“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for that. Does she always do it?” I asked. “I noticed she drinks every day and I didn’t know whether to be worried about that or not.”
“You noticed that too, huh?” He chuckled, low and deep, and it made me want him even more. He set down his empty glass on a nearby table. “She wasn’t always a big drinker. It started becoming heavier after her last . . . well, you know. But that was over ten years ago. I assume it still haunts her, though. She always tells me she doesn’t feel like a real woman. I think she’s just too hard on herself.”
“That she is.”
Corey sat on the edge of one of the chairs, dropping his face in his palms. “Apparently I’ve had too much to drink myself. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. I hardly know you. You probably think I’m crazy.”
I looked up, at the windows that were soft with gold light inside. No one was around. The cameras couldn’t see us from where we stood by the umbrellas.
“Well,” I murmured, taking a step closer to him, “maybe you can get to know me. You know, the same way Lola has.” He picked up his head and slowly dropped his hands, confusion seizing every single one of his features. I closed the gap between us, pressing him back by the shoulders so he was resting against the lounge chair. “But perhaps with more benefits.”
“Whoa—hold on, Ivy.” He pushed me back lightly, and I paused. “What the hell are you doing? Lola is upstairs—you’re her friend.”
“When is the last time she’s fucked you, Corey?” I demanded. He was pissing me off now, acting like he owed Lola the world.
“You’re drunk. You should sleep this off and—”
“Just answer my question.”
Corey swallowed visibly and shook his head. “What does that have to do with what you’re doing right now?”
“Lola hardly does a thing with you anymore. And you know how I know? Because she tells me. She doesn’t even remember the last time you two had sex. The way you act around other people when you’re together is just for show.”
“I love Lola.”
“Does she love you?” I countered. He dropped his head, but I lifted his chin back up, placing my knee down on the outside of his hips. I was closer now. “She thinks she owns you. That’s not love, Corey.”
“Ivy, this isn’t right. You should really go back upstairs—”
I’d had enough of his talking. I needed to kiss him.
Cupping the back of his head, I pressed my lips to his and then moaned, sinking down on top of his lap. I pushed him back again so that his back was on the chair, and then rocked my hips. He’d gotten rid of his blazer but was still wearing jeans, no belt. I felt his dick harden and twitch between my thighs as I kept grinding my hips.
He held his hands away, though, refusing to touch me, so I grabbed one of them and made him caress my ass until, eventually, I didn’t need to assist him. He was doing it all on his own.
“I can make you feel like a real man,” I breathed on his lips after breaking the kiss. I dropped a kiss on the crook of his neck, and he groaned. His dick throbbed. “I would let you fuck me whenever you want. Take me however you want. I would put you first. But . . .” I sighed, and gently sank my teeth into the lobe of his ear, “only if that’s what you really want.”
I faced him again, kissing him deeper this time, slower, so he could savor it, swirling my tongue around the inside of his mouth. His next groan was guttural, conjured from the base of his throat. Primal and hungry. He was straining in his pants now. That was all I would give, though. I couldn’t feed him too much at once.
I pulled away, climbing off his lap and then walking around his chair. His arms remained halfway in the air. He was dazed. Confused. Horny as hell.
He’d think about this for weeks, but he wouldn’t act. No, of course he wouldn’t. Why would he? He was a good man. A good husband. Devoted. Passionate. So extremely in love. Corey would never cheat on his wife . . . unless it was with the right woman. A woman he knew would keep all his dirty little secrets.
“Good night, Dr. Maxwell,” I murmured over my shoulder, and I smiled on my way back to my room, licking my bottom lip, savoring the taste of him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Of course I didn’t see Corey the next morning. And truth be told, I didn’t want to see him. At least not so soon.
Lola was nursing a hangover, so she had Georgia send me off with croissants and fresh jam. Georgia apologized for her as I walked out of the mansion.
As I made my way to my car, I noticed one of Corey’s was gone. It didn’t take a genius to know he’d avoid me for as long as he could, all the while letting thoughts of what happened by the pool consume him.
I would have to keep a distance from Lola for a few days too, so that he wouldn’t assume I was clinging to this fantasy. He’d wonder about me. Probably ask Lola about my whereabouts in a casual way once he noticed I wasn’t around as much. He would think I regretted it more than he did, which in turn would make him wonder why.
But he’d had a taste, Marriott, and he hadn’t put much effort into stopping it either. He would want more. It was just a matter of time.
* * *
I suppose at this point you’re wondering why I’m taking this revenge thing so far. Perhaps you were right when you said I wasn’t completely sane. Truly, after everything I’d done so far to get to where I was, I realized that I’m not sane, Marriott, and you know what? I’m cool with that.
At first, this was about ruining Lola’s life—and don’t get me wrong, it’s still about that—but, like I said, Corey Maxwell had some kind of pull on me. When I first laid eyes on that fine-as-hell man, I was instantly attracted to him. I pined for him. I had dreams about him in between hatching plans of taking down his wife. I wanted him so badly it made me burn inside.
So, I’d worked on a plan that would eventually lead him to me and make him want me just as badly as I wanted him.
I dated Xavier and thought I was in love with him back then, but Xavier was no good for me. He verbally and physically abused me. He promised me good times and joy but only delivered pain and anarchy. All we ever did was argue, and if we weren’t arguing, we were fighting. Still, I’d loved him somehow . . . until I didn’t, and I left him, getting thrust back into the system and fitting in with the bullshit stereotypes for young black girls like me.
And then there was a man like Corey, with eyes as brown as chocolate and a voice as smooth as silk. One look at him and I wanted him. Who wouldn’t want him? I knew for a fact Lola didn’t deserve him. He needed someone better—someone who would give him whatever he wanted, and in exchange, he would give me whatever I wanted.
He had the money; I had the body. It would always be an even exchange. If he took care of me, I’d take care of him. It was that simple. It was what every good man wanted, but women loved to make it harder. Women like Lola especially, because she knew her worth and knew she’d be fine without him, and that she didn’t have to fulfill his every need.
This motive of mine went much deeper than the troubles of my past at this point. I wanted more than to ruin Lola Maxwell’s life. I wanted her husband, and I wanted him to want me just as much, to the point he’d be willing to end his marriage for me. To the point he’d break her heart and leave her miserable and alone, just as I’d been.
I knew it was going to require a lot of work—I mean, that was sixteen years of marriage I had to break up—but things like this happened all the time, Marriott. Men would leave their wives as they got older and staler and would give all their money to the younger, prettier girls with the tighter pussies and fuller asses.
Corey was a man of need and hunger. If Lola wasn’t going to fulfill his appetite, it had to be me. I wanted to be his woman, and only his.
That would be what I took away from Lola. All that bliss? Her supposedly happy, perfect marriage? It would be mine, and she wouldn’t be able to do shit about it because once he and I were together, there would b
e no turning back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Just because I didn’t like Lola didn’t mean I didn’t like her money. Being her go-to girl and new best friend had many great perks, one of which was the shopping.
Lola was going to be flying in a private jet to New York City, where she would be meeting a designer who would be fitting her for a dress he custom-designed for her.
She insisted I come with her—well, me and my new coworker, Olivia. Olivia was only invited for work purposes. It was officially gala season, and Lola needed to be kept up-to-date on everything. She’d need to give immediate responses to questions certain donors had, and to stay in touch with Green Garden and the event planner about specifics. Olivia was the middleman.
Riding in a private jet was something I’d never thought I’d be able to do. It was a two-and-a-half hour flight, but I relished it, accepting the complimentary drinks and snacks and sitting next to a window, staring out of it, pretending I was in Lola’s shoes while she spoke to Olivia and Olivia typed away on her laptop.
We landed in no time, and a black car awaited us at the private airway, taking us straight to the bustling city. I’d never been to New York City before, but I’d heard many things about it. It was the city of dreams and wonder. The city where you could catch a cup of coffee on every corner. The city that never slept.
It was a dream for some to be surrounded by yellow taxis, fast cars, and steaming potholes, but a place this busy wasn’t meant for someone like me. I thought Miami was bad, but New York City was completely over the top.
The chauffeur parked in front of a boutique painted black and white and named Bobbi Sleek’s. I was out of the SUV first, and as I waited for Lola to give the driver instructions, I absorbed my surroundings and the city life around me.
Men and women were in a rush, as if late for the most important meetings in the world. Their eyes were laser-focused. They didn’t give a fuck that people were around them, in front of them, behind then. Some shouted for taxis, waving their hands in the air like maniacs, while others strolled with coffees in hand or shouted into cell phones.
It was the first week of August and there was a coolness in the morning air that we didn’t get in Florida around this time of year. I was glad Lola had suggested I bring one of her jackets from her closet, just in case it got cooler later on that night. I’d never been in her closet by myself, so to go in it alone was exhilarating.
She had a whole rackful of designer shoes, and don’t even get me started on the amount of clothes she had hanging neatly on hangers. Some of them still had price tags on them.
I’d grabbed a tan leather jacket from the coat and jacket rack, and as I slid my arms into it, it smelled like her perfume. I would keep it too. I was sure she wouldn’t miss it.
“All right. Come on, ladies.” Lola led the way to the boutique. “Bobbi is waiting for us.”
Air from the A/C poured out of the vents as we walked inside the boutique. The shop was full of thin mannequins in stunning dresses, each dress completely different from the next, with only small details that proved they were from the same designer, like the way the buttons were stitched on or how the sequins were patterned.
A light scent of jasmine and sandalwood was in the air, giving the boutique a sense of calm in comparison to the chaos outside its doors. Bubblelike chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the walls were painted a smooth ivory, and a song by Alicia Keys played softly from hidden speakers.
“Good morning, ladies!” A very tall, lanky man came into view, strolling between black mannequins and past the fitting rooms to our left. He had dark brown skin and a double nose piercing, a stud in one nostril and a hoop in the other.
“Bobbi!” Lola sang, meeting the man in the middle of the boutique.
I glanced at Olivia, who pressed her lips together and fought a smile. I did the same. Really, it was hard not to laugh at the encounter, but only because of Bobbi’s unusual look. He had a bold, neon-yellow afro. His jeans had many holes in them, and he had to have had on the oldest pair of white Chuck Taylors I’d ever seen, but that wasn’t the kicker. He wore a suit jacket as red as Lola’s lipstick.
He was eccentric and definitely fit the bill as a unique personal designer. One look at him and I knew he had some sort of fashion sense, despite the old Chucks.
“Oh honey, it’s so good to see you again another year,” Bobbi crooned over Lola’s shoulder as he hugged her. “You can’t keep letting me spoil you like this, girl, or I’m gonna let it go to my head one day.”
Lola tittered, as he did. “You know this is my favorite place to be when I need a dress for the gala, Bobbi. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She turned sideways and gestured to me and Olivia. “This is Olivia and Ivy. They work at the Ladies with Passion charity with me, though Ivy is off today but decided to tag along with me to play dress-up.” She gave me an appreciative smile. “Ladies, this is the wonderful Bobbi Sleek. I get all my dresses for the galas from him. He is phenomenal.”
Bobbi moved toward us, extending both his arms so we could shake at the same time. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Olivia and I said in unison.
“Lovely. So, what’s happening today? Am I going to need to find dresses for all three of you or just get you fitted, Lola?”
“Actually, Olivia already has her dress. She’s had it for a couple of weeks now, right, Liv?” Lola asked.
“Yep, sure do. I still need to get it tailored, but it’ll be ready by gala night.”
“But on the other hand, Ivy just started working for me, and seeing as this is her first time attending a Ladies with Passion Gala, I think I need to treat her.” She gave me a wink.
“What? Oh—no, Lola, that is way too generous. I seriously can’t let you do that.” Oh but I could. It was the least she could do, right?
“Don’t even try to be modest with me, Ivy!” Lola walked my way in her nude, red-bottomed Louboutins. “Let me do this for you. I want this night to be magical for all of us. You never went to prom, right?” she asked. “I remember you telling me you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” I confirmed. “I couldn’t afford it.” And that was true. Prom was expensive as hell, and I’d much rather have been fed than attend a dance in a tulle dress.
“Well, let’s consider this your prom night. We’ll get you into a nice dress, and when it’s go time, we’re going to doll you up. It’ll be great.”
“That’s so much to ask, Lola. Really, I can just find a dress the next time I go shopping.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. This will be my treat. After helping at the camp and being there for me after everything, this is the least I can do. Let me treat you, babe.” By “everything,” she meant that little secret about Keke’s fall.
I sighed, pretending I was at war with this decision of hers. But Lola knew I’d do whatever it took to make her happy, and she knew I didn’t like to say no to her, so I smiled and said, “Okay, okay. Fine.”
“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together and spun in her heels to face Bobbi again. “All right, Bobbi. I’ve been waiting for this day forever. Show me what you’ve got.”
* * *
Bobbi Sleek’s Boutique had everything we needed, from complimentary coffee and fresh-baked pound cake to large fitting rooms for the biggest, puffiest dresses.
I now understood why Lola was so excited to get to New York City to this place, and why she couldn’t stop talking about it. Bobbi was attentive and kind and swift. Apparently, he had an assistant, but from the looks of it, he didn’t need him or her because he handled everything with a cool head. He was made for this.
As Lola tried on several blue dresses Bobbi had designed, Olivia fed her details and asked her questions the event planner was asking. I was glad I wasn’t working that day. To know I was going to be wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress had done me in and I couldn’t think about anything else.
I couldn’t hate Lola right now. Not
for this.
Truthfully, no matter how much I pretended I didn’t care about not going to prom, I was the girl who had always wanted to go. Call me old-fashioned. It was every girl’s dream to get dolled up and look great after enduring so many years of teachers droning on and nagging you.
None of the guys in school would ever ask me to go with them. No one even wanted to date me in school. I was the girl without parents, who got shuffled around in the system too much. I was the girl who cried in the bathroom stalls because my days had become too much, and who got picked on for taking meds to control those emotions. I wanted to be normal, trust me, Marriott, I did, but my life refused to give something so simple to someone like me.
Attending this gala would be my prom. I may not have been going with a hot date, but there was hope that I could be hooking up with one by the end of the night.
“Ivy, I have the perfect dress for you,” Bobbi said as I ran my fingers over a silver satin gown. “Follow me.” I followed him to the fitting area, where he instructed me to stand where the mirrors were. “Give me just a second.”
He went around a corner and then returned with a champagne gown. He hung it on one of the racks close to me, and I moved next to him to get a better look. I was completely awestruck.
“Now, I know this doesn’t come close to being the hottest gown ever, but this is a dress I’ve been working on for a few months now. I could never find the person with the right look who could rock this dress, so I’ve kept it in the back as a little treasure, but when you walked in with Lola, I saw it. You were made for this dress, love. You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”
Isn’t it funny how destiny works, Marriott? Bobbi had been waiting for a girl like me—a girl who was meant to disrupt Lola Maxwell’s life, all so I could try on a dress he was passionate about. See, it couldn’t be all bad that I was here. Someone was getting something out of my presence in Lola’s life.
“Wow, Bobbi, it’s—it’s stunning.” I ran my hands over the silky fabric. It was a spaghetti-strap mermaid dress with a plunging neckline and white lace trimmings. The dress made just for me spilled down to a puddle of silky champagne fabric on the floor and was embroidered with more white lace at the hem. It was simple, and the complete opposite of Lola’s dress as far as the style.
The Perfect Ruin Page 14
