by Kate Stewart
“Ms. Scott, please have a seat.” I gestured as she walked in, taking a look around.
“Nice,” she said quickly, trying to mask her awe at the size of it. I grinned.
“So the reason I approached you was to see who was handling your investment banking,” I said smoothly, pushing my portfolio toward her. “If you haven’t had a chance to look online, here is a list of our clients.” She opened the leather-bound folder, eyeing it briefly. I knew she didn’t recognize the names on the list. I had researched her a bit. She grew up local, married some douche bag in college, and quit to live the American dream, to become a housewife and mother, though the latter was never carried out. She did not have a child bearing figure. She was petite, her body perfectly tight.
Stay on point, Devin.
“Anyway, those aren’t important.” I didn’t want to embarrass her. My intentions were simple. I wanted her millions, and I wanted to multiply them and hand some of the profit back to her while keeping the rest. “I’m just going to be honest with you, Mr. McIntyre,” she said, crossing her legs. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to things like this. Until now, my best tool for utilizing my money was to buy economy size packages of hamburger meat and separate them into freezer bags.” I laughed loudly and watched her squirm. Her face reddened considerably, and I knew instantly she regretted saying it.
She studied my face, searching for some sign she could trust me. I didn’t give her anything. “Ms. Scott, I simply want to run a few things by you. You can have your lawyer look them over and decide what you think is best for you.”
“Fair enough,” she said with a smile.
That smile started it.
I knew she had recently finalized a divorce. She was a little thin, and I could see the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. I felt the need to protect her then. It wasn’t subtle, but a sharp lash to my chest. This woman had no clue how to handle her new fortune. I stood up, rounding my desk.
“Nina, I’m going to be honest with you. You need to really look before you leap at this point. I’m sure you are aware of the horror stories of those who come into fortune and lose it quickly.”
“Well aware,” she countered with a hint of bitterness. I knew her ex-husband had done a number on her. It wasn’t my problem, and I couldn’t help her with that.
“Just be careful. Don’t believe me or take my word for it. Hire someone, someone who knows what they are doing, who can ensure you are protected in every move you make.”
“Isn’t that your job?” she said, looking up at me, her gray eyes making me forget my focus. The woman was absolutely stunning.
“Not exactly,” I answered, taking the seat next to her. “I plan to gamble a bit with the money you allow me to play with. It’s a process. But I can guarantee you are in good hands.”
“You’re reputable. I did research that much,” she said with another smile. My body tightened in reaction. Her long brown hair looked like spun silk lying on her shoulders. I wanted to reach out and touch it, but mostly I wanted those heart shaped lips wrapped around my cock. “So, before you and I start investing, let’s get you a right hand to form a corporation. I’ll have a friend at another firm make a recommendation so I won’t have a hand in the matter.” I stood up and heard her faint words.
“Thank you,” she whispered. I looked down at her and saw the sincerity in her face. “I know you say not to take your word for it, but I have a feeling it might not be such a bad thing to trust you.”
“Make me earn it,” I added, “and make everyone else. You’ve done a hell of a thing, Ms. Scott.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for my hand. I shook hers politely before she turned to walk out. “Beautiful,” I said audibly.
I’d never said a damn thought out loud without intention in my life. This woman had just fucked that up.
She paused, so I knew she’d heard it, but didn’t say a word as she left my office. And just like that, this prick fell in love.
“Mr. McIntyre, Mrs. McIntyre line one.” I cleared the haze and picked up the phone, dreading the exchange to come.
“Eileen.”
“Darling, when will you be home?”
Acid curdled in my stomach, making its way up at her words. “I was just thinking about your pretty little head.”
“Oh,” she said cautiously.
“Yes, I was picturing it under the guillotine.”
“I don’t have time—”
“I was thinking,” I interrupted her, “of how easy Henry VIII had it. The man was onto something.” “Amusing,” she said dryly. “I need you home tonight.”
“Where you sleep is not my home. You want appearances, fine, but don’t fucking call that my house.” I was shorter with her than usual today, resentment brewing out of my every pore from what she’d cost me.
I hated my wife. “Fine.” Her voice was stern, a sign an imminent threat was coming. “Our anniversary dinner is this evening. Just a few close friends.”
“And I need to attend because?” I smiled, knowing I was playing with fire. “Be here by seven, guests will arrive at eight,” she snapped.
“When the fuck are you going to let me out of this?” I snapped back. “When you’ve served your time,” she said quickly then hung up.
I’m fucked.
A month ago, I was so fucking close to being rid of her. The satanic slut I called a wife had not only robbed me of the last seven years but was now dangling my livelihood in front of me. Everything I worked for she held in the palm of her hand. And I let her have it. I’m a very smart man who made a very bad decision. And the mistakes I am paying for are not my own. I glanced at my phone.
Nina: Have your office send over the paperwork for the sale. One condition, you never contact me again socially or otherwise.
I deserved that. I knew I deserved it. For the last few months, I’ve been a complete bastard to her. I had to hand it to her, though. She was tough, and she’d loved me well. Knowing she wouldn’t believe the truth in the words, I sent the text anyway. There was no way she would ever deem me sincere.
Devin: I’ll miss you, Nina.
I threw my phone down, knowing I would get no response.
She was finally done with me. The pain creeping through my chest as subtle as a heavily swung ax told me I was far from done with her.
“Trust is like a mirror, you can fix it if it’s broken, but you can still see the crack in that mother fucker’s reflection.”
― Lady Gaga
§§
Nina
It was like life had just handed me the golden ticket and said, “Sorry, my bad you didn’t read the fine print. You can’t have fucked a relative.”
I left Aiden that night to start his set at the bar. He didn’t notice me stiffen in his arms at the mention of his last name. After a slow tender kiss goodnight, I abandoned him to completely freak out in the safety of my town car. On the way home, I Googled everything I could about Devin. His LinkedIn had a clear business profile but said absolutely nothing about his personal life, including his wife.
Nothing new there.
How could I have been so stupid? I knew him for over a year before I dated him for six months, blissfully ignorant until his wife actually called me to let me know I was his mistress, and one of many. And when I went to confront Devin the very same hour she’d berated me on the phone, he was fucking her on his desk. He didn’t look surprised to see me in the least, nor did he come after me.
Devin loathed her, this much I knew after the fact. And if he’d had other affairs, it was due to that fact alone. I may not have been the first, but I was most definitely his last. Up until the point I ended it, at least. Pain pierced my chest at the thought. Eileen had him trapped somehow; he’d never cared enough about me to tell me why. I continued to sleep with him out of spite toward her after she’d purposefully ruined me publicly a number of times—and because I loved him desperately, but that was another illusion.
I
t wasn’t until a few weeks later when she’d shunned me at my first social gathering that I realized she’d set the whole thing up. Devin had confirmed as much to me without so many words. I’d watched them a little more closely than other people. I’d seen him openly glare at her once or twice when backs were turned. Only a fool would believe they were anything more than publicly married. But I was the only one who truly cared to take a second look. After a solid month of endless humiliation at the hands of his cunning wife, remorse turned into anger. I’d taken Devin by the cock, led him into the coat check closet and fucked all my frustration out. Deserving or not, he was all I had, and I used it to my advantage. I lost a large piece of self-respect that night while Devin eyed me warily as he zipped his pants. He didn’t question my intent and simply took what I offered him.
I should have known.
Then again, the man lived like a bachelor. Aside from the handful of weekends we went away, we rarely spent the night together. I assumed it was his determination to keep our relationship private. He didn’t want anyone at his investment firm knowing he was fucking a client. I’d never held it against him, but it did make me curious. I was too busy starting Scott Solutions to wonder or do anything about it. And he’d made me happy. He’d never offered me more than sex and friendship, and I took it and ran with it. I was to blame for the lack of control over my feelings getting involved, but I never had a chance with him.
Devin was magnetic, raw, hungry, beautiful, and ambitious. Power emulated from his intense, deep blue gaze to his fingertips.
Devin never held my hand after I’d found out, nor did he apologize. As the months progressed, I was reintroduced to him and in a completely different way. I’d let him continue to have my body, treat me as less, and all for the sake of spite, or so I told myself. I’d been cheated on, and no matter how much I loathed his wife, I’d taken part in the affair knowingly and without empathy for her. It was wrong. I was wrong. And still…I loved him.
Back to the matter at hand, Nina.
I’d just been fucked and fucked well by Aiden, and my mind was still on Devin. Would it ever end?
Aiden was new, fresh, exciting, and completely single. I had slept in his bed, dined in his home. He seemed an open book. I was the one who had been hesitant to share. Now I had questions, and so many of them I was reeling. I’d jumped into another sexual relationship without asking the important ones.
I Googled Aiden and found nothing but a small mention in an article about his band.
I already knew enough about Devin to know he didn’t have any brothers. Even if they were estranged, there was no reason for Devin not to have mentioned it in the time we spent together. Then again, Devin wasn’t the most reliable source.
Aiden, Devin, it seemed obvious someone had matched their names purposely this way.
Cousins? I put my head in my hands with a groan. If I asked Aiden and he questioned me, it could be disastrous. Would he be disgusted? Could he overlook it? Could I?
FUCK YOU, LIFE!
I didn’t need to jump to conclusions. McIntyre was a pretty common name. They did not resemble each other in the slightest. The confidence they both shared wasn’t necessarily a reason to panic. They were both amazing in bed, but I was sure that had nothing to do with genetics.
Okay … so I could ask Devin, except less than twenty-four hours ago I told him I never wanted to speak to him again. How would he interpret my sudden twenty questions? Did it matter? Was it just a coincidence?
I wasn’t that fucking naïve. I dialed Taylor. “Boss,” she said, breathlessly. “Taylor, did I catch you at a bad time?” I asked with a smile.
“No.” She exhaled slowly. “Just working out.”
Something in her tone told me different, but as always, I didn’t prompt. “I have an issue.”
“Okay, hit me,” she said, her breath now under control.
“How do I find out if two people are related without asking them directly, or anyone else? I guess I’m asking you if we are able to get a background check?”
“Why are you question-marking the end of that sentence and who are you afraid of?”
“No one,” I said quickly. “This is personal.”
“Go ahead,” she said with humor in her voice. I felt my cheeks heat as uncertainty raced through me. Well, fuck it. If I were going to be in limbo, I would be armed with the right information. “I think I might’ve bagged a set of brothers.”
“Oh God, that bastard has a brother. Lord help us all,” Taylor said comically. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m not sure. So can I get one on the both of them?”
“Of course you can. You have enough to buy the info, Nina. I know just who to call. Send me everything you have on them both.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “You still haven’t signed that paperwork on the land. It was couriered over this afternoon.”
“I will in the morning,” I said as Carson pulled up to my drive.
“It’s a shame,” she said, sounding forlorn. “It was beautiful.”
“And more trouble than it was worth,” I said, thinking it ironic I thought the same of Devin. “It belongs to Devin’s wife’s family. So there’s that. I can meet you at the office now.” I sat in the backseat, ready to direct Carson to my building. I needed to accomplish something, to distance myself from the situation. I felt like it was a sudden lifeline.
The sooner I got rid of Devin and his wife, the sooner I could breathe easier. “I…”
Taylor had never been speechless. “Taylor?”
“I’m in Savannah,” she admitted then sighed apologetically.
“The morning, then,” I offered after a brief pause.
“I’ll be there early,” she replied, guarded.
“I won’t, so don’t worry about it.”
“Goodnight.” She hung up without responding.
My wheels were already full speed, so I didn’t have time to wonder about Taylor’s whereabouts. I sat back in my seat as a message came through.
Devin: You didn’t sign the papers.
Nina: You aren’t allowed to text me.
Devin: It’s not over yet.
Nina: Tomorrow.
Devin: That’s tomorrow, see me tonight.
I didn’t bother entertaining him and completely ignored the ache in my chest. I climbed out of my car, determined to find more answers.
But the truth was, I already knew somehow they were connected. I felt it in every fiber of my being.
“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness. Listen to it carefully.”
― Richard Bach
§§
Devin
I arrived at my anniversary party thirty minutes after eight, and an hour and a half after she was expecting me. Knowing I’d raised my wife’s blood pressure considerably before I’d got there was a small victory. Eileen’s parents and sister were seated in our dining room and looked at me expectantly for an explanation, which I didn’t give.
“I apologize,” I said, quickly taking my seat at the head of the table then grabbed my glass. “To my wonderful wife, happy anniversary.”
The rest of our guests, minus her sister, raised their glasses in praise of their fair hostess then began to devour the first course. Always in fucking courses with Eileen. She considered dinner an event. It was never a quick bite, just a slow and agonizing task, especially with her choice of company. Our anniversary gave reason to prolong it even further, a celebration of our farce of a marriage. She’d even brought out her eighteenth-century china. As the drab conversation rolled on, I drank, heavily, ignoring the second and third course, opting for a courteous nod or short sentence of reply. Looking over at Eileen, I recalled our wedding day. I was fond of her then, and she was once a tiger in the sack. I was never a man for sentiment, and love wasn’t a requirement for me. Love wasn’t the reason for my union, though I couldn’t deny I’d felt strongly about the possibility when I married my wife.
It was a part
nership. I didn’t need her money. I wanted to play the game. I was in it for the thrill. I wanted to drive a stake into the heart of the city, make my claim and start my empire. Although I had my partners, I needed the connections she had in Charleston to grow my business. I married her for her name, but it didn’t hurt I was fond of her classic beauty and her wit. She was sharp and stealthy when she worked a room, and I needed someone beside me that adhered to the wealthiest appetites, to attract them and bring them in. I was old money, but when I moved here from Savannah ten years ago, I needed a shoe-in, a way to easily marry myself with the elite. Something she could do with her name alone. The world was my oyster at twenty-nine when I married her.
I got that so fucking wrong.
After a few years of ignorant bliss, she started withholding sex at her whim. She’d made it perfectly clear that I was to do as she wished. Happy wife, happy life.
I ignored her. I was busy growing my firm and didn’t bother to try and save the marriage. She had her agenda: to live and die exactly like her mother. And I had mine. She thought I was weak.
Stupid cunt.
“Seven years, Devin,” her mother piped. “It’s time for the itch.”
She couldn’t have handed me a more loaded statement. I caught Eileen’s gaze that told me not to go there and gave her a small smirk.
“I have a feeling I will fare well.”
Eileen plastered a smile on her face.
The truth was, no one at the table was blind. There was a giant elephant stomping all over the Renaissance style, oak dining table that we all ignored.
Her mother numbed herself with her anti-depressants while her father aided me by taking advantage of my abuse and cruelty with my new ten-thousand-dollar bottle of Macallan, an anniversary gift from my wife.
Her sister, Sandra, glared around at all of us while we ate. She apparently was in a good mood, because insults weren’t flying between her and Eileen. When the two were amicable, it usually had something to do with me. There was only one woman I despised as much as my wife, and that was her sister.
