by JA Low
“It felt good to get one over on you. The golden child didn’t have everything because his wife chose my bed instead of her husband’s.”
“And my father’s, too,” I add, throwing salt into his wounds.
Stanford bristles at my barb but shakes it off.
“This isn’t going anywhere,” Stirling adds, pulling me back to the matter at hand.
“You’re right.” Trying to compose myself, I continue, “I came here to say I know, Dad… about your debts to the mafia.” My father stills, his eyes widen, and this time he turns deathly white.
“Mafia?” Stanford’s voice raises.
“H… how?” My father’s voice is shaky as he asks.
“Doesn’t matter.” Shaking my head, my father slowly blinks at my statement. “I’m here to pay it off.”
“Dad, what is he talking about?” Stanford questions my father.
“Stay out of it, son,” my father hisses at Stanford, who blanches in his chair.
“It’s a lot of money,” my father states.
“I know, and I have it.” Getting the tiniest bit of glee, knowing that it won’t even make a dent in my bottom line. “What do I have to do to pay it off?”
“I can give you the account details. You need to transfer the ten million dollars into there.” He opens the drawer on his desk and pulls out a piece of paper, then hands it over to me. I snatch it out of his hands and see the bank information written on it.
“Once I pay this money...” looking at my father and brother firmly in the eyes one at a time, “… I want nothing to do with either of you. Ever again.”
“Son!” My father blanches.
“No, Dad.” My eyes narrow on him. “What you two did is unforgivable. I don’t care if Madison was behind it and is some kind of sexual mastermind. The fact you kept doing it when you knew she was my wife is inexcusable.”
“I’m sorry,” my father adds.
“It’s too late for that,” I tell him, then I turn on my heel and walk out of his office. I never want to see them ever again.
“You okay?” Stirling catches up to me as we march into the elevator, the steel doors sliding closed.
“That was fucked-up.” I’m stunned by what has just transpired.
“Um, yeah. It was a major shit show,” Stirling agrees. “Honestly, man, you held up so well in there.”
“I wanted to smash their heads together,” I curse as the elevator doors open, and we step out into the lobby then onto the street. “I need a fucking drink.”
30
Ariana
I’m at Rhys’ apartment again, waiting for him to come home, as I know he was going to confront his dad about everything today. I’m starting to worry as it’s late. He’s not answering his phone or any of my text messages. I don’t want to be one of those girls who needs to keep tabs on their partner, but today of all days, I’m simply worried. Just before I call his sister to find out where the hell he is, the elevator opens, and out stumbles a disheveled looking Rhys.
What the hell happened?
Jumping up off the couch, I rush over to him as he stumbles into the apartment. He throws his suit jacket off the moment he steps inside. He unsteadily kicks off a shoe, which goes flying, just missing the vase of flowers he brought home for me the other day. Then, the next shoe comes off, which nearly trips him over. The closer I get, the stronger the alcoholic vapors that are seeping from his pores become.
“What happened to you?” I’ve never seen Rhys this messed up. He’s usually so put together.
Rhys stills, and those blue eyes widen. Long lashes blink slowly, surprised that I’m standing before him. Rhys’ hand reaches for his tie and pulls it off, a mischievous look falling across his handsome face. He then slaps the tie down across his hand and grins.
“Remember the last time I used this on you?” He wobbles a little bit as he says it with so much innuendo. I try and stifle a giggle because he’s trying to be sexy, but he’s so intoxicated it’s hard to make out the words properly.
“How about we get you into the shower, so you can sober up a little before promising things you can’t deliver at the moment?” I use my gentle voice of encouragement.
“Oh yeah.” He nods, giving me the once over. “My woman thinks I’m a dirty, dirty man, and she needs to clean me up.” He winks at me.
Oh, dear Lord, what the hell is going on? This is hilarious, and I’m really trying not to laugh.
“Come on, big boy, let’s get you all clean.” Grabbing his strong, hard arm, I slowly escort him toward the bathroom.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles as he staggers along. “I’m so lucky.”
Gosh, he’s a cute drunk.
We make it down the hallway with only a couple of stumbles into the wall along the way. He stops and turns me around before pushing me up against the wall.
Wow. Okay. Where the hell did that come from?
He’s hard against my thigh. Maybe he’s not going to be suffering from whiskey dick after all.
“I love you, Ariana.”
I still at his words.
What the hell did he just say? He’s drunk. He has no idea what he’s saying. He doesn’t mean it.
“Come, you.” I chuckle through the awkwardness. “Let’s get you sobered up.”
“No.” He shakes his head. Those blue eyes flare with need. “I need you to know how I feel about you.” He cups my face with his hands.
“You’re drunk, Rhys,” I explain to him.
“I’ve been feeling like this for a while, and I guess the alcohol is giving me the balls to tell you to your face.” He’s sincere, but I can’t believe it, not when I can smell how much he’s had to drink.
“Let’s talk about this in the morning. Okay?” My question makes him frown.
“It’s okay if you don’t love me, Ari. I know I’m unlovable.” The vulnerability seeps through his words. Today has rattled him. I’ve never seen him so insecure than this moment.
“Why would you think I couldn’t love you?” Who has said something to put this thought in his head?
“My own family doesn’t.” His hands fall from my face, and his shoulders roll in as he moves away from me.
“Hey.” I grab hold of him. “Your mother and Audrey love you.” He shakes his head and begins to undress as he shuffles into his bedroom. “Rhys…” I call after him and grab his arm to turn him back around to me. “What happened today?”
Rhys shakes his head. “I don’t feel so good.”
He’s drunk, Ariana.
He needs to sober up, and then you can find out what the hell happened.
So, I help him undress. The flirt from before is now gone. He walks into the shower and sinks to the floor, the water hitting him on the back as he wraps himself around his legs.
The image breaks my heart.
The next thing I know, I’m undressing and joining him on the floor as well. I wrap myself around him as he breaks down for the first time.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper as he holds me tightly.
“My life’s a fucking mess, Ari.” He sighs. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Hey… don’t say that.”
Rhys looks up at me through bloodshot eyes, which make his blue eyes sparkle even brighter.
“I’ve cut my father and brother out of my life,” he confesses. “I’m paying off his debt, and then that’s it.” I can see how much that decision is weighing on him, and his whole body sags under the burden of everything.
“I’ve got you, Rhys.”
Once he’s freshened up, we get dressed, and he climbs into bed. It’s not long until Rhys is snoring, the reality of the day and the copious amounts of alcohol finally catching up with him.
“I love you.” Kissing his forehead, I let him sleep off his worries as I head out into the living room to finish my work.
“I’m dying,” Rhys groans from beside me. He has one arm stretched over his eyes, showing off his sculptured bicep.
I chuckle because hangovers suck.
“You were pretty drunk last night.” Nuzzling into his side before I get a whiff of his alcohol breath. “Eww… you need to go brush your teeth. You smell like you’ve eaten dog shit.”
“Hey…” He groans. “Not fair.”
“How about this… you go freshen up, and I’ll cook you up a hangover feast.”
Rhys grumbles to himself as I jump out of bed and head to the kitchen, where I grab the bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and breakfast potatoes and cook him up a good old greasy breakfast to soak up all the bad shit he consumed last night.
A little while later, he comes into the kitchen dressed in some navy pajama pants that are hanging low on his hips. The man looks like a snack I want to partake in while he’s walking toward me as I’m pouring us a couple glasses of orange juice.
“Breakfast smells so good,” Rhys states, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
“You still feel like shit?” I ask as I flip over the eggs.
“Please don’t talk so loud.” Rhys winces, which makes me laugh.
I plate up our breakfast and push it in front of him.
“Come here.” He grabs me and pulls me between his legs. “Thank you for last night.” He nuzzles into my chest. “For looking after this hot mess.” He looks up at me and gives me an achingly handsome smile. “And for the record, I do love you.”
His confession stills me.
“I remember.”
Oh. Wow. Okay.
“I meant every word of it,” Rhys explains.
“You do?”
“Yes.” He grins. “I now understand what love is,” he confesses, which hits me with all the feels. “When I look at you, I’m the luckiest man in the world. That I can tackle anything life throws at me because I have you by my side. The thought of losing you makes my body ache.” He reaches up and cups my face. “You make me want to be a better man.”
“I love you, too, Rhys.” Tears well in my eyes as the overwhelming thought of happiness hit me.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, we bring our faces together. “I can’t imagine my life… no, I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.”
“Shit, I’m a lucky man,” Rhys confesses before bringing our lips together in a heated kiss, both of us expressing exactly the way we feel about each other.
“I’m stuffed.” Rhys rubs his flat stomach as he lazily sits on the couch. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“You needed it after the way you came in last night,” I explain.
“I was a mess, wasn’t I?”
I nod my head in agreement. “What happened?”
“It was shit,” he explains before reaching out and pulling me into his side. He then begins to explain everything that happened in the meeting. I listen to his words and can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s insane.
“You going to call Jackson and tell him all this?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get him to transfer the money securely and make sure that everything is squared away,” Rhys explains.
“Do you think this debt has anything to do with your divorce?” I ask the million-dollar question.
“I’m not sure. I sure as hell hope so. Otherwise, things are way worse than I could have ever imagined.”
When will this nightmare end?
31
Rhys
Thanksgiving
“I’m so nervous.” Ariana fiddles with her dress in the car.
“Why, you’ve met Mom before?” I look over at her.
“That was months ago and before we were dating.”
“It’s going to be fine. She’s going to love you. I promise.”
We’re having lunch with Mom, and then we’re heading to Ariana’s friend’s place for dinner later.
We pull up to the front of my mother’s building, and the doorman is there waiting for us. The valet takes my keys to move my car as we enter the apartment building.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Davenport,” the doorman greets.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Frank. Hope you’re not working too late, so you can enjoy it with your family.” Nodding my head in his direction.
“About to finish in an hour, sir. Can’t wait to get home and fill my stomach with my wife’s famous yams.” Frank rubs his stomach, which makes me smile. My hand grips Ariana’s hand tighter, wondering if maybe one day that could be us.
Me not being able to wait to get home to my wife or kids. The thought hits me square in the chest, almost taking my breath away. I’ve never thought I could envision myself marrying again, not after the craziness this divorce has become.
We step inside the elevator to take us up to Mom’s floor, and I pull Ariana to me and kiss her so thoroughly she’s left a little dazed.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I tell her. She nods her head in understanding, and the doors open into my mother’s penthouse. The smell of Thanksgiving hits us, and my stomach grumbles. Letting go of Ariana’s hand, I take her jacket and hang it in the cloakroom with my own. Then I take her hand tightly, and we head into the formal living room where Mom is usually set up.
“This place is amazing,” Ariana whispers as we walk through the opulent home. I’m so used to it all that I forget what it must look like from an outsider’s point of view. Today it looks like fall has thrown up everywhere, but my mom loves the holidays and goes over the top every chance she can get.
“You guys made it.” Audrey finds us in the hallway first and rushes forward, embracing Ariana first, then me.
“You look gorgeous,” she tells Ariana, who blushes at my sister’s compliment.
“Hey, man.” Stirling walks down the hallway.
I still see him at my family home. “What are you doing here?” Looking between my sister and best friend, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Audrey about her relationship with Stirling as yet.
Maybe I should have.
“His parents are in the Caribbean, and you know his brothers are off doing what they do. He said he was spending Thanksgiving alone,” my sister explains. “No one should spend the holidays alone,” she tells me.
A frown forms on my face, and Stirling can’t look at me.
Then Ariana squeezes my hand, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Right. Of course. Good to see you.” Shaking his hand, but not before I squeeze it tightly. Stirling grimaces but takes my warning graciously.
“Come… Mom’s dying to meet you properly.” Audrey grabs Ariana and pulls her into the formal living room, with Stirling and I not following far behind them.
“I’m sorry for crashing today,” Stirling tells me.
“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you and Audrey?”
“There isn’t. She keeps inviting me to things.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“You can say no,” I add.
“I don’t always want to.”
Slowly, I turn around and glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“I like hanging out with Audrey.” Stirling stands up to his full height. “And I don’t care if you don’t like it.” And with those few words, he walks into the living room, leaving me stunned momentarily.
Stepping into the room, I see Mom has Ariana laughing and smiling in the chair beside her. They are lost in whatever conversation they’re having. I see the genuine smile on Ariana’s face as she listens to my mother rabbiting on about something. She must be able to sense me as she looks up, and I’m struck by how serious my feelings are toward her.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re here.” My mother finally notices me. I stride over and kiss her on each cheek. “Thank you for bringing this delightful woman to finally meet me properly.” That’s Mom’s little dig about not introducing Ariana to her earlier. “It’s nice to see she’s keeping you smiling.” Mom pats my hand as she compliments Ariana.
“How can you not smile around her?” I tell the room.
My mother squeezes my hand with
delight at my answer. Ariana’s cheeks turn the faintest of pink at my words.
“Well, it’s certainly nice to see that smile again. It’s been gone for such a long time,” my mother whispers ever so softly.
“Things will sort themselves out. I’m sure of that,” I tell her. I don’t want her worrying about me.
“Come… come… lunch is ready.” Mom rises from her chair. “I’ve been smelling Patrice’s food all morning, and it’s been driving me crazy. I’m starved.” She chuckles as we follow her out of the formal living room and into the formal dining room. There’s a large table set up in the middle of the room with mini pumpkins and fall-colored flowers down the center.
We take our seats, mine beside Mom, as she sits at the head of the table. Audrey is on the other side, then Ariana and Stirling across from us. Then moments later, Patrice walks out with her staff and starts serving lunch.
“Did you grow up like this?” Ariana whispers.
“Yes, but Patrice made sure she taught me to cook because she didn’t want me to be a lazy rich kid.” This makes Ariana chuckle.
Patrice kisses me on the cheek as she passes and then eyes Ariana suspiciously but moves on. Patrice is a tough cookie.
“This smells delicious,” Ariana whispers to me, which Patrice catches, making her grin. Once everyone is served, grace is said, and we all tuck in.
“So, Ariana… have you always lived in New York?” my mother asks, then takes a sip of her red wine.
“Yes. It’s the only place we’ve lived since leaving Spain,” Ariana replies. “My father worked on Wall Street until he retired a couple of years ago,” she explains. “My parents went back to Barcelona once he retired.”
“Do you have any other family here?” my mother asks.
“Not in New York. But I have two sisters who live in LA,” she explains.
“Oh, you must miss them so much.” My mother gives her a small smile.
“I do. Very much.”
We caught up with Ariana’s sisters briefly when we were in LA a couple months ago. As soon as she got together with them, the New Yorker Ariana left, and the Spanish Ariana emerged, and I’m not going to lie, I could listen to her speak Spanish all day long.
