and brush my lips gently against his cheek. ¡°Yes, you should have,¡± I whisper into his ear as the car horns reach a crescendo. ¡°Now drive. If you behave yourself the rest of the way back to my house, I¡¯ll give you another kiss at the door. Maybe two.¡±

    His grin is blinding. He guns the engine and peels out, leaving me ttened against the back of the seat andughing helplessly though I should be hollering at him to slow down.

    What the hell. You only live once.

    We reach my street so fast, we might as well have been transported by time travel. Carter ms the car into park, shuts off the engine, and leaps out of the car. Before I can even think about opening my door, he¡¯s doing it for me.

    He takes my outstretched hand and helps me rise from my seat.

    As soon as I¡¯m standing, he drops my hand and runs straight to my front door, where he turns around and waits for me on the step, grinning and bouncing up and down on his toes in anticipation.

    Smothering augh, I close the car door and walk toward him. I take my time because watching him fidget impatiently is weirdly pleasing.

    I reach the front step and stop to shake my head at him. ¡°What am I going to do with you?¡±

    The question thrills him. He sucks in a breath, eyes widening. ¡°Oh fuck, everything. All the things. Right this second.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t grab my arm. Stand there like a good boy and control yourself.¡±

    He drops his arms to his sides and stares down at me with red nostrils and unblinking eyes, a dog with a biscuit perched on the end of its nose, waiting for permission to scarf down the treat.

    ¡°It¡¯s interesting how sometimes you take direction so well, but other times you¡¯repletely feral.¡±

    Staring at my mouth, he moistens his lips. ¡°I could tell you why, but it¡¯s one of those things where you might think I¡¯m unhinged again.¡±

    ¡°That train has already left the station. Tell me.¡±

    ¡°When you call me a good boy, I¡­¡±

    He shakes his head as if he can¡¯t find the right words. A shiver of excitement runs through his chest.

    Looking up at him, I cock my head. ¡°You like it?¡±

    He swallows. A muscle in his jaw flexes. He nods, stops for a moment, then nods again more vigorously. ¡°A lot. Like, a lot a lot.¡±

    ¡°Words are escaping you again, hmm? That expensive education of yours was a waste.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tease me. You¡¯re killing me. I need to kiss you now.¡±

    ¡°Not out here on the porch. Come inside for a minute.¡±

    He steps reluctantly aside, allowing me to unlock the front door. I usher him into the darkened foyer, d I didn¡¯t leave a light on in the living room earlier because kissing in the shadows is so much more erotic than under the unttering re of overhead lights.

    I close the door behind him, toss my handbag onto the console table, and turn back to him. ttening my hand over his chest, I give him a gentle push. His back hits the door.

    ¡°Stand right there. Don¡¯t move unless I tell you to.¡±

    Staring at me with feverish eyes, he says hoarsely, ¡°Oh my God, you¡¯re so fucking hot. I¡¯m having a heart attack. I¡¯m dying.¡±

    ¡°Hush.¡±

    I press my body against his. Reaching up, I sink both hands into his hair and angle his head until our mouths are mere inches apart.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you could grab my ass, Carter.¡±

    He digs his fingers deeper into my bottom. ¡°I¡¯ll ask for forgivenesster. I want your mouth. Gimme.¡±

    He leans closer. I dodge him,ughing softly because wow, am I having fun.

    ¡°Not so fast. It¡¯s one kiss. Let¡¯s make it a good one, shall we?¡±

    ¡°The only way it couldn¡¯t be good is if I die from bliss one second in. Even then, it would be good, but you know what I¡¯m saying. The longer, the better. We could stand here all night and make out, and I¡¯d go to my grave fifty years from now a happy man from reliving the memory.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re babbling. And panting a bit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been this turned on in my life.¡±

    That makes two of us. My nipples ache, my skin is flushed, and a cyclone of burning desire pulses between my thighs. I lift my chin, bringing our mouths closer, and shiver in delight when he exhales a soft moan.

    ¡°Mr. McCord, is that your wallet poking at me?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± he whispers, his voice full of need. ¡°Please let me taste you again.¡±

    New kink unlocked: hearing this gorgeous young man beg for me.

    I rub my breasts against his chest and hold his head in ce when he tries to take my mouth. Breathing hard now, he grips my ass and flexes his hips into mine.

    I press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, then murmur, ¡°Be a good boy, and I¡¯ll let you.¡±

    He shudders. It runs through his whole body, even his hands, and causes a riot to explode inside me, a maelstrom of sensation including heat, giddiness, and profound desire.

    But mostly power.

    I¡¯m lightning. I¡¯m thunder. I¡¯m the molten core of the earth spitting great plumes of magma high into the sky.

    I press my lips to the other corner of his mouth, then softly kiss both his cheeks. He remains still except for his trembling hands, which grip my ass possessively.

    His eyes are closed. His lips are parted. He waits, so sweet in his self-denial. His entire body strains toward me, but he holds himself in check all from the simple power of my words.

    French toast, this is intoxicating. My panties are soaking wet.

    Into his ear, I breathe, ¡°I¡¯m going to kiss your neck. Be good for me and don¡¯t move.¡±

    The faintest moan escapes his lips, but he remains perfectly still, his only movement the rapid rise and fall of his chest and his uncontrobly trembling hands.

    I press my lips to his throat.

    His skin is hot. His pulse races under my lips. His erection throbs against my hip. He smells divine, better than a cookie right out of the oven. Better than buttery, fresh-baked bread.

    I know all the foodparisons are because he makes me so damn hungry, I just want to gobble him up. Dinner was only a short while ago, but I¡¯m ravenous.

    When I suck hard against the vein hammering in the side of his neck, he drops his head back and moans. Loudly. It¡¯s the single most erotic sound I¡¯ve ever heard.

    I lightly bite his neck, then press a soft kiss to the spot to take the sting away.

    His ¡°Please¡± is so soft, it¡¯s almost inaudible.

    ¡°Are you being good?¡±

    He groans, then babbles, ¡°I¡¯m being good I¡¯m being so fucking good I can¡¯t wait anymore I¡¯m dying!¡±

    Iugh softly, pleased. ¡°So dramatic.¡±

    He makes a garbled sound of frustration and bangs the back of his head three times against the door.

    ¡°All right, Carter. Look at me.¡±

    He lifts his head and opens his eyes. Even in the shadows, I can see that his pupils are blown. He looks like he snorted something up his nose. His arms are wrapped hard around me and his chest is heaving, and I literally cannot ever remember being this sexually excited.

    Watching him get so turned on turns me on.

    Shit. I can already tell this is going to getplicated.

    ¡°You may kiss me n¡ª¡±

    He falls on my mouth like a starving man before I¡¯ve even finished the sentence, thrusting his tongue between my lips and delving deep. I match his passion, hungrily kissing him back. He spins me around and pins me against the door, pressing the full length of his strong body against mine.

    We kiss until I¡¯m dizzy. And still, we don¡¯t stop.

    ¡°I want to touch you everywhere. I want to taste your skin. I want to fuck you up against this door, and when I make youe, I want to get on my knees and fuck you with my tongue and drink every drop of you until you can¡¯t stand up anymore.¡±

    His lips move against mine. His voice is hoarse with desire. His words enme me to a fever pitch.

    No man has ever been so explicit inmunicating his wants to me before.

    I love it.

    We kiss again. I break away before I let myself go too far and stand staring at him with my trembling fingers pressed to my lips.

    He blurts, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Why are you sorry?¡±

    Breathing hard, he shakes his head. ¡°You look upset. What did I do wrong?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong. That was amazing.¡±

    He¡¯s confused and disheveled, his eyes still hazy with desire. ¡°Then why did you stop?¡±

    ¡°Because I was getting close to the point where I couldn¡¯t.¡±

    Blinking slowly, he licks his lips. He drags both hands through his hair and sucks in a breath. When he exhales, he scrubs his hands over his face and shakes his head again, as if trying to awaken from a dream.

    ¡°Okay. Okay. Wow. I¡¯m¡­I might need to sit down.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re dizzy too?¡±

    ¡°Totally. And disoriented. What are we on? What year is it?¡±

    His adorable befuddlement makes meugh. I move closer and gently straighten the cor of his shirt, then smooth my hands down his chest. He rests his hands on my hips, pulls me against him, touches his forehead to mine, and sighs.

    ¡°Well, now you¡¯ve done it.¡±

    ¡°Done what?¡±

    ¡°Ruined me, Sophia. You¡¯ve ruined me for other women.¡±

    Smiling, I chide, ¡°That isn¡¯t thepliment you think it is. But¡­¡±

    His eyelids pop open. ¡°But what?¡±

    Toying with a button on his shirt, I say lightly, ¡°Maybe we could have another non-date sometime.¡±

    He tries to hide his excitement, but the tremor that runs through his chest gives him away. There¡¯s a tremor in his voice too, when he teases, ¡°You just want another free meal, you moocher.¡±

    ¡°Guilty as charged. I¡¯m a freeloader from way back.¡±

    We¡¯re smiling at each other. It feels good to lean against him like this and look up into his eyes. It feels natural.

    He demands suddenly, ¡°What are you thinking?¡±

    ¡°Carter, really. Must you know my every thought?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I absolutely must. If you could do a stream-of-consciousness narration of what you¡¯re thinking and feeling when we¡¯re together, it would be perfect.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not big on mystery, hmm?¡±

    He shudders. ¡°God, no. I hate it. Promise me you won¡¯t be aloof either. I¡¯ll die from the anxiety. I¡¯d rather have you tell me t-out to my face that I bore you and you never want to see me again than if you act nonchnt and string me along. Anything¡¯s better than ambiguity. I need to know where I stand.¡±

    He stares straight into my eyes, serious and intense, all the teasing from moments before vanished. I senseyers of meaning beneath those words,yers that go far too deep to delve into this evening.

    He¡¯s been hurt before, that much is obvious.

    There goes that stupid bog witch, melting again. At this pace, there will be nothing left of her by next week but fond memories.

    I take his face in my hands and press a soft kiss to his lips. ¡°Okay, handsome,¡± I murmur. ¡°Here¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking.¡±

    ¡°So you do think I¡¯m handsome. I knew it.¡±

    ¡°Quiet.¡±

    In a yful whisper, he says, ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a terrible flirt.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± His grin dies. ¡°Wait, do you mean terrible good or terrible bad? Like I have no idea what I¡¯m doing? Am I making a fool of myself?¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t shut up, we¡¯ll be here all night.¡±

    He pauses for a beat. ¡°And the problem with that is¡­?¡±

    I drop my forehead to his chest and dissolve into helplessughter. ¡°What am I going to do with you?¡±

    Into my ear, he whispers, ¡°I already told you. All the things.¡±

    ¡°It was a rhetorical question.¡±

    ¡°My answer still stands. And it¡¯s genius, if I do say so myself.¡±

    How is he this disarming? Every time I think I¡¯ve got my footing, he pulls the rug out from under me.

    Smiling, I look up at him. ¡°If you¡¯re doneplimenting yourself, I¡¯ll continue.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±

    ¡°Good. As I was saying, I really enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you for dinner.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wee. What time should I pick you up tomorrow night?¡±

    ¡°I never said anything about tomorrow night.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s six?¡±

    ¡°Are you even listening to me?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And I¡¯m not hearing a no. I¡¯ll pick you up at six.¡±

    He kisses me firmly on the mouth, then opens the front door and walks through it, swaggering off toward his car.

    I close the door and lock it before I sumb to the urge to call him back. Standing in the darkness, I listen to the growl of the Lamborghini¡¯s engine as it starts up.

    I¡¯m still standing there long after it has faded into silence and the only remaining sound is the fast, unsteady beat of my heart.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 7

    Monday morning arrives. My sanity returns with it.

    Whatever that wasst night, it won¡¯t happen again. I¡¯m too old for fairy-tales, too practical to entertain what-ifs, and much too smart to do something as stupid as taking a lover who is not only an infamous yboy and fifteen years younger than me, but who also sits on the board of TriCast¡¯srgest and most powerfulpetitor.

    Everyone would think I¡¯d lost my mind.

    They¡¯d be right.

    As soon as my weekly team meeting is over, I head back to my office and close the door. Then I sit at my desk with my cell phone, ready topose an apology text to Carter that I won¡¯t be able to make our date tonight after all.

    But he¡¯s already sent me a text.

    It¡¯s a link to the music video for the Britney Spears song ¡°I¡¯m A ve 4 U.¡±

    I set the phone screen side down on my desk and stare out my office windows into the bright Los Angeles morning, lost in memories fromst night.

    ¡°I take it the meeting went well.¡±

    Startled, I look over to find my assistant, Alex, standing beside my desk holding a binder. I have no idea how long she¡¯s been standing there or how she got in.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re grinning.¡±

    Confused, I look at the open door. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that closed?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I knocked. You told me toe in.¡±

    I have no recollection of that, but I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯ll admit it. ¡°Right. Of course.¡±

    ¡°So what are you smiling so big about?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m not smiling. Nobody¡¯s smiling at all.¡±

    Alex cocks her head and frowns. ¡°You okay?¡±

    I sit up straighter and put on my best no-nonsense-bossdy face. ¡°I haven¡¯t had my coffee yet. Is that my market share report?¡±

    She ces the binder in my outstretched hand. ¡°Sure is. How¡¯d the meeting go?¡±

    I¡¯m about to answer her when a young man walks into my office holding an enormous bouquet of red roses.

    ¡°Delivery for Ms. Bianco.¡±

    ¡°Ooo,¡± says Alex, eyeing the bouquet. ¡°Flowers. Wow, that¡¯s big.¡± She turns back and grins at me. ¡°Guess I know what you were smiling about now. Who is he?¡±

    Ignoring that, I tell the delivery guy to put the roses on my desk. He navigates carefully across the room, sighing in relief once he sets the bouquet down.

    Alex asks him, ¡°How many roses is that?¡±

    ¡°Four dozen.¡±

    She whistles. ¡°That¡¯s a lot!¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it. The thing weighs a ton. But the guy who ordered it specifically said it had to be four dozen.¡±

    ¡°Really? Why? Does that number mean something?¡±

    ¡°Unconditional love, I think.¡±

    When Alex shoots me a look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, I wave her off. ¡°They¡¯re from my brother. We had an argument. Go back to work, please.¡± To the delivery guy, I say, ¡°Do I need to sign anything?¡±

    ¡°Nope. We¡¯re good. Have a nice day.¡±

    He leaves, but Alex doesn¡¯t budge. She just stands there examining the flowers with interest, obviously dying to snatch up the little white envelope dangling from a ck ribbon on one of the stems.

    ¡°Will you please close the door on your way out?¡±

    I turn to myputer and open my email, clicking around and trying to look busy and innocent. My smarty-pants assistant isn¡¯t fooled.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to read the card? I mean, I¡¯m sure you must want to know what it says. Seeing how it¡¯s from your brother and all.¡±

    ¡°Alex, don¡¯t be a nuisance. Goodbye.¡±

    With a littleugh, she tuns and heads to the door. ¡°Don¡¯t forget you have lunch with Mr. Hartman at the Polo Lounge at twelve-thirty.¡±

    As if I could forget.

    My boss, the CEO of thepany, has made lunch together a monthly ritual. He meets with each of us on the executive team separately, a practice I find suspiciously at odds with all his talk of leadership cohesiveness.

    As soon as Alex has left and closed the door behind her, I rise and walk around my desk. Standing in front of the massive rose bouquet, I try hard not to smile but fail. My grin is big and goofy. I pluck the card from the little white envelope and read it.

    Beautiful Sophia ¨C Thank you forst night. Please don¡¯t cancel our date tonight. A chance is all I¡¯m asking for.

    So he¡¯s a mind reader too. Great.

    I run the card through the shredder and am about to send Carter a text when my brother calls. I stare at his number on the screen, dreading the conversation.

    ¡°Hi, Will.¡±

    ¡°Did you get my email?¡±

    His rude, demanding tone gets my hackles up. ¡°Did you take Mom to the ER?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s fine, okay?¡±

    ¡°When did you get your medical license? I didn¡¯t realize you were a doctor.¡±

    His exhtion is short and annoyed. ¡°If you think you can take better care of her, be my guest.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying, and you know it. Please, let¡¯s not fight.¡±

    We share a bristling silence that I refuse to break first. Finally, he says tightly, ¡°I tried to convince her to go to the ER. She refused to get in the car. I told her I¡¯d have to call 911, and she told me if I did, she¡¯d tell the paramedics I pushed her down the stairs.¡±

    ¡°What? That¡¯s ridiculous!¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But that¡¯s where we are.¡±

    ¡°Do you think she was serious?¡±

    His sigh is heavy. ¡°Who knows? She¡¯s not exactly all there mentally. Some days are better than others, but she¡¯s definitely fading.¡±

    I hear the fatigue in his voice and am swamped with guilt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Will. I know this is tough on you. Thank you for handling everything. I appreciate it, even though I don¡¯t tell you that enough.¡±

    He makes a doubtful noise, but mercifully doesn¡¯t skewer me about myck of hands-on support.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a chance to go over the email yet, but I will.¡±

    ¡°Today?¡±

    ¡°As soon as I can, I promise.¡±

    I hear our mother¡¯s voice in the background but can¡¯t make out the words.

    Will calls, ¡°It¡¯s Sophia, Ma.¡±

    There¡¯s a pause, then more background muttering.

    ¡°What¡¯s she saying?¡±

    ¡°She wants to know when she¡¯s going to see Nick again. Says she misses him.¡±

    I close my eyes and breathe through the band of pain tightening around my chest. It¡¯s an unpleasant feeling to know that your mother prefers your ex-spouse over her own blood.

    Unpleasant, but not unbelievable because I feel the same way about her.

    Mother-daughter rtionships have got to be the most conflicted in all of human history. World wars have been more straightforward.

    ¡°Do you think she remembers we¡¯re divorced or is she just pushing my buttons?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°The odds are fifty-fifty. Don¡¯t let it bug you. This morning over breakfast, she asked if I thought she¡¯d go to jail if she smothered me in my sleep.¡±

    That leaves me aghast. ¡°How awful!¡±

    ¡°When I asked her why she¡¯d say such a crappy thing, she pretended not to know what I was talking about. Denied itpletely.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s either dementia or straight-up gaslighting.¡±

    ¡°It sure isn¡¯t a walk in the park, I know that much.¡±

    I¡¯m surprised things are getting so bad. Our mother¡¯s always been a handful, but this is different. It sounds like Will is right about wanting to get her into assisted living. We might need to be looking into memory care too.

    ¡°Okay, let me know when you¡¯ve had a look at the information, and we¡¯ll touch base again.¡±

    ¡°Will do. I¡¯ll call youter.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    He disconnects without waiting for me to say goodbye, and now I¡¯m annoyed all over again. Why can¡¯t we get along like a normal family? Why do all our interactions have to devolve into poking each other with sticks?

    I remind myself that this is as good as it gets. There¡¯s no sense in wishing for the impossible.

    I spend a few minutes restlessly pacing the length of my office, then do what needs to be done. Bracing myself for another unpleasant conversation, I dial Carter.

    He picks up instantly. ¡°Oh my God. It¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°Why do you sound so surprised?¡±

    ¡°I was literally just thinking I might expire from longing before our date tonight, and you called.¡±

    ¡°Expire from longing? You are getting these lines from a book.¡±

    ¡°I swear I¡¯m not. Besides, that would mean I¡¯d have to actually read a book, and I think we both know that¡¯s not happening.¡±

    Iugh in spite of myself. ¡°You don¡¯t even read yboy, huh?¡±

    ¡°Do they have words in yboy? I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°I bet.¡±

    ¡°The pictures are pretty good, though.¡±

    ¡°Blech.¡±

    He says innocently, ¡°Wait, are we talking about the same magazine? It¡¯s the one with all the nature pictures, right?¡±

    ¡°Nature pictures. Ha.¡±

    ¡°Breasts are very natural.¡±

    ¡°Not the ones in girlie magazines.¡±

    ¡°Good point. But I still think we¡¯re talking about two different things. What¡¯s the one with all the wildlife and the undersea stuff and shots of earth from the moon?¡±

    I think for a moment, ignoring the fact that I¡¯m smiling at nothing. ¡°Are you talking about National Geographic?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it!¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have pictures of breasts in National Geographic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bet you a million dors they do.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but I don¡¯t have that kind of money to throw around.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll lend it to you. Then, when I win the bet, you can give it back.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. A tempting offer, but I¡¯m not the betting kind.¡±

    ¡°You just know I¡¯m right, you big scaredy-cat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a scaredy-cat.¡±

    ¡°Sure you are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not!¡±

    ¡°Take the bet, then.¡±

    Shaking my head and sinking into my chair, Iugh again. ¡°Why do I think we could go around and around like this for days on end? No, don¡¯t answer that. It was a rhetorical question.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯re big on those. Wanna know what I¡¯m big on?¡±

    The suggestion in his voice makes me roll my eyes. ¡°Dear God, no. May I tell you why I called now?¡±

    When he doesn¡¯t reply, I prompt, ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I wasn¡¯t sure if that was another rhetorical question.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see. You¡¯re being a smartass.¡±

    ¡°Only because I¡¯m hoping you¡¯ll get mad and threaten to punish me again like you didst night.¡±

    His voice dropped an octave when he said that.

    All the air just went out of the room.

    Determined to remain steady, I take a slow breath and moisten my lips before speaking again. ¡°I don¡¯t recall threatening to punish you.¡±

    ¡°You said you¡¯d make me get on my knees and beg your forgiveness for my terrible manners.¡±

    Ah, yes. That.

    I cross my legs, then uncross them, his words echoing in my ears. Not only the words but also the throaty tone they were spoken in, one of hot, unapologetic desire.

    Trying to keep it lighthearted, I tease, ¡°Why does that sound like something you¡¯d like?¡±

    He growls, ¡°Because it is. I¡¯d get on my knees and beg you for anything you asked. Anything, Sophia. Name it.¡±

    My heart turns over. My pulse doubles, and my smile fades.

    I can tell from his tone that this isn¡¯t a little game he¡¯s ying. He actually means it.

    The problem is that I find that incredibly exciting.

    I clear my throat. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell you why I called instead.¡±

    ¡°I know why you called. To thank me for the flowers and cancel our date. Except you don¡¯t really want to cancel. You¡¯re just overthinking it.¡±

    ¡°That self-confidence of yours must reallye in handy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not self-confidence. I¡¯m actually very insecure. But you can¡¯t fake chemistry, and no matter how much you wish we didn¡¯t, we have it.¡±

    He lets that sink in for a moment, then says softly, ¡°Please don¡¯t cancel. Please.¡±

    Oh God. Not the begging. The begging will be the end of me.

    ¡°Let me think about it.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s thest thing you need to do. Go with your gut.¡±

    ¡°My gut tells me to run as far away from you as possible.¡±

    ¡°Crap. Okay, go with your heart.¡±

    When I don¡¯t respond to that, he whispers urgently, ¡°I have to kiss you again.¡±

    I groan. ¡°Carter¡ª¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t think about anything else. I can¡¯t focus. I¡¯ve been sitting over here like a caged animal. My secretary probably thinks I¡¯m on drugs. I might die if I can¡¯t kiss you again. Do you want to be responsible for the death of the COO of McCord Media, Sophia? Do you want my blood on your hands?¡±

    He¡¯s being so ridiculous, I burst outughing.

    ¡°There she is,¡± he says, chuckling. ¡°I knew I¡¯d get you with theatrics.¡±

    ¡°And how. You should¡¯ve gone into acting.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no money in it. I¡¯ll see you at six. If you still want to cancel, you¡¯ll have to say it to my face.¡±

    He disconnects, leaving me shaking my head in disbelief.

    Unfortunately, I¡¯m still smiling.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 8

    I¡¯m so distracted during lunch, my boss has to repeat himself three different times. When he asks me if I¡¯m feeling well, I tell the truth and say no.

    I¡¯m not feeling well. I¡¯m feeling as if someone stuck a lit firecracker up my ass.

    I haven¡¯t been this excited, nervous, and certain I¡¯m making a terrible mistake since¡­

    Ever.

    By the time Carter pulls into my driveway at precisely six o¡¯clock, I¡¯ve cycled through waves of panic powerful enough to leave a weaker woman sobbing face down on the carpet. I make a game of it, watching the hysteriae and go from afar like a scientist observing a strange and hostile through a telescope in the safety of ab.

    Disassociating, I believe it¡¯s called. Handy little trick if you can manage it.

    He knocks on the door. I open it and stand wordlessly staring at him. He looks me up and down and grimaces. ¡°Ouch.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re painfully beautiful. It literally hurts my eyeballs to look at you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the worst line I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    ¡°I know. I was hoping it would distract you from the meltdown it seems like you¡¯re having.¡±

    We stare at each other, separated by nothing but the threshold and a lot of crackling hot space.

    ¡°Carter?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What are we doing?¡±

    He considers that seriously, his wolf blue eyes fixed on mine. All in ck, his shirt cor unbuttoned and the cuffs rolled up, his golden hair artfully tousled, he looks as if he just strolled off an Armani runway.

    After a moment, he says softly, ¡°Nothing you don¡¯t want to do. Ask me to leave, and I will. But for the record, I¡¯ll be devastated.¡± He pauses, then muses, ¡°Plus, I¡¯ll have to find a good tattoo removal ce. I wonder how long it¡¯ll take to erase the portrait of you I got inked onto my back? At least four or five sessions I¡¯d guess.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not even a little bit funny.¡±

    He grins. ¡°You¡¯re not sure if I¡¯m joking or not though, are you?¡±

    ¡°Please tell me you are. I¡¯m freaked out enough as it is.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m joking.¡± He shrugs. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not out of the realm of possibility. I got the idea from my brother.¡±

    ¡°Your brother tattooed someone¡¯s face onto his back?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. His wife¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, I suppose a lot of people have tattoos of their spouses.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Except Callum had only known Emery a couple weeks at the time.¡±

    That makes me lift my brows in disbelief. ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    He quirks his lips and tilts his head back, gazing at me as if he knows all my secrets and then some. ¡°Romantic, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I say drily, ¡°Sure. Except for the fact that you mentioned kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome when you talked about himst night, which isn¡¯t romantic at all.¡±

    He thoughtfully purses his lips. ¡°I mean¡­some people might think it is.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and those people read too many romance novels. Are we going to dinner, or are we going to stand here talking about your crazy brother?¡±

    He brightens. ¡°Did you just ask me out on a date?¡±

    I stare at him for a beat in disbelief, then dissolve into helplessughter. ¡°It must be amazing to be so delusional. Let¡¯s go before Ie to my senses.¡±

    He grabs me, nts a passionate kiss on my lips, then bedazzles me with a smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re the boss, beautiful. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    He drove a different car tonight, a gorgeous ssic Corvette painted silvery blue. We take Wilshire to Sunset, the head north up the coast, the setting sun in our eyes and the radio ying ¡°Hotel California.¡±

    My happiness is a little effervescent ball inside my chest, expanding like a balloon being filled with helium. Even repeated warnings to myself that this is insane doesn¡¯t dete it.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I shout over the music.

    ¡°Malibu.¡± He lowers the volume and nces over at me, heart-stoppingly handsome in the golden glow of the sunset. ¡°To my favorite restaurant. Guess which one.¡±

    Recalling what he said about his favorite foods being sushi and Thai, I think for a moment. ¡°Nobu?¡±

    By his dazzling grin, I can tell I¡¯m right. I can also tell he¡¯s happy I remembered because he reaches over and takes my hand. Giving it a squeeze, he says, ¡°You¡¯re perfect.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so far from perfect, we¡¯re not even in the same universe.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s makes you perfect. You have no idea how perfect you are.¡±

    ¡°I hate to break it to you, Romeo, but as soon as the honeymoon phase is over and youe to your senses, you¡¯ll realize I¡¯m just a regr woman like all the rest.¡±

    ncing away from the highway, he lifts my hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across my knuckles. His eyes shine with delight.

    I say sternly, ¡°Don¡¯t go reading anything into that mention of a honeymoon phase.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already nning our wedding, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Groaning, I drop my head against the seatback and close my eyes.

    ¡°You totally are. You¡¯ve got the dress picked out and everything.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. Stop gloating.¡±

    ¡°I can see it now. A sweetheart neckline with a cinched waist and a lot of hand-embroidered seed pearls covering the bodice¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s disturbing that you know so much about wedding gowns.¡±

    ¡°¡ªa longce veil edged in crystals and a perfect little bouquet of Lily of the Valley¡ª¡±

    ¡°Seriously? Did you used to work for a dress designer?¡±

    ¡°¡ªand a gorgeous long train that res out behind you like a mermaid¡¯s tail when you walk. You¡¯ll be a vision in white. A princess bride. Perfection.¡±

    Iugh. ¡°Yes, except I wouldn¡¯t be wearing white. Nice delusion, though. Very thorough.¡±

    Brows furrowed, he nces over at me. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you be wearing white?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve already been married.¡±

    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±

    ¡°A white wedding dress is a symbol of innocence and purity. Divorc¨¦es normally wear another color like cream or navy blue if they remarry. It¡¯s considered in bad taste to wear pure white for a second wedding.¡±

    The face of disgust he makes is hrious. ¡°That¡¯s the stupidest shit I¡¯ve ever heard!¡±

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t me me. I don¡¯t make the rules.¡±

    ¡°You are absolutely wearing white when we get married. Not cream and definitely not fucking navy blue like a stewardess. Pure blinding white.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°You certainly seem to have some strong feelings on the subject. But we¡¯re not getting married.¡±

    He ignores me, continuing his rant.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what anybody thinks about good taste. It¡¯s my fucking wedding, and my bride is wearing white because white symbolizes hope and new beginnings. What does cream symbolize? I¡¯ll tell you what: a stain.¡±

    ¡°Maybe your bride won¡¯t want to wear white, you ever think of that? Pure white is very unttering on mostplexions.¡±

    He stops to think about it. ¡°You wore a white suit in that interview you did with Power magazine. You looked like a goddess.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. But I have an olive skin tone. Women who are pale might look like they¡¯re recovering from a long illness if they wear stark white. Do you want your bride to look like she¡¯s recovering from a long illness?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. But this is you we¡¯re talking about, so we don¡¯t have to worry about it.¡±

    Heughs long and hard at my murderous expression.

    ¡°Laugh it up, funny boy, because this might be yourst night on earth.¡±

    ¡°Nah, you like me too much to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Let¡¯s see how dinner goes, and I¡¯ll get back to you on that.¡±

    He kisses the back of my hand again and doesn¡¯t let go until we pull into the parking lot at the restaurant.<hr>

    There¡¯s a good reason Nobu Malibu is regrly voted the most beautiful restaurant in the world.

    Perched over the sand right on the edge of the shimmering Pacific Ocean, the views of the water and coastline are spectacr. We¡¯re led to a private table on the waterside balcony by a scantily-dressed young woman who behaves as though Carter owns the restaurant and not the venerated Japanese chef Nobu Matsuhisa.

    ¡°So wonderful to see you again, Mr. McCord,¡± she purrs, offering him a menu and leaning over far enough so that her tanned cleavage is exposed from the low-cut neckline of her sleeveless silk dress.

    She looks all of neen years old.

    I vaguely remember when my skin shone like that, burnished from the sun and plump with loads of cogen. I want to admonish her to wear sunscreen or all that lovely cogen will be toast in a few years, but bite my tongue and smile instead.

    Once a mother, always a mother. Even to kids you didn¡¯t give birth to.

    Without a second nce in her direction, Carter politely thanks her and orders champagne. With a wistful nce for him and a tight smile for me, she slinks away, trailing the scent of Chanel No. 5 and disappointment.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a fan there,¡± I note, draping the white linen napkin over myp. ¡°Come here often?¡±

    ¡°A couple times a month, I guess. The food¡¯s incredible.¡±

    ¡°So is the view.¡±

    He knows I¡¯m not talking about the ocean. Smiling smugly, he tilts his head and leans back in his chair.

    ¡°Are you jealous?¡±

    ¡°Of the child hostess? No. Herplexion is another story, though.¡±

    ¡°Is it nice? I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°How safe of you.¡±

    ¡°I know you think I don¡¯t have manners, but I actually do. Look, I even know which fork to use first.¡±

    He picks up the fork beside his te and waves it at me.

    ¡°Very impressive. It would be even more impressive if there were more than one fork at your ce setting.¡±

    ¡°Geez, you¡¯re tough. Next, you¡¯ll be telling me something silly like we¡¯re not getting married.¡±

    I hide my smile behind my hand and wish his audacity wasn¡¯t so endearing.

    Our waiter arrives and exchanges small talk with Carter. I watch him from the corner of my eye, so at ease in this luxurious setting, so handsome and confident, and wonder about his insecurity he so casually mentioned. I wonder about the therapy he¡¯s undergoing and what knots someone like him might need to work out.

    From everything I¡¯ve read of him, he¡¯s led a life of privilege enjoyed by few.

    ¡°Sophia, do you mind if I order for us?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Any allergies?¡±

    ¡°None.¡±

    Carter turns back to the waiter and proceeds to order our food. In Japanese.

    When he¡¯s finished, the waiter bows formally, leaving with a small smile when he notices my stunned expression.

    ¡°Aw,e on now,¡± drawls Carter, snapping his napkin open. ¡°You didn¡¯t think you were the only one with a big brain around here, did you?¡±

    ¡°No, but Japanese?¡±

    ¡°Are you impressed?¡±

    ¡°Thoroughly. Have you spent much time in Japan?¡±

    ¡°Never been. But I¡¯ve spent a lot of time in sushi restaurants. God, I wish I had my phone on me. I¡¯d take a picture of that shocked look on your face.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have your cell? Big muckedy-muck like you? What if someone needs to get in touch with you?¡±

    His smile is as soft as his eyes. ¡°They can wait. I¡¯m on a date.¡± He drops his voice to a whisper and leans closer. ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®with my future wife¡¯ but I don¡¯t want to get stabbed in front of all these people.¡±

    ¡°Good call.¡±

    We lean apart as a serveres by to light the votive candle on our table, but our gazes hold. He slides his foot across the floor so it rests next to mine. My pulse crashes as loud as the waves.

    When the server leaves, Carter murmurs, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°Not cancelling.¡±

    I look out over the water and let my gaze linger over thest of the golden sunlight glinting on the waves. Seagulls swoop and cry overhead. Down on the sand, tiny spotted sandpipers race the tide in and out, timing the waves. The air smells of salt and seaweed, and the breeze is gentle and warm.

    Nick and I used to bring Harlow to the beach when she was little. She loved to y in the sand, run joyfully screaming from the waves, hunt for shells. It seems like only yesterday she was a baby.

    Out of nowhere, I¡¯m overwhelmed by an aching sense of mncholy.

    Time passes so fast. Every day, the sand in the hourss falls more and more quickly until all at once, no grains are left. And neither are we.

    Carter says quietly, ¡°What are you thinking?¡±

    Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I murmur, ¡°Sometimes life is so beautiful, it can break your heart.¡±

    ¡°Because everything ends.¡±

    I turn my head and meet his gaze. Surprised he understood, I nod.

    ¡°Do you believe in an afterlife?¡±

    ¡°Believe might not be the right word. Hope is more like it. You?¡±

    ¡°The same.¡± He smiles. ¡°My father likes to say mankind created the idea of God to manage our existential fear of death, but I think that¡¯s just to annoy people.¡±

    ¡°It is pretty bleak.¡±

    ¡°He has an interesting sense of humor.¡±

    ¡°He must be a real hoot at cocktail parties.¡±

    That makes Carterugh. ¡°I can¡¯t wait for you to meet him. He¡¯ll be gaga over you, though he¡¯ll also probably disown me.¡±

    I tease, ¡°Why would he do that if we¡¯re notpetition?¡±

    He chuckles, inclining his head to indicate he concedes the point. ¡°You¡¯ll win him over. Nobody can resist you.¡±

    I can¡¯t imagine a world where Carter introduces me to his father, or that we¡¯d even get that far in a rtionship to be meeting each other¡¯s family, so I simply smile and look back at the restless ocean, determined to enjoy our meal despite all the reasons I shouldn¡¯t be here.

    The waiter returns with a bottle of champagne and presents it to Carter for approval, then pops the cork. He pours a small amount for each of us, tells us he¡¯ll return with a bucket of ice, and disappears once more.

    Carter raises his ss for a toast. ¡°To taking chances.¡±

    When I touch my ss to his, it feels as if something has been decided.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 9

    The view is spectacr, the sushi is to die for, the crowd in the restaurant is why the phrase ¡°beautiful people¡± was coined, but it¡¯s all a pile of dog shit inparison to Sophia.

    I can¡¯t look away.

    ¡°You¡¯re staring,¡± she notes, dipping a translucent sliver of albacore into a tiny blue ceramic pot filled with ponzu sauce. I watch, mesmerized, as she lifts the piece of fish to her mouth with wooden chopsticks. It disappears between her full lips. She swallows, humming in pleasure at the taste.

    I¡¯ve never been jealous of a dead marine animal before now.

    ¡°Is it bothering you? Say no because I don¡¯t think I can stop.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say ¡®bothering¡¯ necessarily. It¡¯s just hard to get used to.¡±

    ¡°I would¡¯ve thought you¡¯d be totally used to it, considering it must happen all the time.¡±

    She smiles. ¡°I¡¯m nowhere near as pretty as you seem to think I am.¡±

    ¡°Heresy. You¡¯re blindingly beautiful. Every woman in this restaurant hates your guts.¡±

    ¡°At least one does. Your hostess friend has been sending me the evil eye every chance she gets.¡±

    I nce in the direction she¡¯s looking. Through the big ss windows, I can see to the front of the restaurant by the door. Lana smiles and quickly looks away, turning to a customer, but not before catching my frown.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have her fired.¡±

    Sophia looks startled. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not silly that she made you upset.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not upset, Carter, I¡¯m amused.¡± She shakes her head,ughing. ¡°My, what a little Rottweiler.¡±

    She has no idea. The lengths I¡¯d go for her¡­she has no idea at all.

    Tactfully changing the subject, she says, ¡°This is the best fish I¡¯ve ever had.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never been here?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But never with you.¡±

    Her smile now is almost shy. If I dropped dead at this moment, it would be as a happy man. ¡°That¡¯s the bestpliment I¡¯ve ever been given.¡±

    ¡°I was talking about the food.¡±

    ¡°No, you weren¡¯t. But I¡¯m a gentleman, so let¡¯s change the subject. What should we talk about?¡±

    She takes a sip of champagne, regarding me over the rim of her ss. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about you.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m boring.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s thest word I¡¯d use to describe you.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s the first one?¡±

    She thinks for a moment. ¡°Interesting.¡±

    ¡°Barf.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s apliment.¡±

    ¡°You were supposed to say ¡®brilliant¡¯ or ¡®charming¡¯ or ¡®devastatingly handsome,¡¯ something like that. ¡®Interesting¡¯ makes me sound like a failed scientific experiment.¡±

    ¡°All right. Let me try again.¡± Tilting her head to one side, she gazes at me for a long, silent moment, a smile ying around the corners of her mouth. ¡°Dangerous.¡±

    I¡¯m taken aback by that. ¡°Not to you. Never to you.¡±

    ¡°Especially to me.¡±

    I¡¯m confused. Does she think I¡¯m some kind of predator?

    ¡°Why?¡±

    She sets her ss on the table and thoughtfully strokes her fingers down the stem. When she looks up at me again, her eyes are burning.

    ¡°Because you make me want things I shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    A jolt of lust leaves me electrified. I say breathlessly, ¡°Oh God, yes, you should. You absolutely should. That was so fucking sexy, I¡¯m about to fall out of this chair.¡±

    Herugh is throaty. ¡°I have to admit, Carter, the way you talk is¡­¡±

    ¡°Is?¡± Gripping the edge of the table, I lean forward, heart pounding. ¡°Is?¡±

    Resting her hand on mine, she leans close and whispers into my ear, ¡°Interesting.¡±

    When I groan, sheughs and squeezes my hand. Looking pleased with herself, she sits back and shakes her head at my dismay.

    ¡°You¡¯re adorable.¡±

    I¡¯m crushed by that. ¡°Adorable? Like a kitten?¡±

    She picks up another piece of fish with her chopsticks and says casually, ¡°No. Like a good boy whose gorgeous face I want to see buried between my thighs.¡±

    My heart stops. My entire body floods with heat. Scalding, throbbing heat. I stare at her, unable to speak because I¡¯ve suddenly forgotten humannguage.

    Holding my stunned gaze, she lifts the chopsticks to her lips and slowly pulls the fish into her mouth with soft suction and a quiet slurping sound that makes my dick feel as if it¡¯s about to explode.

    ¡°Do you think we should have more champagne? I think we should. Excellent choice, by the way. This is delicious.¡±

    She pulls the bottle from the ice bucket and pours more bubbly into both our sses, serenely smiling and obviously enjoying the stupor she¡¯s put me into.

    And she says I¡¯m dangerous.

    ¡°You¡¯re ying with me.¡± There. I found it again, the ability to form words.

    ¡°Only a little.¡±

    ¡°So did you mean it or not?¡±

    Her smile grows wider. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡±

    When I narrow my eyes, she bursts out inughter.

    ¡°And now you¡¯reughing at me!¡±

    ¡°With you, handsome. With you. Here, I¡¯ll pay you anotherpliment to make you feel better: I admire your car collection.¡±

    I grumble, ¡°I¡¯m not sure you know the actual meaning of apliment.¡±

    ¡°Not good enough?¡±

    ¡°Not even close. Try again. And make it personal.¡±

    She¡¯s trying very hard not tough again. Her eyes sparkle, her lips are pressed together, and her shoulders shake. My glower must not be very convincing, because she covers her eyes with one hand and bites her lip.

    ¡°Ha-ha, very funny. Let¡¯s all watch poor Carter twist in the wind. I¡¯m sulking, in case you hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°I had. And it¡¯s adorable.¡±

    ¡°Adorable again? This is a disaster. Next, you¡¯ll be telling me I¡¯m cute.¡±

    ¡°Why would that be so terrible?¡±

    ¡°No man wants to be told he¡¯s cute.¡±

    ¡°What if I said it while your face was between my legs?¡±

    Smiling, she watches me suck in a breath. I¡¯m sure my cheeks are lobster red.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re evil.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m leveling the ying field. You can¡¯t always be the one being sexy.¡±

    I think for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s apliment in there somewhere.¡±

    Leaning an arm over the back of her chair, she regards me with the exact look I¡¯d like to see on her face after I make here. Her eyes are soft, her smile is wide, and she¡¯s just so¡­everything.

    I can¡¯t fuck this up.

    But that¡¯s what I do. I fuck things up. I break things. Even knowing why doesn¡¯t help, I still do it.

    ¡°Hey. Handsome.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Where did you just go?¡±

    I look away, then back into her eyes. ¡°Truth?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Always.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking I don¡¯t want to fuck this up with you.¡±

    She considers me for a thoughtful moment. ¡°You¡¯re worried you will.¡±

    My heart thudding, I moisten my lips, then nod.

    ¡°Is that something that usually happens in your rtionships?¡±

    She seems curious, not judgmental, so I take a risk and keep talking, though my blood pressure is going through the roof from nerves. ¡°I don¡¯t really have rtionships. I date a lot, but I keep things superficial. I don¡¯t ever get serious. I never let anyone in.¡±

    She studies me in silence, her gaze ufortably keen. ¡°And it¡¯s deliberate, this arm¡¯s-length distance you keep. It¡¯s not because you don¡¯t know how to be emotionally intimate. It¡¯s because you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re afraid if they know the real you, they¡¯ll no longer be interested.¡±

    Ashamed she can see through me so easily, I look down at my hands. I shouldn¡¯t have brought it up.

    ¡°So the king-of-Earth act you mentioned you do. That¡¯s what it¡¯s about.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Well, Carter, I have to tell you¡­¡±

    When she doesn¡¯t continue, I look up to see her smiling gently at me.

    ¡°I admire your self-awareness.¡±

    A little seed of hope sprouts inside my chest. ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Most people have no idea why they act the way they do. I also appreciate that you¡¯re willing to admit something unttering about yourself. It makes me feel like I can trust you.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯ve got about ny thousand awful things I can tell you about myself right now.¡±

    Sheughs at how forcefully I said that. ¡°There can¡¯t be that many.¡±

    ¡°There are probably more. It could be in the millions. If telling you makes you trust me, I¡¯ll start bbing.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary. And I¡¯d say you¡¯re adorable again, but I don¡¯t want to insult you. Will wonderful work?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say grinning. ¡°Wonderful works.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then. You¡¯re wonderful. Thank you for another great dinner.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wee. I¡¯m so d you asked me out on this date.¡±

    After a beat, she startsughing again. She doesn¡¯t stop when I take her hand and kiss it, and I¡¯ve found my new favorite thing in the world.

    Making Sophiaugh.

    The only thing that could beat it is making here.

    I¡¯m going to make that happen as soon as she¡¯ll let me.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 10

    He holds my hand the entire drive home, gripping it in a possessive way I like but shouldn¡¯t. I keep the window rolled down and let the sweet summer air tangle my hair and blow away the nagging worry of how much I enjoy hispany.

    Thest time I enjoyed a man¡¯spany this much, I married him.

    When we pull into my driveway and he shuts off the engine, he turns to me, lifting my hand to brush his lips across my knuckles.

    He murmurs, ¡°I¡¯m nervous.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quiet.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right. I forgot you want a y-by-y of my inner monologue.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m so needy.¡±

    We gaze at each other with only the ticking of the cooling engine and the crickets chirping in the grass disturbing the silence. In the shadows of the car¡¯s interior, his eyes glint like a cat¡¯s.

    Because touching him feels imperative, I reach up and caress his cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize for how you feel. You never have to apologize for being honest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just¡­¡± He struggles to find words for a moment, then starts over. ¡°I want you to think only good things about me.¡±

    ¡°I know. Which is why it¡¯s so perfect when you¡¯re vulnerable.¡±

    He thinks about that, his brows pulled together. ¡°Vulnerable is good?¡±

    ¡°Vulnerable is very good.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not good at vulnerable.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a lot better than you think.¡±

    He whispers, ¡°Okay,¡± and stares at me.

    I know what he needs. I know exactly what he needs from me because I was him once. The one who needed reassurance and direction, the one looking to someone stronger for support.

    The wave of tenderness that overtakes me is powerful.

    ¡°Sweet boy,¡± I murmur, cupping his face in my hands. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared.¡±

    ¡°I normally wouldn¡¯t, but you¡¯re a little terrifying.¡±

    ¡°You know what I meant. You¡¯re safe with me. I¡¯ll always tell you the truth.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I don¡¯t want the truth to be anything bad.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not thinking anything bad. I promise. I¡¯m just surprised by you.¡±

    He exhales, nodding. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Would you like toe inside and give me a kiss goodnight?¡±

    He answers with a straight face and an air of dead seriousness. ¡°I¡¯d kill for it.¡±

    Smiling, I kiss his cheek. ¡°You¡¯re a lunatic, but I appreciate the enthusiasm. Now, let¡¯s go inside before my elderly neighbor next door gets more of an eyeful than she already has.¡±

    A gleam of mischievousnesses into his eyes. ¡°Oh, we could really give her something to remember. How about if I spread you out on the hood and eat you for dessert?¡±

    That sounds incredibly tempting, but I keep my expression passive and crack open the door. With a yelp of dismay, he bounds out of the car and runs over to my side.

    ¡°Queens don¡¯t open their own doors,¡± he admonishes, swinging it wider so I can step out.

    I like the sound of that, but don¡¯tment on it. I¡¯m too focused on getting inside and getting his mouth on mine.

    He¡¯s right behind me as I head up the walkway, right there as I unlock the door. As soon as I¡¯ve got it open, he brushes past me, closes it, grabs my purse and drops it onto the console, then turns back to me and takes me in his arms.

    We kiss, making identical soft moans of relief when our lips meet.

    When wee up for air, he says raggedly, ¡°I love making out with you in the dark. The only thing better is if we were naked. And all the lights were on.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re criminally charming. Kiss me again. I wasn¡¯t finished with you.¡±

    His groan is soft. ¡°Fuck, I love it when you¡¯re bossy.¡±

    For such an infamous yboy, the man is a hopeless romantic. Under all that macho swagger, he¡¯s impossibly sweet. And, like I told him, that makes him dangerous.

    Macho I can handle. Macho makes the bog witch snort and hiss. Sweet stuns her into confusion, and confused is when the real trouble starts.

    We kiss greedily, devouring each other, my hands in his hair and his arms around my body. I appreciate how big and solid he is and tell him so.

    He drops his head and presses his cheek to my neck. It¡¯s burning. In a husky voice, he says, ¡°You make me feel good.¡±

    ¡°You make me feel good.¡±

    ¡°I feel like I just won the lottery.¡±

    Iugh at that. ¡°I suppose that would be more of apliment if you didn¡¯t already have all that money.¡±

    ¡°Fuck. You¡¯re right. How about this: I feel like I had terminal cancer and a doctor just told me it¡¯s cured.¡±

    ¡°Oh. My.¡±

    He lifts his head and looks at me. ¡°That was weird.¡±

    ¡°A little. What kind of cancer?¡±

    ¡°Testicr?¡±

    Now we¡¯re bothughing, entangled in the dark in each other¡¯s arms, our bodies pressed together. He smells delicious. He tastes even better. I¡¯d like to lick him up and down his naked body, trace my tongue over every inch of his golden skin.

    He presses me back against the door and grinds his pelvis into mine, rubbing his erection against me. I can¡¯t help the small groan of need that escapes me. It¡¯s been forever since I¡¯ve felt this way.

    No, beforest night it had been forever. I¡¯m on day two of his strange little high. By week¡¯s end, I might be levitating.

    He breaks away from my mouth and rasps, ¡°I need to taste you. I want to run my tongue over every curve of your body.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s so strange. I was just thinking the exact same thing about you.¡±

    ¡°Really? Oh fuck. This is better than Christmas!¡±

    We grin at each other like two people getting away with something dangerous and illegal. We¡¯re bank robbers who made off with the loot. I¡¯m dimly aware that my rational mind is leaving me, but I honestly could not care less.

    He makes me feel so alive.

    I¡¯ve been sleepwalking until now, going through the daily grind of work and the small and big heartaches of motherhood, doing my best to pay the bills and raise a good human that I forgot about fun. There¡¯s been no time for fun except on the asional weeknight in sixty-second spurts with my vibrator.

    This is so much better than that, and we haven¡¯t even gotten to the good stuff yet.

    Wait¡ªwhat the hell am I saying? Yet? Is sex already a foregone conclusion?

    ¡°Uh-oh,¡± he says. ¡°Your smile just died.¡±

    Exhaling, I close my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m overthinking again.¡±

    ¡°Do you¡­do you want me to leave?¡±

    Groaning, I drop my head to his chest. ¡°God, drive a stake through my heart, why don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°You sounded devastated.¡±

    ¡°I am devastated.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not making this easy for me, you know.¡±

    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m doing something wrong.¡±

    I lift my head and gaze at him, so handsome and confused, so eager to please me, and think I¡¯ll have to build an underground, steel-enforced bomb shelter for the bog witch. There¡¯s no way she can survive this devastating level of attraction.

    Winding my arms tighter around his shoulders, I look up into his eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. I¡¯m rusty is all. I¡¯m not sure what the rules are anymore.¡±

    ¡°There aren¡¯t any rules. We can do anything. This can be however you want it to be.¡±

    ¡°It just seems like we¡¯re moving at supersonic speed.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. We¡¯ve had two dates now, and I haven¡¯t been inside you yet. We¡¯re moving slooow.¡±

    Iugh at his shamelessness as he bends his head and nuzzles my throat. ¡°Okay, handsome. I¡¯m ttered, and I¡¯m very tempted, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m old school. I don¡¯t bed hop.¡±

    He lifts his head and considers me, his grin roguish. ¡°How tempted?¡±

    I p him lightly on the back. ¡°You have selective hearing, my friend.¡±

    ¡°No, I heard you. You don¡¯t bed hop. But there won¡¯t be any hopping. Once we get into bed, we¡¯ll never get out.¡±

    He takes my mouth again, kissing me so passionately, I¡¯m breathless. His hands rove over my body, gripping my waist and hips, cupping my ass. His fingers dig into my flesh as if he¡¯s trying to memorize me.

    I¡¯d make a quip about his manners, but I¡¯m enjoying myself too much to bother.

    When he breaks away next, he¡¯s breathing hard. He takes my face in his hands and gazes deep into my eyes.

    ¡°Let me make youe.¡±

    Heart thumping, I bite my lip and stare at him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it. Do you want me to?¡±

    ¡°Yes. No. I don¡¯t know. Probably? God, that¡¯s a loaded question.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to reciprocate. I just need to taste you, and I want to make youe. I¡¯ll get on my knees right here, right now.¡±

    My pulse is flying. I can¡¯t catch my breath. I don¡¯t know that I¡¯ve ever been made such a tempting offer. By such a snack, no less.

    When I don¡¯t respond, Carter puts his mouth next to my ear and says roughly, ¡°I want to eat your pussy, Sophia. I want you toe in my mouth. I want to go to bed tonight with your taste on my lips. After I make youe, I¡¯ll leave, so you don¡¯t have to worry about me trying to take it further. Yes or no?¡±

    I think I hear the faint roar of all my female ancestors collectively screaming YES! but as it turns out, I don¡¯t need their encouragement.

    He bought me dinner. He sent me roses. He told me he thinks I¡¯m perfect and beautiful, which I suspect he honestly means. And he wants to pleasure me with no strings attached.

    As far as wooing goes, I doubt it gets much better.

    What the hell. I¡¯m bored with that vibrator, anyway.

    Decided, I rest my hands on his shoulders, look him in the eye, and press down.

    He instantly sinks to his knees in front of me, buries his face between my legs, and digs those long, strong fingers of his into my ass. He inhales against my skirt, exhales with a soft groan, and whispers, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    I should be the one thanking him, but he¡¯s sliding his hands up my thighs, pushing my skirt up, and I¡¯m no longer interested in conversation.

    He stares at my panties. I¡¯m so d I wore a cute pair. They¡¯re ck with a littlece, nothing too sexy or expensive, but you wouldn¡¯t know it by his expression of desire.

    He shoves my skirt up to my hips and rubs his cheek against my panties, then drags them down my legs with one hand and stuffs them in his pocket. Then he buries his face between my legs and inhales again, this time directly against my skin.

    When his hot wet tongue flicks over my clit, I jump and gasp. The sensation is intense. Decadent. Dizzying. He strokes his tongue up and down using only the tip in small, expert motions that send waves of pleasure throughout my lower body and harden my nipples to aching points.

    I dig my fingers into his hair, drop my head back against the door, and close my eyes, enjoying every flick and lick, knowing instinctively what he needs to hear to make him keep going.

    ¡°So good,¡± I whisper breathlessly. ¡°You¡¯re such a good boy, Carter.¡±

    He groans into me.

    It reverberates through my core, fantastic vibrations made even better because it¡¯s so dirty. I rock my hips in time to the strokes of his tongue, losing what might have been left of any inhibitions when he suddenly shoves his tongue deep inside me.

    I arch and groan, pulling at his hair. My thighs shake. I don¡¯t know how much longer I¡¯ll be able to remain standing.

    Heshes his tongue back and forth over my engorged clit, sucking on it intermittently, holding my pussy open with two fingers of one hand and finger fucking me with the other. I pant and moan, jerking my hips, my nipples throbbing and my pulse flying and wetness slipping down my thighs.

    I call out his name. He grunts in pleasure and shoves his fingers deeper inside me, thrusting them in and out.

    When I orgasm, the world goes white behind my closed eyelids. My cries of ecstasy echo through the dark house. Heps andps at me, drinking me in, grinding his face into me as I pull his hair and empty my lungs and praise him over and over again, lost to sensation.

    What a good boy, indeed.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 11

    It¡¯s the third Tuesday night of the month. Which means I¡¯m at the Ivy restaurant with my best friends, Val and Evelyn, eating dinner, drinking wine, and gabbing.

    It¡¯s been our ritual since we graduated college. The three of us went to UCLA together, met around the keg at a party at a frat house, and have been inseparable ever since.

    We took Val to the ER after someone spiked her beer with Rohypnol that night. Trauma bonding can really cement a friendship.

    ¡°Bitch, if you eat all that salsa before I can even get a chip in there, I¡¯ll cut you.¡±

    I smile at Val. ¡°Sure you will.¡±

    ¡°I one hundred percent will!¡±

    ¡°With what? Sarcasm? You¡¯re the least violent person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    She twirls a lock of her curly dark hair between two fingers and smiles back at me. Behind a thick pair of sses, her big green eyes shine. ¡°I could be violent if I wanted to. I just don¡¯t want to. Nobody¡¯s got time for that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got time for that,¡± says Ev, swirling a ss of French white. She¡¯s the fair one of the group, with xen hair and skin so pale, it glows. Tall and willowy, she looks like an elf queen from a Tolkien book. ¡°In fact, I almost murdered someone today.¡±

    ¡°Again?¡± Val doesn¡¯t seem surprised.

    ¡°Listen, this guy had iting! Wait til I tell you what he did.¡±

    ¡°I know what he did. He breathed wrong, and you decided he deserved to die.¡±

    Ev thinks about that for a moment. ¡°Pretty much. Perimenopause is no joke, girls.¡±

    Iugh. ¡°Tell me about it. I had to get up in the middle of the night twicest week to change my nightgown because it was soaking wet.¡±

    Val makes a noise of sympathy. ¡°You¡¯re getting hot shes?¡±

    ¡°No, just the night sweats so far. My days haven¡¯t been affected. You?¡±

    ¡°Big time. I was standing in the checkout line at Whole Foods, hoping nobody would notice the boob sweat soaking through my blouse. I¡¯m gonna have to start wearing undershirts.¡±

    Ev snorts. She manages to make it sound elegant. ¡°At least you¡¯re not dealing with the mood swings yet. I¡¯ve got three new personalities, and they¡¯re all batshit.¡±

    Val¡¯s smile is affectionate. ¡°Babe, you were always batshit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but now I¡¯m weepy, sleepy, snappy, and batshit. This is why I call BS when people say God is a woman.¡±

    Val sighs. ¡°Here we go.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. First, a woman would never make mistakes like cancer, aging, and putting a man¡¯s G spot inside his ass but then making anal sex a sin. But also, a female deity would never make women go through menopause. Just when you think you¡¯ve got it all figured out, your life is finally under control, and you¡¯re thriving, boom! Bye-bye estrogen, hello facial hair, belly fat, and total loss of libido. I feel like my whole body just pulled the wee mat and said ¡®Fuck it. We¡¯re closing up shop.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Loss of Libido? Are you and Brian still having sex?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s having sex with me, but I¡¯m lying there thinking about all the things I¡¯d rather be doing. I literally have no interest at all. I¡¯d feel bad for him, but I¡¯m too busy being annoyed by every word thates out of his mouth. He caught me staring at him across the dinner table the other night and asked what I was thinking. I couldn¡¯t tell him I was wishing he¡¯d move to ska, so I just poured another ss of wine and tried not to cry. Twenty minutester, I was enraged by a cat foodmercial and shouting at the TV. My poor kids. They must think their mother was abducted by aliens and reced with a shrew.¡±

    She shakes her head in disbelief. ¡°I asked my mother how long this crapsts, and she said for her it was ten years before she felt sane again.¡±

    We murmur our collective horror at the situation. The waiter arrives with our food and distributes the tes. I order another round of drinks for the table, then attack my chicken sd. I¡¯ve been ravenous all day.

    That might have something to do withst night. Carter gave me an amazing orgasm with his mouth, but when he left, I still wanted more.

    I wanted everything.

    Which is why I¡¯m d he left when he did. If I woke up with him in my bed this morning, there might have been no turning back.

    I have a bad habit of falling for men after I have sex with them, as if my heart isn¡¯t located in my chest but somewhere deep inside my vagina.

    We chat for a while, catching up, until Val asks around a mouthful of salmon, ¡°Anything new with Nick?¡±

    I¡¯m about to answer when she chokes on her food, coughing fish out onto her te.

    ¡°Jesus, girl, you eat like a buffalo.¡±

    Her eyes watering, Val wheezes, ¡°Fuck off, Evelyn. You have never once seen a fucking buffalo eat.¡±

    ¡°You know what I¡¯m saying. You¡¯re a mess.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re a nutcase. Look into hormone recement before I unfriend you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to give myself cancer, thank you very much.¡±

    ¡°HRT doesn¡¯t cause cancer. Read the studies.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, they didn¡¯t think DDT caused cancer either. Look what happened there.¡±

    Because I know they¡¯ll bicker back and forth like an old married couple for an hour, I distract them before things gopletely off the rails. ¡°Nick took Harlow to Cabo for a vacation.¡±

    ¡°Just the two of them?¡± asks Ev.

    ¡°Oh no. Brittany went with.¡±

    Recovered from her coughing attack, Val shudders. ¡°How weird for Harlow that her wicked stepmother is almost as young as she is.¡±

    ¡°Brittany¡¯s not wicked. She¡¯s just misguided. I actually feel sorry for her.¡±

    Ev sips her wine and shakes her head. ¡°You¡¯re a saint. I would¡¯ve wed out her eyes the second I found out they were sleeping together.¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t the onemitting adultery. Anyway, I¡¯m better off now.¡±

    Thinking ofst night, I smile. It isn¡¯t lost on Val. She¡¯s especially attentive to people¡¯s expressions. I think she would have been be an incredible criminal interrogator, but instead she¡¯s a contract attorney.

    ¡°What¡¯s that smirk for? You put new batteries in the vibrator?¡±

    ¡°I had a date. It went well.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? How well?¡±

    ¡°It ended in an epic orgasm.¡±

    Brows raised, Ev and Val look at each other, then back at me. Ev says, ¡°Keep talking before I stab you.¡±

    ¡°We went to dinner at Nobu¡ª¡±

    ¡°For God¡¯s sake, cut to the chase! Nobody cares where you went to dinner. Talk about the epic orgasm. I need to live vicariously.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Well, he was on his knees. I was standing with my back against the front door. Then he kissed me goodnight and went home. It was lovely.¡±

    I eat more sd as my girlfriends gape at me. Then Ev turns to Val and muses, ¡°Does she think I won¡¯t break every te on this table if she doesn¡¯t keep talking?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not much more to tell.¡±

    Ev pounds her fist on the tabletop, making the silverware jump and tter. ¡°Are you kidding me? I will carve out your heart with that bread stick.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Val¡¯s right about the hormones, love. You¡¯re maniacal.¡±

    When she grabs a bread stick from the wicker basket in the middle of the table and waves it menacingly at me, I hold up my hands in surrender,ughing. ¡°Okay, fine. What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±

    ¡°Carter.¡±

    The girls share an approving nce. Val says, ¡°Sounds like a hottie.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s a hottie all right. He¡¯s so hot, he gives me third-degree burns.¡±

    ¡°How did you meet him? Online?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve actually known him for a while. We attended a business meeting togetherst year. He¡¯s on the board of anotherpany that wanted to buy mine. Then I ran into him again at the gym over the weekend and he asked me out.¡±

    Ev says, ¡°So he¡¯s a suit.¡±

    ¡°Why do you sound disapproving?¡±

    ¡°Nick¡¯s a suit too.¡±

    ¡°So? Am I only allowed to date blue-cor workers now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying you have a type. Hot suits with giant egos and a tendency for dickish behavior.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t deny Carter has an ego, but he definitely isn¡¯t dickish. He¡¯s actually quite sweet.¡±

    ¡°Ego and dickery go hand in hand, dummy.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m serious.¡±

    Val purses her lips and issues a challenge. ¡°Like how is he sweet?¡±

    I think about it for a moment. ¡°He¡¯s vulnerable.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°He talks about how he feels. He¡¯s very in touch with his emotions.¡±

    Ev looks incredulous. ¡°In touch with his emotions? What is he, a family therapist?¡±

    ¡°I already told you he¡¯s an executive.¡±

    ¡°This is highly suspicious. What man our age do you know who talks about how he feels? None. They¡¯d rather eat shards of ss and walk a mile barefoot over burning coals.¡±

    Val agrees, nodding. ¡°Sounds like he was just trying to get into your underwear.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Ev. I don¡¯t know any men our age who talk about their feelings. But he¡¯s not our age.¡±

    Val pulls a face. ¡°You¡¯re dating a geezer? How old are we talking? Seventy?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Older? Oh God. Can he even get it up? Is that why he went down on you, then left?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s twenty-nine.¡±

    Total silence reigns for a few seconds, then Val whistles. ¡°You¡¯re my hero.¡±

    Ev says, ¡°You¡¯re my superhero. Twenty-nine? That¡¯s like a million years younger than us.¡±

    ¡°I think your math¡¯s off by a hair.¡±

    Sheughs. ¡°It might as well be a million years. What did you talk about with a guy in his twenties? The MTV awards and video games?¡±

    Feeling defensive of Carter, I say, ¡°He¡¯s a professional, Ev, not a skater boy. He¡¯s educated. He even speaks Japanese. And he sits the board of thergest and most powerful mediapany in the world.¡±

    Frowning, Val cocks her head. ¡°Are you talking about McCord Media?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh my God. You¡¯re dating Carter McCord?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make it sound like a natural disaster. He¡¯s perfectly nice.¡±

    ¡°Nice?¡± Val cackles. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s nice all right. He¡¯s nice all over town with every woman he can get his hands on. The guy¡¯s a total yer.¡±

    My stomach tightens. ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°My hairdresser dated him for a hot minute. I mean, all they did was fuck, so I don¡¯t think we can technically call it dating, but he ghosted her after she said she wanted to be exclusive.¡±

    Remembering the story on his Wikipedia page about the wild yacht party with the girls¡¯ volleyball team, I feel slightly nauseated. Then I remind myself that was a decade ago while he was in college.

    ¡°How long ago was he with your hairdresser?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember which month, but it was earlier this year. She said she saw in the gossip rags he was linked to a bunch of other women after that, none of themsting more than a few weeks. She was really sore about it. She felt used.¡±

    My thoughts drift back tost night. Was that look on the hostess¡¯s face at Nobu when she saw us together more than wistfulness? Was it jealousy? Was it hurt?

    Did he fuck that girl, toss her aside, then casually offer to have her fired?

    The Carter I know wouldn¡¯t be so cruel. But then again, I hardly know him at all.

    Two dinners and one orgasm does not a close rtionship make.

    I moisten my dry mouth with a sip of wine. ¡°Well. If I were single, in my twenties, and had all that money, I¡¯d probably be having a lot of fun too.¡±

    Val and Ev peer at me with identical looks of skepticism. Val says, ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you actually like this guy.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to. You¡¯re defending him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m merely making the point that he¡¯s not doing anything wrong by enjoying himself.¡±

    They exchange another nce, which gets on my nerves.

    ¡°Come on, guys. You¡¯re making too big a deal of this. We went on two dates. We had a little oral. End of story.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re not going to see him again?¡±

    ¡°I have no ns to.¡±

    This is technically true, as I still haven¡¯t answered the half dozen texts he sent after he leftst night and this morning asking me to let hime over tonight and tongue fuck me again.

    Ev pronounces with finality, ¡°Good. Because you went through too much hell with Nick to rebound with some womanizer who goes through girls like pairs of socks.¡±

    I know she¡¯s just being protective, but all this negativity is getting on my nerves. Even if he is a yboy and goes through women like socks, it¡¯s my decision whether or not I see him again.

    ¡°Nick and I have been divorced for two years. It¡¯s hardly a rebound. How¡¯s your mom, Val?¡±

    I can tell by her expression that she doesn¡¯t want to let the subject of Carter go, but she decides to have mercy on me and changes the subject.

    ¡°We just heard her cancer¡¯s back.¡±

    ¡°Oh no. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°My dad¡¯s acting like she has a cold. He¡¯s so dismissive, like she¡¯s making a fuss over nothing.¡±

    ¡°Shutting down is probably just his way of coping with stress. Either that, or he¡¯s in denial because he¡¯s scared.¡±

    She nods, sighing. ¡°Yeah. But that makes it even more stressful for everyone else, feeling like you have to walk around on eggshells. Anyway, both my sisters are with her now. I¡¯m going to fly out to Scottsdale next week to be with her at her first chemo appointment.¡±

    I reach over and squeeze her hand. Ev, who lost both parents to cancer within months of each otherst year, squeezes her shoulder. Then we drink in silence, each upied with our own thoughts.

    ¡°How¡¯s your mom, Soph?¡± says Ev.

    ¡°Not great. Will says she¡¯s starting to get incontinent, not to mention mean.¡±

    ¡°More mean? Is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°Apparently. She asked him if he thought she¡¯d go to jail if she smothered him in his sleep.¡±

    Ev chuckles. ¡°She said that to her golden boy, the prince? Wow.¡±

    ¡°That was my reaction. It could be the onset of dementia. I¡¯ve heard people¡¯s personalities can change for the worse. In any case, he wants to put her into assisted living.¡±

    Val says, ¡°And give up the tax benefit he gets for being her primary caretaker? That doesn¡¯t sound like our Will. He¡¯d step over a dying person to pick up the dor bill on the ground on the other side of them.¡±

    Of course they know about the time he was arrested for stealing when he was a teenager. And the time he forged paperwork to impersonate my father to get a loan. And all the other morally gray things he¡¯s done chasing money that never seem to satisfy his craving for it.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s just worn out. I can¡¯t me him. Five years of caring for Carmelina Bianco would drain the life force out of anyone. So I¡¯ll have to find more money in my budget to share the cost of getting her into a good facility.¡±

    After a moment, Ev says gently, ¡°You know you¡¯re not obligated to do that, right?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my mother.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not written anywhere that you have to reward bad behavior.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. And she¡¯s still my mother.¡±

    Val says, ¡°She treated you like a scullery maid. Cindere¡¯s evil stepmother was nicer, which is why you worked your ass off to get that schrship to UCLA. So you could get out of that house of horrors.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound like I grew up with Charles Manson.¡±

    ¡°No. But maybe Crue de Vil. Do you remember that time she told me I looked like my face had been lit on fire and someone put it out with a shovel?¡±

    I wince at the memory.

    My father begged me toe home for Christmas my junior year in college, and I agreed only under the condition a friend coulde with me. I needed the emotional support. But I knew as soon as we arrived that it was a mistake. I thought my father would run interference like he usually did, deflecting the worst of my mom¡¯s snide remarks and passive aggressive negativity, but she took one look at Val and sharpened her knives.

    Val isn¡¯t a ssic beauty, but she¡¯s grown from an awkward teenager into a striking woman who¡¯s smart, funny, and strong. Unfortunately, a person¡¯s good inner qualities don¡¯t matter to someone who doesn¡¯t have any of their own.

    We didn¡¯t make it to dinner. On the drive back to campus, I apologized to Val so profusely, she finally told me to shut up.

    ¡°You can¡¯t choose your parents,¡± she said, and we never spoke of it again. Until now.

    ¡°Yes, I remember. I¡¯m still kicking myself over my stupidity thinking that she¡¯d behave.¡±

    Val waves that off. ¡°Her BS is on her, not you. The important thing is that you turned out halfway decent despite your awful mother.¡±

    ¡°Halfway decent? Stop, I¡¯m getting teary-eyed.¡±

    She smiles and blows me a kiss.

    ¡°Speaking of awful, do you want to hear the bombshell Nick casually dropped on me when he came to pick up Harlow?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Brittany¡¯s pregnant.¡± I nce down at my sd to escape their twin expressions of dismay. ¡°It was bound to happen. I suppose I just wasn¡¯t expecting it so soon, considering they¡¯re not married yet.¡±

    Ev is livid. ¡°Yeah, and because she¡¯s still a baby herself! I didn¡¯t even think this whole wedding business would actually ur, but now they¡¯re pregnant?¡±

    ¡°How are you sitting with that?¡± asks Val softly. ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have a choice. It is what it is.¡±

    Ev says hotly, ¡°That fucker. You had to have a hysterectomy because your fibroids were so painful, they were debilitating, but he acted like you were faking it to get out of having another child. Then he hooked up with a girl young enough to be his daughter while you were still married and decides to have another baby with her? Major asshole.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know if it was his decision or not. History is full of women who thought a baby would help keep the rtionship together.¡±

    ¡°Oh please. If Nick didn¡¯t want that baby, he¡¯d be out of there so fast, her head would spin. That¡¯s how he is: my way or the highway.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± agrees Val, nodding. ¡°You know what I think? He¡¯s punishing you.¡±

    ¡°Bingo,¡± say Ev. ¡°He¡¯s still mad that you left. He thought he could have his cake and eat it too, but he didn¡¯t realize you weren¡¯t ying that game anymore.¡±

    Val sighs. ¡°Men are so disappointing. Sometimes, I think heterosexuality is a curse.¡±

    Ev turns to her, smiling. ¡°Are you trying to tell me you¡¯re in love with me? Because I¡¯ve suspected it for years.¡±

    ¡°Of course you have. You¡¯re the sun in your own little sr system. Honestly, though, I think lesbians have it made. Imagine never having to exin to your partner that period cramps are real.¡±

    Ev nods in agreement. ¡°Or that leaving dirty clothes on the floor next to theundry basket isn¡¯t the same thing as putting them inside it.¡±

    ¡°Or that caring for your own child isn¡¯t ¡®helping out.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Or that saying ¡®I love you¡¯ isn¡¯t only for when you¡¯re about to die.¡±

    My phone chimes. I slip it from my purse and look at the screen. It¡¯s a text from Carter.

    I¡¯m trying not to worry that you haven¡¯t texted me back all day, but I¡¯m low-key panicking. If I did something wrong, please tell me. I¡¯ll fix it. I¡¯m gaga over you. When can I see you again?

    His eagerness unfurls a bud of tenderness beneath my breastbone. I was spot on when I told him he was dangerous, because I only wrestle with myself for seconds before replying.

    You didn¡¯t do anything wrong. If you¡¯re free tomorrow night, I¡¯ll cook you dinner. My ce. Six.

    He answers instantly.

    YES FUCK YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES!!!

    That¡¯s followed by a gif of SpongeBob SquarePants passing out in a dead faint.

    I return the phone to my handbag. When I look up, Val and Ev are stillining about men.

    ¡°Yes,¡± says Val. ¡°There are great guys out there. The problem is that they¡¯re all gay.¡±

    Before today, I might have agreed with them. Now, I simply sip my wine and think.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 12

    I have troubled dreams that night. I toss and turn and wake up sweating. In the morning, I¡¯m groggy, so I caffeinate myself into semiconsciousness and make it through a budget meeting and my annual performance review with HR, in which they inform me I¡¯m getting a raise.

    I tell them I¡¯m thankful for the recognition, but it¡¯s not enough, and I¡¯d like them to consult with Mr. Hartman to see how they can do better.

    The HR reps are obviously startled by my request, but I didn¡¯t rise to this level in my field by ying it safe. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I leave the meeting feeling energized.

    On my lunch break, I review Will¡¯s email about our options for Mom. None of them are ideal for one reason or another, but all of them have one thing inmon.

    They¡¯re ungodly expensive.

    I email my stock broker and ask him to rmend a few strong assisted care stocks for my portfolio, because if the pricing structure is any indication, the industry is making profits hand over fist. Then I email Will to tell him I looked at the data he sent but would like to explore more choices before moving forward.

    He responds within minutes to tell me that I¡¯m selfish, difficult, and a few other unpleasant things I scan over before moving the email into the trash folder.

    Then I sit at my desk and stare out the window, my thoughts drifting to Carter.

    The enormous bouquet of roses he sent isn¡¯t showing any signs of wilting. Every strong, erect stem seems like an endorsement for the virility of its sender.

    I resist the urge to conduct a forensic search of his past on the inte and make a Pros and Cons list of dating him on a yellow legal pad instead.

    The Pros list is short, but it has Excellent Oral Sex in the top spot, which I think is quitepelling. I abandon the Cons list when it stretches to twenty and run the sheet of paper through the shredder.

    I spend the rest of the day engaged in busy work that would pass as productive from an onlooker¡¯s standpoint but is actually a ruse for the real work I¡¯m doing: nning the menu for tonight¡¯s dinner and fighting off the blossoming fear that I might be having a midlife crisis.

    I¡¯ve already got the hot young thing on my arm and the inner turmoil. What¡¯s next? A new sports car? Liposuction?

    I stop at the grocery store on the way home, then quickly shower and dress. Standing in front of my bedroom mirror, I shake my head at my nervous reflection and tell her she¡¯ll be fine.

    Knowing that I shaved my legs in the shower, my reflection silently judges me.

    By the time the doorbell rings at six, I¡¯m on my second ss of wine. Carter stands on my front step, holding a colorful bouquet of wildflowers and grinning. He takes one look at me and stops smiling.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re making that face again.¡±

    ¡°The one where I look freaked out?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just nerves.¡±

    ¡°What are you nervous about?¡±

    ¡°I shaved my legs.¡±

    His gaze sweeps over me, down my body to my bare legs beneath my skirt and back up again. His blue eyes are soft and warm. His voice is husky.

    ¡°I¡¯m honored.¡±

    ¡°You should be. Are those flowers for me?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He holds out the bouquet. I take it and stand there with my nose in it, sniffing and stalling, feeling my pulse roaring through every vein in my body.

    Carter gently grips my shoulders, moves me backward several paces into the foyer, then turns and closes the door behind us. He removes the bouquet I¡¯m using as a shield and sets it on the console table.

    Then he takes me in his arms and hugs me.

    We stand in silence for a moment, just breathing each other in, until he murmurs, ¡°I¡¯m not taking anything for granted. Go put on pants if it makes you feel better. Put on your ugliest sweats. Put on an iron chastity belt.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t own an iron chastity belt. Even if I did, you¡¯d probably have a skeleton key for it, anyway.¡±

    He takes my face in his hands and gazes down into my eyes. ¡°I do,¡± he whispers teasingly. ¡°Just call me The Locksmith.¡±

    ¡°Because unlocking deadbolted underwear is your superpower. That was on my Cons list.¡±

    He furrows his brow. ¡°You made a Cons list about me?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°Was it long?¡±

    ¡°Very.¡±

    ¡°Longer than the Pros list?¡±

    ¡°By a mile.¡±

    ¡°Well, shit. I guess I¡¯ll have to try harder.¡±

    ¡°You can start by giving me a kiss. That was one of the things on the Pros list¡­your kissing prowess.¡±

    ¡°Was it now?¡± He grins, cocky as a pirate and pleased as all get-out.

    He¡¯s adorable. Charming, handsome, irresistible, and adorable.

    What a disaster.

    I wrap my arms around his waist, rise up on my toes, and kiss him. Hard.

    He responds hungrily, kissing me back with passion, sliding his tongue against mine. I cling to him, feeling his heartbeat, thrilled by every bit of him but also wishing we¡¯d never met.

    I was okay before him. I was doing just fine. Life was good. Not exciting but solid. I had my daughter, I had my girls, I had my work, and I was climbing the rungs of that corporatedder with a clear-eyed persistence and dogged determination that served me well.

    And now this.

    Now Carter.

    I¡¯m doomed.

    Carter breaks away, breathing hard and staring down at me in confusion. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Oh. I said that out loud, didn¡¯t I?¡± Myugh is ufortable. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Are you angry with me?¡±

    ¡°No, sweet boy. I¡¯m the opposite of angry with you. I¡¯mpletely enamored.¡±

    He stares at me for a beat, his expression intense and his lips parted, his eyes shining with hope. ¡°You are?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Like¡­a lot?¡±

    I smile and brush a lock of hair from his forehead. ¡°Terminally, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    He¡¯s so thrilled by that, his intake of breath is audible. Exultant, he whispers, ¡°This is the best day of my life.¡±

    I throw my head back andugh. He kisses my throat, growling like a bear and nipping my skin with his teeth, then gathers me in his arms and sighs.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to thank me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. Because you¡¯re going to show me your bedroom now.¡±

    I pull away slightly and lift a brow. ¡°And why am I going to do that?¡±

    ¡°So you can change into your ugliest sweats, and I can snoop around while you¡¯re doing it.¡±

    ¡°You really want to see my bedroom? It¡¯s not all that exciting.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s like telling a priest the Sistine Chapel isn¡¯t all that exciting.¡±

    ¡°All right. As long as you don¡¯t break into prayer¡­¡±

    I take his hand and lead him upstairs. He stares at everything as we go¡ªthe furniture, the artwork, the carpeting¡ªas if he¡¯smitting it all to memory. By the time we reach my bedroom, I¡¯m convinced he could easily find his way around in the dark.

    I release his hand and lean against the door frame, gesturing for him to go in.

    He steps inside, sniffing the air. In the middle of the room, he turns a slow circle, taking the same careful visual inventory of items that he did as we came up. His expression is one of awe and wonderment, and I have to suppress a smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a shrine.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you think.¡± He crosses to the windows and peers out into the yard.

    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to make me think you¡¯re nning a burry, it¡¯s working.¡±

    Looking over his shoulder, he grins at me. ¡°I¡¯m scaring you.¡±

    ¡°A little. Why are you smiling?¡±

    ¡°Because usually you¡¯re the one scaring me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating again.¡±

    ¡°I never exaggerate.¡±

    ¡°You told me I¡¯m the most beautiful woman in the world. That¡¯s a massive exaggeration, not to mention factually inurate and easily disprovable.¡±

    He gazes at me from across the room for a long moment, then says quietly, ¡°If anything, it was an understatement.¡±

    Surely, he must be able to hear my thudding heart. If not, I know he can see the flush spreading up my neck because I can feel it staining my skin and settling hotly into my ears.

    Turning from the window, he meanders over to the dresser and trails his fingers along the edge, stopping to pick up a silver-framed photo of me and Harlow, taken when she was six.

    We¡¯re lying on the grass in the backyard, barefoot in summer dresses, her head on my stomach,ughing up at the camera. Our happiness is palpable. It¡¯s my favorite photograph. A snapshot from a simpler time.

    ¡°That¡¯s Harlow, my daughter. She¡¯s fourteen now. She never smiles like that anymore.¡±

    Carter gazes at me, his expression serious. ¡°Puberty¡¯s tough.¡±

    ¡°Was it for you?¡±

    He turns his gaze back to the picture in his hand, then nods. His voice lowers. ¡°Excruciating.¡±

    He adds nothing more, but the pain behind that single word moves me.

    ¡°Does she live with her dad?¡±

    ¡°No, she lives with me. He gets her every other weekend. They¡¯re away together right now, though, down in Cabo.¡±

    Deep in thought, Carter stares at the photograph a moment longer, then gently sets it back into ce.

    Then he disappears into my closet.

    I call, ¡°If youe out of there wearing a pair of my underwear on your head, this date is so over.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s another date! I knew it!¡±

    I shake my head,ughing, but stopughing when he reappears with a ratty pair of gray sweatpants with UCLA printed in huge faded gold letters down one leg and a smattering of suspicious stains on the other.

    Holding them up by a forefinger, he says, ¡°These. Are. Hideous.¡±

    ¡°Congrattions. You have eyes.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the top?¡±

    ¡°You really want me to change into sweats?¡±

    ¡°No, what I want is for you to befortable. So cover up those legs you¡¯re regretting shaving, and let¡¯s go back downstairs and have a drink.¡±

    On his way past me out the door, he drapes the sweats over my head, then swats me on the ass.

    ¡°And be quick about it, woman! I¡¯m thirsty!¡±

    I stand there for a moment,ughing softly and shaking my head.

    The king of Earth is back.

    I rummage through the closet to find the matching sweatshirt, then change out of my nice outfit and into the ratty sweats. I feel better instantly. Deciding to keep going with the theme, I go into the bathroom and wash all the makeup off my face, then put my hair into a ponytail.

    My reflection is much happier with me than she was earlier.

    When I go back downstairs, I find Carter standing at the kitchen sink, arranging the bouquet of flowers he brought into a crystal vase. Without looking up, he says, ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I snooped around in every single cupboard while trying to find a vase for these. Did you ever see that movie with Julia Roberts, Sleeping With the Enemy?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Forever ago. Her ex-husband was stalking her, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Your pantry reminded me of that guy, how anal he was. Everything is arranged so perfectly, it could be an ad in a magazine. I wonder if you¡¯re secretly a stalker?¡±

    He nces up, smiling, but the smile falls off his face the moment he sees me.

    I drop a mock curtsy. ¡°You said you wanted mefortable. Careful what you wish for.¡±

    When he doesn¡¯t say anything and only stands there looking haunted, I grow self-conscious.

    ¡°Why are you gaping at me like that?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re even more beautiful without makeup. I¡¯ve been blinded. It¡¯s like staring straight into the sun.¡±

    Smiling, I cross over to him and kiss him on the cheek. ¡°That was a good one. Bonus points for creativity. What would you like to drink?¡±

    He drops the stem and pair of scissors he¡¯s holding and pulls me into a hug. ¡°You,¡± he says, then kisses me.

    Winding my arms around his broad shoulders, I sink against him and into the kiss. His mouth is wonderful. Plush. He has lips like a girl¡¯s, full and soft, not thin and hard like Nick¡¯s were.

    ¡°You taste better than wine,¡± he whispers against my mouth. ¡°Sweeter than honey. You¡¯re more delicious than strawberry shortcake.¡±

    I groan, trying not tough. ¡°And you¡¯re shameless. Stop while you¡¯re ahead. There¡¯s only so much outrageous schlock a girl can take.¡±

    He grins at me, blue eyes twinkling. ¡°So I¡¯m ahead. Awesome.¡±

    Shaking my head in disbelief, I push away from him and walk over to the liquor cab. Swinging the door open, I turn back to him and do a Vanna-White-style showcase of the contents,plete with beaming smile and spokesmodel flourish of my hands.

    ¡°What¡¯s your pleasure, Mr. McCord? Whiskey? Bourbon? Tequ? Gin? I¡¯ve got it all.¡±

    ¡°How about se Azul Ultra Extra A?ejo?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Tequ. Super spendy.¡±

    ¡°Spendy? Like how much?¡±

    ¡°About two grand a bottle.¡±

    That makes meugh. ¡°Do I look like a person who would spend two thousand dors on a bottle of tequ?¡±

    ¡°So you stole it, then? Because it¡¯s right there.¡±

    I turn to look at the shelves of bottles. ¡°Really? Which one?¡±

    ¡°That tall ck bottle with the 24-karat gold detailing. Behind the Tito¡¯s.¡±

    I move a few things aside and reach for the tall, elegant ss bottle. Removing it carefully from the shelf, I say, ¡°I always thought this was a kind of liqueur. Nick brought it home from some business thing, and I stuck it in here. It¡¯s probably been there three or four years.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in for a treat. It¡¯s fucking amazing.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve had it before?¡± When he looks askance at me, Iugh. ¡°Of course you have. I keep forgetting about all that money of yours.¡±

    ¡°Good. Keep forgetting. Focus on my good looks and charm instead.¡±

    We grin at each other. I set the outrageously expensive tequ on the counter and find two small liqueur sses in another cab. Then Carter opens the bottle and pours a small amount of amber liquid in each.

    He picks up a ss and hands it to me, then picks up the other. ¡°If you ever use this in a margarita, the angels will weep.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying don¡¯t shoot it like it¡¯s Cuervo.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to scare me again.¡±

    We clink sses and sip, our gazes meeting over the rims. A heady mix of caramel, vani, and toasted oak fills my nose as the tequ slides past my lips. I swallow, amazed at theplexity of the vors.

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful.¡±

    ¡°Worth every penny, right?¡±

    Iugh. ¡°Not if I were paying for it, but since I didn¡¯t, yes. Okay, handsome. Are you ready to be dazzled by my culinary skills?¡±

    ¡°Yep. What are you making?¡±

    ¡°Hot and sour soup, beef satay, and green chicken curry.¡±

    His eyes widen. He looks dazed, which makes me confused.

    ¡°You said Thai food was one of your favorites.¡±

    He sets his ss down slowly, takes mine and sets it down too, then takes my face in his hands. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispers, gazing deep into my eyes.

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°Remembering.¡±

    When he kisses me, I¡¯m d I put the hideous sweats on. If I were still wearing a skirt, it would already be puddled on the floor.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 13

    Carter sits at the ind with his tequ and watches as I make our meal. We talk, weugh, we share stories. Nothing traumatic or too personal, just getting-to-know-you things couples do on their first few dates.

    He¡¯s lovely. Attentive, funny, self-deprecating, and just all-around lovely.

    There¡¯s a part of me that wishes he¡¯d reveal something distasteful about his personality so I could give myself an out. Some hint of bigotry or chauvinism. A littletent hostility. An obvious need to be in control.

    I find nothing objectionable, which maybe means I just need to try harder.

    Or maybe I need to rx and give him a break.

    When the meal is finished, he helps me with the cleanup, cheerfully stacking the dishwasher and making a game of trying to fit in every dish as if it were a puzzle. Then he thanks me so sincerely, I wonder if he¡¯s ever had a home-cooked meal.

    We settle onto the sofa in the living room in front of the unlit firece, facing each other from opposite sides, our legs entangled. He tucks his bare feet under my thighs. I smile at him.

    ¡°This was a nice date. Thank you foring over.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Was that my cue to leave?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m justmunicating. I know how you like to talk.¡±

    ¡°You always seem surprised about that.¡±

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m just more used to tense silences.¡±

    Wrapping his hands around my ankles, he gives them a squeeze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°That your ex is such a dick.¡±

    I throw my head back andugh.

    ¡°Was that rude? That was probably rude.¡±

    ¡°No, I was just picturing you saying that to his face. Or anyone saying that to his face. He wouldn¡¯t know what to do with himself.¡±

    ¡°Do you mind if I ask what he does for a living?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a music producer.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a cool gig.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a cutthroat business filled with narcissists who prey on the dreams and inexperience of young people.¡±

    After a beat, he says, ¡°So it¡¯s a lot like the news business.¡±

    We smile at each other. I nod. ¡°Yes, I suppose so.¡±

    ¡°I actually wanted to be a musician when I was young. I learned guitar in fifth grade and yed all through high school. I was obsessed with it.¡±

    When he looks down, his expression pensive, I ask, ¡°Do you still y?¡±

    He shakes his head.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you give it up?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a McCord. We don¡¯t go into the arts. We go into the family business.¡±

    I can tell that¡¯s a touchy topic, so I don¡¯t probe more. ¡°Well, the guitar is very cool, but it¡¯s nowhere near as cool as the ordion, which I yed all through junior high and high school.¡±

    ¡°You yed the ordion?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°Voluntarily?¡±

    Iugh at his look of incredulity. ¡°No. Well, nobody was holding a gun to my head, but I did it for my dad. His grandfather had yed when he was a kid. He had such fond memories of the instrument. He actually was hoping my brother would pick it up, but Will¡¯s never been very interested in making other people happy, so¡­¡±

    When I don¡¯t finish the sentence, Carter says softly, ¡°So you picked it up instead.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I wonder if women are natural-born people pleasers, or if we¡¯re molded that way as we grow up?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not exclusively a female thing. I could write an entire book about all the things I¡¯ve done to make other people happy.¡± He thinks for a moment. ¡°Mainly my father.¡±

    I watch him go somewhere dark. It¡¯s like watching the sun slip behind thunderclouds. His face is pinched and his brows are drawn together. His full lips have thinned.

    ¡°I won¡¯t pry if you¡¯re notfortable with the question, but are you close with your dad?¡±

    Carter nces up at me. His blue eyes are stormy.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone really knows him. Not even my mother. I mean, they¡¯ve been married forever and arepletely co-dependent, but he¡¯s not the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. He¡¯s got a lot of secrets. It always seems as if he¡¯s plotting war.¡±

    From everything I¡¯ve read and heard about Konrad McCord, that¡¯s an urate statement.

    I say gently, ¡°It can¡¯t have been easy growing up around that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to make it sound like he was abusive or anything. He was just¡­¡±

    ¡°Distant?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Distant. Unfathomable. Everyone was terrified of him.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your mother like, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±

    At the mention of his mother, his face lights up. ¡°She¡¯s amazing. Smart, funny, outgoing. Everybody loves her. She¡¯s actually a genius with people. She can make anyone feelfortable around her, no matter how much or little they have. I¡¯m really lucky she¡¯s my mom. She¡¯s the kindest person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    I¡¯m so touched by that sweet, heartfelt speech, I have to look away for a moment to blink the water out of my eyes.

    I suspect that if Harlow were asked about me, she wouldn¡¯t answer with half as much enthusiasm.

    ¡°She sounds great. You¡¯re very fortunate.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I am. I¡¯m lucky. I have nothing toin about.¡±

    I study his expression. The averted eyes. The smile that looks forced.

    I say softly, ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t love everything about your life, Carter. You don¡¯t need to feel guilty about that, no matter how much wealth your family has.¡±

    Startled, he gazes at me for a moment, then huffs out a breath and drags a hand through his hair.

    ¡°You¡¯re spooky. Are you a mind reader?¡±

    ¡°There have been a few times you¡¯ve spooked me too.¡±

    He grins, the moment of seriousness gone. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re telepathic. But only with each other.¡±

    ¡°And maybe we need another drink. You up for more tequ?¡±

    He bats hisshes coyly and smirks. ¡°Why, Ms. Bianco, are you trying to take advantage of me?¡±

    ¡°If I were trying to take advantage of you, Mr. McCord, there wouldn¡¯t be any question about it.¡± I swing my legs up and over his, then stand, looking down at him and holding out my hand. ¡°Come with me. I want to show you something.¡±

    He grabs my hand and leaps to his feet. ¡°If it has anything to do with you getting naked, I¡¯m one thousand percent in.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not getting naked.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m only two hundred percent in.¡±

    ¡°For a person in such an important executive position, your math is terrible.¡±

    He grins. ¡°That¡¯s what calctors are for. What are we doing? Where are you taking me? I¡¯m excited!¡±

    Feeling a little high, Iugh. His exuberance is so disarming.

    Taking his hand, I lead him to the stairs. He keeps hold of my hand as we go up to the second floor and down the hallway past my bedroom to another room at the end. Opening the door, I flip on the overhead light.

    Then I stand back and smile at Carter¡¯s expression of amazement.

    Eyes wide as he looks around, he breathes, ¡°Holy shit.¡±

    ¡°I had a feeling you¡¯d like it. Nick used this as his home office. Go on in.¡±

    When he doesn¡¯t move, I give him a gentle bump with my elbow. ¡°Take a look at the purple Stratocaster. It¡¯s signed.¡±

    When he just stands there gazing around with stars in his eyes, looking dazed, I walk past him to the opposite wall where about a dozen electric guitars hang from custom racking. The other walls are adorned with guitars too, both electric and acoustic in a rainbow of colors, some old, others newer, all expensive collector¡¯s items. In between the guitars are framed photographs of bands and musicians ying live.

    I carefully remove the Stratocaster from the wall rack and bring it back to Carter. ¡°Here.¡±

    He stares at it. ¡°Did that belong to¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He ps his hands on his cheeks and opens his mouth in a silent scream.

    ¡°Take it.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°What if I hurt it? I could scratch it or something. I could drop it. I¡¯d go to hell!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a drama queen. Besides, it¡¯s insured.¡±

    He shakes his head vehemently. ¡°If I harm one of Prince¡¯s guitars, my life will be forfeit. I¡¯ll have to perform a ritual killing of myself in shame or my family will be dishonored for seven generations.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a guitar, Carter, not a mystical object the gods will require your blood for if it gets damaged.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you think.¡±

    Trying not to smile, I say, ¡°Okay. But it¡¯s really heavy. In fact, I¡¯m not sure I can hold it much longer¡­¡±

    I pretend to stagger under its weight, letting my knees buckle and emitting a soft cry of distress. Faster than I can blink, Carter snatches the guitar from my hands and cradles it protectively against his chest.

    ¡°Oh my God. Look at your expression of outrage! You actually thought I was going to drop that thing, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    He scoffs. ¡°Thing? Excuse me, heretic, but she¡¯s a priceless piece of musical history yed by one of the only true geniuses of our time, not a thing.¡±

    I prop my hands on my hips and grin at him. ¡°I like you like this. All riled up and snooty. You look like a cover model, but inside, you¡¯re a grouchy grandpa yelling at kids to get the hell off hiswn.¡±

    Still offended by my fake threat to the guitar, he nevertheless takes a grudging moment to bask in thepliment. ¡°A cover model, huh?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    He thinks about it. ¡°For which magazine?¡±

    ¡°Melodrama Monthly.¡±

    His expression sours. ¡°Ha.¡±

    ¡°Overreactor¡¯s Digest.¡±

    ¡°Okay, very funny, Lucille Ball.¡±

    ¡°You know who Lucille Ball is?¡±

    He twists his lips and gives me a sour look. ¡°We¡¯re having a nice evening, so I¡¯ll pretend you didn¡¯t just insult my intelligence.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that she¡¯s way before your time.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and so are Shakespeare, Socrates, and Sinatra. I suppose you think I¡¯ve never heard of them either?¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, he brushes past me and walks farther into the room, leaving me wishing I¡¯d never opened my big mouth in the first ce.

    He¡¯s not my teenage daughter, who thinks everything that ever happened was invented on TikTok and that anyone over the age of thirty is so old, they might as well be dead.

    He¡¯s educated. He¡¯s sophisticated. And, despite his charming boyishness, he¡¯s a grown-ass man.

    ¡°I apologize, Carter. That was thoughtless of me.¡±

    He turns and looks at me over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re forgiven.¡± His smile is small and suggestive. ¡°I mean¡­almost. You might have to work a little bit for it.¡±

    He turns back to the collection of guitars and sighs in contentment, looking everything over. ¡°God. This is like heaven. I can¡¯t believe you bought all this just for me. So nice of you. I might have to buy you a restaurant now.¡±

    Stifling augh, I stroll closer to him and y along. ¡°Then I¡¯d have to cook all the time. What about my day job?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re very good at COO-ing, but there¡¯s no way you¡¯re as good at that as how well you cook. That meal you made me was fantastic. Did you notice I was erect all during dinner?¡±

    ¡°And here I thought that had something to do with my hideous sweats.¡±

    ¡°Oh no. It was the green curry, baby, totally.¡±

    I take a seat on one of the blue velvet swivel chairs in the corner and watch him. He looks like a kid in a toy store.

    Despite his job, Nick isn¡¯t what I¡¯d consider a real music fan. He has a great ear for what will make money, and he appreciates the talent of the artists, but he¡¯s more like a man who owns a stable of racehorses for their potential earnings.

    His encyclopedic knowledge of music was born of ambition, not love.

    ¡°Who¡¯s your favorite guitarist, Carter?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s like asking a parent who their favorite child is.¡±

    He strolls from guitar to guitar, inspecting each closely, admiring their color and shape, shaking his head in awe at fretboards and headstocks, squinting at signatures scrawled across wood.

    ¡°You must have a few. Top three?¡±

    He gazes down adoringly at the electric guitar in his hands. ¡°Prince, Prince, and Prince.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Will it freak you out too much if I tell you that¡¯s one of the guitars he used in his famous 2007 Super Bowl halftime performance?¡±

    He wheezes, then coughs out, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then I won¡¯t tell you. Will you y me something?¡±

    He looks at me, looks down at the guitar, then looks up at the ceiling. ¡°I can¡¯t say no to a beautiful woman, brother. I know you understand.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s talking to God or the spirit of his favorite guitarist, but I forget all about that when heunches into the solo from ¡°Purple Rain.¡±

    It¡¯s stripped down because he¡¯s not plugged into an amp, but I¡¯m astonished at the ease and quality of his ying. I sit with my mouth open, watching his nimble fingers sh over the strings, until he finishes with a flourish and startsughing.

    ¡°Fuck!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯d say so. That was amazing!¡±

    He looks over at me, his eyes shining bright, his handsome face beaming. ¡°Oh my God, that felt so good.¡±

    ¡°It sounded so good. I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re so talented!¡±

    He holds out the guitar in front of him and offers it a small bow. Then he carefully ces it back onto its rack, steps back, and admires it, arms folded over his chest. He exhales a soft breath and shakes his head.

    ¡°Goddamn, Sophia,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the one who should be thanking you. I¡¯m over here fangirling.¡±

    ¡°Why are these here? Do you y?¡±

    ¡°Oh no. Nick took his desk and clothes when he moved out, but he left everything else here. He couldn¡¯t be bothered to pack it all up.¡±

    Carter¡¯s face is a mask of horror. ¡°Couldn¡¯t be bothered? Does the man not have a soul?¡±

    Iugh. ¡°I¡¯ll plead the fifth on that, your honor.¡± I stopughing when an interesting thought urs to me. ¡°Do you want them?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Yeah, right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m being serious. You can have everything in here. I have no use for it. I was actually thinking about turning this space into a library.¡±

    Frowning, he turns to look at me.

    ¡°Or do you already have a guitar collection?¡±

    After a moment of silent contemtion, he says, ¡°No. I have the beat-up acoustic I learned on, but that¡¯s it. I gave away the few others I had when I joined thepany.¡±

    I can¡¯t tell by his expression if I¡¯ve made a mistake with my offer. Was it tacky of me? Have I offended him? He can afford to buy himself anything he wants, after all. Why would he want another man¡¯s cast-offs?

    I press a hand over my chest. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if that was weird. You just seemed so happy to be ying that I thought you might enjoy keeping them. Or one of them. I¡­I just thought¡ª¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t weird. It¡¯s incredibly generous. You know you could make a mint if you sold these, right?¡±

    ¡°I suppose so, but some things are more important than money. Nick only had these so he could show them off. He doesn¡¯t y any instruments. I think they¡¯d be happier with you. You¡¯d give them a good home.¡±

    Eyes burning, he stares at me. ¡°A good home.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Instruments are made to be yed, not just looked at or locked up. I want you to have them.¡±

    He continues staring at me so long, it bes ufortable. ¡°Have I said something wrong?¡±

    ¡°No. You paid me the bestpliment I think I¡¯ve ever been given.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you looking at me like I just dered I¡¯m from outer space?¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering how you¡¯d react if I picked you up and threw you over my shoulder so I could take you into your bedroom and show you exactly how much I appreciate every word you¡¯ve said.¡±

    My body reacts to those words and the husky tone they were spoken in by sending a rush of adrenaline into my bloodstream and making it hard to breathe.

    Heart thudding with excitement, I stand. ¡°Tell you what. If you can catch me before I get to the door, you can throw me over your shoulder and take me into the bedroom. But if I¡¯m faster than you and I get there first, you have to mop my kitchen floor. Naked.¡±

    He nces at the door, then back at me. He smiles.

    Five secondster, he¡¯s carrying me upside down on his shoulder, headed toward my bedroom, and I¡¯mughing harder than I can rememberughing in years.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 14

    Carter tosses me down onto the bed and climbs on all fours on top of me. Staring down at me, he grins.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t even try to win.¡±

    ¡°I did!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone move that slowly who wasn¡¯t ny years old.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I have bad knees, you ever think of that?¡±

    His grin grows wider. ¡°You don¡¯t have bad knees, beautiful woman, but you are a bad liar.¡±

    Reaching up to slide my fingers into his hair, I whisper, ¡°I don¡¯t surrender. You should kiss me now.¡±

    ¡°You say that like you actually think you¡¯re the one in charge.¡±

    ¡°And you say that like we both don¡¯t already know you¡¯d do anything I asked you to.¡±

    His grin slowly fades. He stares down at me in unwavering intensity, swallowing hard. ¡°I would. So please be careful with me.¡±

    My heart swells with tenderness. He¡¯s so sweet like this, when he¡¯s not being king of Earth. His vulnerability never fails to move me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be careful with you, sweet boy. I promise. Will you promise me something too?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Anything. You know I will.¡±

    I cradle his face for a moment, burning his earnest expression into my mind¡¯s eye, then slide my hands down to his chest. ¡°Honesty. I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth between us, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°That almost sounded like you¡¯re thinking about our future. Like maybe you want to have a future with me.¡±

    His voice is tentative. Unsure. I dodge the intrusive memory of Val telling me about her hairdresser, how Carter broke it off with her when she said she wanted to be exclusive, and let my smile be my answer instead.

    Then I push him onto his back and straddle him.

    His eyes re with excitement. He grips my hips in his big hands and gazes up at me with parted lips, his breathing shallow.

    Something about his ardent expression makes me feel liberated. Confident in my body and my femininity. He¡¯s looking at me as if I¡¯m his favorite gift. Meanwhile, I¡¯m barefaced in ratty sweats and a ponytail. Nick would¡¯ve turned his nose up at me if he could see me now.

    Leisurely moving my hands down his chest, I tease, ¡°Mr. McCord, is that your wallet poking me again? You really should find a better spot to store it.¡±

    His chuckle is throaty. ¡°Oh, I know of a much better spot to store it.¡±

    ¡°I bet you do.¡±

    I pull my sweatshirt over my head and drop it on the bed next to us. I¡¯m not wearing anything underneath. He sucks in a breath, then slowly exhales, devouring me with his eyes.

    ¡°When you told me to put on these sweats, you neglected to mention anything about underwear, so I assumed you meant you¡¯d like me to not wear any.¡±

    ¡°That was a good assumption. Jesus. Your breasts are perfect.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Why aren¡¯t you touching them?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t give me permission yet.¡±

    I take his hands and guide them up my hips to my waist, then up my ribcage to my bare breasts. He cups them, engulfing them in his hands, feeling their weight, then rubs his thumbs back and forth over my hardening nipples.

    Between us, his erection is trapped and throbbing. I flex my hips, and he emits a soft moan.

    When I lean down, he takes my mouth in a rough, possessive kiss, then flips me onto my back again.

    I wrap my legs around his waist. ¡°Do you want to be in charge? Or would you like to see what I had in mind instead?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Both. All of it.¡±

    ¡°Choose.¡±

    Braced on either side of my head, his arms tremble. His breath has grown ragged. His eyes are wild.

    He swallows, then whispers, ¡°You choose for me.¡±

    ¡°Good answer. Roll over.¡±

    He flops onto his back. I brace myself up on one elbow, looking down at him and smiling. Resting my hand over the center of his chest, I take a moment to feel his pounding heartbeat, then I slowly trail my hand down his belly.

    Belly is the wrong word. It suggests softness, but there isn¡¯t any. His abs are hard as a rock, as is his dick, which I gently squeeze through his jeans.

    ¡°Wait.¡± He grabs my wrist. ¡°Wait, I¡ªI have to tell you something.¡±

    For some reason, he¡¯s suddenly tense. Confused, I furrow my brow. ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He sits up and stares at his legs. I sit up, too, wondering what¡¯s happening.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°You said you wanted honesty. The truth.¡±

    His voice is low. I wait, watching him struggle to find words.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this without being truthful about something that you might¡­you might be angry about.¡±

    He¡¯s still gazing down at his legs, avoiding my eyes. Meanwhile, I¡¯m starting to feel ridiculous sitting here with my breasts exposed.

    I reach for my sweatshirt, but he grasps my wrist and stops me. He blurts, ¡°I moved into this neighborhood so I could be closer to you. So I could meet you identally, only it wouldn¡¯t be an ident.¡±

    Surprised, I sit with that for a moment.

    Am I horrified by his admission? No. Am I afraid he¡¯s an obsessed crazy person who¡¯ll eventually murder me? Also no. I¡¯m not turned off or disgusted either. But I am aware that it¡¯s deeply strange.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that.¡±

    Miserable, he turns and looks at me. ¡°It¡¯s fucked up. I know. I¡¯m sorry. I told my brother I was dying to meet you, and he said I should stop being such a pussy and buy the house next door.¡±

    That makes meugh. ¡°Nobody in your family believes in making a simple phone call, do they?¡±

    ¡°Callum always gets what he wants. He just takes it. So I thought maybe I¡¯d try to take the initiative. I thought if we met organically, like at the coffee shop like we did, it would be better than if I randomly knocked on your front door one day and asked you out.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I agree it would have been better, except for the part about how you orchestrated it.¡±

    He covers his face with his hands and groans. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. It sounds so bad out loud. I¡¯m an asshole.¡±

    I watch him for a moment, taking an inventory of my emotions. When I discover I¡¯m more intrigued than disturbed, I lie back and say, ¡°Hey.¡±

    He turns and looks down at me. I hold out my arms.

    ¡°Come here.¡±

    He falls on top of me, wraps me in his arms, and presses his cheek against my breasts.

    Threading my fingers through his hair, I murmur, ¡°Are you hiding?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°We need to talk about this.¡±

    ¡°I know. Can we do it while I¡¯m hiding?¡±

    ¡°Do you promise to tell me the truth?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. I swear on my mother¡¯s life.¡±

    ¡°Then we can do it while you¡¯re hiding.¡±

    He snuggles closer to me and heaves out a breath. Gazing up at the ceiling, I gently stroke his hair and his back until some of the tension leaves his body.

    ¡°First, thank you for telling me. I know it would have been easier not to.¡±

    ¡°Do you hate me now?¡±

    ¡°Would you have your face pressed on my naked boobs if I did?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe this is the calm before the storm. Or maybe you¡¯re nning on torturing me by giving me this amazing memory, then throwing me out on my ass.¡±

    ¡°Interesting idea, but I¡¯m not that vindictive.¡±

    He exhales slowly, squeezing me tight. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I believe you. But I¡¯d like to hear all the ugly details, please. How long ago did you move to Santa Monica?¡±

    ¡°Last month.¡±

    That aligns with what he told me at the coffee shop. ¡°From?¡±

    ¡°Malibu.¡±

    ¡°Do you still have a home there?¡±

    ¡°No. I hated it there. Everybody lives behind gates. Rich people are so fucking paranoid.¡± His voice hardens. ¡°It¡¯s not like a gate can keep someone determined enough out, anyway.¡±

    There¡¯s an obvious history in thatment. I wonder who or what got inside his gates, but leave that for another time.

    ¡°So you bought a house north of Montana. That¡¯s not exactly right next door.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to be creepy.¡±

    I stifle augh at his indignant tone. ¡°And then what? You just randomly started visiting grocery stores and coffee shops, hoping you¡¯d bump into me one day?¡±

    ¡°Basically, yeah. And gyms.¡±

    I recall the day I met him on the treadmill and freeze. ¡°Was that boy in the wheelchair a setup? Did you do that to impress me?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± He lifts his head and stares at me, his expression fraught. ¡°I swear, that just happened. I was trying to charm the pants off you, but I felt bad for the kid, so I went over. You left before I coulde back.¡±

    I close my eyes and sigh. ¡°Okay.¡±

    He rests his head on my chest again. After a short pause, he says quietly, ¡°How are you so calm about this? I mean, I¡¯m d, but I wouldn¡¯t me you if you never wanted to see me again.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. What made you confess?¡±

    ¡°You said you wanted honesty, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m lucky I said it early on. Isn¡¯t that a given?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never had a woman ask me for that before.¡±

    ¡°What kind of women are you dating that don¡¯t value honesty?¡±

    ¡°The kind that only value money.¡±

    The sadness in his voice stirs a protective instinct in me. I quash it when I remember Val¡¯s hairdresser. It sounded like she wanted a rtionship, not his wallet.

    I¡¯m getting that second hand, however. There¡¯s no way to know what really goes on between two people, even when one of them is telling their side.

    ¡°What else do I need to know about this? And think about it before you answer, because if I find outter on that you¡¯ve been secretly recording me going to the toilet, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    He sounds indignant again. ¡°I¡¯m not a pervert.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re just a stalker.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not technically stalking, though, is it?¡±

    When I don¡¯t reply, he says sheepishly, ¡°Okay, it probably is.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to call it, but don¡¯t do it again.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t. I swear.¡± After a short pause, he adds, ¡°Would it make you feel better if I cut off my pinkie finger to show loyalty and make amends like they do in the mafia?¡±

    ¡°No. And I don¡¯t even want to know how you know that.¡±

    ¡°I love mafia movies.¡±

    ¡°I love Jane Austen movies.¡±

    He thinks for a moment. ¡°Somebody should do a movie where Mr. Darcy is like secretly the head of the Irish mob and Elizabeth is a spy for the British crown and all that house visiting and ball dancing they do is just a cover for their covert operations.¡±

    ¡°I just read a book like that. But it had vampires.¡±

    ¡°I love vampires. They¡¯re so elegant. Wouldn¡¯t it be cool to be immortal? Except for the drinking blood part. I¡¯d go crazy not having anything crunchy to eat. What do you think would happen if a vampire was allergic to blood? Would he get rashes and terrible diarrhea?¡±

    I can¡¯t help myself. I startughing. After I¡¯veposed myself, I tell him to take off his shoes.

    ¡°Does this mean I¡¯m staying?¡±

    ¡°It means I don¡¯t like shoes on my nice duvet.¡±

    Without releasing me, he kicks off his shoes and sweeps them off the bed with his feet. We lie there for a while, our breathing falling into sync, until he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him. He arranges me on top of him until I¡¯mfortable, then pushes my hair off my face.

    Gazing deep into my eyes, he whispers, ¡°Thank you. For being you. For being so amazing. I¡¯ll do whatever you want to make amends for my fuckup.¡±

    I press a soft kiss to his lips. ¡°Well, there are a few things I can think of right off the top of my head¡­¡±

    He gazes at me for a beat, then rolls us over so I¡¯m on my back again. Then he sits up, pulls my sweats down my legs, and tosses them to the floor. Staring between my legs, he licks his lips.

    Then he growls, ¡°Permission to eat your cunt.¡±

    ¡°Granted. And for the record, that¡¯s a standing permission from now on.¡±

    He rises, pulls off his shirt, and tosses it aside. I take a moment to admire his beautiful body. One of his pecs is inked, and so are both of his muscr arms. I know that he¡¯ll be magnificent fully naked. Those strong thighs. That hard ass. That big bulge he¡¯s grown for me, straining at the confines of his zipper.

    He grabs my ankles and drags me over so my bottom is on the edge of the bed and my feet are touching the floor.

    Kneeling between my spread legs, he slides his hands slowly up the inside of my thighs, caressing my flesh as he stares with avid eyes straight at my exposed pussy.

    He leans forward and licks it.

    When I feel his tongue on me, so warm and soft, I moan in pleasure. He swirls the tip of his tongue around my clitoris, teasing it, then sucks with gentle pressure.

    ¡°Yes. Perfect. Just like that.¡±

    He puts his hands under my thighs and hooks my knees over his shoulders, continuing to lick and suck my clit, then slides his hands up my body and squeezes my breasts.

    It feels amazing.

    His mouth, his hands, his thumbs stroking back and forth over my rigid nipples¡­the incredible sensations make me shudder. I moan again, arching into his hands. My eyes drift shut. I sink both hands into his hair and rock my hips against his face as the pleasure builds, spreading outward from my pussy to my entire lower body.

    He takes one hand away from my breast and sinks his thumb inside me. When he starts ying with that sensitive knot between my ass cheeks, stroking it gently as he finger fucks me andvishes my clit with his tongue, I shiver helplessly. The feeling is so intense, it¡¯s almost overwhelming. My skin is hot and my hard nipples are aching for attention. I wish I could have his mouth everywhere at once.

    I lift my head and whisper, ¡°Show me your cock. I want to watch you y with it while you eat me.¡±

    Eyes closed, he groans into my pussy.

    Without taking his mouth off me, he fumbles with his belt, tugging at it desperately, until the sp releases. He whips it through his beltloops and throws it aside, yanks down his zipper, and shoves his hand inside his pants.

    He grasps his erection, makes a fist around it, and starts to stroke the length of it as he licks me.

    ¡°That¡¯s a very nice dick, Carter.¡±

    He strokes it faster. It juts from his fist, thick and veined, the crown glistening. Just looking at it excites me. I want it inside me. I want him to make mee with his mouth, then fuck me deep and hard with that beautiful dick.

    I want that, but it¡¯s too soon. And he¡¯s right. I might feel differently tomorrow about his confession than I do right now.

    So tonight, we¡¯ll let him repent a little.

    I sit up and gently pull his head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at me. Kneeling between my thighs, he¡¯s panting, his cock still squeezed in his fist, his eyes hazy and half-lidded.

    ¡°Do you like how I taste?¡±

    He rasps, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to make mee?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Yes what?¡±

    He shudders and licks his lips. ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    When I say softly, ¡°Good boy,¡± he makes the smallest whine in the back of his throat, then shoves his face back between my thighs andtches onto my swollen clit like it¡¯s a nipple he needs to draw milk through.

    ¡°Not too hard,¡± I admonish, tugging his hair.

    He gentles his suction, his fist frantically pumping his dick.

    It¡¯s so exciting to watch him like this. On his knees, desperate to please me, obeying my everymand. He¡¯s young, gorgeous, andpletely at my mercy.

    I feel powerful, like a sorceress. Like a warlord taking her victory spoils. It¡¯s a heady sensation, being in charge. No wonder my ex liked it so much.

    I take his face in my hands, lean over, and kiss him. He kisses me back desperately, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth and moaning. I taste myself on him, the musky tang of my womanhood, and it thrills me.

    ¡°Open your eyes, sweet boy.¡±

    His lids drift open. Flushed and panting, his pupils dted and his lips swollen and wet, he almost looks drugged.

    Our faces inches apart, I gaze into his eyes and whisper, ¡°You¡¯re doing so good. I love how you make me feel. Now, I want to watch you make yourselfe while you eat me, okay? Will you be a good boy and do that for me?¡±

    He¡¯s so excited, he can¡¯t even answer. He simply licks his lips and nods, all the cords in his neck standing out and sweat beading his hairline.

    ¡°All right. Stay on your knees there. Spread your legs wider so I can see all of you.¡±

    He obeys me instantly, spreading his legs apart and cupping his hand around his balls, disying himself for me. Staring up into my eyes, he rests a hot, trembling hand on my thigh and squeezes it.

    ¡°Stroke yourself. Let me see you.¡±

    He swallows, exhales a shaky breath, then runs his palm along the underside of his straining cock. At the crown, he curls his fingers, then strokes his hand back down the length until he reaches his balls again, which he fondles.

    I gently kiss his cheek. ¡°You¡¯re so handsome, Carter. So perfect.¡±

    He sways slightly, swallowing again, then inhales a ragged breath.

    ¡°Do you like it when I praise you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I love it. I love it.¡±

    His voice is thick. His breathing is shallow. His eyes have a glossy, unfocused shine.

    There¡¯s a split second of perfect rity where I understand exactly how much responsibility I have to be careful with him like this, to make sure this heady feeling of control doesn¡¯t overpower what we¡¯re both actually after. The intimacy and connection is what¡¯s most meaningful, not who¡¯s telling who what to do.

    It¡¯s all about trust.

    My chest tightens with emotion. Gazing into his eyes, I murmur, ¡°You¡¯re safe with me. I promise. Now give me your mouth and make us bothe.¡±

    We share a hot, passionate kiss. Then Carter positions himself back between my legs and, with a grateful groan, buries his face in my pussy.

    I cradle his head and watch him lick and suck, his cheeks hollowed, his eyes closed, his hands working between his legs, one squeezing his balls and the other stroking his shaft, until we¡¯re both moaning.

    My pulse is flying. I¡¯m breathing hard, and my thighs are trembling. The pleasure is sweet, so sweet, a pulsing coil of heat that winds tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue.

    He opens his eyes and stares up at me with a pleading look.

    ¡°Yes, sweetheart,¡± I whisper breathlessly. ¡°Yes.¡±

    He squeezes his eyes shut, moans deeply into me, and shudders. A thick stream of semen shoots out of the crown of his cock, then another and another in short, rapid pulses, spurting onto the bedspread, sliding down his hand.

    My pussy convulses. The contractions hit hard and fast in exquisite, rhythmic bursts that overwhelm my senses. Crying out, I fall back onto the bed and writhe against his face. My nipples ache for his teeth. The hollowness inside me aches to be filled with the long, hard length of him.

    I orgasm with abandon, thrashing around and groaning. I¡¯m beyond all caring of anything but the way he makes me feel. The pleasure he¡¯s selflessly giving me.

    When my orgasm fades and I¡¯m lying there panting at the ceiling, Carter rests his cheek on my thigh. I reach down, ruffle his hair, andugh softly, blissfully contented.

    I could really get used to this.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 15

    He sighs a big, satisfied sigh, then chuckles. ¡°I think I ruined your nice duvet. Whoops.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll buy a new one. I never liked this thing, anyway.¡±

    I prop myself up on my elbows and look at him. We grin at each other like fools.

    ¡°Hello, Mr. McCord.¡±

    ¡°Good evening, Ms. Bianco.¡±

    ¡°Would you like a wet cloth for cleanup?¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, I would.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble at all.¡±

    We¡¯re both as high as kites, grinning at each other like a pair of circus clowns. I¡¯d almost forgotten how strong those orgasmic endorphins can be.

    I kiss him, cradling his face in my hands, then tell him to lie on the bed and wait for me. He shoots to his feet and does a swan dive onto the mattress, flipping onto his back and flinging both arms out to the sides.

    Between his legs, his cock still stands stiff as a gpole.

    It¡¯s a beautiful thing. So is his smile, which is huge and blinding. He looks like he just discovered he can fly.

    ¡°If I start calling you Mrs. Robinson, would that be insulting?¡±

    ¡°Not to me. Anne Bancroft was ten years younger than I am now when she made The Graduate.¡±

    I head into the bathroom as he continues to speak.

    ¡°But she was supposed to be like twenty years older than Dustin Hoffman in the film, right?¡±

    ¡°Right. But they were only six years apart in reality. So none of the age stuff actually meant anything. It was all for show.¡±

    I stop in front of the bathroom mirror to stare at my reflection. I have to admit, I¡¯m glowing. My skin looks fantastic. Those rosy, post-coital cheeks.

    Carter¡¯s better for myplexion than all the expensive creams I use.

    I run a washcloth under warm water, squeeze it out, and wipe it between my legs. I rinse it and squeeze the water out again, then return to him. Gazing up at me, he watches me walk toward him. His beautiful body an offering. His heart in his eyes.

    I climb onto the bed and stretch out next to him. Taking his cock in my hand, I gently start to clean him with the washcloth.

    ¡°Nobody¡¯s ever done this for me,¡± he murmurs, watching me caress him.

    ¡°They should have. You¡¯re an excellent patient.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m a patient, that means you¡¯re the doctor, right?¡±

    Our gazes meet. His eyes glint with mischief.

    Chuckling, I raise my brows. ¡°Oh, you like that idea, do you?¡±

    He bites his lip and nods.

    ¡°God, you¡¯re adorable. How are you this cute?¡±

    ¡°Cute again? Arrgh!¡±

    ¡°Pardon me. How are you this¡­perfect?¡±

    He nces demurely down at my hands. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you are.¡± I lean over and press a kiss to his hard stomach. ¡°I could eat all my meals right here.¡±

    ¡°That can be arranged.¡±

    We smile at each other. I¡¯ve never felt thisfortable with a man this early on. I¡¯m not sure what that means. Or if I want to know.

    ¡°Uh-oh. She¡¯s thinking. That¡¯s never good.¡±

    He¡¯s teasing but the worryes through loud and clear. I shake my head and pick up his hand, cleaning that with the washcloth too. ¡°I was actually just pondering how easy things seem to be with you.¡±

    ¡°Pondering? You were pondering while my dick was in your hands?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be insulted. I can multitask very well.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but if you ever admit while I¡¯m making love to you that you¡¯re alsoposing your grocery list, I¡¯ll throw myself off the nearest cliff.¡± He quickly backtracks on that. ¡°I mean I¡¯m not expecting¡­I¡¯m not assuming that we¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes you are,¡± I say lightly, smiling. ¡°And that¡¯s okay.¡±

    He breathes a soft sigh of relief.

    Finished cleaning him up, I rise from the bed again and deposit the washcloth in the clothes hamper in the closet. Then I find my discarded sweatpants and sweatshirt next to the bed and get dressed.

    Carter watches my every movement, making no move to get dressed himself.

    Seeing him acquiescent like that, soft-eyed and waiting, takes my breath away.

    Maybe it¡¯s the tequ that makes me do it. Or maybe it¡¯s just because it feels right. Whatever the reason, what I say next surprises us both.

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to spend the night. I don¡¯t think we should have sex yet, but if you¡¯re okay with that, and you¡¯d like to stay too, I want you to.¡±

    He draws a slow breath. Without taking his gaze from mine, he whispers, ¡°Yes. Thank you.¡±

    This man has thanked me more in one night than my ex did in twenty years of marriage. If I ever meet his mother, I¡¯m going topliment her on her parenting skills.

    Or possibly die of embarrassment, considering she could probably be my older sister.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t have anything for you to wear to bed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s a tragedy, but we both know I¡¯d be lying.¡±

    ¡°What do you normally sleep in?¡±

    ¡°Briefs. A T-shirt if it¡¯s cold.¡±

    I smile. ¡°It¡¯s not cold tonight.¡±

    He rolls off the bed and stands. Then he strolls around to my side, grinning devilishly. ¡°So you want me naked.¡±

    ¡°I do. Get undressed.¡±

    He cocks his head and smiles. ¡°So bossy.¡± But he eagerly strips off his jeans and briefs until he¡¯s standing fully naked in front of me.

    Looking at his strong, muscr body, I murmur, ¡°You¡¯re gorgeous. My God. Even your feet are perfect.¡±

    He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly, putting his face into my hair. Winding my arms around his waist, I rest my cheek against his chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart.

    He whispers, ¡°Will you be naked too?¡±

    ¡°Better not. Too risky.¡±

    ¡°What if I promise to behave myself?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not you I¡¯m worried about.¡±

    ¡°Gotcha. Would it be okay if I woke you up in the morning with my mouth between your legs?¡±

    He¡¯s too good to be true. There has to be something wrong with him. Nobody is this wonderful.

    ¡°That would be more than okay, but you have to let me reciprocate. I don¡¯t want this getting one-sided.¡±

    ¡°Making you feel good makes me feel good. It¡¯s a turn-on.¡± He pauses to chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. I¡¯m not saying no to a blowjob.¡±

    ¡°My skills might be a little rusty. You have to promise not tough at me.¡±

    ¡°I guarantee that no man in the history of the world has everughed when a woman has his dick in her mouth. Let¡¯s go to bed.¡±

    He turns to the bed and drags the covers down, then pulls me into his arms and flops on to the mattress, taking me with him. Myugh is breathless, but it turns to a shriek when he starts to tickle me. He rolls over and pins me underneath him, grinning down at me like a madman.

    I say, ¡°I forgot to ask you if you snore.¡±

    ¡°I forgot to ask if you snore.¡±

    I pretend to be insulted. ¡°How dare you, sir? Ady doesn¡¯t do that.¡±

    He peppers kisses all down one side of my neck, then kisses me on the mouth. ¡°Ah, but are you ady? I hope not. There are too many filthy things I want to do to you.¡± He puts his mouth next to my ear and whispers, ¡°And have you do to me.¡±

    He rolls us over, arranging our bodies so I¡¯m facing away from him on my side and he¡¯s curled up behind me, then he pulls the covers over us and snuggles against me, throwing an arm over to pull me in tight. His sigh is deep and contented.

    ¡°Are we really going to sleep with the lights on?¡±

    ¡°Oh shit. Sorry, I got distracted.¡±

    He leaps out of bed, runs over to the wall switch by the door and hits it, then runs back to me as the room is plunged into darkness. Within moments, he¡¯s resumed his spot behind me, tucking his legs up behind mine. He slips a hand under my sweatshirt and cups my breast.

    ¡°Is this okay?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± We lie there quietly for a moment, until I be aware of his erection poking at my ass. ¡°You¡¯re hard again. Unless you brought your wallet to bed with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about something unsexy if you don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°I like it. I¡¯m just surprised.¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding me? You¡¯re the most boner-worthy woman in the world. Of course I¡¯m hard again.¡±

    ¡°No refractory period necessary, hmm?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like five minutes.¡± His voice turns throaty. ¡°I can go all night if you want to.¡±

    I smile into the darkness, thinking I might take him up on that sometime.

    Like that, sated and smiling, I fall asleep.<hr>

    The dream begins in a fairy-tale woods.

    Golden sunshine filters down from the lush overhead canopy. Colorful birds serenade me from the branches of the trees along with the yful music of flutes and wind chimes. A waterfall sshes somewhere nearby but out of sight, the sound of the water carrying on a warm, gentle breeze. The air smells of springtime¡ªblooming flowers and rich, rain-drenched earth.

    I¡¯m strolling barefoot through the gauzy light, humming to myself, in no hurry and with no particr destination in mind. The mossy ground is soft beneath my feet. The dress I¡¯m wearing is a pale yellow wisp of silk, barely covering my naked body. I¡¯m aware of my nipples, the way the fabric slides over them, teasing them to tightness, sending lovely tingles down between my legs.

    Suddenly, from behind the trunk of a towering magnolia tree steps an enormous satyr.

    He¡¯s a man to the waist, with the build of a warrior, his chest broad and hewn with muscle, his skin burnished from the sun. His face is ruggedly handsome, his hair dark gold, his ears pointed. An unkempt beard covers his jaw.

    His lower body is coated in a thickyer of brown fur. His legs are those of an animal, horse or goat, with hooves instead of feet.

    A huge erection juts from between his furry legs.

    My heart pounding, I freeze in ce and stare at him with wide eyes.

    ¡°Hello,dy nymph,¡± he growls. Glowing blue eyes rake over my body. He licks his lips and grinssciviously. ¡°What a pretty little nymph you are. But a trifle sad. I think you need a good, hard fucking to make you happy.¡±

    His enormous erection bobs. Fluid glistens at the swollen crown. Thick veins run the length of it, pulsing with blood. I stare at his penis, fascinated and terrified, my heart beating like mad.

    I turn and run.

    Animalisticughter rings out behind me.

    I dart through the woond paradise, panting in panic, running blindly away from that beastlyughter that still echoes around the trees. My breasts bounce with every step. My hair is loose and long, flying around my face as I flee.

    I leap over a mossy, fallen log and am caught in midair by the satyr. He pulls me against his strong chest and chuckles as I struggle to get free, my feet kicking uselessly.

    ¡°Sweet little nymph, you can¡¯t escape. You were made for me.¡±

    He sits on the log and traps me on hisp there with him, fondling my breasts with one big rough hand as I squeal and struggle. His muscr, furry thighs tickle my bottom. His monstrous erection pokes between my legs.

    He¡¯s huge and hot everywhere, and I know exactly what he¡¯s going to do with me.

    ¡°Please! Let me go!¡±

    He pinches my nipples through the silk,ughing in delight when I cry out. The he rips the dress off, his strong fingers tearing through it with ease, baring my breasts. He leans down to greedily suck on my nipples while he gropes my bottom.

    My struggles and cries of distress are useless. They seem only to excite him. He takes my mouth in a savage kiss, rips the rest of the dress off my body, then puts his calloused hand between my legs and pets me there, stroking his fingers over my exposed pussy.

    ¡°Wet little nymph,¡± he says,ughing.

    I make sounds of protest, begging him to set me free, but gasp when he thrusts his fingers inside me. He works them in and out, ruthlessly delving into my tender flesh as he bends down again to lick my aching nipples.

    The pleasure is exquisite, but my fear of what he¡¯s going to do to me burns like fire in my veins. If he tries to fit that enormous cock inside me, I¡¯ll surely die.

    He flips me over on hisp and holds me there as he fondles and spanks my bare bottom, enjoying ying with his trapped pet. Between my legs, I¡¯m wet and throbbing. I can¡¯t catch my breath.

    ¡°Please! Please! Let me go, you beast!¡±

    Heughs and tweaks my swollen clitoris, making me gasp and jerk. When he strums his fingers back and forth over it, a helpless moan slips past my lips. His engorged organ rubs against my entrance. My hips start to undte obscenely.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to let you go, sweet nymph. You want me to fill your pink hole with my hard cock and fuck you until you¡¯re screaming, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I babble a denial, which only makes himugh again.

    ¡°I think we need to put something into that mouth.¡±

    He pushes me to my knees so I¡¯m kneeling between his hairy thighs, then holds me by the neck as he forces his huge cock past my lips. I want to protest, but can¡¯t. When he thrusts his hips, I open my mouth and take him down my throat.

    His cock is enormous. Hot and thick, tasting faintly of salt and smelling of musky animal.

    I should be gagging on it. Instead, I¡¯m sucking and bobbing my head to try to take it deeper, inching it down my throat. He sinks a hand into my hair and growls in approval, thrusting his hips. I grab his hairy thighs and grip them as he fucks my mouth lustily.

    He pulls and pinches my nipples as I suckle him, pping my breasts until they ache. He fondles my shoulders and back, grumbling in pleasure. The jerking of his hips grows faster as I suck and suck and suck. My pussy aches with need.

    ¡°My pretty little nymph wants to taste her satyr¡¯s seed, doesn¡¯t she?¡±

    I whimper, feasting greedily on his huge cock, and cup his hairy testicles. Then I curl both hands around the base of his shaft and stroke it as I suck the crown.

    He climaxes with a roar.

    Hot fluid spills over my tongue and down my throat, such great spurts of it, it leaks from my mouth and drips down my chin. I swallow his semen over and over, breathing through my nose as Ip it up.

    ¡°Very good, little nymph. Time to take that cock in your tender little cunt now.¡±

    He drags me up with his hands under my armpits and pushes me down on my belly onto the log. He spanks me smartly several more times,ughing at my helpless pleas.

    Holding me by the hips, he thrusts into me.

    I cry out as his enormous cock invades my pussy. Despite his release, he¡¯s still hard as steel. He starts to thrust into me with hard strokes, ruthlessly fucking me, growling his pleasure and holding me firmly in ce. He pounds me and gropes my breasts, pinching my nipples as his hairy balls p heavily against my thighs.

    I¡¯m dizzy. Delirious. He¡¯s using me, ramming into me, grunting and groping anything he likes on my naked body. My breasts are heavy and aching, swinging with his thrusts. My quivering thighs are spread open wide.

    When the satyr shoves his wet thumb into my asshole, I groan in need.

    Hisugh is dark. He continues to rut into my aching hole, stretching me and viting me mercilessly, until his grunts of pleasure grow louder, and I know he¡¯s close again to release.

    When he shoots his hot load into me, my pussy clenches. I climax with a scream.

    It echoes through the trees as he slows the motion of his hips and leans down to kiss my neck.

    ¡°My pretty, perfect nymph. You served me well. Let¡¯s get you cleaned up, shall we?¡±

    He withdraws his cock from my dripping pussy and gently turns me over, draping me over the log on my back. Kneeling between my spread legs, he puts his mouth onto my swollen sex,pping at it with his big tongue, sucking his semen out of me and swallowing it as I rock helplessly against his face, feeling his beard scratching my inner thighs.

    His enormous rough hands rove over my naked body, fondling my breasts and tweaking my hard nipples. He reacts to my soft cries of pleasure with a grunt, then thrusts a finger inside my pussy and another one in my ass. Delirious with pleasure, I grip his hair and ride his face and fuck his thick fingers until the pleasure is unbearable.

    My orgasm overtakes me. I awaken with a gasp.

    It isn¡¯t a satyr¡¯s head between my spread thighs. It isn¡¯t his mouth that feasts on me.

    It¡¯s Carter¡¯s.

    It¡¯s somewhere near dawn. Soft morning light filters through the crack in the curtains. He¡¯s kneeling on the bed between my legs, sucking on my clitoris while he finger fucks me through my orgasm until I¡¯m spent.

    When I¡¯m limp and panting, a boneless ragdoll in his hands, he lifts his head and smiles at me.

    ¡°Good morning.¡±

    ¡°Good morning to you, king satyr.¡±

    He furrows his brows in confusion, and I start tough.

    I can already tell it¡¯s going to be a beautiful day.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 16

    We shower together, kissing leisurely as clouds of steam envelop our bodies. He¡¯s erect the entire time, but demurs when I offer to take care of him.

    ¡°Next time. This time¡¯s about you.¡±

    He¡¯s so damn dreamy. My girlfriends wouldn¡¯t believe this if I told them. They¡¯d think I was making it all up.

    That thought is sobering, however. Neither Val nor Ev seemed supportive of this thing Carter and I have. Whatever it is. I don¡¯t want to put abel on it yet.

    I just want to enjoy it.

    We have coffee and poached eggs, then he leaves for home and a change of fresh clothing. When I close the door behind him, I rest my forehead on it for a moment, wishing he hadn¡¯t left.

    Flying high and feeling invincible, I go to work, where I¡¯m more productive than usual. I take phone calls, answer emails, and head meetings with a surge of energy flowing through my veins.

    When Alex remarks on the pep in my step and wonders at the cause of it, I simply smile.

    Carter sends me a text in the afternoon.

    I can¡¯t stop thinking about you. I¡¯ve been useless all day. How are you doing?

    I¡¯m Superwoman today, thanks to you. Last night was incredible.

    You¡¯re the sexiest woman alive. And the most delicious. When can I see you again? I¡¯m free tonight after 7.

    I have a book club meeting tonight.

    Cancel it. I¡¯ll read you something VERY interesting.

    I bet you would, handsome. Tomorrow night?

    I have a business dinner. Saturday?

    You¡¯re on. 6pm?

    Perfect. I¡¯ll pick you up. I¡¯m going to make you dinner at my house this time. Pack an overnight bag and shave your legs, baby.

    My heart flutters, and my face heats. When I don¡¯t dispute the overnight bagmand, I know I¡¯m in serious trouble.<hr>

    I spend the next two days in a state of anticipation. All my senses are heightened. I feel electrified, and I can¡¯t seem to catch my breath.

    On Saturday morning, Harlow texts me from Cabo toin about Brittany. Apparently, her attempts to befriend her are as annoying as all the screaming children running around the luxury beach resort they¡¯re staying in.

    I try to muster some sympathy for her, but can¡¯t. I tell her I miss her and to have fun. She doesn¡¯t respond to that, which likely means she¡¯s sulking.

    She wants us to have amon enemy, but I think in the long run it will be better for everyone involved if I keep my opinions about her father¡¯s romantic rtionships to myself.

    Not that it¡¯s easy. It¡¯s one of the hardest things I¡¯ve ever done. I¡¯m betting on karma taking care of Nick, though I know she works at her own pace. It could be decades before his chickense home to roost.

    But something tells me they will.

    In the meantime, I¡¯m living my life to the fullest.

    By the time Carter pulls into my driveway in his sleek blue Corvette on Saturday night, I¡¯m so wound up, I might explode. I can¡¯t remember thest time I felt this much excitement.

    By the way he bounds grinning over the grass to the front door, I know he¡¯s excited too.

    He sees me watching from the window and waves. Then he proceeds to ring the doorbell ten times in quick session while also pounding on it with his fist.

    I throw open the door and stare at him in disapproval as though I¡¯ve never seen him before. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, we don¡¯t allow solicitors here.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m peddling orgasms, ma¡¯am! I¡¯m sure you can make an exception.¡±

    We grin at each other. He¡¯s impossibly handsome in a white T-shirt and jeans, tattoos on fine disy on his muscr arms. A shadow of scruff darkens his square jaw, which I find incredibly appealing. It lends his clean-cut good looks a bit of a feral vibe.

    A shade of satyr in the woods.

    He looks at the weekend bag at my feet and whistles. ¡°You nning on moving in with me? That bag is serious business.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a woman. We travel with a fully stocked pharmacy and cosmetics aisle, along with several different changes of clothes for each asion, so we can dress ording to our mood.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I travel with a toothbrush and a spare pair of briefs.¡±

    ¡°On your private jet, I¡¯m sure, which is probably stocked with everything else you need.¡±

    ¡°Okay, less talking and more kissing. Come here, you.¡±

    He grabs me and sweeps me off my feet, iming my mouth in a kiss. Twirling me around, he sets me back on my feet andughs like a lunatic.

    ¡°You should see your face. You¡¯re bright red.¡±

    I pretend to be offended and lift my nose in the air. ¡°Maybe I have an allergy.¡±

    He leans down and whispers into my ear, ¡°Or maybe you can¡¯t wait to put those beautiful shaved legs to good use and wrap them around my waist.¡±

    My flush deepens. Heughs again, exhrated.

    ¡°Okay, baby, let¡¯s go.¡±

    He grabs my bag and slings it over his shoulder, swaggering off to the car as I lock the front door. He loads my bag into the trunk. When I get to the passenger side and reach for the handle, he rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

    ¡°Oh, yes. Please excuse me. I forgot I have staff now.¡± I gesture to the door. ¡°Go on then, chauffeur. Do your job.¡±

    Gaze heating, he steps closer. A foot away, he smiles down at me with a frank sexual look in his eyes. ¡°Anything you say, your grace.¡±

    ¡°Anything, hmm?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah. I¡¯m all about yourdyship¡¯s pleasure.¡±

    We haven¡¯t even left the driveway yet, and my heart is already racing.

    He opens the door and sweeps his arm out in a courtly gesture, bowing low at the waist. I settle myself into the leather seat and smile up at him.

    ¡°Thank you¡­oh, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve forgotten your name, chauffeur. Jeeves, was it?¡±

    ¡°You can be more creative than P.G. Wodehouse. And Jeeves was a butler, not a chauffeur. Try again.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think you did spend a lot of time at the library in college.¡±

    ¡°Does my big brain excite herdyship?¡± He waggles his eyebrows.

    Stifling augh, I bite my lip and nod. ¡°Very much indeed. In fact, I¡¯d like to take a closer look at that big brain of yours as soon as possible.¡±

    Carter leans in and kisses my cheek. He whispers, ¡°You¡¯re so fucking perfect. My big brain is already hard for you.¡±

    He swings the door shut to the sound of my helplessughter.

    As soon as we back out of the driveway onto the street, Carter takes my hand in his and starts to sing in a booming voice, faking like he¡¯s the lead baritone in an Italian opera. The words are nonsensical. Watching him act so yful and ridiculous makes me so happy, I could float.

    We make the short drive to his house in record time because he takes stop signs and yellow lights as mere suggestions. He pulls into the driveway of a handsome Craftsman with a huge jacaranda tree in the front yard. A stone walkway leads to a wraparound porch, which is bordered invender bushes and blooming hydrangeas. A detached garage at the end of the cobblestone driveway matches the house¡¯s architectural details and understated elegance.

    Carter drives toward the garage and parks in front of it, cutting the engine. Just to test him, I reach for the doorhandle.

    ¡°Oh, herdyship is toying with me,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯ll remember that.¡±

    I certainly hope so.

    He opens my door and helps me out, then retrieves my bag from the trunk. Then he leads me into the backyard, which isrge and bordered by tall evergreens and Japanese maple trees. A meandering path leads to a koi pond,plete with a small waterfall surrounded by lush ferns. A gstone patio features a built-in firece and a shaded perg entwined with climbing jasmine. Their small, star-shaped white flowers sweetly perfume the air.

    When he opens the French doors in the back of the house and pushes them apart, inviting me inside, I gasp.

    His home is gorgeous.

    The floorn is open-concept. A grand stone firece with an oak mantle dominates the living room. It¡¯s nked by bookcases packed with hardbacks behind leaded ss doors. The floors are dark, rich oak that flow throughout the first floor. The gourmet kitchen has a cozy breakfast nook with built-in seating and arge ind topped with butcher block, and the Shaker cabs are painted soft sage.

    The entire space is bathed in warm lighting in from therge windows.

    ¡°Carter, your home is so beautiful.¡±

    I walk slowly through the living room, marveling at the quality of the furnishings, the incredible attention to detail. The ssic Craftsman style is so elegant and well designed, his house could be featured in Architectural Digest.

    ¡°You like it?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    He sets my bag on the leather sofa and strolls over to me, hands in the pockets of his jeans. ¡°Thanks. I told my realtor I wanted something homey.¡±

    ¡°This is more than homey. This is a dream.¡±

    His lips quirk. ¡°Wait until you see my bedroom.¡±

    I bat myshes coyly. ¡°Why? What¡¯s in there?¡±

    He prowls over to me, smirking, then wraps me in his arms. As I twine my arms around his waist, he presses his cheek to mine.

    ¡°All the worshipping you deserve.¡±

    He reaches down and squeezes my ass, then bites me lightly on the neck, growling yfully.

    Iugh, but then he covers my mouth with his and kisses me. Holding me tightly, he sweeps his tongue against mine with gentle suction, stopping to softly bite my lower lip then thrusting his tongue into my mouth again and feeding on me.

    My nipples are tingling. I¡¯m already wet between my legs.

    His voice husky and his blue eyes heavy-lidded and hot, Carter says, ¡°Is your grace pleased with her servant?¡±

    Dear God. He¡¯s unlocking new kinks left and right for me.

    I¡¯m seized with a burning desire to find a leather crop and a pair of riding boots and sit on a high-backed chair with him kneeling naked on the floor between my legs, wrists bound and cock hard, begging me for mercy as I whip his bare ass until it¡¯s welted.

    What is he doing to me?

    Maintaining an air of cool detachment, I say, ¡°She is. But we still haven¡¯t given you a name, fine sir.¡±

    He loves this game too. I can tell because his breath has quickened, and his dick is hard and eager against my hip.

    ¡°Magnus?¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Oh dear. Someone¡¯s a little full of himself. But it fits. The loyal Magnus it is. I expect you to serve me well after supper until I¡¯mpletely satisfied, do you understand?¡±

    Carter closes his eyes and licks his lips. ¡°Jesus Christ, you¡¯re going to kill me. That¡¯s literally the hottest fucking thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d you liked it because I¡¯m winging it.¡±

    He opens his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re very good at it.¡±

    ¡°Am I?¡±

    He takes my hand and puts it between his legs, squeezing my fingers around his erection. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think you must eat Viagra for breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Your loyal servant doesn¡¯t need chemical assistance to get aroused for you, your grace. One look at you is all it takes.¡±

    He nts a kiss on my lips and releases me to swagger into the kitchen. I watch his tight ass as he goes.

    I saw a gif once of a woman in a silk gown swooning at the bottom of a grand staircase, flinging her arm melodramatically over her eyes, then slowly sliding to a puddle on the floor.

    That gif is me right now.

    But I keep it on the inside, following him into the kitchen as if this is just another day, just another date, just another gorgeous younger man who¡¯s crazy for me.

    Happens all the time. Nothing to see here.

    Standing behind the ind, Carter says, ¡°What would herdyship like to drink this evening? We have a fully stocked bar, of course, along with a fine wine collection.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. It depends. What are we eating?¡±

    ¡°Home-madesagna and garlic bread with a green sd.¡±

    I take a seat on one of thefortable leather stools at the ind opposite him. ¡°You madesagna?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I believe you.¡±

    ¡°I watched a YouTube thing. I made the sauce too. It¡¯s in the fridge, assembled and ready to go. All I have to do is put it into the oven.¡±

    ¡°Wow. I¡¯m impressed. Did you grow the lettuce?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t have time to nt seeds, or else I would have.¡±

    ¡°Do you do a lot of cooking at home?¡±

    ¡°God, no. Never. I¡¯m strictly a take-out or restaurant guy.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you went to all this effort just for me?¡±

    Eyes soft, he gazes at me for a beat, a smile flirting with the edges of his lips. ¡°You still don¡¯t get it, do you?¡±

    The adoration in his eyes makes butterflies explode in my stomach. They flit up in a mad rush and get trapped in my throat. I inhale a slow breath to steady myself, then nce down at my hands and moisten my lips.

    ¡°I¡¯d love a ss of red wine, please. Italian, if you have it.¡±

    After a brief moment of silence, Carter walks around the ind. He stands behind me and pulls me against his chest, sweeping my hair off my neck. He skims his lips from just beneath my earlobe to my corbone, then kisses his way back up again, the gentlest kisses that raise all the hair on my arms and harden my nipples.

    ¡°You¡¯re my Roman Empire,¡± he whispers near my ear.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that means.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a viral TikTok trend where women asked their male partners how often they think about the Roman Empire.¡±

    I try to ignore the fact that he¡¯s young enough to be up on recent TikTok trends and focus on the conversation. ¡°And do they?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. All the time. One guy said he thinks about the ingenuity of the Roman sewage system every time he takes a crap.¡±

    ¡°Do you think about it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I dunno. diators are cool.¡±

    I turn my head and smile up at him. ¡°You people are strange, you know that?¡±

    Gazing into my eyes, he slides his hand from my shoulder to my throat and curls his fingers around it, gently squeezing. My eyelids flutter. My thighs clench.

    He murmurs, ¡°Does herdyship like that?¡±

    Leaning back against his chest, I nod. He kisses me, slow and deep, keeping his hand around my throat and the other arm around my waist. When he fondles my breast through my blouse, pinching my hard nipple, I moan into his mouth.

    Against my lips, he says, ¡°And how about her grace¡¯s royal pussy? Does she want that to be squeezed too?¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand from my breast down my waist to my bare thigh. He pulls my skirt up and puts his hand between my legs, rubbing his fingers over my panties.

    ¡°I thinks she does,¡± he says hotly, his lips moving against mine. ¡°She¡¯s already soaking wet.¡±

    He slips his fingers under the fabric and gently pinches mybia. I moan again when he ribs his fingers back and forth through my wetness. He pinches my pussy lips again, this time more firmly.

    Arching back against him, I reach up and tangle my fingers into his hair. We kiss again, taking our time, tasting each other as hezily strokes my pussy. He slides a finger inside me, as far as it will go, then pulls it out and slides it into my mouth.

    He watches with a hard jaw and zing eyes as I suck on his finger.

    The eye contact is intense. Bordering on frightening. I feel raw and exposed, peeled open, letting him see everything because I know he wants to.

    He kisses me on the temple, then says gruffly, ¡°Take off all your clothes. I need to look at you while I make dinner.¡±

 Beg For Me: Chapter 17

    ¡°<span>My, my,¡± Sophia teases, shaking her head. ¡°I do believe you¡¯re getting above your station, Magnus. Don¡¯t forget who¡¯s serving whom here. If you continue being so insolent, I¡¯ll have to put you in your ce.¡±

    She hops off the stool, squeezes my hard dick through my jeans, then turns her back on me, sashaying into the living room and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. Kicking her heels off, she sits on the sofa, stretches out on her back, crosses her legs at the ankle, and folds her arms behind her head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that ss of wine now.¡± She smiles condescendingly, like Cleopatra to a pce servant.

    Whatever beast I didn¡¯t know I had hibernating in a dark cave inside me wakes up, pounds on his chest, and roars at the top of his animal lungs.

    This woman is fucking magnificent.

    ¡°Anything else you¡¯d like while I¡¯m at it?¡±

    She thinks for a moment, pursing her lips. ¡°Yes. Take off your shirt.¡±

    When I pull my T-shirt over my head and drop it to the floor, I¡¯m gratified to see her breath quicken. She pretends indifference, however, looking me over clinically like I¡¯m livestock at an auction.

    Grinning, I turn back to the kitchen.

    I know she¡¯s watching me as I select the bottle of Amarone I bought for this asion from the wine fridge. I open it, decant, and pour us both a ss. Then I stroll over to her and present it with a respectful bow. ¡°Mydy.¡±

    Her eyes dark and inscrutable, she takes the ss from my hand and rewards me with a queenly nod of her head.

    I start to turn away, but she stops me.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you forgotten something?¡± She lifts a leg, wiggles her foot, then takes a sip of her wine, waiting.

    My dick is so hard for her, it hurts.

    Taking her slender bare foot in my hands, I bend over and gently kiss every toe.

    ¡°Very good, Magnus. That will be all for now.¡±

    I press a final kiss to the top of her foot, then rise and nt her a look that says I want to fuck her silly. She blinks innocently and sips more of her wine.

    When I take too long to get moving because I¡¯m admiring the fine picture she makes, reclining there on my couch like a siren luring men to their deaths with her enchanting song, she shoos me off with a regal wave of her hand.

    I turn away to hide my grin.

    I feel her gaze on me as I take thesagna out of the fridge and put the covered dish on the counter. I set the oven to preheat and get the sd ready, tossing everything together but the dressing. Once that¡¯s finished, I return to her with the bottle of wine and refill her ss.

    She drinks deeply from it, gazing up at me with those amazing dark eyes, then licks her lips.

    My cock pulses. I¡¯m aching to feel those full lips around it. But I think I¡¯ll have to earn that, considering I¡¯m currently in house boy mode.

    ¡°May I serve herdyship a selection of fruit and fine cheeses before her meal?¡±

    ¡°You may,¡± she replies coolly. ¡°But be quick about it.¡±

    When I chuckle, shaking my head at how easily she¡¯s slipped into her role, she crinkles her nose and says softly, ¡°It is too much? I¡¯m not sure how to do this.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think you know exactly what you¡¯re doing, your grace. And I fucking love every second of it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure? I¡¯m a little self-conscious.¡±

    She¡¯s still hesitant. I need to reassure her, because I want her to be all in, feeling as excited as I am and not up in her head worrying.

    I set the bottle of wine on the coffee table. Holding her gaze, I slowly unzip my jeans and pull out my stiff cock. Gripping it, I say gruffly, ¡°You tell me, yourdyship. Does it look like I like it?¡±

    She stares at my cock with hungry eyes, like she wants nothing more than to take it down her throat as far as it will go. Instead of doing that, she rxes back against the sofa and smiles serenely.

    ¡°Magnus, that dick of yours is glorious. I¡¯ll have my bardpose a poem in its honor. Now, you may bring me the fruit and cheese. Oh, and I expect you to kneel while you feed me from your fingers.¡±

    I grin at her, she grins back at me, and goddamn, I could y this game forfuckingever.

    Stuffing my cock back into my briefs, I zip up and return to the kitchen. I pull a bunch of red grapes and cut melon from the fridge, along with a few different cheeses I thought she might like when I shopped for this meal. Standing at the ind as I put together a wooden board with everything on it, I¡¯m hyperaware of her watching me. She looks sofortable on my sofa, as if she¡¯s been lying there every afternoon for years.

    It hits me like a sledgehammer that my dream woman is rxing on my couch, drinking the wine I poured for her, gazing at me with sex in her eyes.

    Somebody p me. I must be hallucinating.

    My reverie breaks when Sophia snaps her fingers. ¡°You¡¯re dawdling. I¡¯m hungry. Hurry up.¡±

    My dick pulses in response to thatmand. I almost drop the knife I¡¯m holding, but manage to keep it together long enough to finish slicing cheese and arranging everything on the board. I bring it to her and kneel next to the sofa, bowing my head.

    She looks everything over with a critical eye. ¡°eptable. Proceed.¡±

    I set the board on the coffee table, select a soft slice of Brie, and hold it to her mouth.

    Gazing into my eyes, she opens her lips and waits. I slip the cheese gently into her mouth, shuddering when she closes her lips around my finger and sucks.

    Lust sts through me. It¡¯s so hot and overpowering, I¡¯m liable to spontaneouslybust. My skin is on fire, my pulse is flying, and my dick aches to get buried deep inside her tight, wet cunt.

    If we keep ying this game, I¡¯ll wind up as nothing but a smoking ember on the carpet.

    Carefully watching my expression, she chews and swallows. Using that soft voice again, she says, ¡°I¡¯m trying to find that fine line between raging bitch and smoldering seductress.¡±

    I speak softly too. ¡°You¡¯re doing great.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Is it okay that I¡¯m checking in with you like this or is it ruining the vibe?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s awesome. You¡¯re not ruining anything. I think if you even blew a soft breath of air across my dick right now, I¡¯de all over your face.¡±

    She breaks out intoughter but sobers abruptly, adopting an expression of withering disdain along with her haughty highborn voice.

    ¡°How dare you speak to me with such impudence! You must be punished for this brazen show of disrespect. Bring me¡­¡±

    She nces around the room. When her eyes alight on an object out of my line of vision, she looks up at me with a sly smile.

    ¡°Bring me that wooden spoon from the crock on the counter next to the stove. Thene back here, pull your pants down, and get on all fours.¡±

    Jesus fucking Cracker Barrel Christ.

    She¡¯s going to spank me.

    All the blood drains from my head and rushes to my dick. My balls tighten in anticipation. I swallow convulsively. A sound like jet engines roars in my ears.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself, Magnus. I¡¯ll count to five. If you¡¯re not kneeling on all fours with your bare ass disyed for me by then, you won¡¯t like the consequences. One.¡±

    I run across the room and back so fast, I probably break the sound barrier.

    Sophia sits up, swings her legs over the edge of the sofa, takes the spoon from my hand, and ps it against her open palm.

    The sharp sound the wood makes against her skin gives me full-body shivers.

    ¡°Down,¡± shemands, pointing at the floor.

    I sink to my knees like a supplicant. I¡¯m her good dog, her good boy, my dick like a steel rod and my heart in my throat. As she watches, I unzip my jeans and pull them down to the middle of my thighs.

    ¡°Briefs too. Don¡¯t test me.¡±

    I pull them down. My cock springs out, jutting toward the ceiling. She gazes at it with heavy-lidded eyes.

    Amused, she says, ¡°My, my, aren¡¯t we eager?¡±

    She slowly traces one edge of the spoon up my naked thigh, stopping just below my balls. I suck in a breath. The wood is cold and unyielding, a warning against my skin. When she grazes the underside of my sack with it, I shudder and exhale a faint, involuntary moan.

    My cock pulses in time with my heartbeat. I¡¯m desperate for her to put her hands on it, put her lips on it, suck on it until my eyes roll back into my head.

    Her voice dark and cold, shemands, ¡°Get on all fours, Magnus, so I can give you your punishment.¡±

    Sweat breaks out all over my skin. My breathing is audible. I feel dizzy, almost disoriented with lust. I drop down to my hands, hang my head, and close my eyes.

    She smooths a hand over my back and shoulders, making sounds of approval as she caresses me.

    ¡°So strong. All these muscles. Look how perfect you are.¡± Bending close to my ear, she murmurs, ¡°I¡¯m supposed to make you count out loud, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes. To ten. Do it as hard as you want. If it gets too painful, I¡¯ll say yellow, so you¡¯ll know to do it lighter. If I want you to stop, I¡¯ll say red. If everything¡¯s good, I¡¯ll say green.¡±

    My voice is thick with lust. I sound like someone else. Someone I¡¯ve never met who¡¯s experienced with this kind of thing and hasn¡¯t only jerked off to fantasies.

    We¡¯ve all seen the videos or read the books. We¡¯re not reinventing the wheel here.

    Resting one hand on the small of my back, Sophia brings the wooden spoon down onto my ass cheek with surprising force. I jerk and hiss, enjoying the sting.

    ¡°I¡¯m waiting, Magnus.¡±

    ¡°One.¡±

    ¡°Good boy.¡±

    My cock throbs.

    She hits me again on the opposite cheek, this time harder. The sound the spoon makesing into contact with my bare ass is sharp and loud, as is the breath I suck in.

    ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°Color?¡±

    ¡°Green.¡±

    Herugh is soft and seductive. ¡°Oh dear. I¡¯ve been going too easy on you. Let¡¯s rectify that, shall we?¡±

    I hear the whistle of the spoon through the air a split second before it makes contact with my skin. The blow is surprisingly hard, and so is my dick, which is leaking. I feel the hot drop of precum sliding over the crown.

    Breathless, I say, ¡°Three. Harder. And faster.¡±

    She reaches under me and takes my stiff cock in her hand, squeezing it firmly around the base.

    ¡°You¡¯re not to speak again except for counting unless I give you permission to. You won¡¯te without permission either. Understood?¡±

    Panting now, I nod. She fondles my cock for a moment, weighing the heft of my balls in her palm and stroking my aching shaft from tip to base.

    I want to thrust into her hand and fuck it, or throw her onto the ground, rip off all her clothes, and fuck that delicious pussy of hers until she¡¯s screaming.

    I hold myself perfectly still instead.

    She rains down a series of hard, stinging blows on my ass in quick session, going back and forth between each cheek, never in the same spot twice, giving me just enough time to count between each stroke. All the while, she grips my aching cock like she owns it.

    Like it doesn¡¯t belong to me, but to her.

    Finally, it¡¯s over, and I¡¯m gasping. Sweating. My arms shake and my ass throbs and my dick pulses, aching for release.

    I rasp, ¡°Ten.¡±

    Sophia sets the spoon aside and smooths her hand gently over my ass and upper thighs, tracing what are probably some serious welts with her fingertips.

    She coos, ¡°So perfect. My perfect, beautiful boy. You did so well, Carter. I¡¯m very pleased with you.¡±

    A tremor runs through my entire body. A moan slips past my lips. I¡¯m having a transcendental experience, like those gurus who meditate until they see God.

    ¡°This cock of yours is gorgeous,¡± my mistress says, caressing it. ¡°Sit up on your knees. I want to look at it.¡±

    I push up to a kneeling position and wait for more instructions.

    ¡°Put your hands behind your head, elbows out. Then don¡¯t move an inch.¡±

    God, she¡¯s so fucking good at this.

    I lick my lips andply, threading my fingers behind my head and spreading my elbows. I don¡¯t know if she put me in this position intentionally, so I feel degraded, like a criminal about to get frisked by a cop, but whatever. It¡¯s working.

    Resting her right hand on my hip, she gently strokes me with her left hand, making a humming sound of approval deep in her throat. More precum is leaking from the slit in the crown of my dick. She runs her thumb over it, spreading it around.

    Then she leans over and licks it.

    The pleasure is intense. It moves from my cock throughout the rest of my body in hot, delicious waves that leave me panting for more.

    When I moan, she shushes me.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to amuse myself with this gorgeous cock for a moment, now. Stay still and be quiet. If you¡¯re very, very good, I¡¯ll allow you toe. Remember, not a sound.¡±

    My heart races at a breakneck speed. My entire body is trembling, and my chest is slick with sweat. I¡¯m so aroused, I can¡¯t focus on anything but the sound of her voice and the feel of her hand on my aching dick, the way she¡¯s so expertly stroking it, fondling every vein and caressing every inch of it, balls and shaft and crown.

    She sucks the engorged tip into her mouth, and I almoste.

    I fight to stay silent. To stay perfectly still because all I want is to please her. I need to please her like I need air.

    ¡°Very good,¡± she croons. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you.¡±

    I¡¯m so excited, I might be on the verge of passing out.

    She sucks the tip into her mouth. Just the tip, flicking her tongue back and forth against the exquisitely sensitive underside. My breathing bottoms out. My heartbeat goes haywire.

    When she eases my cock deeper into her mouth, moaning around it so the sound reverberates through my pelvis, I almost lose it. A shudder wracks my body. A jolt of electricity crackles up the entire length of my spine.

    Gazing up at me, she starts tozily suck on my dick and stroke it with her hand curled firmly around the shaft.

    My blood is fire. Every inch of my skin burns. My balls draw up, and I¡¯m gonnae, I¡¯m gonnae, oh fuck I have toe¡ª

    ¡°I haven¡¯t given you permission to climax, Magnus.¡±

    I close my eyes and exhale raggedly, being careful to be silent.

    She tugs on my dick. ¡°Eyes on me. I want you to watch me suck on you.¡±

    I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m still upright, but I obey hermand and open my eyes. She gazes up at me with wet lips and an intoxicating little smirk of self-congrattion.

    She¡¯s enjoying this as much as I am.

    Her pink tongue flicks out. She licks the slit in the head of my dick, then sucks the entire crown into her mouth again. Then she starts to stroke the shaft hard and fast, jerking me off to inevitable oblivion.

    She must see the plea in my eyes, because she gives my dick one final, firm tug, then sits back. ¡°Permission granted.¡±

    At the same moment the oven beeps to indicate its preheated, I erupt with a guttural groan.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 18

    A thick stream of cum sts out from Carter¡¯s dick. He drops his head back and groans loudly at the ceiling, thrusting his hips into my fist as he continues to orgasm in short, hot pulses.

    He¡¯s beautiful like this. Eyes closed, stomach clenched, the cords in his neck standing out. Hips thrust forward, body arched. Adonis in ecstasy.

    I lean over and take his cock in my mouth, swallowing his ejacte as he feeds it to me. Jerking and moaning, he grabs my head and starts to frantically fuck my mouth.

    He calls out my name. Once, then again, brokenly.

    When he¡¯s finally spent, panting and trembling, he opens his eyes and looks down at me in hazy-eyed bliss.

    I slip his cock from between my lips and smile. ¡°You taste like the ocean.¡±

    He drops his head back and starts tough. It¡¯s a deep, husky sound, utterly masculine.

    ¡°Fucking hell, woman.¡±

    ¡°You good?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m better than good. I think my soul left my body for a second there. Jesus.¡±

    Cradling my head in his hands, he inhales, exhales in a gust, then looks down at me again. He¡¯s smiling now. Beaming, actually.

    ¡°I got a little carried away there at the end.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think you found the bottom of my stomach.¡±

    ¡°Did I hurt you?¡±

    ¡°Not even a little bit.¡±

    He exhales in relief. ¡°That was the most intense orgasm I¡¯ve ever had.¡±

    ¡°I have to admit, it was pretty exciting watching you. Even if I¡¯m all sorts of awkward with the dirty talk.¡±

    He chuffs. ¡°Are you kidding me? You¡¯re a natural.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. How does your ass feel?¡±

    He thinks about it for a moment, then sighs. ¡°So good.¡±

    I take a look at his butt, taut and perfect except for the pattern of vivid red splotches. ¡°You¡¯ve got some welts. Nothing too scary. No broken skin or bruises. I should put a coldpress on it though. Maybe some aloe vera.¡±

    ¡°That sounds great, except I¡¯m in the middle of making you dinner. If you couldn¡¯t tell, the oven is getting impatient.¡±

    As if on cue, the oven beeps again. I press a kiss to his hip. ¡°I¡¯ll put thesagna in the naggy oven. And while it¡¯s cooking, I¡¯m going to take care of you. Lie face down on the sofa and wait there until I get back.¡±

    I stand and head to the kitchen while he arranges himself on the couch. I hear a great, heaving gust of a sigh, then a chuckle.

    ¡°Man, herdyship is strict.¡±

    Smiling, I remove the foil from the casserole dish and pop it into the oven. I set the timer for thirty minutes, then rummage around in a few drawers until I locate a clean dishtowel.

    I find a big ss bowl in a cab above the sink and fill it with ice from the freezer. Then I run water into the bowl and put the dishtowel in to soak.

    As I make my way back to Carter, he¡¯s looking over his shoulder at me, watching me approach with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Half-naked, with his jeans and briefs around his thighs and his pale ass all welted, he¡¯s the very picture of ravishment.

    I did that.

    The thought is intoxicating.

    I sit next to him on the sofa, set the bowl on the coffee table, and wring out the towel. When Iy it over his naked bottom, he flinches and hisses through his teeth.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯m having the time of my fucking life.¡±

    ¡°Is the cloth too cold?¡±

    ¡°It feels amazing.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Hold on a second.¡±

    From my overnight bag, I remove the travel container that holds my various creams and potions and take out a small tube of gel. I turn back to Carter, lift the towel from his behind andy it back into the ice water bowl, then gently massage a dollop of aloe vera onto his reddened skin.

    He lies quietly while I work, every once in a while sighing in contentment.

    ¡°You¡¯re a goddess. What¡¯s-her-face Nightingale.¡±

    ¡°Florence. Is this strange for you at all?¡±

    ¡°No. Why, is it strange for you?¡±

    ¡°For someone who¡¯s never role-yed before, it feels bizarrely natural.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never role-yed either.¡±

    ¡°Really? That surprises me.¡±

    ¡°The girls I¡¯ve dated haven¡¯t been into that kind of thing.¡± He thinks for a moment. ¡°To be honest, and I hope this isn¡¯t an off-putting thing to say, but in my experience, most women don¡¯t really know what they want in bed. They usually let the guy take the lead.¡±

    ¡°Am I the oldest woman you¡¯ve dated?¡±

    He props himself up on his elbows and peers at me. ¡°I feel like there¡¯s andmine in there somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not baiting you. I was just curious, but you don¡¯t have to answer.¡±

    There¡¯s a brief pause, then he nods. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re the oldest woman I¡¯ve dated. And by far the sexiest.¡±

    That makes me smile. ¡°Well, thank you for that, fine sir. You¡¯re by far the sexiest person I¡¯ve dated too.¡±

    He watches me in silence as I finish gently rubbing the gel onto the raised red marks on his skin. I wring the towel out in the bowl andy it back over his ass, and he¡¯s still watching me.

    I say, ¡°You¡¯re thinking.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Does it hurt?¡±

    He takes the small velvet throw pillow he was resting his head on and flings it at me. I dodge it,ughing.

    ¡°Sorry. Couldn¡¯t resist.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you deserve a spanking.¡±

    I stop and look at him, considering it. ¡°I¡¯ve never been spanked. Not even when I was little. My father didn¡¯t believe in corporal punishment. The worst I ever got was a stern talking-to.¡±

    Carter nces at his butt. ¡°Am I good to go?¡±

    ¡°We should probably let that cold cloth stay on for a while. It¡¯ll hold down the swelling.¡±

    He quirks his lips and gazes at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. ¡°Are you babying me?¡±

    My immediate instinct is to say yes, but I rethink it.

    What if he wants me to baby him? What if we keep going in this direction and I wind up spoon-feeding him applesauce while he sits in a high chair, squalling?

    I picture him crawling around the carpet with a pacifier in his mouth wearing a soiled diaper that needs changing and grimace.

    He chuckles. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re thinking, you should probably share it because you look a little green.¡±

    ¡°Right. Sorry.¡± Slightly embarrassed, I clear my throat and meet his eyes. ¡°If you¡¯re into age y, like having somebody be your mommy while you¡¯re a helpless infant and all that, I¡¯ll have to pass. I already raised a child. I don¡¯t want to do it again.¡±

    He bursts outughing. Dropping his forehead to his crossed arms, heughs andughs while I sit and think about picking up the wooden spoon again and giving his sore ass a good thwack with it.

    ¡°Move, please, beautiful. I want to stand up.¡±

    I rise and step around to the other side of the coffee table. He stands, drops the wet towel back into the bowl of ice water, and pulls up his jeans. After he¡¯s zipped up, he props his hands on his hips and grins at me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not into the infant role-y thing.¡±

    ¡°Thank God.¡±

    ¡°But I do like to eat fresh poop, so if you could just bend over a chair and take off your panties, I¡¯ll get situated¡­¡±

    I¡¯m horrified for a second until he presses his lips together and his chest starts heaving with silentughter.

    I say sourly, ¡°Oh, very funny. Gross but funny. Thank you for almost giving me a heart attack.¡±

    He clutches his sides, bending over at the waist because he¡¯s so overtaken withughter. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen your face!¡±

    I pick up the pillow he threw at me and hurl it back at him. It bounces off his head andnds on the floor. ¡°Well, how am I supposed to know what you¡¯re into? Millennials are weird.¡±

    He stopsughing and sends me a dour look. ¡°Okay, boomer.¡±

    That makes me chuckle. ¡°Now you¡¯re really asking for it.¡±

    He says archly, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did I dent herdyship¡¯s ego?¡±

    ¡°No, because technically, I¡¯m a Millennial too.¡±

    ¡°But like an elder Millennial. Pretty much Gen X.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re swimming in dangerous waters, my friend.¡±

    ¡°Oh, c¡¯mon. We have to be able to joke about it.¡±

    ¡°I should have punished you with a proper whip.¡±

    Smirking, he strolls over to me. ¡°Only if I get to reciprocate.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°You¡¯re a brat.¡±

    ¡°No, beautiful, I¡¯m just giving as good as I get. But I promise I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡±

    He kisses me on the cheek, then walks into the kitchen, whistling ¡°Old McDonald Had a Farm.¡±

    I call out to his back, ¡°Don¡¯t mind me. I¡¯ll just be over here feeding myself some fine cheeses while you gloat over your fast metabolism and high bone density.¡±

    By the way his shoulders shake, I can tell he¡¯s trying not tough out loud.

    Smartass.

    I sit down and eat a juicy piece of cantaloupe. Carter putters around in the kitchen for a few minutes, thenes back to me, holding his wine ss. He gestures to the bottle on the coffee table.

    ¡°I picked this especially for you.¡±

    I look at thebel, bearing the same winery logo as the Amarone I ordered the night we had dinner in Venice. ¡°That was thoughtful. Thank you.¡±

    He picks up the bottle, refills my ss, then sits down beside me, flinching a little as he settles in.

    I hope his welted butt stings like hell. ¡°Okay boomer,¡± my ass.

    He says, ¡°So you don¡¯t like infant role-y, and you¡¯re not into eating fresh poop.¡±

    ¡°Or providing it for anyone else to eat. Correct.¡±

    ¡°What are you into, then? Aside from topping, I mean.¡±

    I turn to look at him. ¡°Is that like being a dominatrix?¡±

    ¡°Topping and bottoming are activity based. Dominance and submission are psychology based.¡±

    ¡°You seem to know an awful lot about it for someone who¡¯s never role-yed.¡±

    He lifts a shoulder. ¡°Not really. Someone told me that once, and I remembered it.¡±

    ¡°Was this someone trying to tie you up at the time?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t enjoy being restrained. How about you?¡±

    I eat another piece of melon while I consider it. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess it would depend on the person who was doing the tying. How much trust I had in him.¡±

    ¡°Something to consider.¡± He swirls his wine, watching me with avid eyes.

    ¡°One thing I really enjoyed was having you wake me up with your mouth. I was in the middle of this incredible dream about being defiled by a satyr in the woods, and all of a sudden, I¡¯m in my own bed orgasming with your face between my legs.¡± I smile at the memory.

    ¡°So that¡¯s why you called me king satyr. I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d been given a pet name.¡± He leans over, picks up a grape from the board, and pops it into his mouth. ¡°Defiled, hmm? That sounds interesting.¡±

    ¡°He chased me down and had his beastly way with me. It was lovely.¡±

    ¡°Against your will?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I liked it.¡± I stop and think about what I just said. ¡°That probably sounds awful.¡±

    ¡°Not at all. It sounds like you enjoy the thought of someone physically stronger than you forcing you to submit to him sexually.¡±

    ¡°Now it sounds even worse!¡±

    ¡°Sometimes people who have a high level of responsibility in their daily lives need to let go a little. It¡¯s an outlet. Like going for a run or getting a massage.¡±

    Myugh is dry. ¡°Yes, except for feminism, I¡¯d agree with you. Women fought for decades for our right to equality, only to surrender it in the bedroom?¡±

    He drawls, ¡°What makes you think it¡¯s only women?¡±

    I consider him. ¡°Yes, I suppose that¡¯s true, Mr. COO of Earth. You seem to enjoy surrendering control.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know I did.¡± His voice grows softer. ¡°Until this afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°You asked for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So yes, really. That was incredibly fucking hot. I found it surprisingly Zen.¡±

    I almost cough out the sip of wine I was taking. ¡°You had a spiritual experience, did you?¡±

    His smile is hot andzy. He pops another grape into his mouth and chews it, holding my gaze. ¡°I guess the only way you¡¯d understand, your grace, is if you let me try it with you.¡±

    I open my mouth to issue an automatic denial, but stop before a word leaves my lips. If it was as hot for him submitting to the punishment as it was for me dispensing it, he might be onto something.

    ¡°Okay. You¡¯re on. What else do you think you¡¯d like but haven¡¯t tried yet?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more interested in what you think you might like. You got pretty excited when I put my hand around your neck and squeezed.¡±

    Just thinking about it makes my thighs clench. I nod, exhaling a little raggedly.

    ¡°Have you experimented with that?¡±

    ¡°No. My ex was as straight as theye. Missionary only, lights out.¡±

    ¡°But I assume you had other sexual partners before him?¡±

    ¡°I did. And if you ask how many, I¡¯ll politely decline to answer, then politely throw the rest of my wine in your face.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to ask. By the way, I¡¯m clean.¡±

    When I look at him with my brows raised, he says, ¡°I meant I don¡¯t have any nasty little germies that I could infect you with.¡±

    ¡°What a creative way of saying it. I know what you meant.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you making that face?¡±

    I look at the wine and the cheese board, at all the elegant furnishings in this elegant room, then back at him. ¡°Cognitive dissonance, I suppose. Last week at this time, I was picking my daughter¡¯s dirty clothes off the floor. Now, I¡¯m sitting here talking about STDs and washing the taste of your cum down my throat with expensive wine.¡±

    He smirks. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the fruit and fine cheeses.¡±

    ¡°But you see the point I¡¯m making.¡±

    ¡°I do. Maybe it¡¯s just easier for me because I¡¯ve been fantasizing about you for so long. You can¡¯t imagine the number of times I¡¯ve ejacted onto your beautiful bare tits. It¡¯s got to be in the thousands.¡±

    I stare at him for a moment, speechless, then dissolve into helplessughter. ¡°I¡¯m d to know I¡¯ve been such a source of inspiration!¡±

    He starts tough too. ¡°Baby, you have no idea. Is now a good time to tell you I¡¯m into anal? Because I¡¯d really like to stick it up your butt.¡±

    I fall back onto the sofa,ughing so hard, I have to clutch my winess to my chest so I don¡¯t drop it.

    I suppose it wouldn¡¯t matter much if I did, anyway. He¡¯s going to need to call a carpet cleaning service to get his semen out of the rug. What I didn¡¯t swallow is currently drying there in clumps.

    ¡°Okay, Carter,¡± I say, gasping for air. ¡°You¡¯re on. I¡¯ll let you stick it in my butt. But not tonight. Let¡¯s eat dinner and act like we¡¯re normal people for half a second before we sink into all the debauchery.¡±

    He leans down, takes my foot in his hand, and kisses it, gazing up at me with heated eyes and a dangerous smile.

    He says softly, ¡°As you wish, yourdyship. Just for tonight, we¡¯re nothing but two normal people. A beautiful woman and the fool who¡¯s madly in love with her.¡±

    I look away and take a big gulp of wine so I don¡¯t do something stupid like ask him if he¡¯s telling the truth.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 19

    Carter¡¯ssagna blows my socks off. We eat at the kitchen ind instead of in his formal dining room, shoulder to shoulder, talking nonstop.

    He doesn¡¯t let me help him clean up. Insisting I rx with my wine, he takes care of everything while I watch him, trying to stay in the moment and not get lost deep in thought.

    The more time we spend together, the more I like him. And the more I worry about where this might end up.

    Probably with my heart broken into a million pieces.

    Things that seem too good to be true inevitably are.

    When he¡¯s finished putting everything away and wiping down the counters, he opens another bottle of wine. We go out to the backyard where the sun is setting, casting the trees and grass in a golden glow. He lights the gas firece with a flick of a switch, and we sit on the sofa opposite it, our bare feet propped up on a low, rustic wood table.

    Staring into the mes, he murmurs, ¡°Thank you for being here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m d I came. But you don¡¯t always have to thank me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. I want you to know how much it means to me.¡±

    I nce at him. In profile, he¡¯s a study in masculine beauty, that rugged jaw and straight nose and sculpted lips that were made for kissing.

    ¡°Did you ever model?¡±

    Startled by the question, he chuckles and drags a hand through his hair. ¡°My father would¡¯ve disowned me. Why, do you think I could?¡±

    ¡°God, yes. You¡¯re a total Zonder.¡±

    He closes his eyes andughs softly. ¡°Thanks?¡±

    I take his hand, twining my fingers through his. ¡°It¡¯s apliment.¡±

    ¡°Except for the part about how dumb he was in that movie.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not saying I think you¡¯re dumb. I actually think you¡¯re one of those people that others don¡¯t take seriously because they¡¯re too pretty. It¡¯s hard to look past your dazzling face to see all the genius behind it.¡±

    After a pause when I realize he¡¯s not saying anything, I nce at him again. He¡¯s staring at me in silent contemtion, his brows drawn together. His blue eyes are troubled.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m a genius?¡±

    Because he seems so affected, I try to inject a little humor into the situation. ¡°Well, you like me, so you¡¯re obviously very bright.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m only teasing you.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­you always have something ttering to say.¡± He turns his head and gazes into the fire. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting for you to be impressed with me.¡±

    I give his fingers a reassuring squeeze. ¡°If you weren¡¯t impressive, I wouldn¡¯t be. But you are, so I am.¡±

    He nces over at me and smiles shyly. ¡°It was the Japanese that did the trick, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Among other things. I mean, yoursagna alone could make a girl lose her mind, but you¡¯re also well-read, quick-witted, and funny as hell.¡± I smile. ¡°And let¡¯s not forget about that magnificent dick of yours.¡±

    He looks bashfully down at our mingled fingers. ¡°You¡¯re spoiling me.¡±

    ¡°You deserve it.¡±

    ¡°Now I know why you were suspicious when I was paying you too manypliments. I feel like the minute I fall asleep, you¡¯ll ransack the house, looking for trade secrets.¡±

    I deadpan, ¡°You got me. I¡¯m only here on the orders of my board.¡±

    ¡°What do you think Hartman would say if he knew what we just did?¡±

    I think about my boss discovering that I¡¯m dating a McCord, his hated business rivals. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t say anything because his head would¡¯ve exploded the moment he found out.¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard about him, he¡¯s a ginormous prick. And not the good kind.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°I¡¯dment on that, except for the NDA I signed when I was hired.¡±

    ¡°You should take that guy¡¯s job. You¡¯d be a way better CEO than he is.¡±

    The thought makes me shudder. ¡°I have no interest in a public-facing position. I¡¯m much too private for that.¡±

    ¡°Callum is obsessively private, to the point you¡¯d think he works for the CIA. But he¡¯s a great CEO. The two things aren¡¯t mutually exclusive.¡±

    ¡°I suppose not. But McCord Media isn¡¯t a publicly-tradedpany. At TriCast, we have to answer to our stockholders above all else. And those people are bloodthirsty.¡±

    ¡°You could handle it. You¡¯re a lioness.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for that vote of confidence, but I¡¯m happy where I am. For the time being.¡±

    He looks interested. ¡°You thinking of making a move?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m always thinking of making a move. If there¡¯s a better-paying job with better benefits and more opportunity out there, I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    ¡°TriCast isn¡¯t paying you well?¡±

    I quirk my lips and stare at him. ¡°Why do I get the feeling you already know how much they¡¯re paying me?¡±

    ¡°Because I do. I took a look at your SEC filings. You should ask for a raise, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I just did. And I think it¡¯s only fair that I know what you make since you know what I make.¡±

    He adopts an innocent expression. ¡°But ourpany isn¡¯t publicly traded.¡±

    When I narrow my eyes at him, heughs and relents. Then he names a number sorge, I think he¡¯s joking.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make that screwy face. It isn¡¯t that much money.¡±

    ¡°Sure, to a billionaire, it¡¯s peanuts. To the rest of usmon folk, it¡¯s what we politely call a shit ton.¡±

    ¡°I should¡¯ve fibbed.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m d I know. By the way, you¡¯re paying for dinner from now on.¡±

    Heughs. ¡°Ah, herdyship got over her pride pretty quickly, didn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°Hey, I still clip coupons when I shop for groceries. I¡¯ve got a kid I need to put through college.¡±

    I can¡¯t tell if that disturbed expression he¡¯s wearing is because of the mention of coupons or my kid, until he says, ¡°Is your ex not giving you anything?¡±

    ¡°Child support, yes. I¡¯m just frugal.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t pay you alimony?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take it. Why do you look so surprised?¡±

    ¡°You were married for twenty years. You have a child together. He should be taking care of you.¡±

    I look down at my wine, dark as dried blood. ¡°There are a lot of strings attached when Nick gives someone money. He¡¯d feel very entitled to my time, my space, my everything. I¡¯ve seen how he is with the musicians he signs. I didn¡¯t want him feeling proprietary over me in any way after the divorce.¡±

    Carter winds his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his side. He takes a thoughtful sip of wine, then pronounces tly, ¡°I¡¯m really starting to dislike that guy.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound like you¡¯re plotting where you¡¯re going to hide his body.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it wouldn¡¯t be me. I have staff for that.¡±

    ¡°Very funny.¡±

    He sends me a sidelong nce, smiles, then takes another sip of wine.

    We stare into the fire for a while, until he says suddenly, ¡°Degradation.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Do you think you¡¯d be into that? Me calling you names during sex.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Give me an example.¡±

    ¡°Like if I said you were my dirty little cum slut while you had my dick in your mouth.¡±

    I consider it, then start tough. ¡°Honestly, that could go either way. I might love it, or you might end up with a ck eye. Would you like it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a hard no for me.¡±

    ¡°You like it better when I praise you.¡± We share a nce and a smile. ¡°But you do enjoy being bossed around.¡±

    He shrugs. ¡°I like it from you. It feels natural.¡± His gaze turns smoldering. ¡°I think we¡¯ll both like it when the tables are turned too. The stable boy has all kinds of ns for herdyship¡¯s pretty wet cunt.¡±

    Those words are so carnal, they make my pulse zigzag and my stomach drop.

    Watching my face, Carter says, ¡°Dirty talk¡¯s on your Bingo card, hmm?¡±

    ¡°Evidently.¡± I fan my face,ughing. ¡°Wow.¡±

    He leans over and whispers into my ear, ¡°I want to eat that sweet wet cunt of yours until you¡¯re begging me to give you my stiff cock. Then I¡¯m gonna hold you down and fuck you hard while I suck on those lush tits.¡±

    My nipples tighten. My insides clench. Goose bumps form up and down both my arms. Marveling at them, I lift an arm and show him.

    He chuckles. ¡°Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Cheers to dirty talk.¡±

    We clink our winesses together.

    ¡°And to you holding me down. I like that idea too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah. Big yeah. I may have done an involuntary Kegel.¡±

    He growls, ¡°God, I can¡¯t wait to feel your pussy clench around my dick when I¡¯m fucking you.¡±

    ¡°Okay, wow.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°My ears are burning, and I¡¯m starting to sweat. You¡¯re killing me here. And maybe I¡¯ll be the one fucking you.¡±

    He nuzzles my neck, then sucks gently on my earlobe. His breath hot against my skin, he whispers, ¡°Yeah? You gonna wear a strap-on and fuck my ass, baby?¡±

    If I were wearing a heart monitor, it would say I¡¯m having a heart attack. The poor thing beats so fast and hard, it¡¯s painful. The thought of viting him like that is both revolting and exciting. I can¡¯t imagine myself ever doing something like that, and yet¡­

    I can.

    Vividly.

    Fortunately, I don¡¯t have to answer the question, because Carter takes my mouth and kisses me hungrily.

    Aroused and breathless, I arch into him, wishing I didn¡¯t have the winess in my hand because I want to run my greedy little hands all over his body.

    ¡°What about toys?¡± he asks, breaking away for a moment to nuzzle my neck again. ¡°Vibrators? Dildos? Cock rings? Harnesses? Anal beads? Nipple jewelry? ¡±

    ¡°Dear God, I¡¯m dating a sex encyclopedia.¡±

    ¡°Ohe on, I know you at least have a vibrator. You told me so. How big is it? What color is it? Does it have a name?¡±

    ¡°A name?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. A girl I used to date named her vibrator Mr. Big.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what my ex used to call his dick. I never told him he was vastly overreaching.¡±

    We gaze at each other for a moment, then we startughing. I drop my head back andugh with my eyes closed until tears stream from the corners of my eyes and my stomach aches.

    Carter takes my winess from my hand and sets it on the wood table, along with his. He turns back to me, takes my face in his hands, and nts a big kiss on my mouth.

    ¡°Well, your grace, this has been a whole lot of fun. But it¡¯s time for dessert.¡± His eyes darken. His smile is wicked. ¡°And you¡¯re it.¡±

    He stands, pulls me to my feet, then bends over and grabs me by the waist. Before I understand what¡¯s happening, I¡¯m upside down over his shoulder and he¡¯s walking back toward the house.

    ¡°Carter! Put me down!¡±

    ¡°No can do, yourdyship. I¡¯m bringing you upstairs to bed. I¡¯ve got ns for this fine highborn ass of yours.¡±

    He ps my behind smartly, making me yelp in surprise. Then he puts his hand under my skirt and fondles my thighs while he carries me through the living room and up the stairs to the second story. I catch upside-down glimpses of rooms as we pass by them, hoping I¡¯m not spraining any of Carter¡¯s muscles with my weight.

    But he manages it beautifully, swaggering down the hallway as if he¡¯s carrying the buck he just shot in the forest back to his mountain cabin to be prepped for supper.

    The description is appropriate, as I have no doubt I¡¯m about to be devoured.

    We enter the main bedroom. He takes me over to the four-poster bed and sets me right side up, steadying me when I wobble. I have only a moment to nce around and admire the d¨¦cor before he pushes me onto my back on the bed and kneels over me, his knees at my hips. He takes my wrists in his hands and presses them over my head so I¡¯m captive.

    Staring down into my eyes, he says softly, ¡°You said the other night you didn¡¯t want to have sex yet. I took that to mean pration was off the table, but we could have fun in all the other ways. Does that still stand?¡± His voice drops to a throaty growl. ¡°Or do you want me to fuck you, baby, nice and dirty like you need it?¡±

    My heart racing, I stare up at him with wide eyes, surprised how much I like him calling me baby and also incredibly turned on.

    ¡°When you say dirty¡­¡±

    ¡°Rough.¡±

    My breath catches. Carter watches me with the eyes of a predator, his lips curving up at the corners.

    ¡°Not so rough you¡¯ll hurt me, though.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a fine line. You might want me to hurt you. You might beg me to.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m not into pain.¡±

    ¡°You enjoyed dispensing it, though, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    I have to admit I definitely did, though I don¡¯t say it aloud. What I did to him downstairs excited me as much as it excited him. Just thinking about it now is getting me wet again.

    Holding both my wrists in one hand and keeping eye contact, he reaches down and squeezes my breast through my shirt and bra. It¡¯s not a gentle squeeze, but it¡¯s not unbearable either. He pinches his fingers together and pulls roughly on my nipple until it¡¯s taut and aching for his mouth.

    Because he¡¯s watching my expression so closely, he can tell.

    ¡°And you like that too, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. But¡ª¡±

    He kisses me, crushing our mouths together and driving his tongue between my lips as he continues to squeeze my breast and pinch my nipple.

    He¡¯s not being gentle at all. I shouldn¡¯t enjoy it, but I do. A strange sort of feeling is overtaking me, one I¡¯m not familiar with.

    If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say it¡¯s euphoria.

    He breaks the kiss to bite my neck. He shoves his big hand between my legs and pulls aside my panties. Then he thrusts a finger deep inside me.

    ¡°Your pussy¡¯s already drenched, baby. How soaked will you get when I hold you down by the neck and pound into you from behind? How loud will you moan when I force you to take every inch of my dick in any hole I want? How much will you love it when I use you for my own pleasure, like you used me?¡±

    When I say I almost pass out from excitement, I¡¯m not exaggerating.

    I squirm underneath him, rocking my hips against his hand, panting like I¡¯ve run a quarter-mile sprint.

    ¡°Tell me what you want.¡±

    ¡°Your mouth,¡± I say, gasping. ¡°Your fingers and your mouth.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my sweet little slut. Good girl.¡±

    Feeling crazed, Iugh, but it turns to a groan when Carter positions himself between my thighs, pulls my panties down, and shoves his face between my legs. Hetches onto my clitoris and sucks until I¡¯m moaning brokenly, digging my heels into the mattress to get better leverage as I rock frantically against his mouth.

    He thrusts two fingers inside me and works them in and out until I¡¯m arched off the bed, my eyes closed and my body on fire, my hands dug deep into his hair.

    ¡°God¡ªI need toe!¡±

    ¡°Come before I say you can, you worthless whore, and I¡¯ll punish you.¡±

    Breathing hard, I fall still, then raise my head and look at him. ¡°Good news. We just found my limit to the degradation.¡±

    ¡°Whore¡¯s off the table?¡±

    ¡°Off the table for good. So¡¯s worthless.¡±

    ¡°But slut is okay?¡±

    ¡°As long as you preface it with something ttering like sweet or pretty. I guess I like my humiliation with a cherry on top.¡±

    Chin wet and lips glistening, Carter grins up at me from between my spread thighs. ¡°You¡¯re the most perfect woman I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    ¡°Shut up and make mee, stable boy.¡±

    He presses his mouth back to my throbbing sex and obliges.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 20

    Aside from fingers, there¡¯s no pration that night, just more variations on the theme we¡¯ve already established. Lots of oral in different positions, lots of petting and dirty talk, several more orgasms on both sides.

    And so muchughter. He makes meugh more than anyone I¡¯ve ever known.

    We fall asleep in a tangle of sweaty limbs a few hours before sunrise. I sleep like a baby until a recurring sound disturbs me enough to pull me from my dreams.

    I lift my head, squinting into the bright morning light and trying to figure out what the noise is. Silent and still, Carter sleeps on his side beside me, his arm tucked under my neck and a leg thrown over mine.

    A female voice calls from outside the house, ¡°Carter! Bestie, answer the door!¡±

    The sound that pulled me from sleep starts again: knocking.

    A woman is outside the front door, pounding on it.

    I shake Carter by the shoulder. He mumbles something and turns over. The doorbell rings three times in a row.

    ¡°Carter, wake up. Someone is trying to get you toe to your front door. It sounds like an emergency.¡±

    The doorbell rings again. The knocking continues.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

    With a heavy sigh, Carter sits up. He drags his hands through his hair a few times, then walks naked over to the window. He yanks the curtains aside and peers outside.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Katie.¡±

    I recall tight pink Lycra and long blonde hair, gravity-defying breasts and a rainbow frosty drink. A graduation charm dangling from a gold bracelet. ¡°Katie from the coffee shop?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Why is she banging on your door?¡±

    He turns and looks at me over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s Sunday. I forgot we¡¯re supposed to be riding today.¡±

    Sitting up in bed, I draw the sheets up over my naked breasts and gaze at him with what I hope is a serene, indifferent expression while my heart turns somersaults inside my ribcage.

    ¡°You forgot.¡±

    He smiles sheepishly, turns away from the window, and picks up his jeans from where he left them on the floorst night. He tugs them up his legs.

    ¡°Yeah. We made a datest Sunday to do it again today. With everything going on, it slipped my mind.¡±

    They made a date.

    A date.

    A few dozen emotions hit me at once. All of them are bad.

    ¡°Let me just go tell her I have to cancel.¡±

    He turns away, but turns back when I say, ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. If you made a date, you should keep it. It will only take me a few minutes to get dressed.¡±

    He squints at me. Sleepy-eyed and befuddled, his hair in a mess, he¡¯s still the most handsome man I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡±

    Not at him, at myself. I knew better than this, yet here we are. ¡°I¡¯m not angry. Go down and let her in.¡±

    Forcing a smile, I rise from bed and locate my clothes on the floor. They¡¯re scattered all over the carpet. Carter is still standing in the same spot, looking at me doubtfully.

    ¡°Go before she pounds your door down, silly!¡±

    He walks back to me, gives me a bear hug, kisses me on the cheek, then ambles out, sighing deeply when the doorbell rings again.

    I dress in yesterday¡¯s wrinkled clothing because my overnight bag is still downstairs. Then I go into his bathroom, ssh water on my face, squirt a blob of toothpaste on my finger, and use my finger to brush my teeth.

    In the mirror over the sink, my reflection judges me so hard, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I avoid looking at myself as I quickly run my hands over my hair, attempting to tame it.

    From downstairs floats the bright sound of femaleughter.

    Females, plural.

    Apparently, Katie brought a friend with her.

    Facing the mirror, I point a finger at my glowering reflection. ¡°Don¡¯t judge me, bitch. We¡¯re in this together.¡±

    I turn away before she can make a case for temporary insanity but freeze when I hear Carter call my name.

    ¡°Sophia! Come down here!¡±

    Deeply annoyed, I close my eyes and pray he won¡¯t call me again.

    But of course, he does. The man is relentless.

    Though my first instinct is to climb out the window and flee, I lift my chin, draw a breath, and paste a smile on my frozen face. I descend the stairs with what I hope is a solid fa?ade of grace and unppability.

    My little act is almost shattered when I spy not one, not two, but three lovely young blondes gathered in Carter¡¯s foyer.

    None of them looks old enough to legally drink alcohol.

    They¡¯re all dressed in tight athletic wear that leaves not a single thing to the imagination. The tallest of them, a real stunner with wide-set eyes and sculpted cheekbones, has on a pink top through which I can clearly see the rosy ares on her full breasts.

    They look at me with no curiosity or surprise, just mild expectation, as if I¡¯m the den mother at their sorority, and they need the toilet fixed.

    I wonder if they assume I¡¯m Carter¡¯s housekeeper. Who for some unknown reason cleans in wrinkled clothes and bare feet.

    ¡°Hi,¡± says Katie. ¡°I remember you.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Katie. It¡¯s nice to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Are youing with us?¡±

    ¡°Coming with you where?¡±

    ¡°On a ride.¡±

    My face must express what I think of that idea because sheughs. ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯s a beautiful day! I promise we¡¯ll take it easy on you.¡±

    Ah, so she¡¯s noticed my weak muscles, irrefutable signs of an elder Millennial who spends her life indoors sitting behind a desk. Next, she¡¯ll probably suggest I start taking a high dose of Vitamin D.

    I smile tightly at the trio of athletic young beauty queens. ¡°Thank you for the invitation, but I have to get going. I hope you have fun. Where¡¯s Carter?¡±

    ¡°He went to the garage to get his bike.¡±

    I guess I¡¯ll be walking home. How gant of him. Thank goodness he doesn¡¯t still live in Malibu.

    Ears burning, I make my way into the living room where I find my shoes and slip them on. I¡¯m picking up my overnight bag when Carter walks in.

    He takes one look at me standing there with the bag in my hand and frowns.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Leaving.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡±

    ¡°Because you have a date. With triplets.¡±

    He lifts his brows, surprised at my tone, which was cutting.

    ¡°You said you weren¡¯t mad.¡±

    I nce away. ¡°I¡¯ve got a million things on my To-Do list for today, that¡¯s all. And why did you call me downstairs, only to disappear before I got here?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to introduce you to the girls.¡±

    The girls. Something about the way he said that makes me grind my mrs. Like they¡¯re his backup dancers or favorite groupies.

    Like he hangs out with them all the time.

    Or does more than hang out with them. Maybe I¡¯m not the first person he¡¯s called his sweet little slut this week.

    Dear God. What the hell have I been thinking?

    Calm down. Don¡¯t panic. It¡¯s fine, everything¡¯s fine, you¡¯ll only cry over this for a few weeks at most.

    You blockhead.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just met them. Katie invited me to go riding with you all, but like I said, I need to get going.¡±

    When I start to walk toward the French doors that lead to the backyard, he says, ¡°Sophia, please. Don¡¯t leave like this. I told you I¡¯d cancel. It¡¯s not important¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡±

    He strides over and blocks the door before I can open it. I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose, humiliation seeping from every pore in my body.

    He takes my bag from my hand and sets it on the floor by my feet. Then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently.

    ¡°Hey. Beautiful.¡±

    I open my eyes and look up at him. Unsmiling, he shakes his head.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be jealous about.¡±

    ¡°Tell that to my heart, which is currently lodged in my throat.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re friends. That¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°You have the best-looking friends of the opposite sex anyone could ever hope for.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you the truth.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m trying very hard to believe you.¡±

    Hurt, he drops his hands from my face and steps back. ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything to deserve that.¡±

    ¡°No, except the way you¡¯ve lived your entire life up to now.¡±

    His eyes re with anger. He huffs out a short, hard breath and turns away to rake a hand through his hair. When he turns around, he folds his arms over his bare chest and res at me.

    He says tly, ¡°Take that back.¡±

    ¡°Please keep your voice down.¡±

    ¡°Why? You afraid the girls will hear you being an asshole to me?¡±

    My heart thuds hard and fast. My stomach is in knots, and my hands are now shaking. ¡°We¡¯ve resorted to name calling. Nice.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mind it when my face was between your legs.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s enough. Get out of my way, please. I want to leave now.¡±

    ¡°Fuck, Sophia,e on.¡±

    I hate the way he said that, like I¡¯m being an unreasonable pain in the ass. Like I¡¯m overreacting. Like my heart doesn¡¯t feel as if it¡¯s cracking in half.

    Keeping my voice low and my eyes averted, I say, ¡°I can either go out this door or through the front door past your groupies, but I¡¯m going. I don¡¯t want to be here anymore.¡±

    ¡°At least let me drive you home.¡±

    ¡°I prefer to walk, thank you.¡±

    ¡°This is really fucking unfair, you know that? You¡¯re mad for no reason.¡±

    I look him directly in his eyes. ¡°Life is unfair, Carter. You¡¯ll learn that when you grow up.¡±

    His lips part. He makes a small sound of disbelief. Then he shakes his head and looks away. After a moment of silent jaw clenching, he says, ¡°That was beneath you. Call me when you¡¯ve cooled down and are ready to discuss this reasonably.¡±

    He walks away without another word and without looking back. He rounds the corner and vanishes from sight. I hear him call out to the girls in the foyer in a loud, happy voice, pping his hands like a cheerleading coach.

    I pick up my bag and walk out the door before I do something to embarrass myself, like cry.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 21

    It¡¯s Thursday afternoon. I haven¡¯t spoken to Sophia since she left Sunday morning. I also haven¡¯t slept much or been anything but useless at work. I¡¯m slouched in a chair across from Dr. Singer, who I see every week at this time. Except this week, I¡¯m not saying much.

    I¡¯m too busy crucifying myself.

    ¡°You¡¯re quiet today.¡±

    Dr. Singer¡¯s voice pierces my potent little bubble of self-loathing. I look up at her, wearing a navy pantsuit, sitting with her legs crossed and a small yellow pad on herp, her pen poised over it. Her gray hair is pulled into a low, tight bun. Behind her thick wire sses, her hazel eyes are owlishly big.

    Though they look nothing alike, she reminds me in many ways of my mother.

    ¡°I¡¯m in mourning.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡±

    I exhale heavily and pick at a frayed thread on the leg of my jeans. ¡°I murdered my only chance at happiness.¡±

    When she doesn¡¯t respond to that, I shrug. ¡°I know. I¡¯m catastrophizing again. But this time, it¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°What makes this time different?¡±

    ¡°Because I was about to get everything I ever wanted, and I royally fucked it up.¡± Myugh is low and bitter. ¡°Like I always do.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hearing a lot of definitives. Everything. Always. Those terms make it difficult to move forward. Thinking in inflexible terms can keep us stuck.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to move forward,¡± I say stubbornly. ¡°I want to turn back the fucking clock to Saturday night.¡±

    She¡¯s quiet for a moment. I know she¡¯s observing me. Watching the way my knee bounces. The way I keep shifting around in the chair. The way I can¡¯t stop picking at the thread on my jeans. The way misery rolls off me like blood rolls down the slit throat of a hanging pig¡¯s carcass.

    Fuck. Don¡¯t go dark. Don¡¯t go into the pit again.

    ¡°Do you want to talk about what happened?¡±

    I be aware that I¡¯m chewing my thumbnail and yank my finger out of my mouth. ¡°Sophia.¡±

    ¡°The girl you¡¯ve been obsessing over for the past year.¡±

    One thing I really fucking hate about therapy is the way a psychiatrist can distill the entire teeming chaos of human emotion down to a single unttering sentence, spoken in a tone of cool detachment that makes your interiorndscape sound like the saddest, most pathetic thing ever in the history of our species.

    And I¡¯m paying for this.

    ¡°Yeah. Her.¡±

    Pen poised, Dr. Singer waits in silence for me to continue. The woman has the patience of a saint. Or a serial murderer stalking their next victim.

    ¡°I started seeing her. We¡¯ve been on a few dates.¡±

    ¡°How did that happen?¡±

    ¡°I ran into her at a coffee shop. Like I was hoping I would.¡±

    ¡°Like you nned to,¡± she corrects.

    ¡°Yes. Like I nned to. I told her about that, though.¡±

    When the silence stretches too long, I nce up. Dr. Singer gazes at me with the same nd expression she always wears, except now, her left eyebrow has lifted a sixteenth of an inch.

    I¡¯ve astonished her.

    ¡°How did thate about?¡±

    ¡°She asked me to tell her the truth as a condition of us dating, so I did.¡±

    Dr. Singer takes a moment to adjust her sses and recross her legs as she digests that. ¡°What was her reaction to that information?¡±

    Remembering it, I smile. ¡°She said if she found out I¡¯d been filming her going to the toilet, she¡¯d kill me.¡±

    ¡°She threatened you?¡±

    ¡°No, for fuck¡¯s sake, she didn¡¯t threaten me. She was totally cool. Way cooler than I deserve. She took a minute to think about it, then we talked. She was being funny when she said that thing about killing me.¡±

    Dr. Singer¡¯s expression is doubtful. ¡°Threats of violence are never funny.¡±

    ¡°Look, you just had to be there, okay? Take my word on this. Sophia¡¯s not the violent type.¡± I nt her a look. ¡°And we both know I¡¯d know if she were.¡±

    She nods in agreement. ¡°Go on.¡±

    I gather my thoughts, then tell her the basics of the events of the past week, wrapping it up with the girls showing up Sunday morning and my argument with Sophia.

    When I¡¯m done, the silence is profound.

    ¡°Just say it. I¡¯m a fuckup.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a fuckup.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you thinking?¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯re leaving a lot of crucial information out of that story.¡±

    Yes, I am, primarily how sexual Sophia and I have already been, because I know if I tell the good doctor that, she¡¯ll have a shit fit.

    What that looks like in reality is that her left eyebrow will go up another sixteenth of an inch. But I know she¡¯d be having a meltdown on the inside. She¡¯s just better at hiding it because that¡¯s what shrinks are trained to do.

    ¡°If I am, it¡¯s only to protect her privacy.¡±

    ¡°How chivalrous.¡±

    ¡°That sounded so judgy, you don¡¯t even know.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to judge you. I¡¯m here to help you.¡±

    ¡°So help me already! Tell me what you think I should do. And please don¡¯t give me that BS about letting mee to my own conclusions. I need help here, doc. Advise me.¡±

    She sets her pen down on the pad, which is how I know a lecture ising.

    ¡°Carter¡ª¡±

    ¡°If anything other than actionable good advicees out of your mouth, I¡¯m leaving.¡±

    My snotty tone doesn¡¯t ruffle her feathers. ¡°Please don¡¯t be disrespectful of what we¡¯re doing here. Threats have no ce in therapy.¡±

    We stare at each other until I give in and hang my head in shame. ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Apology epted. Here¡¯s how I¡¯ll help you. Are you listening?¡±

    I sit up in my chair and lean forward eagerly. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    ¡°I want you to imagine for a moment that you don¡¯t suffer from insecurity and are not gued by feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt. I want you to imagine that you function well under stress, can easily cope with life¡¯s demands, and know how to set healthy boundaries in your rtionships. In a word, you¡¯re well-adjusted.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re funny.¡±

    ¡°Assuming all those things were true, my question to you is this: what would that version of Carter had done differently during the argument with Sophia?¡±

    I think about that long and hard. It¡¯s difficult, as I don¡¯t have a firm grasp on how a well-adjusted person thinks. Finally, I say, ¡°Nothing?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly right.¡±

    ¡°It is?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit. I¡¯m cured!¡±

    Dr. Singer almostughs, but catches herself in time. ¡°My point is that you¡¯re making progress, even if you can¡¯t see it. Had this argument urred with any of the other girls you¡¯ve dated previously, you would¡¯ve blown up or cut things off. Instead, you remained calm and set a boundary, even after she said things that hurt you. I¡¯m very impressed.¡±

    It takes me a minute to absorb all that. As I¡¯m thinking, I say absently, ¡°Woman.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a woman, not a girl.¡±

    ¡°Is that an important distinction?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s forty-four, so to me, it¡¯s just being urate.¡±

    Dr. Singer adjusts her sses. ¡°This woman is considerably older than you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°You never mentioned that before.¡±

    That¡¯s as close to a reprimand that I¡¯ll ever get from my shrink, but I know one when I hear one. She thinks I¡¯ve been withholding, and she¡¯s right. I sigh and spill the beans.

    ¡°She also has a teenage daughter. And a prick of an ex-husband who doesn¡¯t pay her alimony. And she holds the same position as me at ourpany¡¯s biggestpetitor, which will probably be a huge problem all around when my family and her boss find out.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re being judgy again.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m only wondering if perhaps you¡¯ve subconsciously set yourself up for failure to reinforce your firmly-held belief that you¡¯re not worthy of love.¡±

    ¡°Gee, doc. Go straight for the jugr, why don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Let me guess. She¡¯s a tall, attractive brte.¡±

    We stare at each other as the clock ticks on the wall and my throat starts to constrict.

    ¡°Sexy, but also maternal. Powerful, but also sweet.¡±

    Through clenched teeth, I say, ¡°You¡¯ve made your point.¡±

    ¡°She excels in a man¡¯s world, but has paid dearly for it. She doesn¡¯t trust men, and for good reason.¡± Her voice softens. ¡°And she makes you feel safe.¡±

    My chest hurts. It¡¯s getting hard to breathe. ¡°Okay, doc. That¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°We can never run from our pasts, Carter. The only way to heal our wounds are to face them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not ten fucking years old anymore.¡±

    ¡°Not physically. But emotionally, you¡¯re still that terrified little boy crouched alone in the dark with the kidnappers his father refused to pay the ransom to.¡±

    My face crumples at exactly the same time the water wells in my eyes. I jolt to my feet and go to the window, turning my back on Dr. Singer and her viciously urate diagnosis.

    Outside, the sun is shining. Ark warbles in a palm tree. It¡¯s a beautiful day.

    Outside.

    Inside this office where I¡¯ve spent the better part of thest decade trying to unfuck my brain, it¡¯s as ck as ck can be.

    My voicees out sounding like I¡¯ve been screaming for hours. ¡°I¡¯ll never be okay, will I?¡±

    ¡°That depends on what you mean by okay.¡±

    I sigh and close my eyes. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    After a moment, I hear Dr. Singer exhale. Her chair squeaks, then she¡¯s standing next to me at the window, gazing out by my side.

    Speaking quietly, she says, ¡°You have courage, Carter, which most people don¡¯t. You¡¯re resilient, a quality many peopleck too. And you¡¯re kind, which is even rarer. So yes, I think you¡¯ll be okay. I think you¡¯re okay right now, if I¡¯m being honest. There are so many wounded people walking around out there, deeply wounded people, who will never take the time or have the opportunity to seek help for themselves.¡±

    She turns to look at me. ¡°Believe it or not, kiddo, you¡¯re ahead of the game.¡±

    I swallow and dash the moisture from the corners of my eyes. ¡°What a fucked-up game.¡±

    She smiles. ¡°Yes, life can be horrific. It can also be quite a lot of fun. Sometimes in the same day. It¡¯s all just part of God¡¯s n. We¡¯re not meant to take any of it too seriously.¡±

    Intrigued, I look at her more closely. ¡°You believe in God?¡±

    As usual, she gives me a very shrink-like nonanswer. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re peddling hope, doc. So even if you didn¡¯t believe in God, you¡¯d never tell me.¡±

    She pats my arm and smiles wider. ¡°You¡¯re a very smart person.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but am I your favorite client?¡±

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t tell you that either.¡±

    ¡°So the answer¡¯s yes.¡±

    Still smiling, she shakes her head. Then she does something she¡¯s never done before.

    She hugs me.

    ¡°It¡¯s all going to be okay, Carter. In the end, it will all be okay. And if it¡¯s not okay, it¡¯s not the end.¡±

    ¡°Jesus. You sound like a fucking Hallmark card.¡±

    She releases me and wags a finger in my face. ¡°And you sound like a sailor. What¡¯s with all the F bombs today? No, don¡¯t answer that. I already know.¡±

    She turns toward her desk as my phone pings with an iing text. I dig the cell out of my pocket and look at the screen.

    I¡¯m so sorry, Carter. You were right. I was an asshole. Everything is entirely my fault. Please forgive me for being so stupid. I haven¡¯t stopped thinking about you for a second since I left. Can we please talk?

    My legs go weak. My heart starts pounding. All the breath whooshes out of my lungs like somebody kicked me in the sr plexus with a steel-toe boot.

    I fumble with the letters on the screen because my thumbs aren¡¯t working right.

    Yes. When?

    Can youe over tonight?

    I close my eyes and inhale slowly, taking air back into my constricted lungs, feeling life flood back into my body.

    Maybe there is a God after all.

    But if there isn¡¯t, I don¡¯t really care. As long as there¡¯s Sophia, I have everything I need.

    Headed to the door, I say, ¡°Gotta bounce, doc. See you next week.¡±

    ¡°But your time¡¯s not up yet.¡±

    I don¡¯t hear what else she says because I¡¯m already out the door.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 22

    I tried. I tried for five whole days to convince myself that I was justified in walking out and leaving him to his merry gang of gorgeous cycling fiends sent from a hell where cellulite and wrinkles don¡¯t exist.

    I tried and failed miserably because righteous indignation can only take you so far. Once the anger wore off, I was left with the ugly truth.

    Those beautiful young girls made me feel ancient.

    Through no fault of their own because not only did they not say or do anything even remotely offensive, Katie even asked me to join them. She was friendly.

    I was a witch.

    A hideous ancient bog witch standing in front of a magical mirror that had just dered she was definitely not the fairest of them all. And wasn¡¯t she also being just a tad ridiculous running around with a man who will still be in his prime when she¡¯ll be getting cataracts and a senior discount at the movies?

    Yes. The answer was yes.

    But I missed him. And I owed him an apology.

    So I crossed my fingers and sent the text. Now, I¡¯m wringing my hands as I pace the living room floor until he arrives.

    When I hear a car pull into the driveway, I hurry over to the window and look out. He¡¯s already halfway across thewn, running to the door.

    I fling it open. He crashes into me, pulling me into a hug so tight, I almost can¡¯t breathe. We start to talk over each other, the words spilling out in a jumbled rush.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I was such a dick¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±

    ¡°I never should¡¯ve let you leave¡ª¡±

    ¡°I never should¡¯ve said that thing about growing up¡ª¡±

    ¡°I should¡¯ve called you sooner¡ª¡±

    ¡°This was all my fault.¡±

    He pulls away, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me desperately. Then he wraps his arms around me again and clings to me like a life preserver.

    ¡°Let me close the door. Come inside.¡±

    He releases me for half a second. As soon as I shut the door and turn around again, he hugs me. We stand silently in the foyer until we¡¯ve caught our breath. Then he lifts his head and looks at me with pleading eyes.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not do that again, okay?¡±

    I nod and hide my face in his chest. He exhales hard, smoothing his hand over my hair and gently rocking me in his arms.

    Into his shirt, I say, ¡°I want to exin what happened.¡±

    He kisses my cheek and squeezes me tighter. ¡°You don¡¯t have to exin.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. I want you to understand.¡±

    I lift my head and look at him. He stares at me with his brows drawn together, his expression worried.

    ¡°What did I do wrong?¡±

    That feels like a knife stuck into my chest. I shake my head, going up on my toes to kiss him gently. ¡°Nothing. This had nothing to do with your behavior. This was about me.¡±

    I look down, avoiding his eyes, then break away from his embrace and walk over to the coffee table. Looking at it instead of him, I cross my arms over my chest and confess.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you this, but Nick had an affair with his assistant. She was neen when they started sleeping together. She¡¯s twenty-two now. Literally half my age. They¡¯re engaged. And he recently told me that she¡¯s pregnant with his child.¡±

    I turn to meet Carter¡¯s gaze. I see the anger burning in his eyes, the outrage for me, but he remains silent. Listening.

    ¡°As you might imagine, the situation has left a few scars. And when I saw you with those pretty girls, I lost my equilibrium. On a cellr level, I felt attacked. I got defensive because¡­¡±

    I swallow and try to keep the wobble from my voice. ¡°I was scared that history was about to repeat itself. But I handled it all wrong, and for that, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Without moving or blinking, Carter stares at me with red nostrils and a hard jaw. His energy is violent. If I saw him like this without knowing his character, I would be deeply frightened. In contrast to his energy, however, his voice is low and controlled.

    ¡°Okay. Thank you so much for all that. It makes total sense. Can I say a few things?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°First, I want to kill that motherfucker your ex.¡±

    I don¡¯t respond to that, but I believe him. I believe that if Nick were in this room with us right now, he¡¯d be screaming in pain and bleeding out on my living room rug.

    The thought gives me a gruesome sort offort.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t deserve you. You have to know that, Sophia. He didn¡¯t deserve one fucking minute of your time. Any man who would fail to treat you like the queen you are is not only stupid, but beyond contempt. He had a prize, and he took a shit on it. But that has nothing to do with you or your value.¡±

    Overwhelmed with emotion, I stare at him through a prism of tears.

    ¡°Next. Aboutparing yourself to other women, no matter what age they are¡­don¡¯t do it. There¡¯s noparison. In my eyes, none of those girls holds a candle to you. To me, you¡¯re perfection. And when I say that, I¡¯m not exaggerating. I¡¯m not trying to tter you. It¡¯s just the truth.¡±

    He takes a step closer. ¡°Finally, you¡¯re not going to lose me. There isn¡¯t a single person in the world who could pry me away from you side.¡±

    He pauses to swallow. In a hoarse voice, he says, ¡°For as long as you want me, I¡¯m yours.¡±

    We stare at each other in silence until a car passes on the street outside, ring the song ¡°King of My Heart¡± by Taylor Swift through open windows.

    I¡¯m not superstitious, but damn does that seem like a sign.

    Yes, this might be a disaster. Yes, I might get hurt. I might be making a fool of myself with him, and people I know and love might have serious problems with the two of us together. Carter and me could be all kinds of trouble.

    But if I put all that aside and listen to my heart, I have to admit that what it tells me to do is run toward him, not away from him. To be brave, even though I¡¯m scared.

    To take a chance on this unexpected connection that might, with a little trust and a whole lot of care, be something beautiful.

    I walk over to him, take him by the hand, and lead him upstairs to my bedroom.

    Stopping beside the bed, I unbutton his shirt. The fabric parts under my fingers, revealing his body. I press a kiss to his bare chest, right over his beating heart, then look into his eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re everything I didn¡¯t know I needed. I won¡¯t doubt you again. So please be careful with me, Carter, because I¡¯m giving you my heart. I¡¯m trusting you not to break it.¡±

    I unbutton my own blouse, let it slip through my fingers and fall to the floor.

    I¡¯m not wearing a bra.

    His lips part. He stares at me in what looks like anguish, his brow furrowed and his eyes fierce with tears. Then he sinks to his knees on the carpet and hugs me around my waist, pressing his face to my stomach.

    We stay like that for a while in our silent embrace, my hands resting on his head and his strong arms wound around my body. Finally, he lifts his head and gazes up at me. He speaks in a rough, emotional voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m never gonna let you down.¡±

    Caressing his cheek, I whisper, ¡°I believe that with my whole heart. Now, let¡¯s put this behind us. Make love to me.¡±

    He rises and kisses me deeply, his arms around my body, his heart beating wildly against mine. He breaks away to drop his head back. Eyes closed, he inhales deeply, then lets it all out in a gust.

    When he opens his eyes and lowers his head to look at me again, my breath catches.

    It¡¯s all there. Everything he¡¯s feeling. All the relief. The pure happiness. All the adoration, devotion, and need.

    He looks at me the way I¡¯ve always wanted a man to look at me, the way Nick never once did, and it makes my heart so full.

    We undress slowly, gazing into each other¡¯s eyes, shedding our clothing the way our hearts are sheddingyers of themselves. When I¡¯m standing naked before him, I feel bare in a way I haven¡¯t before. I feel exposed to the raw core of myself, like the tender, innermost center of a peeled onion.

    He takes me in his arms. We kiss until I¡¯m trembling and breathless, pressing my fingernails into his shoulders and arching against him.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± I murmur when he bends to suck on my neck.

    ¡°Not this time, baby. This time, we¡¯ll take it slow.¡±

    He lowers me to the bed and stands above me, eating me up with hungry eyes. His gaze is devouring, my pulse is flying, and if I don¡¯t have him inside me soon, I might resort to begging.

    His erection juts from between his legs. At the slit in the flushed crown, a single drop glistens.

    All I can hear is my own ragged breathing and the roar of my heart.

    He pushes my legs apart and stares at my pussy, licking his lips. He traces his forefinger up the inside of my thigh from my knee to my hip, then gently massages my clitoris.

    A faint moan slips from my lips. My nipples instantly harden. I want to pull him down on top of me, but lie still instead. Letting him stroke me. Letting him take the lead.

    He dips a finger inside me, hissing in a quiet breath when he finds me soft and ready for him.

    I spread my legs wider and caress my breasts as he watches, his lips tightening and his dick bobbing like it has its own pulse. When I thumb over my aching nipples and arch my back, he takes his stiff dick in his hand and strokes it.

    But he still doesn¡¯t make a move to mount me. He slowly finger fucks me and strokes himself while I rock my hips against his hand, y with my nipples, and moan.

    I¡¯m so turned on, I could climax just like this.

    ¡°This is mine,¡± he whispers, sliding his fingers all over my exposed sex, spreading my wetness around.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say breathlessly.

    ¡°Show me what¡¯s mine, baby. Open yourself up for me.¡±

    I draw my knees up and disy myself.

    I feel no shame, only excitement as he examines me, then bends over to swipe his tongue around my clit and lick circles all around it. It throbs and pulses under his attention. Delicious waves of heat radiate from my core, warming my lower body, making me even more eager to feel him inside me.

    He chuckles softly. ¡°Look at you rock those hips.¡±

    ¡°Fuck me. Carter, fuck me. I can¡¯t wait anymore.¡±

    Instead of answering, he slowly presses a finger knuckle-deep into my pussy.

    I groan and shudder, reaching down to rub my pulsing clit.

    ¡°Shameless,¡± he breathes.

    ¡°I need toe.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re so perfect.¡±

    I rub my clit and pull at my hard nipple, writhing against the bed as he watches me with hooded eyes until I¡¯m moaning loudly. Then he knocks my hand away and leans over to suck where my fingers were,pping and teasing the engorged bud.

    The sensation is overwhelming. His hard finger inside me, his hot mouth on my flesh. The warm air against my bare skin and the cool satin duvet under my back and bottom. I¡¯m quaking in the bliss of his mouth, tearing apart at the seams.

    I feel a contraction deep inside me, and release a long, low moan.

    Without a word of warning, he lowers himself atop me. With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside.

    I¡¯m so wet, he drives in with no resistance.

    Crying out, I buck against his hardness, grinding my clit against his pelvis as the invading girth of his cock spreads me apart. He rises up and fucks me with long, deep strokes, squeezing my breasts and licking my nipples, taking his time to enjoy my body.

    Underneath him, I¡¯m frantic, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts. I want it harder, faster, deeper and dirtier, but he won¡¯t give it to me, making fists in my hair so I can¡¯t move my head as he takes me.

    ¡°Please. Please!¡±

    His breath is hot near my ear when he rasps, ¡°Yes, baby. Beg for me.¡±

    It¡¯sing. I can feel the earthquakeing in tremors that build until my bones are rattling and every nerve in my body is engulfed in mes. Wild, I buck beneath him, desperate for release. My breasts bounce as he pumps into me with that same controlled rhythm. He sucks and licks my nipples, presses his teeth into the tender flesh beneath.

    When I stiffen and suck in a breath, every muscle in my body taut with the orgasm cresting over me, Carter puts his hand around my throat and squeezes.

    Then he gives me what I need and starts to fuck me with full-body thrusts, driving into me relentlessly as I cry out. Suddenly, he¡¯s all over me, fucking me and biting me and squeezing my neck, engulfing me with his heat and the weight of his body.

    The earth jolts. My entire body jerks. My orgasm detonates with such power, I can¡¯t even scream.

    Carter groans. ¡°Ah, fuck, baby, fuck, you¡¯reing¡­oh God¡­you¡¯reing so fucking hard.¡±

    He rides me straight through each powerful contraction, grunting in pleasure as my sex clenches around his thick cock. When he moans and throws his head back, I know he¡¯s there too.

    Eyes closed, every muscle straining, he shudders, then empties himself inside me with a broken moan. He copses on top of me, twitching as his cock throbs in bursts.

    As our breaths slow, I could swear I hear that car drive by outside again, ying ¡°King of My Heart¡± through open windows.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 23

    Sore and sated, I wake up Friday morning to the sound of Carter in the shower.

    He¡¯s singing. Loudly. Terribly.

    It¡¯s that funny nonsensical Italian opera voice again, booming off the tiles and probably making every dog within miles howl. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and grinning.

    We didn¡¯t fall asleep until the wee hours. After the sex, there was talking and teasing and giggling, then more sex, another two rounds of it. I should be tired, but I¡¯m not.

    I feel as if I could fly.

    Stretching my limbs luxuriously under the sheets, I sigh in happiness. I rise from bed and slip on a robe, then go into the bathroom and stare at Carter through the ss shower doors, shaking my head and smiling at the picture he makes. Soap suds sliding over bulging muscles, water pouring down the nes of his golden skin¡­he¡¯s so gorgeous, it should be illegal.

    He catches me watching and grins.

    ¡°Come in!¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°You finish. I¡¯ll go put the coffee on. If I get in there with you, we¡¯ll both bete for work.¡±

    ¡°Work? Who¡¯s going to work? Let¡¯s take the day off and drive up the coast.¡±

    ¡°I love the idea, but I can¡¯t y hooky from work. Let¡¯s do it tomorrow.¡±

    He pouts but breaks into a grin again when I blow him a kiss. ¡°Tomorrow it is, beautiful.¡±

    Tying the robe¡¯s sash around my waist, I head barefoot downstairs to the kitchen. I grind fresh coffee beans and start the machine, then rummage around in the fridge for something to eat for a quick breakfast. By the time Carteres down with wet hair, wearing only his jeans, I¡¯ve got the eggs ready. I pop two pieces of bread into the toaster and give him a kiss.

    ¡°Have a seat. I¡¯ll get you some coffee. Breakfast¡¯s almost ready.¡±

    ¡°Wow. I could get used to this.¡±

    I turn toward the toaster but he pulls me back into a hug. Nipping my throat, he whispers, ¡°What do you have on under this robe?¡± He slips a hand inside my robe and fondles my bare breast. ¡°Hmm. Nothing. My favorite.¡±

    Pinching my nipple, he takes my mouth in a hot kiss. When I wind my arms up around his shoulders, he moves his hand from my breast to my bottom, squeezing it before sliding his hand between my legs and fondling me there.

    He breathes, ¡°If I said your body¡¯s a wondend, would you know it¡¯s a John Mayer song?¡±

    ¡°Please. He¡¯s only an elder Millennial¡¯s dream.¡±

    ¡°Ugh. Youdy executives are way smarter than your male counterparts. I¡¯ll work on more esoteric references I can take full credit for. In the meantime, I¡¯ll just tell you you¡¯re beautiful and leave it at that.¡±

    We share a smile as the toast pops up from the toaster. He settles himself in a chair at the kitchen table while I butter the toast and pour two mugs of coffee. Aware of him watching me, I te the toast and eggs and bring them to the table, leaning down to kiss him again.

    He pulls me onto hisp and deepens the kiss, caressing my breasts through the robe.

    We¡¯re in that position when Harlow crashes through the front door.

    ¡°Mom!¡± she hollers, barreling through the living room. ¡°Mom, where are you?¡±

    I leap to my feet and yank my robe closed just in time for her to spot me and pull to a stop. She looks back and forth between me in my bathrobe and a shirtless Carter sitting at the table, and her mouth drops open.

    ¡°What the fuck!¡±

    ¡°Watch your mouth, youngdy. What are you doing home? You weren¡¯t supposed to be back until Sunday.¡±

    She shakes her head in disbelief and gestures angrily to Carter. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±

    Carter stands. ¡°Hi, Harlow. I¡¯m Carter. I¡¯m dating your mom. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±

    She stares at him nkly for a second as if she¡¯s trying to understand what foreignnguage he¡¯s speaking. She takes a moment to look him up and down, taking in the muscles, the tattoos, the poster boy good looks. The undeniable glow of youth.

    When she turns back to me, her expression is horrified.

    ¡°Sorry you had to find out this way, sweetheart, but your mother isn¡¯t a nun. Say hello.¡±

    She huffs in outrage instead, then turns on her heel and runs away. The sound of her footsteps pounding up the stairs echoes through the entire house. Then a door ms, rattling the kitchen windows.

    I turn to Carter and say drily, ¡°That went well, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    He makes a pained face. ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re not upset. That was a little intense.¡±

    ¡°It could¡¯ve been worse. She didn¡¯t start crying.¡±

    ¡°Sophia?¡±

    From the front of the housees the sound of Nick calling my name. I freeze.

    Gazing in the direction of Nick¡¯s voice, Carter says, ¡°Is that the fuckwit ex?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Please stay here and eat your breakfast. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    I take a breath to steady my nerves, then walk through the living room. Nick stands inside the foyer, the door open behind him, rifling through a stack of mail in the bowl on the console. He looks up when I approach, taking a moment to sweep his gaze over me in a proprietary way.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi yourself. Get out of my mail. Why are you back early? And why is Harlow so upset?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t get my text?¡±

    He used to use that line on me when he wasteing home from work. I believed it the first few times. Then one morning, I checked his phone when he was in the shower to confirm he¡¯d never sent anything. When I confronted him about it, he yed innocent and med it on the cellrwork.

    Misdirection and denial have always been a liar¡¯s two favorite ys.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t send a text, Nick. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    He tosses the mail back into the bowl and shakes his head. ¡°Your daughter was being a royal little bitch the entire time we were gone, that¡¯s what¡¯s going on. You need to do something about that attitude.¡±

    My face flushes with anger. I¡¯ve never heard him speak about Harlow like this. ¡°Whatever she did, name calling is off the table. Tell me what happened.¡±

    I nce around him through the open door. His Mercedes idles at the curb. In the passenger seat, Brittany chews her thumbnail. When she sees me looking, she quickly turns away.

    ¡°Your daughter snuck out of the hotel in the middle of the night to party with some boys on the beach. When I found her, she was stoned and half naked, dancing around a bonfire with her shirt off.¡±

    That news horrifies me. ¡°She was on drugs?¡±

    ¡°And probably about to be sexually assaulted, yes. Whose Corvette is parked in the¡­¡±

    Looking over my shoulder, he trails off. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open.

    He¡¯s still gaping like that when Carter walks up behind me.

    He says calmly, ¡°That¡¯s mine,¡± and rests his hand on my hip, iming ownership of both me and his car with two simple words.

    At a loss, Nick stares at him in open astonishment.

    I have the strangest urge to break into gales ofughter, but I keep myposure and introduce them.

    ¡°Carter, this is my ex-husband, Nick. Nick, this is Carter McCord.¡±

    Nick starts blinking like he¡¯s trying to signal for help in Morse code. It¡¯s funny but also irritating. He can¡¯t believe what he¡¯s seeing, as if the idea of me being with another man is as unlikely as me deciding to be an astronaut.

    He snaps out of his stupor and says arrogantly, ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are, kid, but this is my house. Get the hell out.¡±

    Kid. If he only knew.

    I say crossly, ¡°Oh stop it, Nick, and dial down the possessive act. We both know you don¡¯t care. And this is my house. I got it in the divorce, remember? Carter¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±

    I don¡¯t have to look over my shoulder to know that Carter and Nick are engaged in a pissing contest stare down, but I do feel a great sense of satisfaction when Nick capittes first.

    He nts me a hard gaze, then turns on his heel and walks out without another word.

    I take Harlow¡¯s keys from where they¡¯re hanging in the lock and close the door behind him.

    ¡°On a scale of one to asshole, baby, your ex is an eleven.¡±

    I turn to him. No wonder Nick ran away. Carter¡¯s jaw is hard and his beautiful blue eyes ze with anger. His expression indicates he¡¯s plotting war.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this. I¡¯m sure this isn¡¯t how you thought your morning would go.¡±

    His murderous expression softens. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. How are you?¡±

    Sighing, I drop the keys into the bowl on the console and run my hands over my hair. ¡°Nothing like a little domestic dispute to get the blood pumping. Did you eat your breakfast?¡±

    He pulls me into his arms and gazes down at me in concern. ¡°Fuck breakfast. How are you?¡±

    Groaning, I rest my forehead on his chest. ¡°I¡¯m okay, but I need to go talk to Harlow. Apparently, she snuck out of the hotel to party with some boys, among other bad behavior.¡±

    ¡°If I had to endure a vacation with that douchebag, I¡¯d sneak out too.¡±

    Smiling, I raise my head and look up at him. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯d appreciate your support, but that¡¯s not helpful.¡±

    He gives me a squeeze and a kiss on the tip of my nose. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll go get dressed and get out of your hair so you can deal with the situation.¡± His eyes darken. ¡°But if the douchebages back and starts giving you a hard time, I want you to call me.¡±

    I tease, ¡°Why? You gonna beat him up for me?¡±

    His smile is dark and mysterious. ¡°Something like that.¡±

    He swats me on the bottom, then saunters off, headed upstairs. He finds me in the kitchen a few minutester, sitting at the table sipping my coffee and contemting my approach with Harlow.

    Teenage girls are like feral cats. You have to handle them with extreme caution.

    ¡°I¡¯m heading out, beautiful. Will you call meter?¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    He leans down and kisses me gently on the lips. Gazing into my eyes, he murmurs, ¡°Last night was amazing. Thank you.¡±

    That makes me smile. ¡°It was. And don¡¯t thank me. The pleasure was all mine.¡±

    He kisses me again, then straightens. ¡°Good luck with Harlow. And remember, call me if you need backup with Nick the Tiny Dick.¡±

    He tweaks my nose and leaves before I can answer. I hear the front door open and close, then the Corvette¡¯s engine rumble to life.

    Once the sound fades in the distance, I head upstairs to get dressed and deal with the feral cat.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 24

    I knock on Harlow¡¯s door, giving her a few moments to tell me toe in. When she doesn¡¯t respond, I open the door to find her lying face down on her bed, her arms and legs syed out and her face buried in a pillow. She looks like she jumped out of a ne.

    I sit on the edge of the mattress, stroke my hand over her long, silky dark hair, and say calmly, ¡°So Mexico was a bust.¡±

    She sniffles into the pillow and nods.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me what happened?¡±

    She rolls over and stares at the ceiling. Her eyes are red and watering. ¡°Didn¡¯t Dad already tell you?¡±

    ¡°I want to hear it from you, sweetie.¡±

    She closes her eyes and swallows convulsively. In a white T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, her skin tanned from the sun, she looks every inch the California girl.

    She also looks miserable.

    Inhaling a deep, shuddering breath, she blows it out and rubs a fist into her eye. ¡°Dad¡¯s a dick is what happened.¡±

    I press the smile from my lips and wait.

    ¡°All he did the whole time we were there was talk on the phone with work people. Even during dinner. He never wanted to do anything or go out anywhere, not even to the pool. He basically left me and Britt alone together.¡±

    I know I¡¯ll get more information the longer I keep my mouth shut, so I make a sound of sympathy and give her time.

    ¡°I met some kids at the pool who seemed nice, and we hung out a couple times.¡±

    ¡°Boys?¡±

    ¡°Boys and girls. They were from Arizona, on a school trip with their music teacher and some parents. They just won some big musicpetition or whatever and were celebrating. They were doing a bonfire thing on the beach, s¡¯mores and stuff, and invited me toe.¡±

    This doesn¡¯t sound quite like the bhanal I pictured from Nick¡¯s description, but I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more to the story. There always is.

    ¡°So you snuck out?¡±

    ¡°I told Dad I was going, but you know how he is. He doesn¡¯t listen.¡±

    She looks to me for agreement, but I¡¯m not taking the bait. I keep my expression impassive. ¡°Tell me about the drugs.¡±

    She sits up and cries, ¡°I wasn¡¯t on drugs! I promise!¡±

    ¡°Then why did your father think you were?¡±

    Chewing her lip, she nces down at her hands. I notice her fingernails are bitten to the quick.

    ¡°I, um¡­I maybe had a beer.¡±

    She nces up at me to assess my reaction. When she finds none, she says, ¡°Or two.¡±

    Which means three or four, so she was probably as high as a kite. I quell a frisson of anger and keep my voice neutral. ¡°And you were half-naked also, apparently.¡±

    She flops back onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh. ¡°No. Duh.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that.¡±

    ¡°I had on my shorts and bathing suit top.¡±

    I¡¯ve seen all her swim suits. None of them are flesh-colored or so tiny, you¡¯d think they weren¡¯t there. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And nothing! That¡¯s the end of the story! Dad came out and got all extra and made a scene. It was totes embarrassing. He¡¯s so Ohio.¡±

    I think that means disappointing, but I¡¯m not asking. There are more important things to discuss. ¡°This beer drinking¡ª¡±

    ¡°It was the only time I¡¯ve drank. I didn¡¯t even like it.¡±

    ¡°The point isn¡¯t if you liked it. The point is that you¡¯re underage, and you know better.¡±

    She sulks for a minute, then says snarkily, ¡°At least I¡¯m not like you and Dad and dating a toddler and the pool boy.¡±

    I almost burst outughing but manage to look stern. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to meet Carter under those circumstances, but he¡¯s not a pool boy. And you¡¯re grounded for two weeks. No phone, no iPad, no going out with your friends.¡±

    Outraged, she props herself up on her elbows and stares at me. ¡°Mom!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am your mother. And I love you. And I¡¯m unhappy that I have to punish you, but you made the choices. Life is full of unpleasant repercussions for making poor choices.¡±

    She rolls off the bed, stands, and stares at me, fists balled at her side. ¡°Kaylee¡¯s mom lets her drink sometimes!¡±

    Knowing the psychology of height differences in power dynamics, I stand and gaze down at my daughter. We have a few years yet before she¡¯s taller than me.

    ¡°Yes, and Kaylee¡¯s mother is a four-time divorced alcoholic with no self-esteem and very few active brain cells. This is why you¡¯re not allowed to hang out with her. You¡¯re grounded for two weeks. And since nobody bothered to inform me that you¡¯d be home early so I could arrange for Greta to be here, you¡¯reing to work with me today. Get dressed, and when youe downstairs, be prepared to hand over your electronics.¡±

    I leave to the sound of her howling in frustration behind me.<hr>

    She sulks until we step off the elevator at my office building and the receptionist greets her like a rock star. Then she perks up and saunters around like she owns the ce.

    I¡¯ve brought her to the office with me a few times before, but today is different as it¡¯s not the national Bring Your Daughters and Sons to Work holiday, and I didn¡¯t ask my boss if it would be okay.

    Other than with Carter, I¡¯m not in the habit of asking anyone for permission for anything.

    Fridays are usually pretty easy for me, and today is no exception. My schedule¡¯s wide open. No staff meetings or presentations darken my calendar. I set Harlow up with a few easy tasks like filing paperwork and organizing my supply closet, then get to work.

    Within thirty minutes, Nick calls.

    And he calls the main office line from a blocked number because he knows I won¡¯t pick up my cell for him today.

    As soon as I answer, he snaps, ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing with that kid? Christ, Sophia, you¡¯re old enough to be his mother.¡±

    I keep my voice low so Harlow, working on the other side of myrge office, can¡¯t hear me. ¡°That¡¯s hysterical. What¡¯s the age difference between you and Brittany again? Oh, that¡¯s right¡ªtwenty-five years. I assume you¡¯re aware that¡¯s a quarter of a century?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different for men.¡±

    ¡°Hello, double standard. It¡¯s not even a little bit different, but nice try.¡±

    ¡°Look, you¡¯re embarrassing yourself! People will think you¡¯re a pervert.¡±

    ¡°Are you even listening to the wordsing out of your mouth?

    He hates that I¡¯m not getting upset and tries a different tack. ¡°Think of your daughter.¡±

    ¡°The daughter you ignored the entire time you were in Mexico so you could talk on your phone?¡±

    ¡°I have to work!¡±

    ¡°Then why bother taking a vacation?¡±

    He makes a noise of frustration. ¡°Because Britt wanted to, that¡¯s why. She¡¯s been nagging me about spending more time together before the babyes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s called being in a rtionship, Nick.¡±

    ¡°God, I hate it when you talk down to me.¡±

    ¡°Are you calling for some specific reason or did you just want to shout at me?¡±

    In the pause that follows, I hear the sharp, hollow sound of footsteps. Wherever he is, he¡¯s pacing the floor.

    ¡°How are we going to punish Harlow?¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the sudden interest in parentinging from? Thest time she misbehaved, you told me to deal with it and didn¡¯t call again for weeks.¡±

    ¡°Cut the shit, Soph.¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s you who¡¯s dishing out shit. Can we not discuss this now? I have work to do.¡±

    ¡°We need to punish her!¡±

    I sigh and look at the ceiling. Men acting like children when they don¡¯t get their way is so par for the course. ¡°I grounded her for two weeks. No going out, no electronics.¡±

    He digests that in angry silence. ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°You say that like I was waiting for your approval.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re really enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°Sure you do. Waving your little boy toy in my face, trying to make me jealous.¡±

    I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s being this ridiculous, but if he thinks he¡¯s going to get a rise out of me with this churlish behavior, he¡¯s wrong.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll recall, genius, I had no idea you¡¯d show up when you did. Or do you think I suddenly gained psychic powers?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be fucking condescending. I hate it when you¡¯re condescending.¡±

    I think about that for a moment, then decide we have nothing left to discuss.

    ¡°Good talk, Nick. Give Brittany my best. Have a beautiful day!¡±

    I hang up, smiling.

    ¡°Mom?¡± Harlow stands in the middle of the office, a file folder in her hand. I was so distracted by the call, I didn¡¯t notice her creeping closer.

    ¡°Yes, honey?¡±

    ¡°Was that Dad?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Her voice small, she asks, ¡°What did he say? Is he still mad at me?¡±

    Oh, arrow through my heart. My poor baby.

    I say softly, ¡°No, honey, he¡¯s not mad. He said he loves you, and he¡¯ll see you next weekend.¡±

    She gazes at me for a beat, then looks down and nods. She whispers, ¡°Okay.¡± She nces up again and meets my eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have to lie for him, though. He never says he loves anybody.¡±

    When she turns away, head bent and shoulders slumped, I seriously contemte finding a gun for hire and having him put a bullet in Nick¡¯s head.

    She acted out to get her father¡¯s attention, but the hard lesson she has to learn is that his attention is already spoken for.

    There¡¯s no one that man is more interested in than himself.<hr>

    At five-thirty, just as I¡¯m about to pack it in for the day, my phone rings. It¡¯s Janice, my boss¡¯s receptionist, telling me that Mr. Hartman would like to see me in his office.

    In the fifteen months I¡¯ve worked for TriCast, I¡¯ve never been summoned to his office. Especially at quitting time on a Friday.

    This doesn¡¯t bode well.

    ¡°What does he want, Janice? Can it wait until Monday?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he wants, Ms. Bianco, he just said to send you in as soon as possible. He sounded like it couldn¡¯t wait.¡±

    Sighing, I nod. ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±

    I hang up and tell Harlow I¡¯ll be right back. She¡¯s lying on the leather sofa along the window, reading a book. She wiggles her fingers to acknowledge me.

    The maze of cubicles is almost empty as I walk through the main floor to the CEO¡¯s office. Only a few stragglers remain. I smile and nod to people as I pass, curious about what my boss has on his mind.

    When I reach his receptionist¡¯s desk, she says, ¡°Go right in. He¡¯s expecting you.¡±

    I try not to read anything into the nervous look on her face.

    I knock before entering, then stick my head through the door. ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Hartman. You wanted to see me?¡±

    He gestures impatiently for me to enter. ¡°Yes,e in. And please close the door.¡±

    Smoothing my hands down my skirt, I cross the plush expanse of carpet that separates us, then sit in one of therge brown leather chairs opposite his massive oak desk. He removes his sses, drops them onto the desk blotter, sits back in his chair, and sps his hands over his stomach.

    Then he stares at me in expectant silence.

    This is a tactic I¡¯m familiar with. The vast majority of people are extremely ufortable with silence, so if you¡¯re looking for a confession¡ªsay you¡¯re a police officer interrogating a suspect¡ªyou ask a question, then wait. Then wait some more, even after the person answers, until they finally get so nervous, they spill their guts.

    Mr. Hartman doesn¡¯t have a teenage daughter, however, so he doesn¡¯t understand that I¡¯m an expert at gueri warfare.

    I cross my legs, fold my hands in myp, and smile pleasantly.

    He¡¯s a big man in histe sixties with a silver crewcut and a mole on his cheek that looks vaguely malignant. Tall and barrel-chested, he can be intimidating when he wants to be.

    Right now, he wants to be. His expression hovers somewhere between prison warden and crime boss.

    Finally, he breaks. ¡°We have a situation.¡±

    ¡°What kind of situation?¡±

    ¡°A delicate one. Have you seen today¡¯s edition of Celebrity Insider?¡±

    I recognize the name. It¡¯s a tabloid, and a scious one.

    I have a bad feeling about this.

    Holding his gaze, I say calmly, ¡°No. I don¡¯t read gossip magazines. Why do you ask?¡±

    He stares at me for another beat, then opens the top drawer of his desk. From it, he removes a magazine. He tosses it across his desk toward me.

    ¡°Page four.¡±

    Filled with trepidation, I pick up the magazine and flip through the pages, already guessing what I might find. But my breath still catches when I see the images that apany a short article titled ¡°Billionaire yboy Finds a New ymate.¡±

    There are three pictures of Carter and me.

    The first shows us walking into the Italian restaurant in Venice on our first date. It¡¯s taken from the back, but we¡¯re in profile, talking to each other, so the viewer can see part of our faces. Carter¡¯s hand rests at the small of my back.

    The second photograph is grainy, as if taken from a distance through a long lens. It shows Carter kissing my hand at the table we shared at Nobu Malibu overlooking the sand. My face is fuzzy, but my smile is unmistakable. Carter¡¯s hair is a me of gold in the setting sun.

    From the angle, it appears that the photographer was out on the ocean on a boat.

    The third picture is crystal clear. Carter and I sit on the sofa in front of the outdoor firece at his home, our bare feet propped up on the wooden table. We¡¯re both holding winesses as we kiss.

    Whoever took this picture was close. So close, I can even see the glint of firelight reflected off our winesses.

    They were probably peering over his backyard fence.

    My stomach roils. I feel sick and vited. Someone has been stalking us, taking pictures of us, and selling them to magazines.

    This might be one article of many. This might only be the tip of a very nasty iceberg because I don¡¯t think the shades were drawn on the French doors that led from the backyard to the living room of Carter¡¯s house that night.

    The living room where I had him on all fours as I spanked his naked ass with a wooden spoon.

    My mind and pulse racing, I nce up at Mr. Hartman.

    He says, ¡°That¡¯s Carter McCord. And you.¡±

    I toss the magazine back onto his desk and fold my hands in myp again. Now, they¡¯re mmy. ¡°Yes, it is.¡±

    He curses, shaking his head. ¡°This is bad, Sophia. This is very bad for us.¡±

    ¡°Us? You¡¯re not the one being stalked by paparazzi.¡±

    ¡°They mention you by name. They give your position at thispany. Do you have any idea how the stockholders will react to this news? Not to mention the rest of the industry? Do you know what this looks like?¡±

    I recall Val telling me about her hairdresser seeing Carter in the gossip rags with a string of women and wince internally.

    I¡¯m the newest one on the string.

    Stoic, I say, ¡°My personal life has nothing to do with the shareholders.¡±

    He groans. ¡°Hell¡¯s bells, you know better than that! It¡¯s no big secret he met with usst year to propose a buyout. How does this look, now, the two of you sneaking around together?¡±

    ¡°No one has been sneaking anywhere or plotting anything. I had no idea we were being followed, but I can assure you, I¡¯ll be pressing charges against that rag for invasion of privacy, along with anything else I can sue for. And, if you¡¯re worried about me sharing information I shouldn¡¯t, I remind you that I signed an irond NDA when I joined thispany. I haven¡¯t broken it.¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to believe that?¡±

    His voice keeps rising, but I maintain the same low, controlled tone. ¡°Are you questioning my integrity?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m questioning your sanity. Carter McCord? You¡¯re too smart for this, Sophia. He¡¯s a dilettante!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought too, until I got to know him better. You can¡¯t always go by first impressions.¡±

    He scoffs. ¡°I know his family. I know his history. I¡¯ve known guys like him my whole life. Spoiled, entitled rich kids with nothing in their heads but partying, gettingid, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    My voice cuts through his tirade like a sword. Stunned, he stares at me.

    He¡¯s never heard me raise my voice, but if he says another negative word about Carter, he¡¯ll hear a whole lot more than that.

    After a beat, he regains hisposure. ¡°So this is a thing for you, then. A serious thing. You¡¯re going to keep seeing him.¡±

    I do away with the respect he doesn¡¯t deserve and address him by his first name, which it¡¯s rumored he hates. Unsurprisingly.

    ¡°Listen, Mervin, I appreciate your position, and I know you¡¯re noting from a ce of malice, but unless what I¡¯m doing is illegal or hical, I don¡¯t owe you or anyone an exnation about what I do outside this office.¡±

    He says tly, ¡°Now you¡¯re just being na?ve.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll thank you not to patronize me.¡±

    We re at each other until his phone rings and breaks the stalemate. He sighs and waves a hand toward the door.

    ¡°Fine. Go have a nice weekend. Try not to end up on the cover of People magazine. We¡¯ll revisit this after I talk to legal.¡±

    He picks up the line, dismissing me. I rise and walk to the door with my head held high but my stomach in knots and my heart aching.

    I knew being with Carter would have its challenges, but I didn¡¯t expect the world to start sharpening its knives so soon. The worst part is that I know this is fight far from over.

    It¡¯s only just begun.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 25

    Carter calls my cell while I¡¯m standing in the pantry looking for something to make for dinner. There¡¯s not much that interests me, so it looks like it might be a take-out pizza night.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi. Did you see the article?¡±

    ¡°I saw it.¡±

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I got reamed out by my boss, but yes, I¡¯m okay. You?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°I got reamed out by my brother, but yes, I¡¯m okay.¡±

    ¡°Which brother?¡±

    ¡°Callum.¡±

    ¡°Ah. The arrogant, controlling one.¡±

    ¡°You remember I said that?¡± He sounds pleased.

    ¡°Of course I remember. I also remember he told you that you should stop being a pussy and buy the house next door to mine. It seems hypocritical that he¡¯d get angry after that advice.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I told him!¡±

    ¡°What did he say?¡±

    ¡°He was angry that I remembered.¡±

    We bothugh at that, then Carter grows serious. ¡°But we¡¯re taking care of it, so you don¡¯t need to worry.¡±

    I wander into the kitchen and open the fridge. ¡°What do you mean, you¡¯re taking care of it?¡±

    ¡°That tabloid won¡¯t be publishing any more articles about us.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Because we¡¯re buying them.¡±

    I let the fridge door swing shut and stand there squinting at it. ¡°Buying them?¡±

    ¡°Acquiring them, yes.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡±

    ¡°Just like that.¡±

    Dazed, I walk over to the kitchen table and sink into a chair.

    ¡°You¡¯re not saying anything.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m processing.¡±

    ¡°Is that good or bad?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m in a state of shock. I was going to contact an attorney about suing them for that pic they snapped of us in your backyard.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that was definitely actionable. The others weren¡¯t because we were in public, but the editor who ran the story and the photographer who took the pictures have both been dealt with.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean dealt with?¡±

    He pauses before answering, as if trying to decide how much to disclose. ¡°I think it¡¯s better if you don¡¯t know the details.¡±

    Surprised, I lift my brows. ¡°That sounds suspicious. Did you and your brother go to Vegas and dig a few holes in the desert?¡±

    Without missing a beat, he replies, ¡°No. I told you we have staff for that.¡±

    When I don¡¯t say anything, heughs. ¡°I¡¯m only kidding.¡±

    ¡°Are you? I¡¯m not entirely sure.¡±

    ¡°The point is that you don¡¯t have to worry about them publishing any more stories about us, okay? They¡¯ve been a thorn in my side for years, but I didn¡¯t care enough to do anything about it before.¡± His voice softens. ¡°But now, because of you, I do.¡±

    It urs to me for the first time that the McCord family might be more than a normal family. They might be a Family, capital F.

    ¡°Hello? Did I lose you?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m still here.¡±

    ¡°You sound funny.¡±

    ¡°Carter?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, baby?¡±

    ¡°If you were involved in anything illegal, would you tell me?¡±

    Another long pause. ¡°Would you want to know?¡±

    I¡¯m about to say a forceful yes but rethink it. Would I want to know? Or would knowing put me in jeopardy? More importantly, would it put Harlow in jeopardy?

    Adrenaline floods my veins. My heart starts pounding. I clutch the phone in a death grip with shaking hands. ¡°You promised me you¡¯d tell me the truth.¡±

    ¡°And I will. Ask me anything.¡±

    ¡°Are you involved in anything illegal?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he says instantly. Then after a brief hesitation, he adds, ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    He put a slight but important emphasis on the word ¡°I¡¯m.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me the rest of your family is?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°Jesus, Carter, please don¡¯t equivocate! This is too important.¡±

    He sighs. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t talk about this over the phone.¡±

    I pull the cell away from my ear and stare at it in horror. Then I put it back to my ear and hiss, ¡°Why, is the FBI listening?¡±

    His chuckle is delighted. ¡°You¡¯re adorable, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding me right now?¡±

    ¡°I only meant that there are¡­delicacies that should be discussed face to face.¡±

    I leap to my feet and start pacing. ¡°Oh my God. You¡¯re in the Mafia.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re absolutely not in the Mafia.¡± After a thoughtful beat, he adds, ¡°That would be kinda cool though, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°No! It would not be cool! In no way would it be cool!¡±

    ¡°You seem a little upset.¡±

    ¡°If you tell me to calm down, I¡¯ll scream.¡±

    ¡°I was only making an observation. When can I see you?¡±

    Harlow wanders into the living room, flops onto the sofa, and turns on the TV. I stare at her with my heart thumping and my hands shaking, wondering if I¡¯ve endangered my child¡¯s life by seeing this man on the other end of the phone who¡¯s saying he¡¯s not in the Mafia but making it sound like he actually is.

    Every damn time I think all the wrinkles in my life have been ironed out, worse wrinkles appear.

    An iing call notification buzzes on my phone. I nce at the screen.

    It¡¯s Nick.

    Because of course it would be Nick. No doubt he¡¯s seen the pictures too.

    Carter says, ¡°Hello?¡±

    Going back into the pantry to hide, I cover the phone with my hand and whisper, ¡°Come over at midnight. Park down the block. And don¡¯t ring the bell. I¡¯ll be watching for you.¡±

    His chuckle is wry. ¡°Sounds ndestine. Should I wear a trench coat and a fedora and bring the microfilm?¡±

    ¡°This is no time for jokes.¡±

    He sighs. ¡°I love it when you use that snippy tone of voice. No, it¡¯s not snippy. What¡¯s the word I¡¯m looking for?¡±

    ¡°Angry!¡±

    ¡°Yes! Angry. You¡¯re so fucking hot when you get mad.¡±

    I take a few deep breaths, counting silently to ten. Then I say through gritted teeth, ¡°Midnight. Don¡¯t bete. And be prepared to answer all my questions, got it?¡±

    He drawls, ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. But if I don¡¯t, will you give me a spanking?¡±

    I make a growled noise of frustration and disconnect the call, but not before I hear the sound of hisughter.<hr>

    I order pizza. When it arrives, I throw a twenty at the delivery driver for a tip and m the door in his face. I open it immediately after and apologize, then shut it again calmly, like a normal person and not the mess I actually am.

    If I find out Carter¡¯s in the Mafia, I¡¯ll have to be sedated.

    Harlow and I eat in front of the TV, watching basketball. In the middle of amercial, she turns to me.

    ¡°So this Carter guy. You like him?¡±

    I feel an interrogationing on and steady myself before I answer. ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Is he nice to you?¡±

    ¡°He is.¡±

    She thoughtfully chews her slice of pepperoni. ¡°Did you meet him on a dating app?¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯ve known each other sincest year. He works in the same industry as me. I ran into him recently, and he asked me out.¡±

    There are more holes in that story than a slice of Swiss cheese, but the details of how we met are on a need-to-know basis, and she doesn¡¯t need to know.

    ¡°Is he like¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I mean, he just looks sorta¡­maybe not that smart?¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s so handsome, you mean.¡±

    She wrinkles her nose. ¡°He looks like all he does is go to the gym and stare at himself in a mirror.¡±

    ¡°I take it you disapprove.¡±

    She nces at me sideways. ¡°Why? If I said I did, would you stop seeing him?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    She does a double-take and stares at me. ¡°Really?¡±

    I sigh, set down my ss of wine, and turn to her. ¡°Honey, my love life isn¡¯t as important to me as you are. I really like Carter, but I love you. You¡¯re the priority.¡±

    After a moment of examining my face, she starts chewing again, turning back to the TV.

    ¡°So is he dumb?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s actually brilliant. People underestimate him because of his looks.¡±

    ¡°I figured you wouldn¡¯t be interested in an airhead, but you never know. Sex makes people nuts. I mean, look at Dad. Britt has the IQ of a wet sock.¡±

    I shove a piece of pizza into my mouth so I don¡¯tment.

    Gazing at the TV, she says, ¡°Howe you¡¯re so nice to her?¡±

    ¡°Because if I were a bitch, it would make everyone¡¯s life moreplicated, and it wouldn¡¯t change anything anyway.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± She chews for a moment. ¡°Also ¡¯cause it pisses Dad off too, right?¡±

    I smile. ¡°You know I can¡¯t answer that question.¡±

    ¡°He talks about you all the time, by the way. It¡¯s totally creepy.¡±

    Frowning, I look at her askance. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Like, hepares Britt to you. Right in front of her. ¡®Sophia would never wear that. Sophia would never say that. Sophia¡¯s cooking is so much better than this.¡¯ Like that.¡±

    I¡¯m shocked by that revtion. ¡°He says those things in front of her?¡±

    She nods. ¡°Sometimes, it makes her cry.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just shitty!¡±

    ¡°Totes. But she never argues with him. She¡¯s a major simp. It¡¯s probably because of her dad.¡±

    ¡°What about her father?¡±

    ¡°He used to hit her when she was growing up. Her mom too. I think they both have battered woman syndrome. I¡¯ve met her mom a couple times, and she¡¯s sweet but a wreck. She jumps at the slightest sound. Flinches if you move too quick around her. Dad told Britt she can¡¯t see her anymore. That she¡¯s a bad influence.¡±

    I¡¯m so aghast by this news, I hardly know what to do with myself. When my cell rings, I go into the kitchen in a daze. And lo and behold, it¡¯s my ex-husband calling again.

    This time, I¡¯m taking his call.

    I say coldly, ¡°Hello, Nick. Hold on for just a moment, please. I need to go into the other room.¡±

    Hearing her father¡¯s name, Harlow panics. She makes a cutting motion across her throat, then puts her finger to her lips. I nod to let her know I understand. I won¡¯t share what she just told me.

    Of course I won¡¯t, because I don¡¯t want to give him any ammunition to use against her.

    I go out into the backyard and close the sliding ss door behind me before getting back on the line. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I want you to tell me my daughter isn¡¯t going to be exposed to that ridiculous child you¡¯re sleeping with.¡±

    He¡¯s been drinking. I hear it in the tone of his voice, in the way he¡¯s slurring his words. Considering it¡¯s only seven-thirty in the evening, he must¡¯ve been hitting the bottle pretty hard.

    ¡°So much paternal concern. What a nice change from your usualck of interest.¡± My voice drips with sarcasm, which makes him go ballistic.

    He screams, ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking disrespect me!¡±

    ¡°Or what? You¡¯ll start screwing a teenager? Oops. Toote.¡±

    He¡¯s panting on the other end of the line like a barnyard animal. ¡°I¡¯ll take Harlow away from you. You¡¯re unfit, and I¡¯ll take her away.¡±

    Burning rage ignites under the soles of my feet. It roars up my body in a wave of heat that sets my face on fire. Only my voice is unaffected. It remains stone cold.

    ¡°I can see why you¡¯d want to. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d love having her around twenty-four hours a day. Making her meals, doing herundry, helping with her homework, driving her everywhere she needs to go, buying her tampons, dealing with teenage mood swings. That sounds right up your alley.¡±

    He snarls, ¡°You think you¡¯re so fucking smart.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. Because I am. Why are you calling?¡±

    ¡°I saw that article. Those pictures. You and that piece of shit pretty boy gallivanting all over town. You look pathetic.¡±

    ¡°Really? I thought I looked good in those pictures. Happy. You probably just didn¡¯t recognize that because I never made those happy faces when I was with you. By the way, if I tell Carter you called me pathetic, you¡¯ll have to move to another country. He¡¯s very protective of me. He¡¯s also eighteen years younger than you and built like a mountain, so if you¡¯re getting any smart ideas about trying to push either one of us around, think twice. I¡¯ve yed very fair with you up to now, but I won¡¯t put up with verbal abuse.¡±

    I can practically hear him tearing out his hair in frustration that I¡¯m keeping my cool while he¡¯s having an epic tantrum. Then my phone beeps with an iing call.

    ¡°Gotta go. My girlfriend is calling. Have a great weekend, Nick.¡±

    I disconnect and answer Evelyn¡¯s call. ¡°Hi there.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare ¡®hi there¡¯ me. I just read an article about you and Carter McCord, and I cannot believe you were keeping this rtionship from us.¡±

    Apparently it¡¯s a three-way call because Val pipes in, ¡°Yeah!¡±

    ¡°You told us you had no intention of seeing him again!¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡±

    When I sigh, Ev says, ¡°Sorry. Rewind. Perimenopause rage kicked in there for a sec. Are you okay, babe? Catch us up to date.¡±

    Laughing softly, I look up into the twilight sky. ¡°There¡¯s too much to go over in a phone call. What are you two bozos doing tomorrow night?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have Brian watch the kids,¡± says Ev.

    ¡°And I¡¯ll get a sitter,¡± says Val. ¡°Where should we meet?¡±

    ¡°My ce. But bring all the kids over here. Harlow¡¯s back from Mexico early because¡­never mind. I¡¯ll tell you tomorrow. Come over around six. And for the love of all that¡¯s holy, bring wine.¡±

    They agree, we say our goodbyes, and I go back inside to watch basketball with Harlow. My thoughts, however, are with Carter.

    The countdown to midnight begins.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 26

    I¡¯ll give him credit for one thing at least. The man is pathologically punctual.

    Precisely at midnight, his Corvette¡¯s headlights sweep the darkened street as he passes by the house. He parks somewhere out of sight, then trots up the sidewalk and across thewn. I pull open the door before he can knock. We both speak in whispers.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi yourself. Come inside. Let¡¯s go upstairs. Harlow¡¯s already asleep.¡±

    I close and lock the door behind him, then lead him upstairs to my bedroom. Shutting the door as softly as I can, I listen for a beat to make sure I don¡¯t hear anything, then turn around.

    I left onemp burning on the dresser on the nightstand. In the low light, I can see that Carter¡¯s grin is big and wide.

    Like a cat burr, he¡¯s dressed from head to toe in ck.

    He whispers, ¡°This is exciting! Are we role-ying that I¡¯m the head of a crime family, and you¡¯re the federal agent whose tasked with bringing me down but falls in love with me instead?¡±

    I walk over to him and give him a push so he¡¯s sitting on the edge of the bed. Looking down at him, I say quietly, ¡°No games. Just direct questions and straight answers. Are you in the Mafia?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Is any member of your family in the Mafia?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    When I narrow my eyes at him, he lifts his hands in surrender. ¡°It¡¯s the truth.¡±

    ¡°Then what was all that business about delicacies we couldn¡¯t talk about on the phone?¡±

    He opens his mouth to answer, but then looks around the room suspiciously, eyeing all the AC vents and electrical outlets.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°When was thest time you swept your house for bugs?¡±

    I know he doesn¡¯t mean insects. Eyes wide and horrified, I p my hands over my mouth.

    He falls backward onto the mattress, clutching his stomach and shaking with silentughter.

    He was teasing me, the ass.

    Leaning over him, I hiss, ¡°You jerk!¡±

    He sits up, grabs me, and takes me down to the bed with him. Rolling on top of me, he grins at me like a fool.

    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen your face.¡±

    Irked, I grouse, ¡°You take an unnatural enjoyment in scaring the crap out of me.¡±

    ¡°Only because I know not much scares you. God, you¡¯re beautiful. Those spellcasting eyes. If you were a witch, would you put a hex on me?¡±

    I close my eyes and sigh. He kisses me all over my face, sweet little kisses from a sweet little psychopath.

    What have I gotten myself into?

    Opening my eyes, I re at him.

    ¡°Oh fuck,¡± he breathes. ¡°There¡¯s that look I love. You really want to murder me right now, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe a little bit. But if I did, I¡¯d feel badly about it afterward. For at least five minutes. Can you let me up, please?¡±

    Instead of doing that, he makes himself morefortable, arranging his body on top of mine so his muscr thighs pin mine on either side and the bulk of his upper body pins me to the mattress. Propped up on his elbows, he gazes down at me with a look of utter satisfaction.

    ¡°Guess what I did this afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Aside from acquiring a tabloid magazine and firing its editor and photographer? Hmm. Let¡¯s see¡­what does a crazy billionaire do on a Friday afternoon? You bought a news channel?¡±

    ¡°No, I bought a building.¡±

    Why he should look so smug about that, I don¡¯t know. ¡°Amercial building?¡±

    ¡°A high-rise luxury condominium building.¡±

    I can tell he¡¯s dying for me to ask him all about it, so I sigh again and relent. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll bite. Why did you buy a high-rise luxury condominium building?¡±

    ¡°So we can have privacy.¡±

    I furrow my brow. ¡°Exin.¡±

    ¡°Well, that photographer wouldn¡¯t have been able to get up-close-and-personal pics of us if we were inside the penthouse of a high-rise, right?¡±

    ¡°Unless they rented a helicopter, I guess not. So you¡¯ve decided to move from the house in Santa Monica to a penthouse condo?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I¡¯m moving into the whole building.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m confused. Your offices will be there too?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s just for me. Me and you, so we can have privacy.¡±

    I try to wrap my head around what he¡¯s saying, but he¡¯s got me running in circles. ¡°This is a building that¡¯s being constructed?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no. It¡¯s fully upied. I¡¯m giving everyone sixty days to relocate.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re kicking people out of their homes? That¡¯s awful!¡±

    He¡¯s amused by my dismay and drops his face to my neck to muffle hisughter. I lie there, aggravated, until he controls himself.

    ¡°I¡¯m not kicking them out. I¡¯m buying them out. My real estate attorney will send everyone individual offers by the end of next week, but in the meantime, my official offer for the property will be submitted to the HOA board Monday. Legally, we need at least eighty percent of homeowners to agree to it, so I made sure my offer was sufficiently juicy. All those people are going to make a lot of money.¡±

    I stare at him in nk disbelief. ¡°How big is this building?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-five stories with a helipad on top.¡± He frowns. ¡°Why, do you think I should¡¯ve gone bigger?¡±

    ¡°Carter, this is¡­extravagant. And bizarre. Are you telling me the truth?¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m telling you the truth. You asked me to, remember?¡±

    I wave my hands uselessly in the air by his sides. ¡°But why didn¡¯t you just buy the penthouse? Why the whole damn building?¡±

    His answer is matter-of-fact. ¡°Yeah, I thought about that. But then we¡¯d have to worry about other residents seeing using and going up the elevators, we¡¯d have to worry about the valet staff tipping off the paparazzi anytime we were about to leave, all that stuff. It just seemed easier to take all those problems off the table. If privacy is what we¡¯re after, we need our own little twenty-five story ind.¡±

    I¡¯m at a loss for words. I keep rewinding it to try to make sense of it, but I can¡¯t.

    It¡¯s ludicrous.

    Looking at my expression, he says, ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking.¡±

    ¡°Really? Please share. Because it feels to me like my brain has taken a vacation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not expecting you to move in with me. I know you love this house, and you need stability for Harlow, all that stuff.¡±

    ¡°Move in with you?¡± I repeat faintly. I think that smoke I smell is all the synapses in my brain frying.

    ¡°I said I¡¯m not expecting you to move in with me. I mean, unless you want to. That would be fucking amazing. But I figured you wouldn¡¯t want to, so this is just a stop-gap.¡±

    ¡°A stop-gap for what?¡±

    ¡°Between now and whenever we get married. Then you can choose where you want us to live.¡±

    I stare at him with my mouth open and the sensation that the room is spinning, like I¡¯ve had too much wine.

    He starts tough again, harder this time, dropping his head to my shoulder and trying to choke it back so he can¡¯t be heard by my sleeping daughter in her room down the hall.

    I say tly, ¡°Oh, I get it. This is another little joke of yours. Ha-ha, funny man. What song should I sing at your funeral?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t help it. You make the best faces!¡±

    I exhale in a gust and close my eyes. He kisses my neck, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

    He whispers, ¡°So about my family.¡±

    My eyes fly open. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I want you to meet them. Cole¡¯s wedding ising up. You¡¯ll be my plus-one.¡± He raises his head to see my reaction. ¡°What do you say?¡±

    ¡°You want me to meet this family of yours who may or may not be in the Mafia?¡±

    He rolls his eyes. ¡°They¡¯re not in the Mafia.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you keep saying that, but somehow you make it sound like they¡¯re Mafia-adjacent.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re the good guys, okay? I mean, I¡¯m not supposed to know anything about it, and my brothers and dad think I don¡¯t know anything about it, but when nobody listens to you because you¡¯re the baby, you can learn a lot.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    He thinks for a moment. ¡°Consider us phnthropists. But strictly off the books.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking in circles.¡±

    ¡°Will you help me decorate the penthouse?¡±

    ¡°Now, you¡¯re trying to change the subject.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, that was just my ADHD. What were we talking about?¡±

    ¡°The Mafia!¡±

    ¡°Right. We¡¯re not in the Mafia.¡±

    Unsure if I believe him, I close my eyes again. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Look, if we were bad guys, it would be all over the press.¡±

    ¡°You own the press!¡±

    ¡°Not all of it. For instance, we don¡¯t own TriCast. And you guys have never run any bad stories about us. Oh, that reminds me. Where should we go on our honeymoon? How do you feel about Aruba? I really love a sandy white beach.¡±

    When I groan, he dissolves intoughter again. Then he kisses me, cradling my face in his hands and flexing his hips into mine so I can feel his erection.

    ¡°Okay, enough talking.¡± His voice drops to a growl. ¡°Time to get your pussy licked.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m not having sex with you with my daughter sleeping down the hall.¡±

    ¡°Oral sex isn¡¯t technically sex.¡±

    ¡°Really? The word ¡®sex¡¯ is right there in the description.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do, and the answer¡¯s still no.¡±

    He rolls off me onto his back and sighs dramatically at the ceiling. I roll onto my side and prop myself up on an elbow so I can look at him. ¡°You really want me to go to your brother¡¯s wedding with you?¡±

    ¡°Duh.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to ignore that you sounded exactly like my fourteen year old there and skip to the part when I say I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s such a good idea.¡±

    He turns his head and gazes at me with a furrowed brow. ¡°Why the hell not?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still early in our rtionship.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your way of saying you¡¯re not sure if you want to keep seeing me.¡±

    ¡°No, Carter, not at all. I do want to keep seeing you.¡±

    When he only stares at me doubtfully, I stroke his face. ¡°Just because I¡¯m not letting you go down on me right now doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t want to see you anymore.¡±

    ¡°It seems like a pretty good indicator.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be difficult. And don¡¯t pout. It¡¯s much too cute.¡±

    He closes his eyes and sighs. ¡°Fucking cute again. I can¡¯t wait until I¡¯m ten years older and can be rugged and manly instead of cute.¡±

    That makes me smile. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to use that word again since it¡¯s so offensive to you.¡± I sober when I think of Nick and his threat to take Harlow away from me.

    A momentter, his fingers on my jaw, Carter turns my face toward him.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you just go?¡±

    It¡¯s uncanny how attuned he is to my emotional fluctuations, like a barometer reading changes in the atmosphere. ¡°Had a nice chat with my ex tonight.¡±

    His voice gains an edge. ¡°And by nice, you mean¡­?¡±

    ¡°He said I was an unfit mother. He threatened to take Harlow away from me.¡±

    rmed, Carter sits bolt upright and stares down at me. ¡°Because you¡¯re with me?¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Do you think he was serious?¡±

    Sighing, I push myself up to a sitting position. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I do know he was drunk.¡±

    ¡°Is that a regr thing for him? He¡¯s a heavy drinker?¡±

    ¡°No. At least not when we were together.¡±

    He¡¯s quiet for a moment, thinking. ¡°Make sure you keep notes about these interactions with him.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°Because if he tries to manipte you through the legal system, you¡¯ll need to fight back. Every interaction you have with him from now on should be documented. Every phone call, every email, every time he drives past your house. Consider him an enemy and proceed ordingly.¡±

    Those words give me a chill. ¡°That¡¯s just great. Between him and the threat from Hartman, I¡¯m having a fantastic day.¡±

    Carter falls still. His eyes glitter with malice. ¡°What threat?¡±

    I wave a dismissive hand in the air. ¡°I told you, he had a meltdown.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me he made a threat against you.¡±

    I peer at him, my curiosity piqued by the dangerous new tone in his voice. ¡°Why? Are you and your brother going to go dig another hole in the Vegas desert?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t smile at my joke. He simply stares at me, waiting for an exnation.

    ¡°You¡¯re a little scary when you get like this, stable boy.¡±

    ¡°Good. It¡¯s better than cute. What did your boss say to you? Specifically.¡±

    I stand, prop my hands on my hips, and take a turn around the bedroom. When I stop and look back at him, Carter is sitting on the edge of my bed looking as if he¡¯s about tounch himself into outer space. He¡¯s wound so tight, I can almost hear springs squeaking.

    ¡°He said he was going to consult with legal.¡±

    ¡°About us?¡±

    ¡°Yes. He said it looks bad that we¡¯re ¡®sneaking around¡¯ together, and the stock holders won¡¯t be happy.¡±

    ck and threatening, thunderclouds gather over his head.

    ¡°Before you go out andmit a homicide, you should know that there¡¯s nothing that prohibits employees from having personal rtionships withpetitors. Hartman might not like it, but there¡¯s technically nothing he can do about it.¡±

    ¡°There are all kinds of things he can do about it. You know how cutthroat this business is. If he really wants to, he can make your life miserable.¡±

    I lean against the dresser and cross my arms. ¡°The term ¡®fuck around and find out¡¯ would be apropos then, because I don¡¯t let people push me around. If he tries to retaliate, he¡¯ll regret it.¡±

    Impressed, Carter chuckles. ¡°My father is gonna go gaga over you. He¡¯ll probably offer you a position in thepany. He¡¯ll probably offer you my position in thepany.¡±

    ¡°If I can have your gargantuan sry, I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    Lips quirked, he stands and slowly moves toward me. ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s how it is, is it?¡±

    I deadpan, ¡°Yes. This has all been a plot to meet your father in an organic way so I can steal your job.¡±

    Lids lowered, he drawls, ¡°In an organic way. I see what you did there.¡±

    I pretend innocence, like I forgot he used those same words when he confessed how he plotted to meet me. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    He grabs me, pinning my arms by my side and grinning rakishly down at me. ¡°Sure you don¡¯t, your grace. You¡¯re the very picture of virtue.¡±

    He lowers his head to kiss me but is interrupted by a loud knockinging from downstairs.

    Someone is pounding on my front door.

    After midnight.

    And here I thought this day couldn¡¯t get any worse.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 27

    Carter sends a vicious re in the direction of the door. ¡°If that¡¯s your ex, I¡¯m gonna remove his fucking spleen.¡±

    ¡°Sure, because what today needs is a blood bath in my living room. You¡¯re going to stay right here and behave yourself.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t respond. He just keeps staring murder at the door like a guard dog about to attack the mailman.

    I walk over to the door. Before I open it, I turn around and point at the bed. Carter releases a breath, then grudgingly sits on the edge of the mattress.

    ¡°Good boy.¡±

    I walk out and close the door behind me before I can determine if that¡¯s enough to get him to stay put.

    Hurrying downstairs, I flick on the lights in the living room and foyer. Then I peer out the peephole in the front door.

    A disheveled man in a red Adidas tracksuit stands on my porch. He¡¯s scowling. Looking confused, an elderly woman with a halo of short white hair around her head and a nket over herp sits in the wheelchair the man stands behind.

    I pull open the door and stare at them in shock.

    My brother salutes me. ¡°Your turn,¡± he says, and pushes past me, wheeling my mother into the foyer.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing? It¡¯s the middle of the night!¡±

    He parks my mother next to the console and turns to me, his expression grim. His eyes are bloodshot. His salt-and-pepper hair is shaggy and unkempt. He hasn¡¯t shaved in a while, and he smells like stale beer and cigarettes.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t get back to me about nursing home options. So she¡¯s your problem now.¡±

    Horrified, I look back and forth between him and our mother. She¡¯s looking around with a frown, as if she¡¯s never been inside my home before and disapproves of the d¨¦cor.

    ¡°What the hell are you talking about, Will? What are you doing? This is crazy!¡±

    ¡°I told you I was leaving for Paris at the end of the month.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s weeks away!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, I gotta get ready. And Princess Di over here,¡± he jerks his thumb in our mother¡¯s direction, ¡°threw a can of soup at me today.¡± He lifts his chin, disying a bruise on his jawline. ¡°For a batty old broad, she¡¯s got damn good aim.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± our mother says. ¡°I was aiming for your nose. Whose house is this?¡±

    In cold shock, I look back and forth between them, not believing my ears or eyes.

    This can¡¯t be happening.

    Except it is, because Will is already walking past me toward the open door and the night beyond. ¡°Take care, Soph. See you around.¡±

    ¡°Will, stop! Wait! You can¡¯t just leave her here with me! What about her clothes? Medications? All the things she needs?¡±

    Over his shoulder, he says, ¡°Her meds are in the pocket on the back of the chair. I¡¯ll pack up her clothes and send them over. That¡¯s all she needs. Except for adult diapers.¡±

    I think I hear him chuckle darkly before he crosses thewn and hops into a van parked at the curb. He guns the engine and takes off, tires squealing, before I¡¯ve even had time to figure out if this is all a terrible nightmare.

    ¡°Mom?¡± Harlow stands in her pajamas at the top of the stairs, looking down in confusion.

    ¡°Hi, honey. Go back to bed, please.¡±

    ¡°Is that grandma?¡±

    My mother squints up at Harlow. ¡°Hello, dear. My, you¡¯ve grown tall. Whose house is this?¡±

    I take a moment to enjoy a silent internal scream, then close the front door. ¡°Mom, it¡¯s my house.¡± I walk over and gaze down at her, forcing I smile I hope doesn¡¯t look too insane.

    My mother peers up at me. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Fuck.

    I say gently, ¡°It¡¯s me, Mom. Sophia.¡±

    She brightens. ¡°I have a daughter named Sophia!¡± Then she cackles as if she¡¯s enjoying a private joke.

    I can¡¯t decide if I shouldugh or cry.

    Kneeling down next to her chair, I take her frail hand in mine. Her skin is dry and papery, cool to the touch and mapped with blue veins. ¡°Mom, I¡¯m Sophia. I¡¯m your daughter.¡±

    She stares at me, her nose crinkled in doubt, then shakes her head. ¡°No, you¡¯re much older than my daughter.¡±

    I find that funny in an ironic, soul crushing sort of way.

    Standing, I push my hair off my face and try to think through my panic. But I have no choice. There¡¯s nothing to be done except deal with the situation. I press my fingers against my closed eyelids and exhale.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Opening my eyes, I look at my mother. ¡°Let¡¯s get you to bed, and we¡¯ll figure things out in the morning. I¡¯ll put you in the guest room.¡±

    I nce upstairs, then close my eyes again.

    Along with all the other bedrooms, the guest room is upstairs.

    ¡°Mom, I¡¯m going to get you settled in the living room just for tonight, okay? The sofa should befortable. I¡¯ll get some nkets and a pillow for you, how¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t sleep on a sofa! I need a bed. I¡¯ll fall off a sofa, it¡¯s too close to the floor.¡±

    That makes no sense, but she¡¯s agitated, and it¡¯s obvious she¡¯s not going to submit to sleeping downstairs. The woman is as stubborn as a mule.

    ¡°Harlow, honey,e down here, please.¡±

    Shees quickly, running down the stairs, lightly trailing a hand along the railing. When she reaches us, she bends down and kisses my mother on the cheek.

    ¡°Hi, Grandma. It¡¯s nice to see you again.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s very nice to see you too, dear. I can¡¯t believe how tall you¡¯ve gotten. And all that long hair! How old are you now?¡±

    ¡°Fourteen.¡±

    ¡°Are you having sex yet? Make sure to use condoms. Boys won¡¯t want to, but you tell them no glove, no love.¡±

    I¡¯m about to go ransack the medicine cab for a Valium, but Harlow takes it in stride.

    ¡°That¡¯s good advice, Grandma, but I¡¯m not having sex with anybody.¡±

    She seems disappointed. ¡°Oh. Well.¡± After a moment, she brightens. ¡°Your mother was having sex when she was your age, did she ever tell you that? She asked me to get her on the birth control pill.¡±

    Harlow lifts her eyebrows and looks over at me. ¡°How interesting. She told me she was a virgin until she was eighteen.¡±

    Sweet Jesus, will this day never end?

    I wave a hand imperiously as if to dispel all that nonsense. Grabbing the wheelchair¡¯s handles, I push my mother toward the kitchen, walking there with purpose and pretending I¡¯ve got it all under control.

    ¡°Harlow, your grandma is probably thirsty. Please get her a ss of water or whatever she wants. I¡¯ll be back in two minutes.¡±

    I park her near the kitchen table, give Harlow a kiss on top of her head, then sprint upstairs to my bedroom, where Carter is pacing the floor. He pulls up short when I burst in.

    ¡°I need your help.¡±

    Bristling, he steps forward. ¡°Is it your ex?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s my mother.¡±

    He blinks. ¡°Your mother?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll exin after we get her into bed, but the most pressing problem is that I need to get her upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Why is that a problem?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s in a wheelchair.¡±

    He folds his arms over his chest and smirks at me. ¡°Ah. And you need the strong stable boy to carry her.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t be smug right now. I¡¯m panicking.¡±

    ¡°Why, is she hurt?¡±

    ¡°No, she¡¯s here. In my home. Where I am.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯m getting the feeling you and your mother don¡¯t get along so well.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it. Will you please help me?¡±

    His eyes soften. ¡°Of course I¡¯ll help you, baby.¡± He grins. ¡°Let¡¯s go get introduced to your mother. I can¡¯t wait to meet the woman who gave birth to my favorite person.¡±

    He strides past me before I can offer a prayer for help to all the gods in existence. Running after him, I follow him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Harlow is carefully pouring alcohol into the ss my mother is holding.

    ¡°Why are you giving her gin?¡± I cry, staring in dismay at the bottle in Harlow¡¯s hands.

    ¡°You said to give her whatever she wanted. Gin is what she wanted.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, dear,¡± says my mother, raising her ss to Harlow. She takes a sip, then spots Carter standing next to me. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Carter, ma¡¯am. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Carter¡­like the president.¡±

    He nces over at me. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, like the president.¡±

    She takes another dainty sip from her ss. ¡°He¡¯s a peanut farmer, you know. Sweet man. Not at all presidential material, but very sweet.¡±

    ¡°Harlow, put the bottle away, please.¡±

    ¡°No, she can leave it with me. I might want more.¡±

    ¡°Mother, it¡¯s after midnight. You shouldn¡¯t be drinking alcohol.¡±

    She cackles. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be doing a lot of things!¡± She peers at me more closely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, who are you?¡±

    Sensing I¡¯m about to experience a break from reality, Carter intervenes. ¡°Hi again, Harlow.¡±

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t seem too surprised to see him. She nces over at me with a sly smile that I know means she¡¯s going to try to renegotiate her punishment because I snuck a boy into the house, something that I told her once if she ever did, I¡¯d send her to a convent for.

    And I said it only half-jokingly.

    My mother says to Harlow, ¡°Dear, is this your boyfriend? I think he might be a little too sophisticated for you.¡± She turns to Carter. ¡°No glove, no love, understood?¡±

    I can tell he¡¯s trying not tough by the way he¡¯s pressing his lips together.

    ¡°That¡¯s not my boyfriend, Grandma. He¡¯s dating Mom.¡±

    My mother cackles and takes another sip of gin. ¡°Now you¡¯re just being silly, dear. She¡¯s much too old for him.¡±

    I give up.

    I walk over to the cab, open it, and remove a ss. Then I take the bottle Harlow¡¯s still holding and pour a nice, healthy measure of gin into it.

    As I¡¯m guzzling the gin, Carter says, ¡°Ma¡¯am, we need to get you upstairs and into bed. Would you mind if I carried you?¡±

    She looks him up and down and smacks her lips. Then she shrugs. ¡°Suit yourself, Mr. President. But you should really do something about those oil embargoes. The price of gas is much too high.¡±

    ¡°That was Nixon, ma¡¯am, not Carter.¡±

    He bends down and gently picks her up, bracing one arm around her back and sliding the other under her legs. He straightens, lifting her from the chair, easily holding her weight.

    Cradled in his arms, she rests her ss of gin on the nket on herp and looks at him.

    ¡°You refer to yourself in the third person? Son, that¡¯s a bit pretentious. But I¡¯ll let it go since you¡¯re so cute.¡±

    Carter closes his eyes and sighs.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 28

    An hourter, after Mother is softly snoring in the guest room upstairs and Harlow has gone back to her own bed and to sleep, Carter and I sit at the kitchen table, sharing a ss of gin.

    ¡°So,¡± he says.

    I exhale in a gust. ¡°Yeah. So.¡±

    ¡°Your mom¡¯s here.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°I get the feeling that¡¯s not a frequent urrence.¡±

    ¡°And that feeling is correct.¡±

    ¡°Do you go to her ce?¡±

    ¡°Not if I can avoid it. She lives with my brother out in Ventura.¡±

    ¡°When was thest time you saw her?¡±

    I ponder that, gazing up at the ceiling. ¡°Thanksgiving, the year beforest. She wasn¡¯t in a wheelchair then. And the lights were still on. She still recognized me.¡±

    ¡°That must be hard for you.¡±

    He watches me as I swirl the gin around in the ss and work on unraveling the knots inside my head.

    ¡°It might be better this way. If she doesn¡¯t know who I am, she won¡¯t lob grenades at me. Maybe I¡¯ll tell her I¡¯m the house sitter. That should be safe.¡±

    So far, I¡¯ve told him everything my brother said tonight when he arrived and during our prior conversations. His take is that there¡¯s much more to the story than what Will is telling me. Whether that¡¯s correct or not, the fact is that I¡¯m taking over my mother¡¯s care now.

    God help us.

    ¡°I have a woman who watches Harlow after school, in the hours before I get home from work. She¡¯s scheduled to starting in when the fall semester starts, but she¡¯s not a nurse. I¡¯ll have to find someone qualified toe in during the day. And I¡¯ll probably need to get one of those hospital beds with the safety rail on the sides so she doesn¡¯t fall out of bed in the middle of the night and hurt herself. We¡¯ll put it in the living room.¡±

    ¡°What about an assisted living facility?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°They cost an arm and a leg. Will sent me links to a few ces. The cheapest was more than ten thousand a month. I have no idea how people afford it.¡±

    He nces down at his ss, fiddles with it in silence for a while, then nces back up at me. I see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking I should sell the guitar collection.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m thinking you should ept a gift from someone who admires you.¡±

    ¡°Who? And what gift?¡±

    ¡°Me. And a gift in the form of financial assistance.¡±

    When I make a face, he says, ¡°Remember that sry of mine I told you about? That¡¯s not even a drop in the oceanpared to what I get annually from my trust. Or the royalties and dividends from my various investments. Or the cash flow from the properties I own. Or the¡ª¡±

    ¡°I get the picture. You¡¯re rich. Thank you, but no.¡±

    He lowers his lids and smiles at me. ¡°Ah, herdyship¡¯s stubborn pride again.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s my damn pride. She¡¯s my mother, and she¡¯s my responsibility. I appreciate the thought, but I¡¯m not taking money from you.¡±

    He takes a leisurely sip of his gin, gazing at me over the rim of his ss, then shrugs. ¡°Okay. Suit yourself.¡±

    We sit infortable silence for a while, until he asks what I¡¯m doing for the rest of the weekend.

    ¡°My girlfriends areing over tomorrow night with their kids. We¡¯ll just hang here and order take-out.¡±

    ¡°That sounds fun.¡±

    I don¡¯t reply because I¡¯m not sure how much fun it¡¯s actually going to be. I¡¯m afraid Val and Ev will spend most of the evening bashing Carter, and I¡¯ll spend it defending his honor, and everybody will leave angry.

    ¡°What will you be doing?¡±

    ¡°Aside from pining over you and obsessing over you every second?¡± He thinks for a moment, then smiles. ¡°Nothing. Just that.¡±

    I reach across the table and take his hand. ¡°You¡¯re pretty amazing, stable boy. I mean it. Thank you for helping tonight.¡±

    Running his thumb back and forth across my knuckles, he murmurs, ¡°Anytime, yourdyship. Anytime.¡± He holds my gaze for a moment, then knocks back the rest of his gin and stands. ¡°I¡¯ll let you get some sleep. And try not to worry about your mother. It¡¯s all gonna work out.¡±

    He kisses me softly on the lips, then heads out, leaving me alone at the kitchen table wrestling all the demons inside my head.<hr>

    There¡¯s a split second in the morning when I wake up that I don¡¯t rememberst night, and I feel happy. Then the goblin of reality pounces out, screaming, ¡°Gotcha!¡± and I want to hide under the covers all day with a bottle of tequ.

    I get up instead.

    After a shower and a few bracing mugs of coffeeced with a heavy-handed pour of Bailey¡¯s Irish Cream liqueur, I check on my mother.

    She¡¯s still sound asleep.

    God is showing mercy on me.

    Harper¡¯s still asleep too. Typically, she doesn¡¯t roll out of bed until around eleven on a weekend morning. So I leave both my responsibilities to their rest and conduct a frantic online search for local home carepanies who can send out a qualified nurse or health care assistant for Mom.

    The websites are slick and beautiful, which means their price tags will be high.

    Nevertheless, I call around and leave a few messages. I¡¯m in the middle of dialing anotherpany when Mom walks into the kitchen and sits down at the table across from me.

    Clear-eyed and calm, she says, ¡°What¡¯s for breakfast?¡±

    Stunned, I slowly set my cell phone down. ¡°You can walk?¡±

    ¡°Of course I can walk.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say it like it¡¯s obvious. Will rolled you in herest night in a wheelchair. Carter had to carry you upstairs to bed.¡±

    She smiles at me. In the morning light, she looks years younger than she did at midnight, hunched over in her wheelchair.

    ¡°That young man is very strong. And your brother¡¯s a nipoop. But you already knew that. What¡¯s for breakfast?¡±

    I spend a moment trying to remember if I swallowed any psychotropic drugs recently, but as I don¡¯t do drugs, the effort is futile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m having a problemputing this. Do you know where you are?¡±

    She scoffs. ¡°Just because I¡¯m old doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve lost my marbles.¡±

    I shake my head in astonishment. ¡°So you know this is my home? And I¡¯m your daughter?¡±

    ¡°Oh, please.¡±

    ¡°You say that like you weren¡¯t actingpletely cluelessst night!¡±

    She smiles. ¡°Sometimes a fox has to outfox the other foxes.¡± She spots the bottle on the counter. ¡°Ooo, is that Bailey¡¯s? I¡¯ll take some with my coffee.¡±

    Outraged, I stare at her. ¡°Mother!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to shout, Sophia.¡±

    ¡°Faking physical incapacity is¡­is¡­¡±

    ¡°An asional necessity when your caretaker is someone like your brother. I don¡¯t know where I went so wrong with that boy, but I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re rted. If I didn¡¯t give birth to him myself, I¡¯d never believe we share genes.¡±

    My voice rises. ¡°You also faked mental incapacity. Was that a necessity too?¡±

    ¡°How else was I going to get him to kick me out? If I acted perfectly lucid, I¡¯d still be living there!¡±

    I sputter, ¡°This is¡­this is unbelievable!¡±

    ¡°No, what¡¯s unbelievable is that your brother tried to steal all my money to pay off his gambling debts.¡±

    We gaze at each other across the table, her smiling pleasantly, me squinting at her in disbelief, my head spinning.

    ¡°Gambling debts?¡±

    She chuckles. ¡°Oh, yes. He¡¯s in debt up to his eyeballs to some very unsavory characters. Big and mouthy. Terrible manners. Tracked dirt all over the carpeting. Anyway, they came to his home a few times, trying to collect. Then, he tried to convince me that I should redo my trust to put him in charge of the finances. So I had my attorney draw up some documents to sign.¡±

    She smiles, pleased with herself. ¡°Only the documents didn¡¯t give him any power. They took it all away. Do you know, he was so sure of himself, he didn¡¯t even bother to look at what he was signing?¡±

    ¡°Wait. Wait a second. What trust?¡±

    She ignores that. ¡°All that nonsense he told you about going to Paris with his girlfriend was just that. Nonsense. He nned on taking my money and running from the goons who are after him. Disappearing and leaving me with absolutely nothing!¡± She clucks. ¡°The ingrate. Your father must be rolling over in his grave.¡±

    ¡°Mother! The trust! What trust?¡±

    She looks at me as if I¡¯m being uncouth and unreasonable, then sniffs.

    ¡°The family trust your father and I set up before he died. All our assets are in it. Granted, it¡¯s not much. We were never wealthy people, but there are a few bank ounts, some bonds and whatnot. Enough to ensure I don¡¯t die a pauper. And, of course, some money set aside for my only grandchild¡¯s college education. She really has grown so much since Ist saw her!¡±

    When I only sit there gaping at her with my mouth hanging open, she sighs.

    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to get my own coffee.¡± Standing, she heads over to the counter. ¡°Would you like another cup?¡±

    I prop my elbows on the table, drop my head into my hands, and groan.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±

    When she sets a full mug in front of me and resumes her spot across from me at the table, I drop my hands from my face and re at her. ¡°You can¡¯t stay here with us.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. I can¡¯t live alone.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t or don¡¯t want to?¡±

    She peers at me over her coffee mug as she sips.

    ¡°Mother, I¡¯m trying very hard not to curse at you. Please don¡¯t make it harder for me.¡±

    Tilting her head to one side, she considers me for a thoughtful moment.

    ¡°You think I was a bad mother because I wasn¡¯t nice to you. But I was very nice to your brother. Look how that turned out. I will apologize for one thing, though. That girl you brought home one Christmas when you were in college¡­what was her name? Sally? Annie? I don¡¯t remember. Anyway, I made a funnyment, but I could tell she was hurt. Not everybody gets my sense of humor.¡±

    I look desperately around the room. ¡°What the hell is happening? Am I being recorded? Is this some joke video you¡¯ll post on the inte for likes?¡±

    ¡°Have more Bailey¡¯s, you¡¯ll feel better.¡±

    ¡°You know what? No.¡± I shove my chair back and stand, ring down at her. ¡°This is bullshit. You can¡¯te into my home and pretend you don¡¯t know me and act like you have dementia, then casually announce you¡¯ve been hoodwinking my brother to get him to kick you out. Not only that, but you apparently have enough money to take care of yourself, you just don¡¯t want to.¡±

    In her pajamas, Harlow wanders into the kitchen, yawning. ¡°What¡¯re you yelling about?¡±

    ¡°Your mother¡¯s upset with me, dear.¡±

    ¡°Howe?¡±

    ¡°Lots of things, but it boils down to that I didn¡¯t tell her I loved her enough when she was little.¡±

    ¡°You never told me you loved me when I was little!¡±

    She¡¯s unmoved by my outburst. Holding my furious gaze, she says calmly, ¡°Yet here you are, all grown up and sessful, living a beautiful life. Inparison to your older sibling, who was showered with unconditional love, yet who turned out to be as useless as a rabbit turd.¡±

    I say tly, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say that I should thank you for not loving me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always loved you, Sophia. I just didn¡¯t want to make the same mistake twice. What children need is discipline and consistency, like in the military. The more softness you show them, the worse their character bes. It was clear by the time your brother was six that I¡¯d done everything wrong with him, so I changed my approach with you. It was all very calcted.¡±

    ¡°Like your fake dementia and your fake frailty?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    After a long, tense silence, Harlow says, ¡°Wow, Grandma. That¡¯s some bogus shit.¡±

    I might need to reduce her grounding from two weeks to one. ¡°Language, Harlow.¡±

    My mother scoffs, waving her hand in the air. ¡°Oh, you young people and your tender little psyches. I wasn¡¯t raising a wimp, I was raising a warrior. And I seeded!¡±

    Iugh. It sounds demented because that¡¯s exactly how I feel.

    ¡°ssic. That¡¯s just ssic Carmelina! me your shorings on other people and twist it around so it¡¯s their fault in the first ce. It¡¯s a miracle I made it to adulthood without severe psychiatric disorders!¡±

    Without a whiff of irony, my mother says, ¡°You¡¯re wee,¡± and takes another sip of coffee.

    I re at her for a moment, then grab the bottle of Bailey¡¯s Irish Cream liqueur, dump my coffee into the sink, and fill the mug to the rim with booze.

    When Harlow asks if she can have a taste of it and I say no, my mother scolds me for being overprotective.

    I calmly go upstairs to my bedroom, close the door behind me, and scream.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 29

    When Carter calls, I¡¯m lying face down on my bed. I roll over, grab my phone from the nightstand, then lie t on my back because I don¡¯t have the mental energy to sit up.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hi, baby. How¡¯s it going?¡±

    ¡°Oh, splendid.¡±

    ¡°Why do you sound funny?¡±

    ¡°Remember how you had to carry my mother upstairs to bed?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Turns out, she can walk just fine on her own. She doesn¡¯t need a wheelchair, and she doesn¡¯t have dementia. All that was an act to annoy my brother into kicking her out of his house.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Wow. That¡¯s a lot of effort only to annoy someone. Why didn¡¯t she just leave if she didn¡¯t like living with him?¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t want to live alone, and she knew I¡¯d never take her in willingly, so she orchestrated this Machiavellian plot to make my brother think she was losing her marbles. I think it¡¯s abination of revenge for him not turning out how she wanted and deciding she didn¡¯t want to go into assisted living with a bunch of strangers. She reviewed all her options, I came out on top, and now, she¡¯s sitting in my kitchen drinking thest of my Bailey¡¯s Irish Cream and criticizing my parenting.¡±

    After a pause, he says, ¡°And I thought you were scary.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s scary, then there¡¯s Carmelina Bianco. Oh, and here¡¯s the kicker! She has money saved up. Enough to put aside a nest egg for Harlow¡¯s college education. So it sounds like she could easily afford to pay for an assisted living facility, she simply has no interest in moving into one. Why are youughing?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s something straight out of a movie.¡±

    ¡°Yes, a horror movie. If she sprouted horns and cloven hooves, I wouldn¡¯t even be surprised at this point.¡±

    ¡°So what are you going to do?¡±

    Staring up at the tiny cracks in the ceiling, I sigh. ¡°I wish they had those unwanted infant surrender programs they have at fire stations but for old people. I¡¯d kick her out of the car as I was driving by the station. I wouldn¡¯t even slow down.¡±

    Now, heughs even harder.

    ¡°Carter. You¡¯re in danger.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, baby. I really am, it¡¯s just fucking funny. Who does that?¡±

    ¡°An insane person! She¡¯s nuts!¡±

    ¡°I dunno, it sounds like she¡¯s pretty sharp to me.¡±

    I say sourly, ¡°That¡¯s because your family¡¯s in the Mafia.¡±

    ¡°Not even close. But I still maintain that it would be cool having all that money and power.¡±

    ¡°Think about what you just said.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know my family has money and power. But not like, no rules money and power.¡±

    ¡°So you want to be a dictator?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°I can see you¡¯re not in the mood for humor.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m in the mood for three martinis.¡±

    ¡°Go for a run instead. You¡¯ll feel better.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, but I¡¯m a sane adult. I wouldn¡¯t run down a public street unless I was being chased by someone with a knife. And stopughing!¡±

    ¡°Ah, baby. You¡¯re adorable when you¡¯re stressed out. You know what you need? An orgasm.¡±

    ¡°Hmpf.¡±

    ¡°Was that an agreement?¡±

    ¡°In theory, yes, but I¡¯ve got a grounded teenager and a wicked witch to deal with today. I can¡¯t fit an orgasm into my schedule.¡±

    ¡°Well, just know it¡¯s a standing offer. My tongue is on standby anytime you need it.¡±

    ¡°That makes me smile. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wee, your grace.¡±

    I¡¯m happy for a brief moment until I remember my brother said our mother had been ¡®making messes¡¯ in her pants, and that I¡¯d need to buy adult diapers.

    I almost hope she is incontinent. Because if she isn¡¯t, and that was all part of her scheme¡­

    I¡¯m dealing with a monster.

    ¡°I better go. I left my mother downstairs with Harlow. She¡¯s probably letting her drink gin straight from the bottle and giving a PowerPoint presentation on how to ruin people¡¯s lives.¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Okay, baby. Call me if you need me. I¡¯m always here, even if you just need to vent.¡±

    At least there¡¯s one adult main character in my life who isn¡¯t a viin.

    We say our goodbyes and hang up. I shower and dress, then head back downstairs. My mother and Harlow are in the living room, ying cards on the coffee table.

    I walk up and look over Harlow¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Poker. Grandma¡¯s really good. She¡¯s teaching me how to bluff.¡±

    I send my mother a murderous look. She smiles at me and deals Harlow another card.

    ¡°Yes, your grandmother is good at a lot of things. Criminal things. May I speak to you for a moment, please? Alone.¡±

    She looks at Harlow. ¡°Oh dear. I¡¯m in trouble.¡±

    ¡°Chill, Grams. Mom¡¯s fair. But you need to start being nicer to her. She¡¯s got enough problems already.¡±

    My mother gazes at me with arched brows. ¡°Problems?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have problems. You have problems. Kitchen. Now.¡±

    She nces at Harlow, who nods. Only then does she stand and follow me.

    I should probably take her into a different room where there aren¡¯t so many sharp knives. With my mood as it is right now, I¡¯m liable to start chopping off fingers.

    Once we¡¯re standing on either side of the kitchen table, out of earshot of Harlow, I say, ¡°You can stay here until you find somewhere to move.¡±

    She replies airily, ¡°Oh, but that could take years! You know how terrible the cost of housing is. I¡¯ll have to search high and low for something affordable.¡±

    Through gritted teeth, I say, ¡°Housing my ass. You¡¯ve got two weeks, Mother.¡±

    She purses her lips. ¡°Two months.¡±

    The nerve of this woman. The sheer fucking nerve!

    ¡°You¡¯re not hearing me. Two. Weeks. If you¡¯re not gone by then, I¡¯ll evict you myself and change all the locks and our phone numbers.¡±

    She pretends to be hurt, lifting a hand to her throat and gasping. ¡°You¡¯d kick your own mother out onto the street with nowhere to live?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t scam me, Carmelina. I don¡¯t feel sorry for you. I will never feel sorry for you. You¡¯re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and that¡¯s what you need to do.¡±

    She tries another tactic, this one even lower, the savage.

    ¡°Think of your daughter. It¡¯s good for her to have family around.¡±

    ¡°Not when you¡¯re the family.¡±

    ¡°For goodness¡¯ sake, you¡¯re acting as if I kill puppies for fun in my spare time.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do in your spare time, as long as you¡¯re far away from me when you¡¯re doing it. Two weeks, Mother. That¡¯s my final offer. If that¡¯s not good enough for you, you can leave right now.¡±

    She considers me in a faintly amused silence, a hint of a smile ying at the edges of her mouth. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think she looks proud of me.

    ¡°All right, Sophia. Two weeks. Thank you.¡±

    I narrow my eyes, trying to tell if she was being sarcastic with that thank you, but am distracted¡ªand horrified¡ªwhen she approaches me with her arms held out.

    I stand rigid as she hugs me.

    Her voice tremulous, she whispers, ¡°You¡¯re a good person. And a good mother. And I should¡¯ve told you that I loved you when you were growing up. I apologize for not doing that. I was only trying to do what I thought was right.¡±

    With a soft sob, she releases me, wiping at her eyes. She turns away and walks slowly toward the living room, her shoulders hunched as if she¡¯s in distress.

    ¡°I¡¯m not falling for it, you big faker!¡±

    She straightens and gives me a thumbs-up without looking back. Chuckling, she calls out, ¡°I always knew you were smarter than your brother.¡±

    I swear on all that¡¯s holy, if I don¡¯t kill this woman before two weeks are up, it will be a miracle.<hr>

    When the girls arrive that evening with their kids in tow, I usher everyone in with a big smile. Harlow¡¯s got board games already set up in the living room, the pizzas I ordered have just been delivered, and several bottles of white wine have been chilled.

    Except for me, Val, and Ev, the crowd moves into the living room.

    ¡°I have a surprise for you girls,¡± I say, smiling a brittle smile.

    Handing me a bottle of wine, Val says, ¡°You¡¯re pregnant?¡±

    ¡°Ha-ha. Without a uterus, that would be pretty hard.¡±

    Ev kisses me on the cheek and hands me another bottle of wine. ¡°You¡¯re engaged?¡±

    ¡°God, you two are a pair of jokers tonight, aren¡¯t you? Come in.¡±

    We wander into the kitchen, leaving the kids behind. They¡¯ve known each other all their lives, have gone on family vacations together and spent countless hours in each other¡¯spany, so I know they¡¯ll be fine left alone to their own devices.

    Val and Ev settle into chairs at the kitchen table, where wine sses and a bucket with ice is waiting. I even went all out and made a cheese and charcuterie board, though I know we¡¯ll be digging into that pizza as soon as we¡¯ve had some wine.

    ¡°What¡¯s your big surprise?¡± says Ev, sticking her bottle into the ice bucket.

    I¡¯m about to answer when I notice her mouth. Her lips are red and swollen as if she was stung by a swarm of bees. ¡°Ev, what¡¯s going on with your lips? Is that an allergic reaction?¡±

    She snorts. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s an allergic reaction to getting old. I had lip filler.¡±

    Val and I exchange a nce.

    ¡°Quit judging me, you two.¡±

    I say, ¡°There¡¯s no judgment. I just didn¡¯t think there was anything wrong with your other lips.¡±

    ¡°Well, I did. They were deting.¡±

    ¡°Will that swelling go down or is that the final result?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll go down. It hurts like a bitch, though. Brian kissed me, and I almost punched him.¡±

    Val says, ¡°I know a girl whose lip tissue died after injections. Big ck holes on her mouth. Necrosis or something. It was gross.¡±

    Evelyn says, ¡°Thank you for that, Valerie, you heartless bitch.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying that there can beplications.¡±

    ¡°There can beplications with Botox, too, but I don¡¯t hear you squawking about that when you go to your aesthetician.¡±

    ¡°Botox has been around for ages. It¡¯s way safer than filler. Right, Soph?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. I haven¡¯t tried either. I¡¯m too scared of needles.¡±

    I grab one of the chilled wines from the fridge, open it, and pour it into our sses. Then I sit and grab a piece of Gouda. I¡¯m chewing on it when I realize nobody¡¯s saying anything.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Incredulous, Val says, ¡°You don¡¯t do Botox?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±

    ¡°Why would I lie about that?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea, but you don¡¯t have a single wrinkle on your face. What kind of sorcery is that?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve never smoked, and I wear sunscreen every day.¡±

    From the doorway, a voice says, ¡°And she¡¯s Italian. Good skin runs in the family. I should know, I¡¯m her mother.¡±

    Val and Ev turn to see her standing there, then turn back to me with identical expressions of horror.

    I mutter, ¡°Surprise.¡±

    My mother pulls up a chair and sits next to me. Gesturing impatiently for someone to pour her a ss of wine, she says in a conversational tone, ¡°You should¡¯ve seen my grandmother, Lucia. What a stunner. She lived to be a hundred and ten and didn¡¯t look a day over seventy. It¡¯s all that olive oil they eat in Sicily. Plus the fresh food. No junk food back then. None of this GMO Frankenfood nonsense.¡±

    As my friends are frozen in shock, I pour the wine and hand my mother her ss. She sips from it, smacks her lips, and sighs in satisfaction.

    ¡°Hello, girls.¡±

    Blinking in disbelief, Ev says, ¡°Uh. Hello.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so shocked. Did Sophia tell you I was already dead?¡±

    She turns to Val. ¡°I remember you, Sally. Or was it Annie? Doesn¡¯t matter, the point is that I remember I wasn¡¯t very nice to you that time we met, and I¡¯d like to apologize. It¡¯s bothered me for years. That look on your face.¡±

    She shudders, as if the memory of Val¡¯s pain is offensive, not what caused it. ¡°Anyway, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me. So! What¡¯s new with you two?¡±

    When they stare at me in stunned silence, I say drily, ¡°Yes, it¡¯s augh a minute around here. Wee to the asylum,dies, where the inmates are in charge.¡±

    Just then, someone knocks on the front door. I practically jump out of my seat, spilling my wine all over my arm.

    My mother frowns at me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±

    I glower at her. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a little PTSD from what happened thest time somebody knocked on the door.¡±

    She clucks her tongue. ¡°Don¡¯t be melodramatic, Sophia. It¡¯s unbing.¡±

    I rise and head toward the door. Unfortunately, I forget to check the peep hole. Because when I pull the door open, my seething ex-husband stands on my front step.

    Before I can say a word, he snaps, ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    Inhaling a calming breath, I pull back my shoulders and meet his angry gaze with a level one of my own. ¡°Go home, Nick. Enjoy your weekend. We¡¯ll talk Monday.¡±

    ¡°You better let me in this fucking house before I call the police and have you arrested for child endangerment.¡±

    ¡°Stop it, Nick. I mean it. Go away.¡±

    I start to close the door, but he ttens his hand against it and gives it such a hard shove, I stumble back and collide with the console. I lose my bnce and fall,nding hard on my hip.

    Unlike the living room, the foyer isn¡¯t carpeted. gstone is about as unyielding a surface as you can get.

    Pain shooting through my hip, I stare up at him, stunned, as he looms over me.

    ¡°This is my fucking house!¡± he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. ¡°Everything in it belongs to me, do you understand? It belongs to ME!¡±

    His furious voice rings in my ears. My heart races, my hip throbs, and I can¡¯t catch my breath. I¡¯m aware of the sudden silence in the living room, of all the kids gaping at us in terror from around the coffee table, and I remember in a sh what Carter said about keeping a record of my interactions with Nick.

    Then I wish I had something¡ªanything¡ªto protect myself with because Nick is bending down to me, his teeth bared and his hands balled to fists.

    There¡¯s a split second where I think I¡¯m about to be physically harmed by the father of my child before a sharp female voice slices through my frozen disbelief.

    ¡°Hey! Coglione! Lay a finger on my daughter, and it¡¯s thest thing you¡¯ll ever do!¡±

    My mother stands a few feet behind me, legs spread, expression fierce, eyes ck with rage.

    In her right hand, she grips a meat cleaver.

    When Nick doesn¡¯t move and only stares at her, nostrils red, she takes a step forward and brandishes the knife. She hisses something in Italian, a true bog witch casting a curse.

    I had no idea my mother spoke Italian.

    Never once in my life did she mention it, not even when I told her I was learning thenguage before my honeymoon to Florence.

    Heart thudding, I say shakily to Nick, ¡°She says back off or her people will being for you.¡±

    He curls his lip. ¡°Your people? Who, Carmelina? The AARP? Fuck you.¡±

    She deftly switches the knife to her left hand, strides over to him, and smacks him clean across his face. All five-foot-nothing of a white-haired olddy, in orthopedic shoes and a beige cardigan sweater, she ps Nick across the face with such force, his head snaps back.

    Holding his cheek, he stares at her in shock.

    Lips thinned and eyes narrowed, she raises the cleaver.

    He assesses her for a moment, no doubt wondering if she¡¯s bluffing, then decides it¡¯s not worth the risk.

    He spins on his heel and walks out.

    When his car roars away from the curb, my mother lowers the knife, turns to me, and calmly smiles.

    ¡°I think I should stay longer than two weeks. You and Harlow need protection.¡±

 Beg For Me: Chapter 30

    As the evening is ruined and nobody wants to chance it that Nick won¡¯te back, Val and Ev take their kids home.

    My mother removes all the steak knives from the kitchen, then goes around the house systematically locking doors and checking windows, drawing curtains closed and pulling down blinds. She hides a knife within easy reach of all the ¡°likely entry points.¡±

    When I ask her what she¡¯s doing, she says, ¡°Anybody who tries to get in this house without being invited is gonna leave leaking.¡±

    My life has turned into a John Wick movie.

    Shaken by the encounter with Nick and the arrival of this new and even more bizarre gangster version of my dementia-faking mother, I sit at the kitchen table with Harlow and try to make sense of what¡¯s happening with my ex.

    Anger. Threats. Instability and jealousy.

    That¡¯s not the man I¡¯ve known for half my life.

    ¡°Sweetie, I need you to tell me if you¡¯ve observed anything strange with your father recently.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like anything. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with him, but his behavior since he found out about Carter has been erratic, to say the least.¡±

    When she sits silently, staring at her hands, I start to panic.

    ¡°Has he been aggressive with you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You can tell me. Please be honest, honey. This is important.¡±

    She nces up, shaking her head. ¡°I mean, if you¡¯re asking if he¡¯s hit me or whatever, no, he hasn¡¯t.¡±

    I search her face for any trace of evidence that she might be holding something back but find none. It makes me breathe a little easier.

    ¡°Has he yelled at you? Been verbally abusive? Called you names?¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°But what? Tell me.¡±

    ¡°I overheard him call Britt a useless idiot. With the F word before it. She was crying. They were fighting in their room, trying not to be too loud, but I could hear them over the TV.¡±

    ¡°When was this?¡±

    ¡°In Mexico.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what caused the fight?¡±

    ¡°No. I went to bed. In the morning, they both acted like nothing happened.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry I have to ask you this, but did you see anything that might make you think your father had hurt her physically? Bruises or anything like that?¡±

    She looks pained, hunching her shoulders and chewing her lip.

    I reach across the table and take her hand. ¡°I know you love him,¡± I say gently. ¡°And I know you don¡¯t want to be disloyal. I understand this is hard, honey, but it¡¯s really important. Just tell me the facts, and let me worry about what to do with them.¡±

    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t think he¡¯s hurting her like that. I haven¡¯t seen any bruises. But she looks really scared all the time. Like, really scared.¡±

    ¡°Has she confided in you?¡±

    She shakes her head again, this time more vehemently. ¡°She¡¯s always nice to me, but she knows I don¡¯t like her.¡±

    I won¡¯t ask why not. I already know the answer. My daughter¡¯s young, but she¡¯s not stupid. She knows why her parents¡¯ marriage fell apart.

    My heart aches for the toll this has taken on her. There¡¯s also the guilt of not being able to keep her father happy so she could have a stable home.

    But we¡¯d all have paid too much of a price for pretending we were happy. Though it¡¯s painful, it¡¯s always better to let go of a dying dream than to bleed yourself dry trying to keep it alive.

    ¡°Okay. Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else you think I should know?¡±

    She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. ¡°But can I ask you a question?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    She wrinkles her nose, looks over her shoulder to confirm we¡¯re alone, then leans closer and whispers, ¡°Why would grandma pretend not to recognize you?¡±

    ¡°Because some people¡¯s sense of joy depends a lot on other people getting their feelings hurt.¡±

    She considers that for a while. ¡°Isn¡¯t that called sadism?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called Carmelina Bianco. There isn¡¯t a word in anynguage for all the strange things she is.¡±

    ¡°So she¡¯s going to be living with us now?¡±

    ¡°Just until we can find her somewhere else to go.¡±

    ¡°I think she wants to stay here.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t always get what we want in life. Especially when we¡¯re shitty to the people who are in a position to help us.¡±

    She nods, digesting the conversation in silence, then nces up at me. Hesitant, she says, ¡°I mean¡­it might be okay if she stayed for a little while.¡±

    ¡°Why? So she can teach you how to cheat at cards and threaten people with sharp objects?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just that I never really had grandparents. Or cousins or anything like that. We¡¯re like, a super small family. It was always just me, you, and Dad, and now that Dad¡¯s gone¡­¡±

    She looks at the table again, then shrugs. ¡°Never mind. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    With a deep sense of dismay, I realize that my daughter is lonely.

    Her parents are divorced, she has no siblings, and her one living grandparent is as merciless as an rm clock that wakes you at five in the morning on a weekend. And has also been plotting to kill you while you were asleep.

    ¡°Look, if it means that much to you, we¡¯ll visit her in her new ce, okay?¡±

    At least that way I don¡¯t have to worry about her setting up an illegal gambling circuit in the garage or teaching Harlow the finer points of maniption while I¡¯m at work.

    Harlow nods, then yawns.

    ¡°Okay, time for bed.¡± I stand and pull her into a hug. Resting my cheek on the top of her head, I murmur, ¡°I love you, sweetie. I love you, and I¡¯m proud of you. I¡¯m so d I¡¯m your mom.¡±

    She snuggles closer to me like she used to do when she was a little girl, tightening her arms around my waist and tucking her head against my chest. Thatsts all of about ten seconds until she remembers she¡¯s a teenager now and is much too cool for that.

    Shrugging me off, she flips her hair over her shoulder. ¡°M¡¯kay. Goodnight.¡±

    My heart aching, I watch her walk off toward the living room. As she¡¯s trudging up the stairs, the pantry door creaks open. My mother sticks her head out and looks around.

    Exasperated, I throw my hands in the air. ¡°Seriously? Were you eavesdropping?¡±

    ¡°Of course I was eavesdropping. Do you think I was standing in here with cotton stuffed in my ears?¡±

    She steps out of the pantry and crosses to the liquor cab. Peering inside, she says over her shoulder, ¡°You¡¯ll be out of gin and Bailey¡¯s soon. Better make a trip to the market. By the way, I¡¯m not a sadist.¡±

    She turns and looks at me. Her smile is big and insincere.

    Feeling a thousand years old, I stand from the table and tell her I¡¯m going to bed.

    When she says, ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to carry me upstairs?¡± and cackles, I don¡¯t even bother responding.<hr>

    After a long, sleepless night, at eight o¡¯clock the next morning, I call Nick¡¯s cell phone. It¡¯s time to set some clear boundaries and let him know what will happen if he crosses them.

    If he thinks he can continue to act like a madman, he¡¯s dead wrong.

    He picks up after one ring but doesn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°Nick? Hello? It¡¯s Sophia. Are you there?¡±

    ¡°Oh, um, hi Sophia. It¡¯s um¡­Brittany.¡±

    Her voice is hushed and tentative. Aside from the fact that she¡¯s answering his phone, I can tell by her tone that something is wrong.

    ¡°Hi Brittany. Are you okay?¡±

    In her pause, I can hear her swallow. I imagine a dozen horrible scenarios, each worse than thest, and try to keep my voice steady as panic starts a drumbeat in my veins.

    ¡°Please tell me what¡¯s wrong. Do you need help? I¡¯lle and get you if you do, just tell me where you are.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Are you at Nick¡¯s house?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m okay, I¡¯m not¡­everything¡¯s fine.¡±

    Abruptly, my rising panic is reced with anger.

    Why do women feel the need to y the ¡°everything¡¯s fine¡± game? Why do we cover up for shitty situations and shitty men? At some point, this nonsense has to stop.

    We have to teach our daughters that shame isn¡¯t the correct response when anyone wants to hurt them, silence them, or try to make them feel like they¡¯re the problem.

    The correct response is rage.

    Silencing ourselves and our truth and ying a good-girl role is bullshit. It¡¯s soul killing. We should have no room in our lives for people who try their best to make us feel small.

    What we should have is some good, old-fashioned fucking anger and ream them out like they deserve.

    ¡°For God¡¯s sake. Listen, I¡¯m not stupid. I¡¯m not your enemy either. I know Nick has been acting erraticallytely. Erratic and hostile. I¡¯ve seen it myself. So has Harlow. If you¡¯re thinking it¡¯s your fault, you¡¯re dead wrong. Don¡¯t buy into that crap. Now, tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±

    Sounding on the verge of tears, she whispers, ¡°Why are you nice to me?¡±

    I feel pity for her. This poor girl. She thought she was getting a knight in shining armor but what she got instead was a raging narcissist with a Godplex.

    ¡°I¡¯m a masochist, I guess. If you ever met my mother, you¡¯d understand. Let¡¯s cut to the chase, Brittany. Are you hurt?¡±

    She sniffles. ¡°No.¡±

    I don¡¯t know if I believe that or not, so I push. ¡°Is he abusing you?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing like that.¡±

    ¡°So what is it? I know something sketchy is happening. I¡¯ve known that man a very long time, and the way he¡¯s acting recently has me concerned for my daughter. And for you.¡±

    I hear her moving around on the other end, maybe into another room. A door closes, then shees back on sounding stronger.

    ¡°He¡¯s got some legal troubles. Big ones.¡±

    That surprises me. His life is and always has been extremely controlled. Every I dotted, every T crossed, coloring strictly within the lines. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s ever even had a parking ticket.

    ¡°What kind of trouble do you mean?¡±

    Her voice is thin, uncertain, as if she doesn¡¯t even want to speak the words aloud. ¡°There are people¡­I guess a few people are making usations about him. More than a few. They¡¯re going to sue.¡±

    It¡¯s like pulling teeth. We could be here forever. But I remain patient and keep gently pushing. ¡°Who are these people?¡±

    There¡¯s a pause, then she whispers, ¡°Some of the artists.¡±

    I blink. That surprises me. Nick has always had a wless reputation in the industry. Admired, respected, a mentor and champion for the artists he represents. Or at least, that¡¯s what everyone believes.

    ¡°His musicians? What are they saying?¡±

    ¡°Stuff like contract fraud, coercion, ckmail. One of them ims Nick forced him to sign away his masters under threat of career sabotage. Another one says he embezzled royalties and manipted streaming numbers. All kinds of awful things.¡±

    The room feels smaller, as if the walls are closing in. Holding my breath, I ask the question wing at my throat. ¡°Sexual misconduct too?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she says quickly. ¡°Nothing like that.¡±

    Relief flickers through me, but it¡¯s short-lived because I have no idea if that¡¯s the truth or not. God only knows what he¡¯s been up to. ¡°Oh, Brittany. I¡¯m so sorry. I feel so sorry for you, honey.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be true, though, right?¡± she cries, sounding desperate. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do the things they¡¯re saying! I know him!¡±

    I say quietly, ¡°Yes, you do know him. You know that he broke his marriage vows and cheated on his wife. You know that he had an affair with a girl young enough to be his daughter. You know he¡¯s dishonest and disloyal and he puts his own needs first. Open your eyes.¡±

    When she remains silent, I sigh. ¡°Where is he now?¡±

    ¡°Passed out on the sofa. He finished a whole bottle of whiskeyst night.¡±

    This just keeps getting worse and worse. ¡°Can you go stay with your mother for a while? Do you have a friend who can take you in?¡±

    Her calm breaks. Whatever reserve was holding her back before crumbles. She¡¯s almost hysterical now, crying, ¡°I can¡¯t just walk away from him! I don¡¯t have any money! I don¡¯t have a job! I¡¯m pregnant with this baby that¡¯s not even¡ª¡±

    She cuts herself off with the same little gulp of air that I¡¯ve heard Harlow make probably a hundred times when she¡¯s about to spill some truth that will get her into trouble but catches herself just in time.

    All the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

    I say slowly, ¡°The baby isn¡¯t even what, Brittany? Finish that thought.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t finish the thought, but she doesn¡¯t have to, because I already know.

    Her baby isn¡¯t Nick¡¯s.

    Wow, karma really is a bitch. I¡¯dugh if it wasn¡¯t all so depressing.

    I walk over to my bedroom window, gaze out into the beautiful summer morning, and consider how I should proceed. ¡°Does he know?¡±

    She says stiffly, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±

    Closing my eyes, I sigh. ¡°Your secret¡¯s safe with me. I won¡¯t breathe a word of it to anyone, including Nick. But let me give you a word of advice. If he¡¯s about to go down, don¡¯t let him drag you down with him. Do the smart thing for you and your baby and leave.¡±

    She cries, ¡°But who will take care of me?¡±

    I stop feeling sorry for her and start feeling irritated.

    The whole world is me, me, me to the point of insanity.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to take care of yourself because you have responsibilities now. Your priority is that baby. Put your big girl panties on, and get your shit together. No more tears. No more excuses. Look at the situation head-on, and deal with it. If you need my help, I¡¯ll help you. Otherwise, I know you¡¯re clever enough to figure it out on your own. And to save yourself any more drama, delete this call from his phone. I have to go now. If you need me, you know how to find me.¡±

    I disconnect the call and stand with my arms hanging by my sides and my eyes closed, letting every emotion I¡¯m feeling just do their thing as I breathe.

    When I¡¯m steady, I make another call and leave a message for my attorney.

    If Nick¡¯s really in as much trouble as it sounds like he is, I need to do everything I can to protect my daughter.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 31

    When I go downstairs for breakfast, I find my mother at the stove, flipping pancakes on a griddle.

    ¡°Coffee¡¯s on,¡± she says over her shoulder. ¡°Do you still like your eggs scrambled?¡±

    I take a moment to think on what I¡¯m going to do about this strange personmandeering my kitchen, then decide I don¡¯t have the energy for this fight and sit at the table.

    ¡°Harlow¡¯s still asleep. I checked on her.¡± When I don¡¯t respond, she chuckles. ¡°Don¡¯t get excited. I¡¯m only making breakfast.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s like a tornado saying it¡¯s only a little wind.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in a bad mood. What¡¯s happened?¡±

    ¡°Take a walk over to that mirror and find out.¡±

    She clucks her tongue and turns to peer at me.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re concerned. I don¡¯t have the mental bandwidth to deal with your delusions today.¡±

    She stares at me for a beat, then shrugs and turns back to the stove where she busies herself acting like a harmless grandmother. I look at her cardigan and orthopedic shoes, wondering where she¡¯s hiding the cleaver.

    She pours two cups of coffee, sets one in front of me and the other at the seat across the table. She tes a stack of pancakes and sets that in front of me too, then brings over the butter dish and a jar of maple syrup. Nextes cutlery and a napkin, which she folds into a triangle like we¡¯re in a restaurant. Then she steps back and props her hands on her hips, staring at me expectantly.

    ¡°Well? Aren¡¯t you going to eat?¡±

    I look warily at the pancakes. ¡°Are they poisoned?¡±

    ¡°No, but the coffee is.¡± Chortling, she heads to the fridge and takes out the carton of eggs.

    I watch her crack them into a bowl and mix them up with a whisk, wondering if this is an alternate universe. Maybe the other version of me¡ªthe one without the wacko mother, treacherous ex-husband, or threatening boss¡ªis living her best life on the sun deck of a luxury cruise ship sailing through the inds of Croatia.

    ¡°You need a new mattress in the guest room. There¡¯s an unholy lump in the middle that kept me tossing and turning all night. I was very ufortable.¡±

    Picturing it, I smile.

    She pours the eggs into a pan and starts to poke at them with a wooden spoon that looks exactly like the spoon from Carter¡¯s kitchen.

    As if she can read my mind, she says, ¡°So. This man child you¡¯re dating. He¡¯s very pretty, Sophia, but I know you can¡¯t be serious about him. You¡¯re too smart for that.¡±

    I think rage is bing my primary emotion. Simmering in it, I say, ¡°I know you¡¯re aware that cutlery can be used for things other than eating food.¡±

    When she turns to look at me, I stab the stack of pancakes with the fork, then saw through it viciously with the knife, looking at her the whole time.

    Criminal mastermind that she is, she¡¯s unfazed. ¡°You think your love life isn¡¯t my business.¡±

    ¡°Correct. Because it¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re my daughter. Everything about you is my business.¡±

    ¡°Since when?¡±

    ¡°Since forever.¡±

    I hack away at the pancakes, wishing it was her neck. ¡°You¡¯re skating on very thin ice, Mother.¡±

    She tes herself some food, then sits across from me and digs in, contemting me as she chews.

    ¡°Give me two minutes, then I¡¯ll never mention this Carter boy again.¡±

    I groan. ¡°You¡¯re exhausting, you know that?¡±

    She waves her fork to silence me. ¡°He makes you feel good. Of course he does. He¡¯s gorgeous, and he¡¯s obviously very taken with you. The sex is probably fantastic.¡± She shrugs. ¡°Big deal. That¡¯s good for a few months, a year if you¡¯re lucky. Then what? I¡¯ll tell you what. He starts to get bored.¡±

    I stare up at the ceiling and mutter, ¡°Where¡¯s a sudden heart attack when you need one?¡±

    ¡°Bah. There¡¯s nothing physically wrong with me.¡±

    ¡°Physically.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be sensitive about the topic if you thought I was wrong.¡±

    That was a challenge, but she might have a point, so I eat my pancakes as if nothing she can say will bother me. If it does, I¡¯ll lock her out in the backyard.

    Too bad we don¡¯t have a basement.

    ¡°Or maybe you get bored. Maybe you don¡¯t want to go skydiving or Bungee jumping or whatever ridiculous activities he¡¯s into because you¡¯d rather sit home and read a nice book like an adult. You¡¯d rather go to the cinema or a museum than lift weights or train for the Tour de France.¡±

    Thatst thing was a little too close to home. I eat, gaze on my te, trying not to picture Carter in his yellow Lycra cycling gear and trying not to listen.

    ¡°Even if it did oust the initial physical attraction, you¡¯ll always be significantly older than he is. Picture yourself ten years from now. Twenty. Maybe you have health issues. Maybe you don¡¯t have much energy anymore. Maybe you be something nobody wants to be: a burden.¡±

    I say acidly, ¡°You would know all about that.¡±

    ¡°How will he fit in with your friends? How will you fit in with his?¡±

    I picture three beautiful young blondes in tight athletic wear and want to strangle her.

    She says softly, ¡°How will you feel the first time someone mistakes you for his mother?¡±

    When I re at her with murder in my eyes, she lifts a shoulder.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be too soon. You¡¯ve taken good care of yourself. But when you hit menopause in a few years, Sophia, everything changes. Aging elerates. Even with the best care, our looks fade.¡±

    She pauses before going in for the kill. ¡°And what if he wants children?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re ruthless,¡± I say tly.

    ¡°He¡¯s a young man. He might not be ready now, but eventually, he¡¯ll want a family.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he already has kids.¡±

    ¡°Does he?¡±

    We stare at each other across the table until she shakes her head

    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t think so. He might tell you now that he doesn¡¯t care about children. He might even mean it. But a few years from now when he¡¯s really ready to settle down, this fun affair will fall apart because you can¡¯t give him what he needs.¡±

    ¡°This is the worst thing anyone¡¯s ever said to me, and that¡¯s saying a lot.¡±

    ¡°The truth is always awful. That¡¯s why nobody ever tells it.¡±

    I¡¯m angry, and I¡¯m hurt, and I¡¯m fucking mortified because I know she¡¯s right.

    Deep down, I know she¡¯s right about everything.

    ¡°Look at me, Sophia.¡±

    I meet her eyes. She almost looks sympathetic.

    ¡°I know you. You don¡¯t take love lightly. Like you did with Nick, youmit heart and soul, even when all the warning signs are shing in your face. Do you remember me telling you not to marry him?¡±

    Teeth clenched, I say, ¡°I thought you were just being your usual ray-of-sunshine self.¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t right for you, but you couldn¡¯t see it. You¡¯re older and wiser now. And you have Harlow. You can¡¯t afford to make another mistake. It¡¯s not only your heart you¡¯re looking after. You have responsibilities bigger than yourself.¡±

    I made almost the exact same argument to Brittany. My chest is so tight, it¡¯s hard to breathe.

    Silence reigns for a moment, then my mother says brightly, ¡°Time¡¯s up! I won¡¯t mention it again. How are the eggs?¡±

    Dazed, I stare down at my te and realize I¡¯ve lost my appetite.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 32

    I¡¯m at home watching Die Hard for the hundredth time when I get a phone call from Sophia. Muting the sound, I answer, smiling. ¡°Hi. This is a nice surprise.¡±

    ¡°Are you busy this afternoon?¡±

    ¡°Not if there¡¯s anything you want to do with me, no.¡±

    ¡°As a matter of fact, there is something I want to do with you. Meet me at the Fairmont. I booked us a room.¡±

    My heart skips a beat. I sit up straight and turn off the television. ¡°You booked us a room?¡±

    ¡°I did. I need to see you. In private. And not somewhere there might be photographers lurking around, like at your house.¡±

    Her voice is calm and even, but I sense there¡¯s something going on. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    After a pause, she says, ¡°I¡¯ll be a lot better when we¡¯re naked in bed together. I¡¯m leaving the house now. I¡¯ll text you the room number when I check in. How soon can you get there?¡±

    ¡°Half an hour. Forty-five, tops.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. See you soon.¡±

    When she hangs up without saying goodbye, I sit in confusion, worrying, until Ie to my senses and jump to my feet. I take a quick shower and change my clothes, then run out the door.

    I almost tten the valet parking guy when I pull into the Fairmont Hotel¡¯s elegant circr driveway. He leaps out of the way just in time.

    Jumping out of the car, I apologize, then hand him the keys and wait impatiently as he tears off a valet stub. I snatch it from his fingers and jog toward the hotel entrance, scanning for any sign of Sophia. I¡¯m cruising through the lobby when she texts me her room number.

    In the elevator, I fidget impatiently. When the doors open on her floor, I burst through them, then jog down the hall to her room and knock.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door is unlocked. I walk into the room. She stands by the windows, looking out, the gauzy white curtains silhouetting her figure.

    She¡¯s nude.

    And she literally takes my breath away. I stand stunned, my hand over my heart, feeling its heavy thudding, and drink in the sight of her beautiful body.

    When she turns and looks at me, I¡¯m still standing at the door in awe.

    Her eyes are dark and shining. Her hair is long and loose, cascading over her shoulders and around her breasts. Without a word, she gestures to the bed.

    I don¡¯t know what this is about, but I know it¡¯s important. I can see it in her face, in the expression in those eloquent eyes. Something inside of me quakes.

    I say her name tentatively. She closes her eyes briefly and shakes her head.

    ¡°I just need to feel you. I¡¯ll be better then.¡±

    Moving slowly, I cross the room, ignoring the elegant furnishings, the linen-draped room service cart with the champagne bucket and choctes, the faint sounds of traffic floating up from the street below.

    Her clothes are draped over the back of a leather chair. A pair of low heelsy abandoned beneath the chair, as if hastily kicked aside.

    I take her face in my hands and kiss her.

    She sags against me with a soft moan of relief, digging her fingers into the muscles of my back.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I murmur, squeezing her against me. ¡°Baby, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    She gazes up at me with something ineffably sad in her eyes. I brush a strand of hair off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear, desperate to find out what¡¯s happened.

    After a moment, she smiles. ¡°You¡¯re here. Nothing could be wrong.¡±

    She starts to unbutton my shirt, slender fingers working quickly.

    I wish I were a better man, the kind who didn¡¯t getpletely distracted by the sight of a pair of gorgeous bare tits and hard rosy nipples, but I¡¯m not that guy.

    My dick is already aching for her.

    She pulls my shirt down my arms and flings it away, looks my chest over with hungry eyes, then wraps her arms around my shoulders and kisses me passionately, arching her naked body against me.

    The feel of her bare breasts on my chest is so amazing, it makes me groan into her mouth.

    I run my hands all over her body, squeezing her ass and her breasts, following the curve of her waist and the rise of her hipbones. Everywhere I touch is soft and yielding. Her skin is warm and as smooth as silk.

    She breaks the kiss to push me backward toward the bed. Walking with her hand pressed t on my chest, she gazes at me with hot eyes. My calves hit the edge of the mattress. I can¡¯t go any further.

    She pushes me down to a sitting position on the bed, straddles me, and kisses me deeply, holding my head in her hands. Then she breaks the kiss and guides my mouth to her nipple.

    I suck on it greedily, my heart racing and my dick throbbing. She sinks her fingers into my hair and pulls on it, scratching my scalp as she rocks her hips against mine. She drops her head back and moans, forcing me to her other breast and its tight, waiting nipple.

    I lick and suck on it, cupping both breasts in my hands and squeezing as she writhes against the bulge under the zipper of my jeans.

    Without warning, she rolls off me onto her back on the bed. She spreads her legs, draws her knees up, and licks her lips, gazing at me from under lowered lids.

    ¡°Be my good boy, Carter,¡± she whispers. ¡°You know what I need.¡±

    I almost pass out from excitement.

    Instead, I drop to my knees on the floor next to the bed and shove my face into her plump pink pussy.

    When I thrust my tongue inside her, she arches off the bed and moans my name. I slide my hands under her ass and squeeze, lifting her bottom off the mattress. She rocks her hips and strokes her hard nipples as I eat her delicious cunt, alternating betweenpping at her clit, sucking on it, and fucking that tight wet hole with my tongue.

    When she stiffens and cries out, I release my aching cock from my jeans, surge up onto the bed between her spread legs, and shove it deep inside her.

    She shudders. Her moan of pleasure is low and broken. With her dark hair spread out over the white duvet, her eyes closed and her full lips parted, her head titled back and her body arched in ecstasy, she¡¯s the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.

    Her pussy contracts around my cock over and over again, like a fist milking me.

    She wraps her legs around my waist and grips my forearms as I thrust into her over and over, using long, smooth strokes. I lean over to suck on her rigid nipples, and she shivers and moans.

    ¡°Is this what you need, baby?¡± I growl near her ear. ¡°You need my hard cock buried inside you?¡±

    She answers by tilting her hips up to take me even deeper than before.

    ¡°Oh, yes. You want me to fuck you hard, don¡¯t you? You want me to be in charge this time, and you want me to make you take my cock however I want to give it to you.¡±

    She whimpers, nodding, her eyes squeezed shut. ¡°Yes. Please.¡±

    My heartbeat is out of control. Every nerve feels exposed, raw and tender. I¡¯m aware of my skin in a way I¡¯ve never been before, of the sensation of the air on it, the mist of sweat forming on my brow and chest.

    I fuck her hard and deep until her moans are full-throated, and I know she¡¯s about to orgasm again. Then I withdraw, roll her onto her belly, drag her up onto her knees, and push her upper body down so her chest and face are resting on the mattress.

    ¡°Okay, baby,¡± I say, positioning myself at her dripping slit. ¡°Take it.¡±

    I slide my throbbing cock inside her pussy, moaning at the erotic sight of her tender flesh parting to ept the thick, veined length of my dick. The little puckered rosebud of her ass quivers when I press my thumb against it.

    She¡¯s wet here too. She¡¯s wet all over from my mouth and her own arousal. Gripping her hip in one hand, I stroke my thumb over and around her ass until she¡¯s panting loudly and jerking back against me, begging for it.

    I reach around and lightly p her pussy.

    She jerks and squeals, then moans against the covers, rxing and titling her hips higher. I fondle her clit, chuckling when she shudders and gasps.

    ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful. Look at this beautiful ass, this perfect pussy that¡¯s taking my cock so well. Goddamn, woman. You¡¯re a dream.¡±

    Grabbing the duvet, she curls her hands into fists. Her lips are parted. Her cheeks are flushed. The wet sounds of our fucking underscore her panting and moans.

    I circle my finger around and around her clitoris, every once in a while tugging on it, until it¡¯s firm and engorged under my fingertip, herbia are swollen, and she¡¯s crying out with the need toe again.

    Then I slowly sink my thumb past that knot of muscle in her ass.

    She¡¯s tight, wet heat. I almost lose control of myself.

    But I inhale a breath and manage to hold back against the need pounding my body from all sides. Every inch of my cock is exquisitely sensitive. My balls ache for release. I fuck her ass with my finger and her cunt with my cock, feeling that wet hole opening around my finger, softening for me, until she¡¯s going wild, bucking against me mindlessly.

    I slide my cock out of her pussy and press the engorged crown against her ass.

    ¡°I want to fuck this pretty little rosebud. Yes or no.¡±

    She whispers, ¡°Yes.¡±

    There¡¯s a moment of resistance, then she opens for me. I carefully flex my hips and take her ass, sliding my cock in until it can¡¯t go any further.

    Our moans are equally loud and broken.

    Bending over her back, I brace a hand against the mattress, then reach around again to fondle her clit. I give her a moment to adjust to me, then start to slowly fuck into her, rocking my hips and stroking her pussy.

    She climaxes with a sudden cry, her entire body convulsing.

    Exhaling, I give it to her harder, fucking her through her orgasm until my own crests over me and Ie, gripping her hips and cursing at the ceiling, all the muscles in my body clenched.

    I empty myself inside her body, my heart fracturing into pieces, my body awash in pulse after pulse of pleasure that leaves me gasping for air.

    Beads of sweat fly off my forehead when I shake my head to clear it. After several moments, when I¡¯ve caught my breath, I run my hand slowly up her spine, learning every precious bump, then ease us down to the mattress.

    Lying on top of her, I nuzzle my nose into her hair and sigh in contentment.

    Herugh is soft and sweet. ¡°Are you nning on ever taking that hard dick of yours out of me?¡±

    ¡°God no. We¡¯re stuck like this permanently.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s going to make grocery shopping pretty awkward.¡±

    ¡°Going to the movies too.¡± Smiling, I kiss her all over her neck and shoulders, inhaling the delicious smell of her skin deep inside my lungs.

    Somebody should bottle her scent. They¡¯d make a fortune.

    Against her neck, I whisper, ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Mmm.¡±

    I ease of out of her slowly, push up to my knees, then bend down to kiss the small of her back. She rolls over and looks up at me with hazy, happy eyes.

    ¡°You good?¡±

    ¡°So good.¡±

    ¡°You want to use the bathroom before or after me?¡±

    ¡°Before,¡± she says, stirring. ¡°I¡¯ll only be a minute.¡±

    Rising, she kisses me in passing, then heads toward the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush, then water running, then she¡¯s back again, reclining on the bed with her arms flung over her head like one of Modigliani¡¯s famous nudes.

    Looking at her, I say quietly, ¡°You¡¯re stunning, Sophia. I could look at you every day for the rest of my life.¡±

    Her throat works, but she says nothing. All the emotion she doesn¡¯t give voice to is reflected in her eyes.

    I put my hand over my heart in a silent pledge and stare at her for a moment, our gazes locked. Then I blow out a hard breath before I do something ridiculous like get teary-eyed and go into the bathroom.

    I take a piss. I wash my dick in the sink, dripping soapy water on the marble floor. I dry off with a plush white hand towel and go back into the other room where Sophia waits in the same position on the bed, watching me with those dark, magical eyes.

    Beckoning me, she holds out her arms. I fall into them with a grateful sigh and nestle against her plush body, resting my cheek against her neck. Threading her fingers into my hair, she kisses my forehead and slips her foot between my calves.

    We stay entwined like that for a long time. Lying together infortable silence. Listening to the sound of our mingled breath and the world outside the windows, distant car horns and voices, the asional harsh squawk of a seagull winging by.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you something,¡± she says quietly. ¡°It¡¯s important. Please tell me the truth. Not what you might think I want to hear, but the honest truth.¡±

    My pulse ticks up. I don¡¯t move except to open my eyes. ¡°Okay. What is it?¡±

    Her chest rises as she slowly inhales. There¡¯s a pause that feels significant, then: ¡°Do you want children?¡±

    I freeze. An rm bell starts ringing in my head, faint at first, but growing louder with each beat of my heart. She senses my distress.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t a right or wrong answer. It¡¯s a simple yes or no.¡±

    ¡°Then why do I feel like one of those answers will result in me never seeing you again?¡±

    ¡°Please, just tell me the truth.¡±

    I raise my head and look at her. She won¡¯t meet my gaze, looking instead at my chin.

    ¡°Why are you asking me that?¡±

    When she mutely shakes her head, I roll us over so she¡¯s on her back and I¡¯m gazing down into her pinched face. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a simple question. Yes or no.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a simple fucking question, it¡¯s a loaded question.¡± When she doesn¡¯t respond to that, I say, ¡°Do you want kids? More, I mean?¡±

    Her eyes sh with anger when she looks up at me. But she responds in that same calm, exasperating voice. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the truth about that as soon as you answer my question.¡±

    I stare at her, trying not to panic. ¡°What brought this on?¡±

    ¡°Carter, please.¡±

    ¡°Does this have something to do with your ex? Your mother?¡±

    She tries to roll out from under me, but I won¡¯t let her go. Holding her chin, I demand, ¡°At least tell me why you¡¯re asking me this.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t. It might sway your answer.¡±

    I search her face for any clue as to what¡¯s going on, but I find only a kind of resolute misery in her expression. It scares me more than anything else so far.

    ¡°Please,¡± she whispers, her eyes welling. ¡°Just be honest with me. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever asked of you.¡±

    I say hoarsely, ¡°You¡¯re fucking killing me right now. You¡¯re killing me, Sophia. What the hell is wrong?¡±

    She shakes her head and presses her lips together, stubborn as a cat.

    I can tell I¡¯m not going to win this. There¡¯s also no dodging it either, that¡¯s clear. So, because I gave her my word, I surrender to the inevitable.

    It was a beautiful dream while itsted.

    Feeling nauseated, I roll to my back and close my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll answer your question. But first, I have to tell you a story. Then my answer will make sense.¡±

    After a moment, she stretches out beside me. I know she¡¯s looking at me, but I can¡¯t bear to meet her eyes.

    ¡°My father¡­¡±

    Fuck. Just tell her! Just say it out loud.

    ¡°When I was ten years old, I was kidnapped.¡±

    I hear her sharp intake of breath, feel the sudden tension in her body, but keep going because if I don¡¯t get this out now, I never will.

    ¡°We were living in Bel Air at the time. The same house my parents still live in because my father refused to ¡®let them win¡¯ and move anywhere else. I don¡¯t remember much about the actual abduction. I was asleep. The extraction team who rescued me assumed the kidnappers used some kind of drug. Chloroform on a rag maybe, nobody knows for sure. They didn¡¯t leave any traces. They broke into the house in the middle of the night, bypassing the security systems somehow. However they did it, they knew what they were doing. I woke up inside a metal cage somewhere cold and dark. I couldn¡¯t see anything. Couldn¡¯t hear a sound. I thought I¡¯d been buried alive.¡±

    I have to stop to suck in a breath. The old, familiar ustrophobia is closing in on me, squeezing icy fingers around my throat, cutting off my air.

    Sophia rests her hand on my arm. Just that simple contact helps the steel bands around my chest loosen. I exhale a hard breath and continue.

    ¡°I was in captivity in a cage for six weeks because my father refused to pay the ransom.¡±

    She¡¯s horrified, whispering, ¡°Oh my God.¡±

    Myugh is bitter. ¡°Yeah. He said if he did, that would just encourage other people toe after his family too. But I think if it were Callum who¡¯d been taken, he¡¯d have coughed up the money within hours. He had his heir and a spare, and another left over who didn¡¯t matter as much. Me.¡±

    I hear the rage in my voice, though I¡¯m trying to keep it together. Sophia gently presses her lips to my shoulder and squeezes my arm.

    Her tone deadly soft, she says, ¡°If I ever meet your father, that bastard better run.¡±

    This is the moment I know I¡¯m truly in love with her. Not infatuated, not obsessed with a fantasy, but really in love.

    Which makes this conversation so much more painful because I think I already know how it will end. I take a breath and continue.

    ¡°So I was terrified, but I wasn¡¯t physically harmed. I think the only reason for that was that one of the kidnappers¡­there was a woman with them. The rest were men, different men who woulde and go and were always fighting and screaming at each other, but there was one woman who was there almost all the time. She was the one who brought me food and water. Changed the shit bucket. Sang to me when I cried. As time wore on and it started to be clear they were never going to get their ransom money, I think the only thing that saved me from being killed outright or sent back to my father piece by piece was her.¡±

    I never learned her name. But I¡¯ve never forgotten her face. It¡¯s burned into my memory. She was in her mid-twenties, a pretty brte with big dark eyes.

    The Marine who rescued me put a bullet in her head.

    It was mercifulpared to what he did to the others.

    I drag more air into my lungs, then moisten my dry lips and tell her the rest.

    ¡°The details don¡¯t matter, but I was found and brought home. Of course, it was kept out of the papers. My parents never even went to the police. The extractionpanies that do this sort of work have very wealthy, high-profile clients. Politicians. Entertainers. Royalty. They¡¯re extremely good at what they do. So they found me, they took me out of that cage and brought me home, one very fucked-up ten-year-old boy whose father told him he was a good little soldier, gave him a hug, then went into his study and closed the door. We never spoke of it again. I¡¯m not sure if they even told my brothers. Everyone acted as if I¡¯d been away visiting rtives.

    ¡°That¡¯s how I learned not to talk about the hard things, to act like life was great no matter how shitty it is, to pretend in a thousand different ways while inside I was dying. And expecting that, at any moment, it could happen again. Only next time, I wouldn¡¯t have someone to keep the wolves at bay. I spent a decade terrified but with a big smile on my face until I finally went into therapy. If I hadn¡¯t, I doubt I¡¯d be here today.¡±

    I turn my head and look at Sophia. She¡¯s staring at me with tears silently leaking from the corners of her eyes. I wipe my thumb under her cheekbone, smiling sadly.

    ¡°So to answer your question¡­no. I don¡¯t want children. I can¡¯t take on the huge responsibility of raising another person to be a good adult. I¡¯m not qualified. I won¡¯t project all my mental shit onto a kid.¡± My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep going. ¡°That¡¯s how generational trauma starts. I mean, I think I¡¯m a decent person. I function. I survive. But I¡¯ll never be solid enough to be a good father.¡±

    I tear my gaze away from the pain in her eyes that cuts deeper than I can stand. Staring at the ceiling, I fight the war in my guts: the knots, the nausea, the weight of this confession pressing like cement blocks on my chest. My voice is thick when I finally push the words out.

    ¡°Knowing that, I had a vasectomy a few years ago.¡±

    She¡¯s silent. I can¡¯t bear to look at her and see her disappointment, so I close my eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Her voice choked, she says, ¡°Oh, Carter, I¡¯m sorry. For that scared little boy, and for how hard you¡¯ve had to pretend for so long. But I¡¯m so grateful you told me the truth.¡±

    She rolls on top of me, takes my face in her hands, and stares down into my eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want children, either. More of them, I mean.¡±

    My breath catches. My heart skips a beat before starting to hammer.

    That¡¯s not what I was expecting. Every woman I¡¯ve dated has told me she wants kids, sometimes on the first damn date.

    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°No. Which is convenient, since I no longer have a uterus. I had a hysterectomy.¡±

    When she smiles, something inside mees undone. My heart crashes under my ribs. Burning hope spreads like wildfire through my body.

    ¡°And you¡¯re not¡ª¡± My voice cracks. I swallow hard. ¡°You¡¯re not turned off by that story I just told you? You don¡¯t think I have too much baggage?¡±

    She leans down, pressing the gentlest kiss to my lips. One that says she sees me, the way nobody else ever has.

    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing about baggage, Carter¡­everybody¡¯s got it. You, me, whatever person either of us could date. Nobody¡¯s perfect.¡± Her fingers stroke my jaw, her touch gentle and reverent. ¡°But I think you¡¯re as close to perfection as it gets.¡±

    A strangled sound escapes my throat. I can¡¯t speak. I can¡¯t breathe past the emotion clogging my chest. So I do the only thing I can. I pull her down against me and hide my face in her neck so she won¡¯t see my eyes fill with tears.

    She hugs me hard and doesn¡¯t let go. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I¡¯m exactly where I¡¯m meant to be.

    I feel like I¡¯m finally home.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 33

    We spend two hours in bed talking until I have to go home to make sure my mother hasn¡¯t burned down the house or invited some card shark friends over for supper. When I arrive, the house is still standing, but suspiciously quiet.

    Even more suspicious is the smell of something delicious cooking.

    I wander into the kitchen. Spying the cast iron pot on the stove, I take a look inside, half expecting to find a bubbling brew of bat wings and toadstools. Instead, a beautiful saffron-infused broth of chicken and sausage simmers with bell peppers, tomatoes, rice, and peas.

    Someone is making pae in my kitchen.

    Unless my daughter suddenly gained an interest in cooking, this is Carmelina¡¯s doing, and it¡¯s got ulterior motives written all over it.

    I go upstairs and find Harlow sitting up in bed, reading a book. ¡°Hi, honey.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t look up. ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°You good?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    I gaze at her for a moment, debating whether I should tell her what¡¯s happening with her father, but decide I¡¯ll let it wait forter when I have something more concrete than a convoluted conversation with his fianc¨¦e.

    If or when thewsuits drop, there will be time to exin. But right now, I need to know if Carter being in my life is going to be a problem for us.

    I sit on the edge of her bed and take the book from her hands. ¡°I want to ask your opinion about something.¡±

    Looking interested, she folds her long legs underneath her and sits up straighter. ¡°Okay. What is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about Carter.¡±

    I struggle for a moment to find the right words, but can¡¯t find exactly what I¡¯m looking for. Staring down at the book in my hands, I say softly, ¡°I like him, honey. I really like him. We get along great, and he makes meugh like nobody ever has.¡±

    I take a breath and meet her eyes. ¡°But it¡¯s been just me and you for the past few years, and I¡¯m worried about how me being in a rtionship will affect you.¡±

    She smiles. ¡°Are you asking my permission to keep dating him?¡±

    ¡°Would you mind if I did?¡±

    She pushes her hair off her face and leans over to prop her elbows on her legs. ¡°I mean, look, I want you to be happy. You weren¡¯t happy with Dad. And you deserve to be. And it¡¯s not like I think you¡¯re going to suddenly start ignoring me because you¡¯re in love.¡±

    I blink, startled at her use of those words.

    ¡°In love.¡± Is that what I am? Does she see something I don¡¯t?

    ¡°But¡­¡± she picks at the nket under her legs, then nces up at me. ¡°How old is he?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-nine.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°You look surprised.¡±

    ¡°I thought he was younger than that.¡±

    ¡°Does it change your opinion?¡±

    She shakes her head, then stops and thinks about it. ¡°I mean, maybe. It¡¯s probably better that he¡¯s not like twenty-five years younger than you.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    She wrinkles her nose. ¡°Because if you stay together, when you¡¯re an olddy, he¡¯ll still be young.¡±

    I sigh heavily. ¡°You sound just like your grandmother.¡±

    ¡°Does it bother you that he¡¯s younger?¡±

    I look around her room as I consider the question. ¡°In some ways, yes. Mainly because people don¡¯t seem to care about an age gap when a man is older, but when it¡¯s the woman who¡¯s older, they lose their minds. Your father said people will think I¡¯m a pervert.¡±

    Sheughs at that. ¡°Bro, please. You¡¯re not a pervert.¡±

    I¡¯d scold her for calling me bro, but we¡¯re having a nice conversation. I don¡¯t want to ruin it.

    ¡°It¡¯s 2025, Mom. You can date whoever you want. You can date a younger guy, an older guy, another girl, a mix of all of them, whatever. It¡¯s not about any of that stuff. It¡¯s about who makes you happy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be okay if I dated another woman?¡±

    She looks at me as if I¡¯m the dumbest person to ever walk the face of the.

    ¡°Mom. Don¡¯t beme. Love is love.¡±

    I try to picture her grandmother¡¯s face if I told her I was dating a woman. She¡¯d probably have a stroke on the spot.

    I¡¯ll keep that in my back pocket if I need it.

    ¡°So, look. Here¡¯s the only stuff you should be worried about with anybody you date, right? Forget about how old he is and ask yourself, do you get along? Is he respectful? Do you have stuff inmon? Is he as smart as you? Because you¡¯re really smart, and if the jokes are going over his head, it¡¯s not worth dating him no matter how cute you think he is.¡±

    I smile, thinking of his handsome face. ¡°He is pretty cute, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    She retches. But she¡¯s grinning, so I know she¡¯s only ying.

    ¡°Back up a second. How do you know so much about dating? You¡¯re not allowed to date until you¡¯re sixteen.¡±

    Her eye roll is extravagant. ¡°Common sense, bro. Catch up.¡±

    I stare at my daughter with overwhelming love for her, my sweet little girl who¡¯s growing up right in front of my eyes. How did I get so lucky?

    One of Ev¡¯s kids just got caught throwing firecrackers into the school toilet.

    I have to remind myself Harlow¡¯s currently grounded for sneaking out of a hotel room in Mexico and drinking beer with a bunch of strangers. She¡¯s not exactly an angel.

    Then again, neither am I.

    As if reading my mind, Harlow says, ¡°Was Grams telling the truth about you losing your virginity at my age?¡±

    I make a face. ¡°Your grandmother is full of mrkey.¡±

    She¡¯s not buying my exnation. ¡°Uh-huh. Nice way to dodge the question.¡±

    ¡°Not that my sordid past is anybody¡¯s business, but no. I was not having sex at your age. But I will say this: I didn¡¯t lose my virginity. It¡¯s not a misced dry cleaning ticket. The first time I had sex, it was consensual and with someone I cared for very much who felt the same way about me, which is exactly what I want for you.¡±

    We look at each other silently for a moment, until I say, ¡°Do you want to ask me any particr questions about sex?¡±

    She wrinkles her nose. ¡°We already had this talk.¡±

    ¡°A few years ago, before you¡¯d even started your period.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t want you to take this the wrong way, but us talking about sex in the same conversation you asked me if you should be dating the pool boy is way ick.¡±

    ¡°He isn¡¯t a pool boy!¡±

    She grins at my scowl. ¡°Just checking to make sure you do really like him.¡±

    I say drily, ¡°Ah. You¡¯ve got a bit of your grandmother in you, I see.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not that bad.¡±

    That makes meugh. ¡°Live with her for a week and see how you feel. Which reminds me, where is she?¡±

    ¡°Last I saw, she was in theundry room folding towels.¡±

    First dinner, nowundry. Next, she¡¯ll be up on adder outside, painting the eaves.

    That she¡¯s trying to con me into letting her stay longer than a few weeks is obvious, but two can y that game. She can do all the housework she wants, but I¡¯m not budging on that timeline.

    My sanity can only withstand so much.

    I rise, kiss Harlow on the forehead, and tell her I love her. She waves me off, pulls her book from my hand, and returns to reading. I watch her for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips and pride swelling in my chest. My daughter¡ªso strong, so independent, so damn smart.

    She¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever done.

    And if Nick dares to show up here drunk again, my mother won¡¯t be the only one threatening him with a cleaver.<hr>

    Over supper, the three of us sit at the kitchen table like a normal family and make small talk. The pae is delicious. Even Harlow, a notoriously picky eater, cleans her te. There¡¯s no mention of Nick, Carter, or any other sensitive topics, and everyone goes to bed that night in a good mood.

    My good moodsts until I walk into the office Monday morning and see the way people look at me.

    The subtle smirk from the receptionist when I walk in.

    The unmistakable snicker from an ount executive in the coffee room.

    The hushed whispers that trail behind me as I head through the cubicle field on my way to the weekly staff meeting.

    The meeting ends without anything unusual happening, but the underlying tension in the air is obvious.

    The cause of that tension bes clear when my assistant brings me the weekly reports she prepares for my inspection. She sets them down on my desk, then folds her arms over her chest and gazes at me in silence with what appears to be deep concern.

    ¡°Is there something you¡¯d like to say, Alex?¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering if you¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m okay. Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±

    She hesitates a moment. ¡°I assume you¡¯ve seen the photos? The tabloid stories about you and Carter McCord?¡±

    Sighing, I sit back in my chair and nod. ¡°I take it everyone else has too.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only the talk of the entirepany.¡±

    Curious despite myself, I look at her. ¡°What¡¯s the general consensus?¡±

    ¡°That you¡¯re having a midlife crisis and Carter McCord is using you. The guys down in ounting started a betting pool on how long it willst. Odds are fifty to one that he dumps you by the end of the month.¡±

    So now I¡¯m an infamous, middle-aged cradle robber with my very own scandal-themed office lottery. I¡¯d pour myself a drink if it wasn¡¯t so early in the morning.

    Perching on the edge of my desk, Alex leans toward me, lowering her voice. ¡°You didn¡¯t hear this from me, but word is that Hartman¡¯s already looking for your recement.¡±

    My heart ms against my ribcage. I¡¯m breathless for a moment, stunned, until anger unglues my tongue. ¡°That¡¯s not true. He can¡¯t fire me for dating apetitor.¡±

    Leaning back, she shrugs. ¡°All I know is that he asked his admin to contact an executive headhunting firm. Said he wanted to set up some meetings.¡±

    My mind is racing. Can this be real or is it just a rumor? ¡°How do you know that?¡±

    ¡°His admin asked one of the girls in HR if she had a rmendation for a firm, then it got out from there.¡±

    A cold knot tightens my stomach. If this is true and Hartman is alreadyying the groundwork to rece me, I¡¯ve got bigger problems than I thought.

    If I¡¯m fired and I can¡¯t find another position right away, Nick could use my unemployment against me. He could go to court to request full custody of Harlow, citing my inability to support her.

    He could make good on his threat to take her away from me.

    I force myself to breathe and push down the panic ballooning inside my chest. ¡°I need to find out for sure,¡± I say, more to myself than her.

    ¡°Just be careful who you talk to,¡± she says, giving me a pointed look. ¡°You can¡¯t trust anybody around here.¡±

    I nod, my head spinning with possibilities. Alex goes back to her desk, closing the door quietly behind her to leave me alone with my thoughts. As I¡¯m sitting there, Carter sends me a text message.

    Can¡¯t stop won¡¯t stop thinking about you. Happy Monday, beautiful.

    He signs it with a heart emoji.

    Needing to hear his voice, I quickly dial his number, unsure if he¡¯ll be able to pick up. When he answers, relief floods through me.

    ¡°Hi! This is a surprise.¡±

    ¡°I hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything important.¡±

    His voice softens. ¡°Nothing¡¯s more important than this. How are you?¡±

    ¡°Not so great. My assistant just told me she heard Hartman¡¯s looking for my recement. Word is, he hired an executive search firm.¡±

    ¡°That fucker,¡± he mutters. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, baby.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for not saying I told you so.¡±

    ¡°For the record, I wasn¡¯t thinking it either. Do you want me toe over there and break his nose?¡±

    Tempted by the offer, Iugh. ¡°Better not. I don¡¯t want you getting arrested.¡± When he¡¯s silent too long, I add softly, ¡°If you¡¯re thinking I¡¯m regretting us, you¡¯re wrong.¡±

    ¡°I just hate the thought of me being any kind of problem for you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not. Besides, he could be looking to rece someone else on the team. I don¡¯t know anything for sure yet.¡± I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. ¡°I need to say something to you.¡±

    ¡°Holy fuck, that sounds terrifying.¡±

    I wince at the fear in his tone. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I should¡¯ve prefaced that by letting you know it¡¯s nothing bad.¡±

    He exhales, then chuckles. ¡°I¡¯m the one who should be sorry. I know it can¡¯t be easy dealing with an emotional wreck like me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a wreck, Carter,¡± I say sternly. ¡°You¡¯re a wonderful man who¡¯s trying his best. And I don¡¯t like it when you talk badly about yourself. I wouldn¡¯t let anyone else say negative things about you, so I don¡¯t want to hear you do it either. Deal?¡±

    His swallow is audible. ¡°Deal,¡± he says, his voice husky. ¡°Can I tell you that I adore you now or should I wait for the next time I¡¯m inside you?¡±

    I picture him doing every filthy thing to me that either of us can imagine and smile. ¡°I adore you right back, handsome. Here¡¯s what I was going to say before: I think you¡¯d be an amazing father.¡±

    His silence is stunned. Frozen. I can¡¯t even hear him breathing.

    I carefully choose my next words and keep my voice gentle. ¡°I wasn¡¯t backtracking there. I still don¡¯t want more children. And I¡¯m not trying to convince you that you should want them either. All I¡¯m saying is that I think it¡¯s a credit to your character that you¡¯re working on yourself. My ex-husband has never once considered the needs of others before his own or how his shorings might affect other people. And I know it¡¯s not fair topare, but he¡¯s got all the confidence in himself when he shouldn¡¯t have any. You¡¯re the better man by far, but you don¡¯t give yourself enough credit.¡±

    I pause to take a deep breath and close my eyes. I don¡¯t know why this suddenly feels so imperative to say, but it does, so I¡¯m saying it. ¡°If we keep seeing each other¡ª¡±

    ¡°If?¡± he interrupts loudly.

    This stubborn, sensitive man. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯ll ever getfortable with our rtionship enough so that he doesn¡¯t panic over my every choice of word, but I do know that I¡¯m going to need a lot of patience to show him he can trust me.

    And I am going to show him he can trust me, because he¡¯s worth it.

    ¡°Rewind. How¡¯s this: because we¡¯re crazy about each other, and we¡¯re both on the same page about where we hope this rtionship is going, I spoke to Harlow about how she feels about that.¡±

    ¡°Oh God. She hates me. You¡¯re breaking up with me. I knew this was too good tost.¡±

    I have to stifle my sigh of exasperation. ¡°Carter?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I want you to do something for me.¡±

    ¡°Anything,¡± he answers instantly. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°The next time you think I¡¯m about to say something that will upset you, I want you to give me a little space to get the words out before you jump to conclusions. It¡¯s not helpful to either of us if you always assume the worst. Can you do that for me?¡±

    He groans. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m such a¡ª¡±

    ¡°Good man with a good heart,¡± I interrupt before he can insult himself. ¡°Who makes me happy when he says nice things about himself instead of mean things.¡±

    We sit in silence for a moment before he says cautiously, ¡°So¡­you like it when I¡­¡±

    ¡°Demonstrate self-respect, yes.¡± Lowering my voice, I add, ¡°It pleases me. And I know how much you like to please me, don¡¯t you?¡±

    As I knew they would, those words leave him breathless.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, his voice thick.

    I whisper, ¡°Good boy.¡±

    He groans again, only this time it¡¯s broken. ¡°My dick is getting hard. When can I see you?¡±

    Alex knocks on my open office door. I hold my finger up to let her know to give me a moment, then focus again on Carter. ¡°Hopefully soon. I¡¯ll call you tonight, okay?¡±

    ¡°You got it. Good luck with Hartman. My offer to break his nose still stands.¡±

    Smiling, I decline, then we hang up. I look over at Alex waiting in the doorway. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Denise from HR called. She asked if you had any open time on your calendar today to stop by for a chat with the manager.¡±

    A chat? That sounds suspiciously friendlying from HR, especially in light of the rumors about Hartman and the search firm. ¡°Did she say what she wanted?¡±

    ¡°No. But you¡¯re open after lunch. Should I schedule it?¡±

    I nod, steeling myself for what¡¯s sure to be an interesting conversation. There¡¯s no dodging this. Whatever¡¯sing, it¡¯s already in motion. ¡°Do it.¡±

    When she leaves, I sit musing. Will there be attorneys present at this meeting? Maybe I¡¯m about to be fired and humiliated in front of the entirepany when they have security escort me from the building. Maybe Hartman¡¯s going to scold me about Carter again, hoping this time, I¡¯ll back down.

    Or maybe I should follow my own advice and stop jumping to conclusions.

    Only one thing¡¯s for sure. I didn¡¯t get this far in my career by kissing ass, ying it safe, or being intimidated.

    If I¡¯m going down, I¡¯m going down swinging.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 34

    Lorraine, the human resources manager, is a woman in her mid-sixties with steely gray eyes, frizzy gray hair, and a wardrobe consisting entirely of ck clothing. Her outer appearance matches her personality, which is as gloomy as a rainy Winter¡¯s day.

    I can tell the moment I walk in the door that she¡¯s dreading this conversation as much as I am.

    She says somberly, ¡°Hello, Sophia. Thank you foring. Please, have a seat.¡±

    I sit in the ufortable stic chair across from her desk, wondering if the ugly thing was brought in just for me. With the harsh overhead lights, the chill in the air, the cold b of stic under my butt, and her unfriendly stare, I might as well be down at the police station, locked in an interrogation room.

    A ¡°chat,¡± my ass.

    This has hatchet job all over it.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re busy, so I¡¯ll get right to the point. When we metst for your performance review, you expressed a desire for more than the sry increase presented. I¡¯m pleased to share this new offer with you.¡±

    She slides a piece of paper across her desk toward me. Frowning, I nce at it. A new offer? This isn¡¯t what I was expecting.

    Aware of her steely gaze tracking my every movement, I pick up the paper and scan its contents. Surprise jolts through me, but I don¡¯t outwardly react.

    ¡°This is a substantial increase.¡±

    ¡°Thirty percent, to be exact. Quite a bit better than the eight percent originally offered, I¡¯m sure you agree. You¡¯ll also note your benefits have been expanded to include double the amount of paid time off, life insurance valued at three times your annual sry, and an improved deferredpensation n for tax advantages.¡±

    Her expression gives nothing away, but I smell a rat.

    Why am I not being fired? Why this, now?

    Looking at the offer more closely, I notice something strange. ¡°Tell me about the security detail.¡±

    ¡°In light of recent events, we thought it prudent.¡±

    ¡°Recent events,¡± I repeat, watching closely for her reaction.

    If I thought she¡¯d equivocate, I was wrong. She says bluntly, ¡°If you¡¯re going to be followed by the paparazzi, you need protection. They can be very aggressive. It¡¯s standard procedure for executives with raised profiles. Your daughter will be provided protection as well.¡±

    I blink, startled at the mention of Harlow. ¡°My daughter?¡±

    She stares at me coldly for a beat before saying, ¡°I¡¯m sure her safety is your priority.¡±

    Her using tone makes my hackles go up. Is she suggesting I¡¯m negligent?

    ¡°Of course, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll be followed by men with cameras who want to sell her picture to the highest bidder. From now on, you¡¯ll both be hunted, forck of a better word.¡± Her voice softens slightly. ¡°And I¡¯ve seen your daughter. She¡¯s a very pretty young girl. She¡¯ll be an irresistible draw to those vultures¡­and to whatever degenerates see her pictures and want a closer look.¡±

    I sit with my mouth open, staring at her in cold shock.

    The thought of Harlow being subjected to what I felt when I saw the tabloid pictures of Carter and me is horrifying. And to think she might be followed¡­watched¡­

    Hunted.

    My blood runs cold.

    ¡°I can see you hadn¡¯t considered that.¡± Looking smug, Lorraine leans back in her chair and folds her hands over her stomach. ¡°Fortunately, the securitypany we¡¯re contracted with is extremelypetent. You¡¯ll be in good hands with them.¡±

    I try to take it all in, but it seems I¡¯m missing something. Thest time I spoke with my boss, he was furious with me about dating Carter. He said he¡¯d have to speak to thepany¡¯s legal, making it sound as if my future at TriCast was in doubt.

    Now, he¡¯s offering me more money, better benefits, and bodyguards?

    My mind whirring, I slowly push the paper back across the desk. Then I mirror Lorraine¡¯s posture, leaning back against my chair and sping my hands.

    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    Her smile is small and satisfied. She knew that question wasing. She reaches into her desk drawer and withdraws another piece of paper, which she wordlessly presents like it¡¯s a fat stack of cash.

    I take it from her, noticing immediately the title inrge ck print dering it¡¯s a binding non-disclosure agreement.

    ¡°I signed an NDA when I was hired.¡±

    ¡°There are a few updates from the previous version.¡±

    That sounds ominous, so I look closely at the document, going over each line and section carefully. When I arrive at the end, Iugh in disbelief.

    With a flourish of the paper in her direction, I demand, ¡°Is this a joke?¡±

    ¡°No. Those are the conditions of the offer.¡±

    ¡°Everything in here is hical, not to mention unfair!¡±

    Her answer is as dry as unbuttered toast. ¡°If there¡¯s one thing age has taught me, it¡¯s that life is unfair.¡±

    Simmering in anger, I read aloud from the paper in my hand. ¡°Monitoring of personal phone calls, messages, and private life.¡±

    She nods. ¡°In order to ensure you¡¯re not discussing trade secrets with thepetition.¡±

    Unbelievable. ¡°Approval of all public appearances.¡±

    She nods again, as if that¡¯s entirely reasonable.

    ¡°How would that even work? Do you expect me to give you a schedule of my intended whereabouts at the start of every day? Am I supposed to send a text message to my surveince team when I¡¯m going for a walk, headed to the gym, out grocery shopping?¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a good start, yes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous! And what about this bullshit about holding me ountable for anything Carter does that you find¡­what¡¯s the word?¡± I peer at the paper again. ¡°Objectionable?¡±

    ¡°I thought that term was overly broad, but nevertheless, that¡¯s what was decided on.¡±

    ¡°Approval of all social media postings? Never speaking about my rtionship in public? Not attending any of the same industry events? This is lunacy! It¡¯s totally illegal! Everything in this document infringes on my privacy and personal freedoms.¡±

    ¡°I assure you, it¡¯s entirely enforceable. It¡¯s been vetted.¡±

    ¡°By whom, a team of ruthless dictators who want to strip me of all my human rights?¡±

    When she doesn¡¯t reply and only sits there, gazing at me in stony silence, I stand and toss the paper back onto her desk. ¡°I¡¯m not signing that.¡±

    ¡°Then you won¡¯t receive the sry increase or any of the benefits.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult my intelligence. I¡¯m well aware that retaliation is illegal under Californiaw. So is coercion. So is ckmail.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not being fired. You just wouldn¡¯t receive what you asked for. Employees ask for things all the time that their employers don¡¯t amodate. It¡¯s simply business.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s not y games. You¡¯re trying to punish me for my personal rtionship with Carter McCord.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re protecting ourpany¡¯s interests and offering you a very generouspensation package in return.¡±

    Though I¡¯m fighting to stay calm, my palms are sticky and my chest is tight. My voice rises louder than I intended. It echoes off the walls, which suddenly feel too close. ¡°This is a bribe. And I¡¯m not having it.¡±

    She studies me for a moment, taking in my stiff shoulders and clenched fists. Finally, she nods, as if she knew all along we¡¯d arrive here.

    ¡°There is one other option. An option where you¡¯ll receive all the benefits of the new offer but won¡¯t be obligated to sign the new NDA.¡±

    She gestures for me to sit. After a moment of deliberation, I do, eyeing her warily.

    She remains silent so long, just staring at me, that I lose my patience. ¡°So? What is it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a bright woman. Why don¡¯t you take a guess?¡±

    Maybe it¡¯s the hint of amusement in her tone or the faint gleam of victory in her eye. Whatever the cause, I instantly grasp what she¡¯s getting at and am rocked by the audacity of it.

    ¡°You want me to collect inside information from McCord Media. You want me leverage my rtionship with Carter to gainpetitive advantage for TriCast. You want me to spy on him.¡±

    ¡°Bingo. Give the girl a cookie.¡±

    Heat floods my face. My cheeks and neck are burning, and I know they must be splotchy and red. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting.¡±

    She waves a hand in the air dismissively. ¡°This isn¡¯t a poprity contest. I¡¯m not running for public office. You¡¯ve got a job to do, and so do I. Put aside your tender little feelings and look at the situation objectively. In a few months, when this affair with the yboy prince runs its course, you can either walk away with nothing or you can walk away with a vastly improved financial situation that will benefit you for the rest of your life.¡±

    This woman takes the human right out of human resources. Employees are nothing but a bunch of cogs in a machine to her. For all her chilly interpersonal skills, she¡¯d be better suited managing a cemetery.

    My mother would love her.

    I demand, ¡°What did Hartman promise you to get you to do this? It had to be something big to risk thewsuit you¡¯ll soon be defending.¡±

    Without batting an eysh, she coolly replies, ¡°My arrangement with Mr. Hartman is not your concern. As for awsuit, that would be extremely stupid of you, considering this conversation never happened, and I have witnesses who¡¯ll attest to that.¡±

    ¡°Witnesses? There¡¯s nobody in this room but us!¡±

    ¡°My two assistants will testify under oath that they sat in on this meeting, and the more problematic portions of this conversation never urred.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell would they do that?¡±

    Her answer is cryptic, as is her smile. ¡°People are surprisingly cooperative when they understand what they¡¯ll lose by saying no to me.¡±

    ¡°In other words, you¡¯re ckmailing them too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s such an ugly word. I prefer to call it informed consent.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you want to call it, it¡¯s still illegal.¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°You don¡¯t get to be the most sessful mediapany in the world by ying by the rules.¡±

    I see it very clearly, how low she¡¯ll go to get what she wants. And in her position, with ess to all the sensitive personal information she has on every employee in the corporation, the ways she can abuse her power to manipte people are infinite.

    I stand and re down at her. ¡°Second most sessful mediapany in the world. McCord Media holds the top spot. And I¡¯m notmitting espionage for thispany.¡±

    She scoffs. ¡°Don¡¯t be so dramatic. This isn¡¯t a James Bond movie. I¡¯m not asking for military secrets. All I¡¯m asking for are a few valuable pieces of information here and there. McCord Media is privately held and notoriously secretive, so any tidbits you can provide would be wee. It would be so easy! Men are ridiculously susceptible to pillow talk. Think of yourself as a modern-day Mata Hari.¡±

    Though I¡¯d like nothing more than to wrap my hands around this awful woman¡¯s throat and choke the life out of her, I grit my teeth and force myself to remain calm.

    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting that Mata Hari was executed for treason. And I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d stoop so low. You¡¯re supposed to be an advocate for the employees of thispany, not corrupt and unprincipled.¡±

    She makes a face at me, as if I¡¯m a child who¡¯s acting particrly naive. ¡°My job is to protect thispany¡¯s interests. The end.¡±

    ¡°Even if that means putting thepany at serious legal risk by engaging inpletely hical behavior?¡±

    She waves that dismissive hand at me again. ¡°We¡¯re getting lost in the weeds. Here¡¯s the bottom line: you have forty-eight hours to consider the offer. If you decline, you won¡¯t receive another raise for the remainder of your tenure at TriCast, however long that may be.¡±

    Her pointed look makes it clear they¡¯re going to make it so unpleasant for me if I don¡¯tply that I¡¯ll quit before being fired.

    ¡°And if you foolishly choose to bring legal action against us, you¡¯ll be publicly exposed as a liar who attempted to engage in a shakedown of her employer for financial gain.¡±

    ¡°A shakedown? What nonsense are you spouting now?¡±

    Her cold gray eyes glitter, and her voice drops to a menacing purr. ¡°We¡¯re aware of your brother¡¯s situation. Gambling debts can be so ruinous, can¡¯t they? Any loving sister might resort to extortion to help. And now there¡¯s your elderly mother to support. She¡¯s an odd bird, that one. Once upon a time, there were rumors that the bakery she and your father ran had ties to the Mafia. As a moneyundering front, to be exact. And your ex-husband¡­¡± She tuts. ¡°That¡¯s quite a story. Embezzlement, coercion, fraud. Well, birds of a feather, as the saying goes. Everyone close to you exhibits an rmingck of character. Except your daughter, of course, poor thing. A trial would be so hard on her. All her mother¡¯s dirtyundry dragged through the streets¡­¡± Her smile is lethal. ¡°She might never recover from the emotional toll it would take on her.¡±

    I see I was wrong about my assumption that she was dreading this conversation. She¡¯s loving the shit out of it. She¡¯s probably got a clit boner from the power trip.

    ¡°Lorraine, you¡¯re a raging bitch.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. But more importantly, I¡¯m a realist. A woman my age has limited options. You¡¯ll understand that soon, Sophia. You¡¯re not a spring chicken anymore either. Think of your future. Think of your daughter. And do the right thing.¡±

    I¡¯m not a spring fucking chicken?

    Enraged by the entire conversation, I pull my shoulders back and straighten my spine, staring down my nose at her with all the fury and disgust I feel.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m not a spring chicken. I¡¯m not any kind of chicken. I¡¯m not afraid of you, Hartman, or your threats. And if this does go to trial¡ªand it will, because I¡¯ll make sure of it¡ªI¡¯ll wipe the courtroom floor with you both.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± She chuckles. ¡°With whose money? Because attorney¡¯s fees are outrageous, and everyone knows litigation is ungodly expensive. Awsuit could drag out over years. Many years. Are you sure you¡¯re in a financial position to handle that? You could be looking at easily half a million dors. And all for a fling with a notorious yboy with the attention span of a squirrel who¡¯s got a trio of pretty young blondes on speed dial for when you¡¯re not around?¡± Her cruel smile oozes with satisfaction. ¡°You really should¡¯ve asked Nick for alimony.¡±

    I¡¯m sickened by the realization that Hartman has obviously done a deep dive into my personal life. Carter¡¯s too. They¡¯ve thought of everything. They looked for all the chinks in my armor, they gathered their facts andid the trap, and now they¡¯re offering me a honey potced with poison and threats of cold-blooded sabotage.

    I see it all in a sh. The online smear campaign. The fake news stories. The hit pieces from ¡°anonymous¡± sources about my family and my past, which they¡¯ll be sure to make appealingly sordid. I see in vivid color all the ways they¡¯ll retaliate to destroy my career and my credibility if I try to expose them or don¡¯t go along with the n.

    They¡¯re swinging an awfully big stick.

    Mine needs to be bigger.

    After a moment of silent deliberation, I say, ¡°I can¡¯t decide so quickly. At least give me until the end of the week. I need to think it over.¡±

    Her tone turns dry. ¡°Stalling won¡¯t change anything.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t drop this bomb on me and expect me to make a snap decision. I need a few more days. You¡¯ll have my answer by Friday.¡±

    She examines me with narrowed, suspicious eyes, then concedes. ¡°Fine. Friday it is. But we¡¯ll know if you contact an attorney or reveal this conversation to anyone outside this room.¡±

    That makes me grind my mrs. ¡°How? Are you spying on me already?¡±

    She merely smiles. ¡°Be a team yer, Sophia. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose by refusing.¡±

    Including my honor, self-respect, and integrity, things she obviously knows nothing about.

    I turn and walk out, biting my tongue.

    Threats, spying, ckmail, intimidation¡­ Hartman will sink to any low to get what he wants. He and his sidekick Lorraine are counting on me to fold under the pressure. They think they hold all the cards.

    Too bad for them I¡¯ve got an ace hidden up my sleeve.

    The moment I¡¯m down the hall and out of earshot of the receptionist, I withdraw my cell phone from the pocket inside my jacket. I hit the red button on the voice notes app to stop the recording, then rewind to the start and listen to the two of us speaking, loud and clear. My lips curve into a tight smile.

    If there¡¯s one thing I really hate, it¡¯s being underestimated.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 35

    Remembering what Alex said about not trusting anyone, I sail past her desk with a breezy smile.

    God only knows who Hartman has bribed to get information on me. Alex was assigned to be my assistant the first week I started here over a year ago¡­perhaps that wasn¡¯t a coincidence.

    Maybe she was put in her position to report on my every move.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± she calls after me.

    I give her a thumbs-up over my shoulder before realizing that¡¯s one of my mother¡¯s signature moves.

    My mother who was once allegedly a moneyunderer for the Mafia.

    I knew there was something hinky about the secret knowledge of Italian, the ease with which she threatened Nick with a meat cleaver, and the ¡°small savings¡± she imed to have set aside. And the way she hoodwinked my brother into thinking she was physically and mentally frail was positively genius.

    Evil, but genius.

    I stride into my office, close the door, and am about to pick up the desk phone when I stop and stare at the receiver suspiciously.

    Has Hartman been listening in on all my conversations? How far has that son of a bitch gone to get what he wants?

    Judging by how much Lorraine knew about my personal life, pretty damn far.

    I sit at my desk, fuming, until I¡¯m calm enough to think straight. I want to call Carter, but I can¡¯t. At least not from here.

    Every formerly innocent looking item in my office has taken on a sinister aspect. Is there a hidden camera in that ceiling light? A microphone recording my every word behind that framed print on the wall?

    I can no longer be sure of anything, except that my time at TriCast is over.

    Thispany doesn¡¯t align with who I am.

    But I know that whatever next steps I take will lead to war. Lorraine was far toofortable dispensing her threats for it to be mere bluffing. The only thing left to do is decide the way forward and prepare for the fallout.

    This is definitely going to get messy.<hr>

    I leave work early, pretending not to notice the way people stare. In the car on the drive home, my cell rings with a blocked number.

    I debate if I should answer, but finally do. ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Nick. Please don¡¯t hang up. I have to talk to you.¡±

    His voice is subdued, but he sounds urgent. More importantly, he sounds sober.

    ¡°I can¡¯t talk right now.¡±

    ¡°Please, Soph. Please. This is important.¡±

    Three pleases in a row? Who is this imposter?

    The horrifying thought hits me that maybe he found out Brittany called me, and he¡¯s done something stupid in retaliation. Something violent. My heart starts to pound.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk over the phone. Can Ie to the house?¡±

    A re of anger hardens my voice. ¡°That¡¯s a hard no. Guess why?¡±

    He exhales. After a pause, he says, ¡°I know. I¡¯m an asshole. I¡¯m sorry. I haven¡¯t been myselftely. Some things have been happening¡­¡± He curses under his breath, thenes back on sounding desperate. ¡°Please, Soph. I don¡¯t know who else to turn to. You¡¯re the only one I can trust.¡±

    Surprised by everything about that statement, I lift my brows. Alex¡¯s warning words echo inside my head.

    ¡°Just be careful who you talk to. You can¡¯t trust anyone around here.¡±

    In the back of my mind, an rm bell rings. It¡¯s apanied by a shing red light and a creeping feeling of wrongness.

    Pausing to nce suspiciously at my cell phone, I say calmly, ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. By the way, you were right about that movie. It wasn¡¯t good.¡±

    The brief silence that follows is total, but it crackles with tension. Then Nickes back on the line, his voice smooth and untroubled. ¡°You see? I tried to tell you.¡±

    I exhale, gripping the steering wheel with mmy hands. ¡°You did. Anyway, I¡¯ve got to run. I¡¯m meeting Ev at the Disco Biscuit Diner for drinks, and I¡¯mte.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Well, I guess we¡¯ll catch up another time.¡±

    ¡°Talk soon. Bye.¡±

    I make a sharp left turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and elerate through a yellow light. A short driveter, I pull into the parking lot of the old diner at the corner of Pico and Bundy where Nick and I used to eat breakfast every Saturday before Harlow was born.

    I wait less than ten minutes before he walks through the door. He spots me immediately, sitting at what used to be our usual table. He slides into the booth opposite me and stares at me with bloodshot, watery eyes. His hair is ubed, his cks and dress shirt are rumpled, and he¡¯s got three days¡¯ growth of beard on his jaw.

    ¡°You look like shit.¡±

    His smile is thin. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too. Thank you for meeting me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wee. Apologize for what happened at the house and for the way you¡¯ve been actingtely. And mean it, or else I¡¯m out of here.¡±

    His eyes close briefly. He shakes his head, then gazes down at his hands, ttened over the ugly Formica tabletop. His voice low, he says, ¡°It¡¯s inexcusable. I know. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Keep going.¡±

    He nces up at me, gauging my mood. My expression must be severe, because instead of smiling, he looks down again. ¡°I don¡¯t handle uncertainty well. I know that about myself. It¡¯s a fault Ipensate for by being overprepared for everything. I¡¯m very¡­¡±

    ¡°Controlling.¡±

    ¡°I was going to say vignt.¡±

    ¡°Security guards are vignt. You¡¯re Orwellian.¡±

    ¡°Come on. I¡¯m not an oppressive government regime.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    He drags a hand through his hair and shakes his head again, as if to clear it, then changes the subject. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you remembered our code phrase.¡±

    I remember all our little secret phrases, not that I¡¯ll admit it. We had at least half a dozen of them. The one I used on our call was for situations where something was wrong, but we couldn¡¯t say it because we were in front of other people.

    ¡°Are you done apologizing? Because that was pretty weak, considering your recent run of dickery.¡±

    A friendly middle-aged waitress approaches, hands us menus, and asks if we¡¯d like something to drink. I ask for a sparkling water. Nick orders a double scotch.

    When she leaves, he looks me straight in the eye and draws a breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. For all of it. What happened Saturday night, the way I¡¯ve been with youtely, the way I¡¯ve spoken to Harlow.¡± He pauses again. ¡°And for Britt. I know that was¡­¡±

    I wait for him to continue, watching him struggle for words and thoroughly enjoying his difort.

    Finally, he murmurs, ¡°Wrong. It was wrong of me. And stupid. You didn¡¯t deserve that. I should never have left the way I did.¡±

    I¡¯ve been waiting for this apology for years, so I¡¯m surprised I don¡¯t feel more. More anything¡ªanger, relief, sadness. But right now, looking at him, all I feel is detachment.

    This is what moving on feels like.

    This is how it feels to be free.

    I say, ¡°Can I tell you something without it sounding sanctimonious?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Try me.¡±

    ¡°I forgive you.¡±

    He studies my face doubtfully, then wrinkles his nose.

    ¡°It sounded sanctimonious, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    We share a smile, and I see a glimmer of how things might be in some fairy tale future where Harlow is grown up with her own family and we all get together on holidays without it being weird. Then it urs to me that I¡¯m including Carter in this lovely little daydream, and a powerful pang of tenderness leaves me breathless.

    I¡¯m thinking about making a life with him.

    My subconscious has already put him on the annual Christmas card next to me, grinning that movie star grin, his arm slung possessively around my shoulders.

    Maybe Harlow was right, and I¡¯m already in love with him.

    Am I in love with him? And if I am¡­what does that mean for us? For Harlow? How is my life about to change? How do I want it to change, if at all?

    Pulling me from my thoughts, Nick says, ¡°So tell me why you couldn¡¯t talk in the car.¡±

    ¡°You go first. You said ¡®some things¡¯ have been happening. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    He¡¯s about to answer when the waitress arrives with our drinks. She hands them over and asks us if we want to order food. Nick ignores her, guzzling his scotch like it¡¯s water.

    If he keeps drinking like that, he¡¯s going to have bigger problems than whatever¡¯s already bothering him.

    ¡°He¡¯ll have a club sandwich, please. Sub avocado for tomato. On whole grain instead of white bread. Extra fries.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing. And for you, hon?¡±

    ¡°Nothing for me, thanks.¡±

    Nodding, she takes our menus and ambles away. As soon as she¡¯s out of earshot, Nick says smugly, ¡°You remember how I like my clubs.¡±

    ¡°I remember how bad your feet smell too. Why did you want to meet?¡±

    He gazes at me for a long, silent moment before dropping a bomb on my head.

    ¡°I want another chance with you. I think we should get back together.¡±

    Dear God. The universe really has it in for me today. I close my eyes and sigh.

    ¡°I know, I know. Just hear me out, Soph.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not getting back together. Period, end of story.¡±

    ¡°I made a list of all the reasons why we should.¡±

    Myugh is small and dry. ¡°Oh, yeah? Where¡¯s your fianc¨¦e on that list? Or did you think we¡¯d all live together like one big, happy family?¡±

    He reaches across the table, attempting to take my hands. I jerk back before he cany a finger on me and re at him.

    ¡°Look, this thing with Britt¡­we both know what that was about.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it was about getting your ego stroked and your dick wet.¡±

    ¡°I know it was a mistake, all right? I¡¯ve admitted it.¡±

    ¡°Literally thirty seconds ago. Forgive me if I don¡¯t give you an award.¡±

    I can tell my sarcasm irks him, because his contrite tone sharpens.

    ¡°Nobody¡¯s perfect. I was a good husband to you, and a good father to Harlow. We were a good family. We can be one again. Even stronger this time, because we know exactly what we¡¯re missing when we¡¯re not together.¡±

    I stare at him, debating if I shouldugh right into his delusional face.

    Instead, I take his scotch and swirl it under my nose, letting the fumes clear the cobwebs from my brain. Then I swallow the rest of it and set the ss down carefully on the tabletop.

    ¡°Let me guess. You and Britt are having problems.¡±

    He gazes at me steadily but doesn¡¯t say a word, which means I hit the nail on the head.

    ¡°Did you call the wedding off?¡±

    When he hesitates, I scoff.

    ¡°Just looking for a backup in case it doesn¡¯t work out, huh? Your ex-wife is n B?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡±

    ¡°I know exactly what it¡¯s like. I¡¯ve moved on, you can¡¯t stand it, and your pregnant child bride is making more demands on you than you have the time or interest to meet.¡±

    He runs his tongue over his teeth and stares at me with anger burning in his eyes.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to admit it. I know I¡¯m right. Now why don¡¯t you tell me what¡¯s really going on in your life that¡¯s making you so upset, because I know for damn sure it¡¯s not rtionship problems. You said some things have been happening, and I¡¯m the only one you can trust. What¡¯s the problem?¡±

    Exhaling through his nose, he sits back against the booth and gazes at me from under lowered brows. Finally, he says tly, ¡°I¡¯m being sued.¡±

    Now we¡¯re getting somewhere. I knew his disheveled appearance, personality changes, and scotch guzzling wasn¡¯t about the women in his life.

    He¡¯d actually have to care about us to let us upset him.

    Pretending I haven¡¯t already heard about this from Brittany, I say, ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°For bullshit, that¡¯s what.¡±

    ¡°If you want my input, you¡¯ll have to be more specific.¡±

    He studies me in tense silence for a moment, then sits forward again, sping his hands and resting them on the table as he stares at me with hard eyes.

    ¡°You can¡¯t really be serious about that kid you¡¯re fucking. You¡¯re too smart for that.¡±

    His tone of disgust makes me smile. ¡°Right back atcha, bud.¡±

    Visibly frustrated, he insists, ¡°He¡¯s a bimbo.¡±

    ¡°You mean mimbo. He¡¯s the furthest thing from it. And if you insult him again, your testicles will pay the price.¡±

    He demands angrily, ¡°Why are you smiling?¡±

    Something inside of me shifts. It¡¯s a tectonic realignment, letting the weight of all the years of his bullshit slide off my back at once.

    I¡¯m done.

    Done with his lies, done with his messes, done minimizing and ying nice for anyone¡¯s benefit, least of all his. I stand and look coolly down at him.

    ¡°Clowns always have that effect on me. Goodbye, Nick. And good luck with your problems, though you might want to look in a mirror to discover where they originate.¡±

    I turn, but before I can walk away, he snatches my wrist and grips it hard. Yanking me closer, he snarls, ¡°You¡¯ll never be anything without me. I made you, you self-righteous little bitch.¡±

    Anger res behind my breastbone, tightening my stomach and burning my ears. As I stare into his bloodshot eyes, I realize I can¡¯t let this disrespect continue. It¡¯s not enough to simply walk away.

    I need to draw a line in the sand.

    Holding his gaze, I speak slowly, my words measured and razor-edged.

    ¡°Listen to me carefully, because I¡¯ll only say this once. You no longer have influence here. Your threats and insults no longer move me. I won¡¯t reward your shitty behavior with my time, my energy, or my patience. You¡¯ve reached the end of my goodwill, Nick. I¡¯m not anding pad for losers. Your ess to me was a privilege, one you just lost.¡±

    I wrench my arm from his grasp and walk away without looking back.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 36

    When I open the door at home, I find my mother lying on the sofa in the living room holding a tumbler of clear liquid I¡¯m certain is gin. She¡¯s watching a Korean drama. The subtitles aren¡¯t turned on, and I wouldn¡¯t put it past her if there¡¯s yet another foreignnguage tucked into her stash of secrets.

    If I find out she works undercover for the CIA, I won¡¯t be at all surprised.

    ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re home early,¡± she says to the television. ¡°There¡¯s something I want to talk to you about.¡±

    ¡°Not today, Satan.¡±

    I drop my handbag on the console, kick off my shoes, and head for the fridge, leaving her chuckling darkly into her gin.

    As I¡¯m pouring myself a ss of white wine, she wanders into the kitchen and sits at the table, then proceeds to watch me like a hawk as I sip my drink and consider what kind of drug I could slip into her dinner that would put her into a lighta. Nothing that would cause brain damage or death, maybe just a nice, long nap she wouldn¡¯t wake up from for say, oh, two to three decades.

    She says, ¡°I know that look. You¡¯re plotting something.¡±

    ¡°Nothing lethal.¡±

    ¡°Too bad. I¡¯m getting bored with all this domestic tranquility.¡±

    ¡°You know where the door is. Don¡¯t let it hit you on the ass on your way out.¡±

    Ignoring that, she says, ¡°Why don¡¯t we take a drive down to Venice beach, see if we can pickpocket some tourists?¡±

    When I give her a warning look, she smiles.

    ¡°Mother, please don¡¯t torment me today. I¡¯m already up to my neck in assholes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing I want to talk about.¡±

    ¡°Sounds serious.¡±

    ¡°It is. Now leave it alone.¡±

    She purses her lips and looks me up and down. ¡°You¡¯re angry.¡±

    ¡°What did I just say? Leave it alone.¡±

    After a beat, she shrugs. ¡°Suit yourself. But if you need any help, say the word.¡± She lowers her voice and leans closer. ¡°I know people.¡±

    ¡°Which reminds me. I heard a rumor that you and Dad were a moneyundering front for the Mafia.¡±

    When I don¡¯t continue, she prompts, ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And what do you think my next question might be?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a mind reader, Sophia.¡± She smiles and takes another sip of her gin.

    ¡°Forget it. I can¡¯t believe a word thates out of your mouth, anyway. Let¡¯s change the topic. How¡¯s your apartment search going?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t found anything yet.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you haven¡¯t looked.¡±

    She waves that off. ¡°I had an idea.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even know what it is yet!¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯re going to keep it that way. Where¡¯s Harlow?¡±

    ¡°She asked if she could go over to her friend¡¯s house, and I said yes.¡±

    Outraged, I re at her. ¡°She¡¯s grounded!¡±

    ¡°Oh. My bad.¡± She calmly sips more gin.

    ¡°Which friend?¡±

    She squints up at the ceiling and wrinkles her nose as she thinks. ¡°Sam?¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have a friend named Sam.¡±

    ¡°Could¡¯ve been Pam. Wait, no¡ªTran?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just making names up, aren¡¯t you? You have no idea where she went!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s actually upstairs in her room, doing her homework.¡±

    My temper snaps. I shout, ¡°Then why the hell did you tell me she was out?¡±

    ¡°Because you needed to yell at someone, and now you have. Better me than her. What¡¯s for dinner?¡±

    I close my eyes and draw a slow breath. When I open my eyes again, the need tomit murder hasn¡¯t passed, so I turn around and gaze out the kitchen window to the yard beyond.

    I¡¯m wondering how hard it would be to dig a hole deep and wide enough to fit my ex-husband and my mother in when Harlow wanders into the kitchen.

    ¡°Hey, Mom. You¡¯re home early.¡±

    ¡°Your mother¡¯s homicidal at the moment, dear. Give her a wide berth.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a berth?¡±

    ¡°What am I, Merriam-Webster? Use your context clues, Sherlock.¡±

    Silence reigns for a blissful moment until Harlow says, ¡°A berth is a ce to sleep on a ship.¡±

    I turn to see her standing next to the table, peering at her cell phone. She nces at my mother. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    My mother snorts. ¡°Oh, brilliant work. Cracked the case wide open. Keep scrolling, genius. Words have more than one meaning.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be mean, Grams.¡±

    ¡°Ha! If I were being mean, you¡¯d already be cry-texting your therapist.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a therapist.¡±

    ¡°Good. Therapy is nothing more than Tinder for your emotional baggage.¡±

    Irked by that unfair description, I interrupt. ¡°That¡¯s totally inurate. Therapy offers a structured environment where people can safely explore their trauma and learn the tools to help them heal from it.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s a ce where people can pay hundreds of dors an hour to watch a stranger nod while they cry. I can¡¯t think of anything more depressing.¡±

    ¡°Harlow.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Mom?¡±

    ¡°Look at me.¡±

    She nces up from her phone.

    ¡°If you ever feel like you need to talk to a therapist, I support that one hundred percent, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wee. In the meantime, you¡¯re still grounded.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    I stare pointedly at the cell phone in her hands.

    She nces at her grandmother and shifts her weight from foot to foot.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t look at the architect of chaos masquerading as a harmless little olddy. Look at me, and tell me why you stole your phone from my underwear drawer.¡±

    She makes a face at me. ¡°I mean¡­I can¡¯t really steal it if it¡¯s mine in the first ce.¡±

    I arch my brows. ¡°Yours? Did you buy it with your own money?¡±

    Her eye roll is extravagant.

    ¡°Do you pay the bills for it every month?¡±

    Her tone turns full teenage martyr. ¡°No, but you gave it to me. So it¡¯s like, mine.¡±

    I hold out my hand and flex my fingers. ¡°We¡¯ll go over the finer points of property ownershipter. Give it back.¡±

    My mother pipes in, ¡°Possession is nine-tenths of thew.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so now you¡¯re a legal schr. What happened to all that business about how children need discipline?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not my child, she¡¯s my grandchild. Totally different jurisdiction.¡±

    ¡°How convenient. And I know you told her where to look for it.¡±

    She clucks her tongue in disapproval. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault you hide things like a squirrel with a head injury.¡±

    Harlow sets the phone in my palm. I look at it for a moment, then say absently, ¡°I wonder if cell phones can be tapped?¡±

    ¡°Of course they can,¡± replies my mother. ¡°It¡¯s not even hard.¡±

    I don¡¯t want to know how she knows that.

    ¡°Mom, can we order pizza tonight?¡±

    ¡°Sure, unless your grandmother wants to boil up a brew in her cauldron.¡±

    Without missing a beat, my mother says blithely, ¡°I only use the cauldron on the full moon. That¡¯s not until next week.¡±

    ¡°Then pizza it is. Carmelina, you¡¯re in charge.¡±

    As I¡¯m walking through the door to the backyard, she calls after me, ¡°It¡¯s rude to call your mother by her first name!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s much more polite than what I¡¯d like to call you,¡± I shoot back, then let the door m shut behind me.

    Settling into one of the patio chairs on the deck, I ce my wine ss on the side table and dial Carter¡¯s number. I¡¯m not expecting him to pick up, but he does, sounding businesslike.

    ¡°This is Carter McCord.¡±

    ¡°And this is Sophia Bianco. How are you, handsome?¡±

    ¡°Hi! I didn¡¯t recognize the number.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m calling from Harlow¡¯s phone, which she isn¡¯t supposed to be using because she¡¯s grounded. She stole it from my room on the advice of my criminal mother. Did you know that cell phones can be tapped?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Why, are you nning on a new career in covert surveince?¡±

    ¡°No, but I am wondering if you¡¯ve ever checked your phone for bugs.¡±

    ¡°My phone can¡¯t be bugged.¡±

    ¡°You sound pretty certain.¡±

    ¡°I am. It has post-quadrum encryption and Faraday-switch integration and runs on a custom operating system that wipes all data and bricks itself if unauthorized ess is detected. All my devices do.¡±

    I listen to the happy chirping of the birds in the trees as my brain tries to unfuck itself.

    ¡°You still there?¡±

    ¡°My mind has left the chat, but my body is present.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re very careful with security, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°We?¡±

    ¡°My family. I can¡¯t tell you how many times someone has tried to spy on us in one way or another.¡±

    The irony of it all makes me chuckle. ¡°Oh, I think I can.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve had everything from fake wi-fiworks trying to intercept login credentials to cameras and mics nted in hotel rooms to postal employees bribed for copies of sensitive correspondence. In the early days, I mean. Now, we¡¯re bulletproof. My dad¡¯s an absolute psychopath about security.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to understand why.¡±

    A brief pause follows before he speaks again. ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    I sigh, my heart heavy. Then I tell him everything that happened with Lorraine, sparing no detail. When I¡¯m finished, he¡¯s silent.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Carter. You haven¡¯t done anything wrong.¡±

    He answers in a voice gruff and filled with emotion. ¡°How¡¯d you guess what I was thinking?¡±

    ¡°Because I know you, handsome. You me yourself for everyone else¡¯s assholery. This is on them, not you.¡±

    ¡°But if you weren¡¯t dating me, this wouldn¡¯t have happened.¡±

    ¡°In a way, I¡¯m d it did. It showed me the type of people I¡¯m really working with.¡± I sigh again, leaning my head against the chair and closing my eyes. ¡°I have a friend at the news desk at the Times. I¡¯m considering giving her the recording, letting her write an expos¨¦. If they¡¯re doing this to me, there must be others. It could be the tip of the iceberg. What do you think?¡±

    His answer is instant. ¡°TriCast would issue a denial and say you created the audio using artificial intelligence. Then they¡¯d release deepfake audio or video of you trying to ckmail them.¡±

    That shocks me. I sit up straight, my eyes flying open. ¡°What? Is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°Yes. AI can be exploited in many ways to sabotage people. It can fabricate videos or audios of people saying or doing incriminating things. It can create and distribute fake news articles or press releases that allege criminal behavior, fraud, or other scandals. It can write blogs, anonymous forum posts, and internalmunications to leak to the press to target corporate leadership. It can postrge volumes of negative fake reviews on tforms like Yelp or Amazon to damage apany¡¯s reputation. It can use bots and sentiment analysis to flood the inte with negative posts or disinformation campaigns about public figures or corporations. I could go on for about an hour, but the bottom line is that AI is an excellent tool for weaponized reputational destruction. If you leak that recording, they¡¯ll tear you to pieces in the press. You won¡¯t be able to work in this industry again.¡±

    I sit with my mouth hanging open and a terrible feeling of doom settling on my shoulders like a lead weight.

    He¡¯s right. I know he¡¯s right. I¡¯ve attended corporate executive briefings and internal strategy sessions on AI adoption, risks, and opportunities, and received board-level reports on corporate content integrity and IP protection in the rapidly evolving AIndscape. There was even a crisis response simtion for deepfakes.

    Which is exactly what they¡¯d use me of doing¡ªcreating realistic synthetic media to discredit them.

    Dismayed, I say, ¡°So, bottom line, I¡¯m fucked.¡±

    ¡°Yes. They¡¯ll use you of everything Lorraine said they would and produce evidence to support their ims. Doctored, of course, but the facts are meaningless.¡±

    ¡°How depressing. Facts don¡¯t matter? We¡¯re in the news business!¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯re in the advertising business. Media is just the vehicle advertisers use to get their products in front of consumers. We don¡¯t sell truth, we sell attention. Headlines are written for one reason only: clickbait. The more outrageous, the better. Facts are liabilities. The only thing that matters is engagement, because engagement equals money. And money, as every child begging their mother to buy them a new toy knows, is the only true form of power.¡±

    I feel sick.

    When I exhale heavily, Carter murmurs, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, baby.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to apologize for,¡± I say sternly, knowing he¡¯s still ming himself. Trying to adopt a lighter tone, I tease, ¡°Don¡¯t make mee over there and give you a spanking.¡±

    But my effort falls t. Carter remains silent, lost in what are surely dark thoughts.

    Worried what he¡¯s thinking, I focus on practicalities. ¡°Considering everything, then, the only reasonable move is to give my two weeks¡¯ notice and start looking for a new position.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t do that.¡±

    His response surprises me. ¡°I won¡¯t allow myself to be ckmailed. And I¡¯m definitely not giving those assholes any information about you. Quitting is the only way forward.¡±

    After a moment, he says softly, ¡°It¡¯s not, though.¡±

    Confused by the resignation in his tone, I frown. ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    His swallow is audible, then he says gruffly, ¡°If we¡¯re not seeing each other, this all goes away. You don¡¯t have to quit, they won¡¯t have any leverage over you¡­problem solved.¡±

    My stomach clenches. My pulse kicks up. Suddenly, it¡¯s hard to draw a breath.

    I know what he means, but I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m hearing it. Shocked into silence, I wait for him to say something else, to give me a hint that I¡¯m wrong.

    Instead, he doubles down.

    ¡°You deserve better than me. I¡¯ve only been a problem for you. With your ex, with your daughter, now with your job¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can stop right there,¡± I interrupt hotly. ¡°First, my ex¡¯s opinion doesn¡¯t matter. Second, I already told you I spoke to Harlow about you, and she was supportive.¡±

    ¡°You were being nice.¡±

    Frustration has me raising my voice. ¡°No, I was being honest. I won¡¯t lie to you to prop up your ego. That¡¯s not my style. As for my job, it¡¯s receable.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve worked your ass off to get where you are, Sophia. You¡¯re respected. You¡¯re experienced. You¡¯ve paid your dues. You shouldn¡¯t give that up for anyone, most of all me.¡±

    My heart is pounding, but I try hard to keep my voice even. Getting upset will only make things worse. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up anything by leaving apany run by hical people.¡±

    A long silence follows, then Carter says with chilling finality, ¡°Thank you for being mine for a while. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.¡±

    He disconnects, leaving me staring nkly at thewn, his words echoing in my head.

    ¡°You were the best thing that ever happened to me.¡±

    Not ¡°are¡± the best thing. ¡°Were¡± the best thing, past tense.

    I didn¡¯t think this day could get any more fucktangr, but it absolutely did.

    I just got dumped.

 Beg For Me: Chapter 37

    Sophia calls me back immediately after I hang up on her, but I send the call to voicemail. Then I jolt from my desk chair and stride out of my office, more furious than I¡¯ve been in years. I¡¯m so angry, my hands are shaking.

    Those motherfuckers at TriCast threatened my woman.

    Shit¡¯s about to get ugly.

    Ignoring Callum¡¯s startled secretary, I burst into his office and loudly announce, ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem. It¡¯s about Sophia.¡±

    Sitting behind his big oak desk studying a sheaf of papers, Callum doesn¡¯t even nce up. Sounding bored, he says, ¡°That sounds like a you problem, Carter. As you can see, I¡¯m busy. Go annoy someone else.¡±

    I stride across the office, yank the papers out of his hands, and toss them aside. They scatter onto the floor in a fluttering mess. Bracing my arms against the edge of the desk, I lean over him and say through gritted teeth, ¡°They¡¯re ckmailing her to get information on me. We have to do something!¡±

    Leaning back in his chair, my oldest brother sps his hands over his stomach and gazes at me with his signature expression, a look of irritation and utter contempt.

    I don¡¯t take it personally. He looks at everyone like that. Except his wife, Emery, who he looks at with disturbing, unblinking intensity, like a serial killer fixated on his next victim.

    ¡°Well, well,¡± he says sarcastically. ¡°ckmail? Shocking. Who could¡¯ve guessed our number one business rival might want to leverage your romantic rtionship with their COO? It¡¯s unimaginable, really. Nobody could¡¯ve ever predicted they¡¯d do something so underhanded.¡±

    I love my brother, but sometimes he¡¯s a real fucking pain in my ass.

    ¡°Yes, you told me dating Sophia would beplicated. Congrattions, Nostradamus. If you¡¯re done patting yourself on your back, let¡¯s get to the part where we decide what to do about it.¡±

    ¡°I never said it would beplicated. I said it would be a fucking disaster. So far, we¡¯ve had to buy a tabloid, run a photographer out of town, and spend copious amounts of time and money ensuring all those crystal clear digital images of you and your Oedipusplex having kinky sex in your living room werepletely wiped from existence.¡±

    ¡°Spanking isn¡¯t kinky.¡±

    ¡°It is when she¡¯s the one doing the spanking. With a kitchen utensil, no less.¡±

    We re at each other until he gives up and sighs.

    ¡°Fine. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    I stand, cross my arms over my chest, and pace around his spacious ss-walled office as I ry the information Sophia told me about the HR manager and her demands.

    When I finish, he says, ¡°Have you ever spoken to her on an unsecured line?¡±

    ¡°No. All our conversations were scrambled.¡±

    ¡°And her house is clear?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡±

    ¡°I just said yes, fuckwit.¡±

    ¡°You did.¡± His tone sours. ¡°You also forgot to close the fucking curtains before letting her make you her little spanky toy on your living room floor, so don¡¯t act like you¡¯re Jason fucking Bourne, okay? Jesus Christ, Carter, it¡¯s Threat Awareness 101. Make sure nobody can see straight through your windows when you¡¯re a high-profile public figure about to have his bare ass beat like a naughty schoolboy.¡±

    I smirk at him. ¡°You¡¯re just jealous you can¡¯t get Emery to do that to you.¡±

    His dark eyes harden. He growls, ¡°Get my wife¡¯s name out of your mouth before I wipe the floor with you.¡±

    This fucking caveman.

    I drop into one of the tufted leather chairs across from his desk and lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. ¡°I cleared Sophia¡¯s house the first time I was there. RF spectrum sweep, thermal imaging sweep, non-linear junction detector scan, passive sniffers to analyze Wi-Fi traffic. All the fun toys my phone was designed with, I used. I didn¡¯t get any hits. Her ce is clean.¡±

    He appears dubious. ¡°What aboutser microphone detection? Line of sight from adjacent buildings?¡±

    I did both, but I¡¯m sick of listing the details. He¡¯ll just have to trust me on this. ¡°The house is clean, okay? Leave it.¡±

    He glowers at me for a moment, then looks at the mess I made on the floor with his papers, and his glower grows darker.

    ¡°Have your secretary deal with it, Callum. Focus. TriCast has overstepped. What¡¯s going to be our response?¡±

    He turns his attention toward me again, lifting his brows. ¡°Our response?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking we give them a taste of their own medicine. Deepfakes, disinformation campaigns, some kind of juicy internal scandal that will tank their stock price and set them back on their heels. They¡¯ll be too busy scrambling with PR mop-up they won¡¯t have time to bother Sophia.¡± My voice turns to a snarl. ¡°And Hartman and that sleazy HR manager are first in line for the firing squad.¡±

    He stares at me for a long time, his gaze assessing. ¡°You¡¯re willing to go to war for this woman?¡±

    My answeres with zero hesitation. ¡°War¡¯s only the tip of the iceberg. The goal is total annihtion.¡±

    I can tell he¡¯s surprised by the vehemence in my voice. The raw fury. He¡¯s never heard me talk like this before.

    But I¡¯ve never been in love before, so he¡¯ll have to get fucking used to it.

    ¡°And then what?¡± he asks. ¡°Because if you think the threats and maniptions will end, you¡¯re wrong. They¡¯ll regroup and start again. As long as the two of you are seeing each other, she¡¯ll be a target.¡±

    I nce down at my hands, forcing myself not to think of the way Sophia sounded before we got off the phone. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be doing enough of thatter when I¡¯m alone in bed, reying every second of our conversation in my mind and castigating myself for my idiocy.

    But it¡¯s better for her this way. I can only drag her down.

    In a saner tone, I say, ¡°We¡¯re not going to be seeing each other anymore. I mean, I¡¯ll still be seeing her, because¡­well¡­¡®stalking¡¯ I guess is the best word for it. I¡¯ll never be able to leave her alone. I already know that. But she won¡¯t know that. It¡¯ll just be one-sided, like it was before. I¡¯ll watch her and make sure she¡¯s safe but stay out of her life.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± Callum demands angrily. ¡°Are you high right now?¡±

    He¡¯s such a drama queen. ¡°You know I don¡¯t do drugs.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any such fucking thing! You sound deranged! Your n is to break it off with her, take revenge on the people who threatened her, then follow the poor woman for the rest of her life, lurking in the shadows and pining after her but never approaching like some emo lovelorn vampire?¡±

    I think about that, then nod. ¡°I mean, it sounds bad when you say it, but yeah. Basically.¡±

    He closes his eyes and mutters, ¡°You¡¯re adopted. We cannot be rted.¡±

    This from the guy who stalked his own wife for literal years before they met, setting up a Machiavellian plot to get her to agree to marry him for money so he could save her bookstore¡ªthe store that was going under because he bought herrgestpetitor and purposely installed them right next door.

    ¡°I¡¯dugh but I think I hear your delusions calling. You¡¯re the most maniptive person I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    ¡°At least I¡¯m not a self-sacrificing douchebag.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what that means.¡±

    Exasperated, he rises from his chair and strides over to the door. He pokes his head out, hollers at his secretary for an iced coffee, ms the door, then returns to his desk, his energy poisonous, and res at me.

    ¡°You get such a boner over neglecting your own needs, it¡¯s pathological.¡±

    That stings, but I won¡¯t show it. I go with sarcasm instead. ¡°Pardon me. When did you be a licensed therapist?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fucking martyr!¡± he thunders. ¡°What happened to you wasn¡¯t your fault! You don¡¯t have to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for something bad people did to you!¡±

    Stunned by that outburst, I sit back in the chair and stare at him as my heart flops around under my ribcage like a dying fish.

    Callum nces toward the windows, exhales hard, and mutters, ¡°Fuck.¡±

    My chest is so tight, I can¡¯t speak. I can barely breathe. We¡¯ve never talked about the kidnapping. I wasn¡¯t even sure he knew it was a kidnapping. Like I told Sophia, everybody in my family always acted like I¡¯d been away visiting rtives.

    Violent, ruthless rtives who fucked me up for life.

    We don¡¯t look at each other. The clock ticks loudly on the wall. The silence is unbearable. Finally, Callum clears his throat.

    ¡°I apologize. That was out of line.¡±

    I¡¯m stunned all over again, because never once in my entire life have I heard Callum apologize to anyone. For anything. I didn¡¯t think he had it in him.

    He snaps, ¡°Look, don¡¯t sit there like a fucking asshole, judging me. Say something.¡±

    His irritated tone makes me smile. ¡°I¡¯m not judging you.¡±

    ¡°You should be.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    A muscle in his jaw flexes. He grinds his mrs a few times, then grudgingly admits, ¡°I was a shitty big brother.¡±

    I blink in astonishment. ¡°Honestly, if you keep on going like this, I might pass out from sheer shock.¡±

    ¡°Oh shut up, you fucking twat.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m being serious. I don¡¯t even know who you are right now.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re done being obnoxious, you little shit, I¡¯ll continue.¡±

    We stare at each other for another long while, until he gets bored of it and rolls his eyes.

    ¡°Christ, you¡¯re a dick. I have no fucking idea what any female sees in you.¡±

    ¡°Gee, thanks. You¡¯re a real prize too. Wait, am I a twat or a dick? I¡¯m confused. By the way, has your wife discovered yet that you¡¯re a member of an international cabal of deluded macho men who think they¡¯re going to save the world?¡±

    He falls still. Incredibly still, like a statue carved of stone. I¡¯m not sure he¡¯s even breathing.

    Stunning him into silence is surprisingly gratifying.

    ¡°Yeah, I know about the Thirteen. I know about Cole¡¯s side gig as a lifeline for battered women too. It¡¯s not exactly rocket science to pick up on things when everyone in the family thinks I¡¯m a dim bulb.¡±

    ¡°Mom doesn¡¯t think that,¡± Callum replies, smiling faintly.

    I say without heat, ¡°Fuck you.¡±

    He regards me for a while, then shakes his head. ¡°Listen. You want my advice?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely fucking not.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ll get it anyway. Here it is: if you really have feelings for this woman, don¡¯t be a pussy about it.¡±

    ¡°Let me jump in here and remind you that pussies aren¡¯t weak. They¡¯re the exact opposite. For example, how well do you think you¡¯d handle it if you had to push an actual human out of your dick?¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you gargantuan gasbag. What I¡¯m saying is don¡¯t half-ass it. Don¡¯t be the weirdo hanging around in the shrubs outside her house and watching her Instagram stories a thousand times and polishing every memory of every second you spent together like it¡¯s a fucking diamond. Don¡¯t be the emo lovelorn vampire. No woman wants a fucking emo lovelorn vampire, okay? Don¡¯t give her up. Fight for her. Because if you¡¯re not willing to fight for her, then you don¡¯t deserve her.¡±

    His expression sours. ¡°Which you definitely don¡¯t, but I¡¯m trying to be supportive.¡±

    ¡°So what I¡¯m hearing is that you won¡¯t help me fuck with TriCast.¡±

    He closes his eyes and exhales. ¡°Get out of my office.¡±

    ¡°Look, if it were you TriCast was fucking with, I know we¡¯d be already have mounted a shock-and-awe military-style bombardment to bury them. All I¡¯m asking for is like, half of that effort.¡±

    He res at me balefully.

    ¡°Okay, one quarter.¡±

    ¡°You want to be man enough for her, Carter? Then solve your own fucking problems. You created the situation, you fix it. Then we can talk about TriCast. Until then, go find a sandbox to y in.¡±

    It¡¯s like talking to a brick wall. Only one with more empathy.

    Realizing I¡¯m not getting anywhere and won¡¯t, I stand and cross to the door, my mind a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. As I¡¯m turning the knob, Callum calls my name.

    I nce over my shoulder at him.

    His voice uncharacteristically gentle, he says, ¡°Mom isn¡¯t the only one who doesn¡¯t think you¡¯re a dim bulb.¡± After a pause he adds, ¡°Tater Tot likes you a lot too.¡±

    ¡°That dog¡¯s been dead since we were kids.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but he¡¯s probably staring down from doggy heaven, thinking how well you turned out despite your tiny brain and lifelong allergy tomon sense.¡±

    My heart is swelling with emotion and my lips want to curve up into a smile, but I flip him off instead.

    He¡¯s an asshole, but he¡¯s my brother, and that¡¯s the closest thing to an admission that he loves me too that I¡¯ll ever get.

    It will probably be thest one as well, considering what I¡¯m going to do next.

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!