Mathis Grimes was a confusing, cold, manipulative man I couldn’t understand and on top of that, he was also a lot more interesting than I’d like him to be. For someone who had been sheltered for years that precise cocktail could very well be dangerous.
I closed my mouth and my eyes. He wouldn’t get to me so easily. Or so soon.
***
MATHIS
I checked the time and saw it was closing in on 5:40 pm. I needed to leave my home office and go back to my wife. I’d spent most of my day locked away in here while Lila wandered around the apartment, getting acquainted with her living arrangement without a doubt. After the lack of control over my own emotions and the conflicting thoughts I had been feeling all morning upon waking up next to my wife and welcoming her in my home and without the chance to lose myself and forget everything with sex, work had appealed to me like nothing else.
I was used to living alone, to having no one witnessing the bouts of stress I could find myself trapped in and to let down some of my shields that having someone in my living space made me ready to explode.
Lila wasn’t ready for that.
I wasn’t ready to subject her to that.
I stood up after turning off my laptop and walked out of the study to stride briskly to the living room, hoping my wife would have listened to me for once and was ready to go. I checked the Rolex on my wrist and cursed myself in my head for losing track of time when I looked up and was met by the sight of my alluring wife standing in the middle of the vast room perched in suede ankle boots and clothed in a wraparound dress in a rich brown that managed to be both elegant and insanely sexy on her perfect body. Draped over an arm was a black trench coat and a simple cream scarf while a small leather brown purse dangled from her fingers.
She was truly a beautiful woman and with her brown hair flowing freely around her face and over her shoulders I only wanted to get a fist in it to guide her to my mouth. And toward other parts of my body if only I hadn’t decided to toy with her before I would finally get a taste of her.
My cock came to life in my trousers and it only drilled home what I already knew; she needed to give up her front sooner than later. She had already been invading my mind for way too long of a time and far more intensively and extensively than any other woman I had met. The fact that she was now my wife didn’t excuse that fact.
I couldn’t forget who I was.
“Good. You’re ready.’’ I gestured to the front door. “Let’s go before we’re late.’’
She nodded and quickly put on her coat, draped her scarf in an elegant and effortless fashion and shouldered her small purse before she walked past me to get to the door without acknowledging me further. But of course I wouldn’t and couldn’t let her get away without toying with her first.
I lengthened my steps and sidestepped her to open the front door like a perfect gentleman would. She avoided eye contact, but I heard her huff under her breath as she walked past me and straight to the elevator still waiting for us.
“A simple thank you would suffice,’’ I said calmly as I joined her in the elevator. I hit the button leading to the parking level and put my hands in the pockets of my trousers, doing my best to ignore the beautiful woman standing next to me. It was difficult to ignore the throbbing of my cock and the need always growing inside me when her delicious perfume permeated the air like this.
“Have your fun. I’m going to ignore you and enjoy the time I have to get to know your mother and sister.’’
“You like my mother and sister, then.’’
I glanced at her and found her nodding her assent. “They welcomed me with open arms yesterday. Contrary to you, they’re not trying to tame me.’’
I bit the inside of my cheek when the odd urge to laugh rose inside me, seemingly rendering my stomach and chest lighter all of a sudden just as the elevator stopped and opened to my parking space occupied by a dozen cars ranging from the most common town car to the most extravagant sports car.
Absentmindedly, I pressed on the key fob to open the black Porsche Cayenne and led her to the passenger side to open the door for her. She climbed inside without a look my way and I wondered if it was her new strategy to avoid playing right into my hand. That wouldn’t do.
What wouldn’t do either was the fact that I now had the urge to laugh in her presence. Actually, I could remember very well the last time I felt like laughing and actually did. It was that horrific day, the worst of my life and it had started like a normal summer vacation day.
I closed the passenger door with more strength than necessary, chasing away my dark thoughts while pinpricks invaded my hands as the pain in my chest intensified once again.
Twice in one day.
I forced air in my burning lungs and climbed in my SUV, faking a calm exterior when inside I screamed and yelled and begged for everything to be different as if I was still that same thirteen-year-old boy.
When the car came to life I didn’t waste any time and I started driving, as my mind latched onto the presence beside me so very quiet, but breathing. She was breathing calmly and that sound alone started to center me enough to push away the episode.
Slowly, so painfully slowly, the pinpricks left and my lungs stopped burning. I was back to my usual self. Cold. Hard. Unyielding. And mostly, mostly I was ready to play with Lila a little while we navigate through the mild traffic of a Sunday evening in Manhattan.
“Tell me, Lila. What do you think to achieve by holding out?’’
“Holding out?’’ She scoffed and made a move to play with the hem of her scarf before she stopped herself from fidgeting. Carter Manor probably taught these women to stay still even when feeling something conflicting such as anger like she felt at that moment. I knew what she felt because her eyes didn’t lie and the light in them told me that if she could, she’d be delighted to murder me. “I’m not trying to achieve anything. I. Don’t. Want. You.’’
“That’s a lie you tell yourself, dear little wife,’’ I retorted and made a turn as we reached the Upper East Side. Their home purchased a little over five years ago was close to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim and when my mother felt like taking a nice stroll she enjoyed going to Central Park which wasn’t far either. I quickly located a parking space just vacated by an old couple and killed the engine. I turned my head to look at my wife who seemed to be grinding her teeth so hard I bet she’d have to make an appointment with my dentist soon enough if she didn’t let me alleviate some of her sexual frustration, and mine along with it. Then again, it’d put an end to this little game. “Don’t forget I’m not a young boy, Lila. I know when a woman wants me. I know it when a woman feels so much desire her breath hitches and she pulls her thighs together or when her pupils dilate.’’ I leaned closer to her as she blinked at me, her eyes getting bigger. “And you my dear, showed all of these signs and more.’’ My eyes fell to her breasts completely covered I couldn’t possibly locate them properly with her coat and scarf, but I didn’t need to. I remembered the tantalizing view from last night. And that morning. “By the way, your nipples looked particularly appetizing last night.’’
On these words, I climbed out of the car and made my way around to open her door without giving her the time to gather her wits and fire off some choice words. Right now, I wanted to revel a bit longer in that lust induced pleasure bubble in which my cock throbbed painfully in my slacks and my mind had most of its attention onto how I’d take my wife for the first time. Nothing else mattered for now and that’s all I could hope for until I would walk in my parents’ home.
***
LILA
“It’s so good to see you again, Lila,’’ Megan greeted with a hug and a huge smile that stretched her soft lips upward. Her eyes danced with happiness as she looked at me and then at her brother as if she expected us to be all loved-up the very next day after our arranged wedding ceremony.
“You too. I don’t think I properly thanked you for standing as my maid of honor.’�
�� I pulled away to see Sylvie hugging my husband while he gently patted her back as if such a demonstration of affection was a foreign concept to him and his stone cold ways. I discreetly shook my head.
“I was delighted to be in the wedding party. And the wedding was so beautiful!’’ Megan went on as she led me to the vast living room decorated with antique furniture that reminded me of the Manor. Against one wall I saw a replica of a Louis Philippe console that was in the hall of the east wing. That made me wonder how the women were doing over there and if more had found their future spouse. My life at the Manor already seemed so far away when in reality I was still there a few short days ago.
“It truly was magnifique!’’ Sylvie exclaimed joyfully, mixing English and French and it flowed perfectly with her accent and the class she naturally had. “Please, take a seat on the sofa,’’ she directed me and pushed her son to follow me with a bright smile and eyes dancing with a happiness that only made me realize how miserable I truly was in spite of my access to a considerable fortune and the overpriced wardrobe I had and would have more of soon if I felt like it. “What would you like to drink?’’
“A glass of wine would be nice. Thank you, Sylvie.’’
“Scotch for me, Mom. Where’s Dad?’’ Mathis asked, but judging by the flat tone of his voice he wasn’t much interested in the whereabouts of his father.
One glance at Megan had me wondering if she felt the same, but for some reason I couldn’t explain to myself considering the kind of fortress Mathis was, at that moment reading him was easier than his sister who busied herself with her own glass of wine that she had already been sipping before our arrival.
Sylvie busied herself at the wet bar strategically not far from the sofa and the armchairs so the person taking care of drinks didn’t have to feel excluded from the discussion. “He received a call regarding a delay in a delivery. So please, mon garçon, don’t push him.’’ The warning in her stare intrigued me as she gave us our drinks and sat in the other armchair. In her next move she snatched her wine glass and took a hefty sip on a sigh. “Tell me, ma belle, what do you think of your new accommodations,’’ she asked me with a smile as she set down her glass.
“I can’t possibly criticize Mathis’ apartment,’’ I said and took a sip of the white wine. The taste hitting my taste buds was unmistakable, even for someone who would probably fail a blind test. The Chablis, probably one of my favorite wines, was one of the best I had had the pleasure of drinking. It was easier to focus on the alcohol than on my husband sitting next to me, but not quite touching me.
“Yes, of course,’’ Sylvie said with a gentle smile and then fixed her son who was stonily drinking his scotch. I didn’t have to look his way to know when he brought the tumbler to his mouth as the ice cubes kept on colliding. “Maybe you should give the opportunity to your wife to redecorate your place. The interior fits a single man more than a married couple.’’
“It’s not important,’’ I blurted, but kept my voice at a reasonable volume. The elegant front I had been showing slightly cracked. Sylvie’s and Megan’s eyes latched onto me and where I would have expected wariness I only saw concern. I forced a smile I had been perfecting for years at the Manor to hide behind and once again I saw it working when the women returned it, but to them it truly reached their eyes and brightened their faces. “The decorating is very tasteful.’’
“But maybe—‘’ Sylvie started but didn’t finish as the unmistakable noise of dress shoes hitting the tile floor made itself known. “Oh, perfect! You’re finished right on time, mon amour.’’ She stood up and welcomed her husband who merely nodded at us while still standing.
Promptly, Megan and Mathis went to their feet and I made quick work to follow, attentive to not spill any wine that would fall either on me or on the Persian rug.
“I’m sorry for the delay, but it couldn’t wait,’’ Mr. Grimes said with a voice that didn’t belay his apology. The detachment of this man was uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to be an odd occurrence. Yesterday, upon meeting him, I had thought he reserved that coldness for me considering the way his son decided to pick his wife, but now I wondered if maybe the issue ran deeper.
“Of course, Dad. It’s fine, we grabbed a drink in the meantime,’’ Megan said softly with a smile to her father that was a bit strained.
The older man nodded and then bypassed me to look at his son. Maybe I imagined it because of my reserve regarding that man, but I thought I saw his eyes narrowing slightly upon meeting his son’s stare. I surreptitiously glanced at my husband.
Mathis’ jaw locked, accentuating the angle. His lips were tightly sealed and his eyes so cold that the word frost could be used to describe them. I shivered slightly and broke the eye contact from his father. My husband turned toward me and brought a hand to the small of my back. I bit my tongue when his palm and fingers seared into me, but not with heat. It felt as if he was frozen, so cold no blood ran through his veins.
“Dinner is ready, ma’am,’’ a voice came from the threshold of the living room, breaking the awkward atmosphere that fell on us all.
Sylvie seemed relieved to get back to her hostess duty as she gently led us to the table in the next room set for five.
With Mathis’ hand on my back drawing out shivers and goosebumps, I lengthened my steps and prayed I wouldn’t fall face first on the floor. And my efforts were for nothing as Mathis’ height gave him an advantage on me. He followed me without much of an issue and led me to a seat. Gentlemanly, he pulled the chair out for me before taking the one on my left.
Once we were all presented with the starter, avocado and shrimp with a sauce that made my taste buds sing, Mr. Grimes dried his mouth with his napkin and took a hold of his crystal glass already topped with a ruby red wine. He took a sip and stared at Mathis. I expected him to address his son, but instead his mouth twisted in what I could only assume was displeasure and something told me with the way my husband tensed further beside me that the wine his father tasted had nothing to do with his facial expression.
“How is your job search going, Megan?’’ the older man asked, right as he delved back in his starter.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sylvie’s eyes trained on her son and I couldn’t miss the worry marring her otherwise beautiful face. But soon enough, Megan’s sweet voice had my attention as I slowly worked my way through the delicious meal.
“I have an appointment tomorrow morning,’’ she replied noncommittally and for having spent a few hours the previous day with my now sister-in-law, I knew her even voice belayed a lack of enthusiasm that didn’t escape the older man.
His eyes, as dark as his son’s but somehow more distant, latched onto his daughter who stopped eating to drink more of her wine until nothing was left.
“I hope it works this time,’’ he said, now looking back at his plate.
“I’m sure it will,’’ Sylvie butted in and gently squeezed her daughter’s hand with a reassuring smile with all the warmth that her husband lacked. Megan’s returning smile was more subdued, but she didn’t say anything. “Anyway, with my trip scheduled in two weeks I want to enjoy this family dinner as much as possible.’’
Mr. Grimes shook his head and with his perfectly shaved cheeks I couldn’t miss the same small muscle flexing as Mathis when he was annoyed with something, or downright angry. That was an easy mark to zero in on with most men and even if I didn’t know my husband yet, that was something I had picked up on and it seemed this was something he shared with his father, along with several other physical traits.
Noticing the lull in conversation and growing more and more nervous, I decided to do what I had been taught, starting with participating in mundane chat around the table.
“Oh, that’s nice. Where are you going?’’
Sylvie’s relieved smile made some of my growing tension disappear as I felt Mathis beside me watching me, rendering the side of my face hot with tingles that seemed to invade my every pore.
“
France. I go back every year a couple of weeks to visit family.’’ She put down her cutlery in her empty plate. “While my life is here, I do miss my country sometimes.’’
I nodded and started to say something, hoping it’d encourage Megan to join in and then maybe the two Grimes men brooding wouldn’t be too difficult to overlook, but the older man’s glower hit me with such a force that it dried my throat and stole my words before they were fully formed in my mind. I recognized the look on his face, something I had seen in my past life, something that had always made my heart beat faster as if it was too scared to stay around and let someone else bruise it yet again.
“I wonder if that manor had you traveling.’’ The venom in the older man’s voice further hit me, reminding me once again that I was worth less than nothing here. As if that hadn’t been made perfectly clear for me for a long time. I barely remembered a time in my life when I felt worth something, worth someone.
“We didn’t, unfortunately.’’
He nodded and put down his cutlery without finishing his plate. His eyes barely left mine for a couple of seconds to glance at my husband who had stopped eating to focus on the disaster bound to happen.
“Hm, why am I not surprised?’’
“Oscar,’’ Sylvie said in a warning as her hands started to tremble.
He ignored his wife and kept on sending daggers at me. A weaker person would already be fidgeting on her chair and probably begging silently for her husband to help her out, but not me. It had nothing to do with my education at Carter Manor and everything to do with who I was to my core.
“It’s probably because you’re aware of the purpose of Carter Manor, sir.’’
He shook his head and then let his stare travel to his son still silent at my side, silent and immobile. “I never thought the son I had left would marry a prostitute, but that too shouldn’t surprise me after all.’’
Be A Doll Page 9
