Angela looked decidedly ill at ease, her agitation becoming more apparent the more Lauren continued to push her. “He’s just – private, okay? And I don’t want to mess this up, Lauren. I feel – alive when I’m with him. More alive and happier than I’ve ever come close to feeling before. So please don’t push, okay? Can’t we just enjoy our meal and catch up? Please?”
Lauren blew out a breath, not in the least bit willing to drop the subject. But she sensed that Angela would really start to clam up if she continued to probe right now, so she merely shrugged and allowed the subject to be changed.
However, it wasn’t in Lauren’s nature to ever give up on anything. There had only been one time in her entire life, in fact, when she’d backed away from something and moved on, too hurt and disillusioned to pursue it further. This situation with Angela’s mystery man was definitely not something she was prepared to let go quite so easily.
“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” she asked casually as they tucked into their meal. She noticed that Angela was eating more than she normally did, and wasn’t pushing the food around on her plate. Lauren guessed that Mystery Man was responsible for this, as well as the ten pounds she’d packed on in all the right places.
Angela grimaced. “What do you think? I hate the very thought of going there, and you just know my mother and sisters are secretly wishing I won’t show up.”
“You could always go to New York with us. We’ll see Julia, go out drinking and dancing, hopefully convince her not to drag Lucas the Loser along for the ride.”
“As awesome as that sounds, you know I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t go home. Marisa’s cooking dinner this year and half of Joe’s family will be there, so of course we have to keep up appearances, don’t we?”
Lauren played her next hand very carefully. “Why don’t you just go away for a nice long weekend with your new man? I mean, if being with your family just makes all of you miserable, why not do something to make you happy for a change?”
Angela closed her eyes, her hand trembling as she picked up her coffee mug. “Don’t, Lauren. I thought we just agreed we weren’t going to talk about this anymore.”
Lauren pointed an accusatory finger. “I never agreed to anything. All I did was table the discussion to humor you for a little while. Honey, I’ve just begun to hound you.”
Angela glared at her darkly. “Hound all you want but I’m not answering your questions.”
“Does he beat you? Is that why you’re scared shitless of him? If you’re in an abusive relationship, Angie, just say the word and I’ll give the asshole some real abuse.”
“Jesus.” Angela sounded disgusted. “Always the badass, aren’t you? But, no, he doesn’t beat me and I am not in a physically abusive relationship. Can’t you just leave it alone? I’m happy, I’m safe, and I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” muttered Lauren. “What other ridiculous rules does this guy have for you? Not that keeping his identity a big ole secret isn’t already mega disturbing.”
Angela sighed wearily. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you a few juicy tidbits – nothing too detailed – and then you drop the subject. Agreed?”
Lauren scowled, but sensed her suddenly reticent best friend wasn’t prepared to offer up anything more. “Fine. But they had better be really juicy tidbits.”
“I see him two to three times a week. I never know exactly when but when he calls I go. He picks out all my clothes, bought me a wardrobe that Julia would stab me in order to steal, tells me how to dress, orders my food at restaurants. He fucks like a wild beast, is hung like a horse, and I have trouble walking the next day after a night with him. And I’m crazy in love with him but don’t dare let him know for fear he’ll break things off. And that’s all you’re getting.”
For the second time that day, Lauren was shocked – utterly and completely shocked – and she stared at her best friend in total disbelief.
“Wow,” was all she could think of to say. “That’s, um, not exactly what I was expecting to hear, but – wow. Can I ask you just one more question and then I promise I’ll leave it alone?”
Angela looked wary. “You can ask. Can’t promise to answer, though.”
“These rules – this control he has over you. Do you actually like it?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy but I do. When he first laid it all out for me – what he would expect if we kept seeing each other – I wanted to tell him to go fuck off. I stayed up almost all night weighing the pros and cons, came real close to calling you and asking for advice.”
Lauren smirked. “Betcha you can guess what my advice would have been. It would definitely not have been to tell you to become this – this little subservient slave girl you’ve turned into. Why in the hell did you ever agree to something so ludicrous, Angie?”
Tears shimmered in Angela’s huge brown eyes. “Because it was the first time in my life that anyone ever tried to impose rules on me,” she whispered unevenly. “And even though I know he doesn’t love me – will probably never love me – at the very least he cares enough about me to set down those rules. In his own way it feels that he cares more about me than my own family ever did. I don’t expect you to understand, Lauren, and certainly not approve, and I know this is all sorts of fucked-up. But he makes me happy and that’s not something I’ve been able to say too many times in my life.”
Lauren nodded, sliding a hand over her friend’s and giving it a squeeze. “Okay, then. As long as you’re happy and safe and it’s enough for you, I’ll back off. But if you ever need me to kick his ass, I’ll wrap one of my three black belts on and wipe the floor with his sorry ass.”
Angela chuckled. “Now that I’d pay good money to see. After all, he’s more than a foot -”
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. Lauren had noticed that Angela had kept the phone on the table next to her place setting during the entire meal, and had checked it at frequent intervals. She answered it now on the first ring and turned away slightly, speaking in a low, hushed voice.
And then, for the third time in less than two hours, Lauren was shocked speechless again as Angela ended the call, pulled out some cash from her wallet and set it on the table as she stood.
“I hate to eat and run, but, well, I’ve got to go,” Angela told her briskly. “You’re heading back to Big Sur this afternoon, aren’t you?”
Lauren continued to stare as Angela dropped the phone into her satchel. “You’re leaving? You’re just fucking walking out on me this way? I thought we could hang out awhile longer, get caught up, maybe see a movie.”
“I’m sorry. I just saw him last night and honestly didn’t expect to hear from again this soon. But I’ve got to go, Lauren, so please understand. And don’t worry, okay?”
Lauren stood reluctantly and gave her best friend a fierce good-by hug. “Okay. I’ll call you in a couple of days. Hey, I know you can’t give me any details but how about a rating? Like, on a scale from one to ten, is he –”
“A twenty. At least. Gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Angie.”
But Angela was already hurrying out of the café like the place was on fire. And, despite the half-hearted reassurances she’d given her, Lauren couldn’t help but have a very, very bad feeling about the situation her girlhood friend had gotten herself into.
Chapter Eight
Late November
Nick propped the pillows up against the headboard and lounged back, regarding Angela with barely concealed amusement. “Well, now that we’ve taken the edge off, Angel, why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind all night? And don’t try to deny it, because you’re strung tighter than a brand new tennis racket right now.”
Angela smiled a bit sheepishly. “Good thing I followed the advice you gave me that first night about never playing poker. There’s really nothing you don’t miss, is there?”
He ran a hand ove
r the curve of her naked hip, then to her buttock. Less than a minute after they’d arrived at her apartment after dinner he’d promptly stripped her, bent her over the side of the bed, and fucked her hard from behind, holding back his climax until he’d made her come twice. Only then had he finished undressing and only then had he spoken a single word.
“Nothing,” he agreed matter-of-factly. “And I knew you were wound up about something the minute you walked inside the Biltmore tonight. So let’s not waste any more time, hmm? What’s bothering you, Angel?”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, having dreaded this particular conversation for weeks now, but knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer. After all, Thanksgiving was less than a week away and she had to get answers now.
“I, um, well, that is,” she stammered. “My, uh, family will be expecting me to see them next weekend. For Thanksgiving, you know. And I know I’m not supposed to ask about your schedule, or when we’re going to see each other, but -”
“Relax.” His hand moved to her nape soothingly. “I just assumed you’d be seeing your family for the holiday weekend. And I, very unfortunately, will be spending my weekend with my father and stepmother. One of the very few times I see them all year.”
“Oh.” The relief she felt was like a huge weight being lifted off her shoulders. “Okay, well, I’m glad. I mean, glad that we got that out in the open,” she added hastily. “I’m definitely not glad to be spending Thanksgiving with my family.”
Nick lifted a brow at her inquiringly. “Then why the hell are you going?”
She sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. “Duty. Obligation. Bad habit. It’s expected, you know? My oldest sister is cooking this year and a bunch of her husband’s family will be there, so it would look odd if I didn’t show up.”
He snorted in derision. “What a load of bull. Do you really give a shit what your sister’s in-laws think?”
“No, not really.” She trailed her fingers up and down his bare, sinewy arm. “It’s just – well, I’m already so alienated from my mother and sisters that I don’t want to intentionally do anything to make it worse, you know?”
Nick shook his head. “Can’t say that I do, Angel. Especially since I have no idea why you have such a fractured relationship with them. Maybe it’s finally time for you to spill the beans about that.”
She immediately felt her chest tighten at the very idea and shook her head emphatically. “No, Nick. I’ve told you before that I don’t like to talk about them.”
He reached out and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “All the more reason for you to unload. Hey, I never talk about my family, either, so I get it. But I’ve learned to deal with all that shit, sure as hell don’t let it bother me, and you can be damned certain they never try to guilt trip me into spending time with them. Not that I don’t feel a certain sense of obligation like you do, but it sounds like it goes a whole lot deeper than that for you.”
“Yes.” She scooted up to sit beside him, shoving a pillow behind her and pulling the duvet over their lower bodies. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she cuddled up against him eagerly. It was rare for Nick to indulge her with this sort of behavior, this uncharacteristic affection. On a typical night with him in her bed, he was insatiable and demanding and it usually took two or more rounds of aggressive, domineering sex before he took even a short break. His powers of recovery had to be the stuff of legends, how quickly he could get hard again, and his stamina was undoubtedly record setting. She was surprised, therefore, that he was evidently putting his satisfaction on hold for a bit to initiate this very unwanted conversation on her part.
He kissed the top of her head. “Tell me. All of it. Maybe if I understand it all a little better I can help you find a way to deal with it, and not have it make you an emotional wreck all the time.”
Angela shrugged. “I usually deal with it by keeping my distance. I make the obligatory phone call home once a week to check in – provided my parents aren’t away on yet another vacation, of course – and that very awkward conversation lasts five minutes or less. And I only go home when I absolutely have to. Though with my family, every holiday, birthday, anniversary, graduation, etc. seems to require my presence. To keep up appearances, of course, because it would be too embarrassing for my mother to explain my absence to my aunts.”
“I can’t believe that’s all of it,” soothed Nick. “I mean, your parents must miss you, look forward to your visits.”
She shook her head. “My dad, yes, though he’s pretty much told what to say or think or feel most of the time. My mother – aside from keeping up those appearances to the family, I can honestly say she wouldn’t give a damn if I ever came home again.”
He frowned. “Something pretty major must have gone down between you and your mother at some point for her to feel that strongly. What the hell happened?”
Angela closed her eyes, but couldn’t prevent a single tear from tracking down her cheek. “I was born,” she whispered.”
***
“My mom was forty-one when she had me. Not all that unusual for women to have babies at that age nowadays, but back then it wasn’t quite as common. But that wasn’t even the issue. After having my sisters so many years before, she’d figured her family was complete. And with Marisa and Deanna both in their teens, my mother was already starting to enjoy more freedom, to make plans for when my sisters would be eighteen and she could get on with her life, pursue her interests.”
“What sort of interests?”
“The stuff I mentioned to you at dinner that one night – traveling, joining clubs, taking classes. She was even thinking about going back to college and getting her degree. All the things she had to give up when she got married and started a family.”
“Hmm.” Nick regarded her curiously. “Why did she have to give it up? Your mother’s in her early sixties, I’m guessing? It certainly wasn’t unheard of for women of her generation to go to college.”
“Not for good Italian girls raised by very old-fashioned immigrant parents,” corrected Angela. “My mom was one of seven children, four of them girls. Her parents – especially her mother – were very strict, very set in their ways. It was drummed into my mother from an early age about what was expected – get a good steady job somewhere like a bank or the phone company, marry a nice Italian boy, and have babies. And as much as my mother wanted to rock the boat and have a different sort of life, she gave in and did what her family pressured her to do.”
“Your mother told you all of this?”
She gave a short, bitter little laugh. “Hardly. My mom speaks to me as little as possible, ignores me as much as possible. No, I heard all of this – and a lot more – from her cousin Carla. She and my mom are the same age and grew up together, were even closer than sisters at one point in their lives. It was at my grandmother’s funeral – I was around twelve at the time – and Carla could see how unhappy I was, how much my mother and sisters shunned me. So she tried to explain a bit about why that was, about the things that made my mother the way she was.”
She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if for comfort before continuing. “When my mom and Carla were in high school, they started to make all sorts of plans for what they were going to do with the rest of their lives. And while Carla actually followed through with hers, my mother gave up her dreams and caved into family pressure instead. Carla said at one time my mom talked about going away to college – as far away from Monterey and the family as possible – and working as an interpreter since she spoke fluent Italian – like at the U.N. or an embassy. She wanted to travel, have fun, enjoy herself for awhile before settling down and starting a family. Instead, she got a job at my uncle’s insurance agency, married my dad when she was only twenty-two, and got pregnant two years later.”
“I take it Carla followed a very different path?”
“Absolutely. She got her degree from UCLA and settled in southern California. She wo
rks in the movie industry, some sort of film editor. She’s been divorced twice, has no kids, no obligations, and in her own words, ‘does whatever the hell she wants whenever she wants’.”
Nick’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I get that. Sounds like a woman after my own heart. So is that what your mother wanted for herself when your sisters turned eighteen?”
“Not exactly. I mean, as much as she pushes my dad around, she’d never consider a divorce. I think she just wanted the freedom to do her own thing and have more time to herself. What she definitely didn’t want – or plan on – was getting pregnant again. It was a very, very unwelcome surprise. She, ah, wanted to have an abortion, didn’t even want to think about having another baby at that point in her life. In fact, she’d already made an appointment to have the procedure done. And then my dad found out what she was planning.”
“And the shit hit the fan, did it?”
“That’s a gross understatement. My dad is a quiet man, doesn’t say much or speak up for himself very often. But he refused, absolutely refused, to let my mother go through with it. Told her if she had the abortion he’d divorce her, get custody of my sisters, and cut her out of his life for good. It was probably the first and only time he ever stood up to her but it scared her enough to go along with his wishes. As it turned out,” she added sorrowfully, “we would have all been better off if he’d just let her go through with the abortion.”
“Angela.” His voice was reproachful. “Don’t say things like that, hmm? Why would you ever say such a thing?”
She closed her eyes, the lashes wet with tears. “Because it’s true,” she whispered huskily. “My mother gave birth to me but she resented the hell out of that fact my entire life. I’ve spent twenty two years being ignored by her, pushed away, unloved. To make things worse, my sisters resent me, too. It was mortifying for them to bring friends or boyfriends to the house and have them see their forty year old mother was knocked up again. And then, of course, they got stuck with the bulk of the babysitting duties and taking care of me because Mom couldn’t be bothered. Marisa and Deanna have never let me forget that, always harp on the fact that they missed out on all sorts of stuff as teenagers because they had to stay home with me.”
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