“I’ve had to be protective of my son. I’ve raised him as a single parent since he was three.”
“Doesn’t your wife, I mean ex-wife, have joint custody?” I asked, glad that I’d quickly corrected myself.
“I have sole custody of him.” Rage filled his eyes; his pupils dilated. “I paid my ex a shitload of money to stay away from him. And from me.”
The anger in Ari’s eyes grew fierce, his features hardening into a wall that almost stopped me from asking any more questions.
Bravely, I asked, “Where is she now?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” His voice was gruff. Full of contempt. “The last thing I heard she was fucking her brains out in Europe. But as far as I’m concerned, she’s dead. And that’s what my son thinks.”
The cold fury and resolve in his voice sent a sharp shiver down my spine, rendering me speechless. I didn’t know what to say. An intense mixture of anger and anguish washed over his face while his stormy eyes held me fiercely in their gaze. And then his expression softened.
“Here’s the deal.” His voice went from livid to business-like.” If we continue to see each other, you must know that I will never spend the night with you here as I must go home to my son. He suffers from nightmares because of the cunt, and I need to be there for him.”
As much as his words rattled me, I respected him and admired his love for his child. I had grown up with a loving single parent myself. In all the eighteen years I’d lived with her, my mother had never brought a man home, fearing he would disrupt our magical bond. Or that he would break her heart as did my musician father when he abandoned her to live in a hippy commune with another woman. With the advent of the Internet, she was able to trace him…only to learn soon afterwards he’d died all alone from a drug overdose. But that only added to the pain. I’ll never forget that day, that phone call. I’d just turned five. She was painting my portrait. Bringing me back to the moment, Ari continued.
“And you shall never spend the night with me. In my bed. The last thing my son needs is to be confused by another woman. Or hurt.”
Obviously, there was a lot he wasn’t telling me about his ex. And what had gone down between them. My curiosity was piqued, but a little voice in my head told me not to go there…yet.
He sucked in a breath. “One last thing. Don’t count on any kind of long-term relationship. You need to understand that…because I like you.”
For some reason, this part of the deal made me inwardly shudder. It was some form of rejection even before I was rejected. But I knew on his part, it was a defense mechanism; he was afraid of having a relationship, afraid of commitment, afraid of being hurt again. Before I could respond, the unexpected buzz of the intercom startled me. I jumped up from the couch. Shit! Who could be here? Lauren again? The Grim Reaper? The redhead? My heart beat as fast as the vibrations below in a place called “there.”
“It must be Andre,” said Ari, rising from the couch.
“Andre?”
“My driver. I asked him to bring me some clean clothes.”
Hmm. So he had this all plotted out. I wanted to be mad at him, but instead I cracked a small smile. Wrapping my improvised toga once again around my breasts, I padded to the entryway and pushed the intercom button, allowing Andre to enter the building.
Shortly afterward, there was a loud knock at my door. I peered through the peephole and recognized the uniformed driver from last night. I opened the door halfway.
“These are for Mr. Golden.” His voice was strangely soft and melodic for such a big man. “I will be waiting for him downstairs.”
Before departing, he handed me two bags. Both were from Bergdorf’s. I returned to the couch and handed them to Ari. He reached into the smaller of the two. I watched in awe as he slipped a brand new pair of designer jeans over his bare ass and managed to zip up the fly despite the large package between his thighs. The jeans hung perfectly on his narrow hips, like they were custom made for him. A crisp, oversized blue and white striped collarless shirt completed the ensemble; he left it open, exposing the golden cream of his taut chest, and let the tails hang out over his jeans. Damn, he looked sexy!
“The other bag is for you,” he said.
“I can’t keep taking presents from you,” I stammered.
“Stop it. I’m going to buy you the entire women’s department if you don’t open what’s inside.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked playfully.
“No. It’s an order. Open the packages, Saarah.”
The sexy, languorous way he said my name totally unraveled me. I dug inside the bag and located the smaller of the two boxes. After sliding it out, I fumbled with the lid. My eyes grew wide. Another pair of stilettos. These shiny red strappy sandals. Prada. My size. My heart palpitating, my eyes met his.
“I enjoy seeing your toes. They bring back fond memories.”
I felt myself turning as red as the shoes. My sex was blushing too.
“Now, open the other box.”
Both hands, now trembling, I reached inside the bag again and slid out the much bigger package. I felt giddy with the excitement of a little girl getting an extravagant birthday present. I lifted off the lid and unfolded the layers of delicate tissue paper inside. Gasp! Before my eyes was an exquisite floral halter dress. Prada again. Size 6. Holy shit! I remembered seeing this dress in one of Lauren’s Vogues and gasping at the price. $4,000! I held it up and admired it. The strappy red stilettos matched the cabbage patch roses perfectly.
“Ari!” I croaked, too taken back to say another word.
“I want you to wear these this evening.”
I gazed at him, cocking my head like a puzzled puppy.
“Today is my son’s sixth birthday. I’m throwing him a small, informal party at my apartment with just my family. I would like you to attend.”
I suppose that was an order too. He padded toward the bathroom and returned wearing his tennis shoes. He glanced down at his watch, an old gold Rolex, and knitted his brows.
“I’ve got to go. I promised my son I’d take him to see a movie this afternoon and then go to Dylan’s Candy Bar.” His eyes returned to mine. “I expect to see you this evening.”
“Where do you live?” I asked, squeaking out the words.
“1001 Park Avenue. Andre will pick you up at 5:30. Please meet him downstairs. And please don’t wear any underwear.”
I gazed at him sheepishly.
He smirked. “Don’t worry. My mother and my sister will be there. And, of course, my son. It’s highly unlikely I will be doing any kind of exploration. But I would like to use my imagination.”
He rendered me speechless again. The sound of Jo-Jo’s meow gave me an excuse to avoid a response. Brushing against my legs, he was craving attention. I felt Ari’s eyes on me as I bent down to pick her up. I cuddled her in my arms while Ari caressed her soft fur. The cat purred.
“My cat really seems to like you.”
He winked at me. “I’m good with pussies.”
Oh was he!
“I’ll see you later.”
With a smug smile, he strode to the door to let himself out. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Jo-Jo wasn’t the only one purring.
Ari
My imagination was working overtime as I stood with Ben by my side in the long line of moviegoers to get some popcorn, soda, and candy. Ben was occupied with his new iPad, playing some kind of video game. The tablet was another one of his birthday presents—I’d given it to him at lunch—and within an hour, he had totally mastered it, filling it with all his favorite apps and games. Kids today were whizzes when it came to technology.
My mind was on Sarah and I kept flashing back to the mind-blowing sex we had earlier, still stunned that I took her on the bed. Another epic orgasm. She did things to me that no other woman had done before. I was insanely attracted to her. And more than just to her lithe body. I liked her quirky personality and felt there was depth to her, something that had
eluded me when it came to women. She was the first woman I opened up to about my ex as the others had never lasted beyond a short time in a hotel room or the pied à terre I kept close to my apartment. Since my divorce, find, feel, fuck, and forget had been my credo. I wanted no involvement. Sarah was the first woman I wanted to spend time with, and I hoped she could accept and understand my rigid terms. I glanced down at my precious son. Nothing in the world meant more to me than him. I had one mission in life: to protect him. My ex had hurt him—hurt us both—and only now, were we recovering from the deep wounds. Ben saw a child psychologist regularly and I was seeing a shrink to deal with the past and the future. As a result of my terribly failed marriage, I had a terrible fear of commitment. Something my shrink and I were working on. Sarah represented some kind of breakthrough. She was the first woman I wanted to see again. And she was the first woman I’d invited to my home since my divorce and was going to introduce to my family. I hadn’t, perhaps foolishly, told Ben I had invited her to his birthday dinner nor had I told my mother or sister. A ripple of anxiety coursed through me as I neared the front of the concession line. What would they think of her? Or, for that matter, think of me having a girl at the house? In particular, my sister’s reaction worried me. She was fiercely judgmental and protective—of both Ben and me. Never wanting me to end up with someone like Cassandra again, she had strong opinions of what kind of woman I should be with. And truthfully, now that Ben’s life and mine were finally both on course again and we were functioning well, I suspected she didn’t even want me to get married again. The dynamics of the evening ahead worried me, but worry succumbed quickly to a much stronger emotion. Anticipation. The image of Sarah in her beautiful new dress filled my imagination. Then it gave way to me slowly taking it off her. Her beautiful lean body with its sinewy muscles and long limbs danced in my head. I imagined it wrapped around me, ready for penetration. At the thought of fucking her brains out again, my cock flexed against my jeans.
“Daddy, can I get some red licorice?” asked my son, breaking into my erotic fantasy as we at last reached the front of the line.
“Sure. Anything you want, birthday boy,” I replied with a smile, ruffling my hand through his silky, sun-streaked hair.
A few minutes later, we were all set—with an extra-large tub of popcorn, two root beers, and a bag of Twizzlers. We headed toward the theater playing our movie. Lots of moms and their kids surrounded us. I was used to being one of the lone fathers who brought their kids to the cineplex. Being a single dad wasn’t easy. And then there were the divorcées…
As we neared the theater entrance, a high-pitched voice calling out my name captured my attention. I turned my head and instantly recognized the woman sauntering my way. A cute freckle-faced little girl was by her side. The child’s name was Jordan and she was in Ben’s class at the private day school I sent him to. Her mother’s name was Lisa. She was a former casting agent, who had married a Wall Street hedge fund manager, subsequently gotten a divorce when she discovered him cheating with his secretary, and made out like a bandit. A big smile lit up her Botoxed face. She’d always had a thing for me, and now that I was available (so she thought), she constantly hinted at us going out. Though our kids were good friends, I had no interest in her—the short, surgically enhanced busty blonde was not my type and I wasn’t ready—so I kept our relationship casual and limited to school functions, soccer games in the park, and unexpected but inevitable encounters like this.
“Why, Ari, how lovely to see you?” she cooed, seductively running a hand through her mane of bottle-blond hair.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ben walking ahead with Jordan, showing her his new iPad. Knowing where he was, I returned my attention to Lisa, trying to keep things short and sweet.
“Hi.” Like I said, short and sweet.
“What movie are you seeing?”
I told her we were seeing the new Superman movie that had opened this weekend. To my relief, she was seeing some animated film that Ben had already seen.
“I think our movies end around the same time. Let’s grab a bite afterward.”
It was an invitation, not an inquiry. She was pushy and always hitting on me. I politely told her it was Ben’s birthday and that we had plans. I didn’t tell her we were going to Dylan’s Candy Bar because I knew she would tag along.
She flashed another flirtatious smile and played with the big sparkling diamond that hung from a chain around her neck. Her former wedding ring.
“Well, then next time.”
There was never going to be a next time. I was never going to go out with her. Unexpectedly, the image of Sarah flashed into my head again. She was so different from Lisa and all the other women who were after me. She wasn’t after me at all. Given how much I looked forward to seeing her later, it seemed to be the other way around. I hoped Lisa wouldn’t notice the erection that was straining against my jeans. Least of all think it was thanks to her. I inwardly chuckled.
Before I could excuse myself, Lisa aggressively grabbed my arm and held me back.
“Oh, before you leave, Ari, I just want to ask you a question.”
“Shoot.” I was losing my patience with her and wanted to catch up with Ben.
“I saw someone at the Bergdorf’s spa earlier who looked SO much like Cassandra.”
At the mention of my ex’s name, my heart skipped a beat. Every muscle in my body tensed and my hands trembled. I almost dropped the tub of popcorn, but caught it in time.
“That’s impossible,” I stammered. Only three people knew that Cassandra was still alive—my sister, my mother, and myself. The rest of the world, like Ben, thought she was dead—killed in a horrible car crash in the Hamptons.
“Does she have a twin sister? Seriously, Ari, the resemblance was so striking. Slightly curvier, and her hair was long and dark instead of blond and short.” Lisa knew my ex-wife well, having cast her in hundreds of commercials in her modeling heyday.
“No, she doesn’t. She was an only child.”
My chest tightened painfully and beneath my T-shirt, I was sweating. I felt like I was on the verge of an anxiety attack—something I hadn’t had for a long time thanks to the help of my shrink.
My companion popped a kernel of popcorn into her mouth and then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you know what they say. Everyone has a twin.”
“Yeah, right.” I spat out the words. “Listen, Lisa, good seeing you. I need to catch up with Ben.”
My eyes darted his way. He was almost at the entrance to the theater.
Lisa licked her injected plump lips. “Well, see you soon and enjoy your movie.”
With my evil-ex wreaking havoc on my body, the latter wasn’t happening. My mind pondered the unlikely but terrifying possibility that Cassandra was back in town. Was Ben’s recurring monster dream last night a premonition? My heart pulsing with dread, I caught up with my precious son.
Sarah
The intercom buzzed. Wearing my new Prada dress and strappy heels, I hurried as fast as I could to answer it. It was Ari’s driver, Andre. Five minutes early, he was here to pick me up. Excitement pulsed through me like bubbly champagne. Still not having mastered the sexy little beasts on my feet, I carefully dashed back to my bedroom to grab my purse and the Bergdorf’s shopping bag containing Ben’s gift. Fingers crossed he would like it. I gave myself a final look in my mirror. The gorgeous floral dress looked amazing on me, and somehow the array of bright red and cocoa roses brought out the color of my chocolate brown eyes. I smiled at my reflection and it smiled back at me.
###♥###
1001 Park Avenue was located on the northeast corner of Eighty-Fifth Street and Park. It was one of those majestic, pre-war high-rise buildings with a forest green awning at the entrance. After Andre helped me out of the limo, a doorman promptly greeted me.
“I’m here to see Mr. Golden,” I said.
“You must be Miss Greene. He’s expecting you.” The doorman gave me a quick once over and a saucy gri
n. I wondered how many of Ari’s women he had met.
He swung open the front door to the building and ushered me into an elegant lobby combining creamy marble with rich brown leather furniture, oriental rugs, gilded sconces, and elaborate floral arrangements. What most attracted my attention was the magnificent coffered ceiling. Having studied architecture as part of my coursework at RISD, I had an appreciation of the handcrafted details.
“Mr. Golden’s apartment is on the top floor.” The penthouse! “The private elevator is to your right.”
Taking a fortifying breath, I headed toward the elevator, acutely aware of the clicking sound my sharp heels made on the polished marble floor. I pushed the UP button, and the gilded door slid open to a pristine interior with upholstered walls and polished handrails. My heart was pounding, and my fingers trembled as I pushed the button for the penthouse. I was nervous about seeing Ari again and meeting his family. Only yesterday, he was a stranger on a train.
Without making any stops, the elevator reached the penthouse floor in no time. The door slid open again. Exiting the elevator, I found myself standing in an elegant marble foyer that must have stretched fifty feet. The creamy walls were lined with large, abstract paintings and next to the archways stood pedestals with imposing vases of fragrant white roses and lilies. Holy cow! I had stepped right into Ari’s breathtaking apartment. A Rubenesque, Hispanic woman wearing a black and white aproned-uniform approached me. She also wore a warm smile.
“Hola. You must be Señorita Greene. I am Luisa. Señor Golden has been looking forward to your visit. Follow me, por favor.”
She led me to a palatial, step-down living room with a spectacular view of the city. It was filled with fabulous Art Deco furniture, the overall color scheme beige with accents of burgundy and turquoise. An exquisite antique rug anchored the room, and all around there were outstanding paintings, sculpted pieces, and more flowers. Wow! This place must have cost a small fortune to decorate. It was straight out of Architectural Digest.
Trainwreck 1 (Trainwreck #1) Page 9
