by Gina Gordon
“Wouldn’t the money be better spent actually helping the people who rely on the charity?”
“Don’t mistake charitable giving to be selfless, sweetheart. The heavy hitters in this room might give a lot, but they expect recognition and prestige in return.” I leaned in closer. “Not to mention a big fat tax refund.”
“But not you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not me.”
This charity was important to my mother, so it was important to me. It was the only thing I’d ever followed through with that mirrored her exhausting need to give back.
I swiped my fingers across her forehead and secured a flyaway strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”
“Why this charity?”
It was a valid question. One I never understood the answer to, because I’d never been given it.
“My family has always donated. I’m just carrying on the tradition.”
Some people came up to us while we maintained our position at the bar. A few for me, a few against. Despite being on her third glass of champagne, Everly was smart enough to notice the difference. The tone, the icy stares, the air of pomp and circumstance that wafted between us whenever someone thought they were better than me. But I played the game, just like they did, smiling and making small talk. Just like my mother would have wanted.
Until Mrs. Dashill made her way over. “Max, dear, so lovely to see you.”
She gave me an air kiss on both cheeks.
“Mrs. Dashill, this is my friend Everly Parker.”
Everly held out her hand and Mrs. Dashill eyed her with no shame.
“What a lovely girl.” Mrs. Dashill had been widowed during the five years I had taken over, but that experience hadn’t softened her one bit. “I am so glad you’re not spending your free time with women of…that element.” She was referring to porn stars. “I have told Max time and time again…” She had turned her attention to Everly. “There is still time for him to change his life. It was not his fault he was born to heathens.”
Everly recoiled
“Excu—”
A clink of silverware on crystal sounded off to the right. Everly froze and bit her tongue, turning her attention to the front of the room, where the chairman of the board stood with a huge smile on his face. Len Howard had taken over after my mother had passed away. He wasn’t a supporter of her choice of occupation or where her money came from. Needless to say, the poison he spouted behind my back didn’t do much to help people’s perceptions of me.
“Thank you all for coming. We’re celebrating another fantastic year of hard work and success stories.”
Len went on, and I won’t lie, I tuned him out. He said the same thing every year. So I was shocked when a young girl—Samantha Price—about Everly’s age, took his spot at the front of the room. When she introduced herself, her name wasn’t that of a stranger. I had chosen her as the recipient of the Ellie Levin Grant. I knew all about her—her past, her intended future—but that had been on paper. Now here she was, in the flesh.
“Phoenix House saved my life.” She was attractive, long blond hair and a perky nose her standout features. This time I listened, to everything she had to say. About her past as a teenage prostitute, at her experience with physical violence and drug abuse, and then the moment she hit rock bottom when her pimp had left her for dead in an alley after a customer had beaten her. She was well spoken, articulate, and I got lost in the sound of her voice and the live, heartbreaking account of her life story. Until I heard my name.
“Max Levin, are you in the room?”
My head snapped up and I felt Everly’s tight squeeze around my arm. Len pointed me out in the crowd and Samantha looked right into my eyes.
“I want to take this opportunity to thank the Levin family. I was the lucky recipient of the Ellie Levin Grant. I didn’t have the opportunity to meet Ms. Levin, and I am very sorry about that, and I can’t move forward and begin a new life without thanking the man who selflessly donated his money to help someone like me.”
I looked down at the floor, unsure of what I should say or do. I had never been publicly called out before, at least not for something good. I had been ridiculed and made fun of, but never thanked. It was a strange thing.
I knew all eyes were on me. Each set of eyes both for and against me. But at this moment none of that mattered, because I had helped change this woman’s life. Something burst inside me, like a dam that broke, a rush of something I couldn’t explain took root in my chest and spread through my body, making me feel lighter, happier. Maybe my father was right. Maybe there was more to giving than signing a check.
“Oh my God, Max!” Everly’s voice had risen about three octaves in excitement as soon as Samantha had finished addressing the crowd. “That was wonderful.” Her eyes sparkled with admiration. “Why didn’t you tell me there is a grant with your mother’s name?”
“It’s no big deal.”
I didn’t want her to know. It was one thing to admit I gave to charity, it was a whole different story to admit I gave millions to charity.
Everly sidled up to me, slipping her delicate arm inside mine, and lowered her voice. “It’s a huge deal. You’re helping so many people.” She cocked her head. I saw the question rolling around in her brain. The one she was afraid to ask.
“Now, don’t be so modest, boy.” A hand clapped on my shoulder. “You’re doing good work.”
“Marty.” I smiled at the one man who’d been kind to me throughout the five years I’d been coming to this event. He had been on the board of directors with my mother, and had remained after her passing. “Good to see you.” I extended my hand, placing the other on top of his in a gesture of familiarity.
He looked over at Everly. “He’s underselling. His mother practically built this charity, and every year Max is the largest donor.” He extended his hand to Everly. “Martin Shaw.”
With astonishment on her face, she returned his handshake. “Everly Parker.”
“It’s nice to finally see a beautiful lady on his arm.” Martin jerked his thumb in my direction.
So much for keeping the evening low key. In under a minute, Martin had exposed my secrets—the ones I wanted to keep hidden from Everly.
“You must be pretty special if Max brought you here.”
“Oh…I…” She brought her hand up to her chest in a dainty gesture.
Before I had a chance to qualify his remark, a murmured whisper carried over my shoulder.
“I can’t believe they accept money from that man.”
I heard Everly’s soft gasp beside me.
“It’s businesses like his that turn women into drug addicts and force them into shelters in the first place.”
A totally ignorant comment, and so far from the truth it was laughable.
I thought about our girls. Iris had two sons she put though private school. Arlene worked from home as a financial planner and had three certificates in money management and investment. Michelle, like Everly, was studying to be a lawyer. Abby, the newest addition to my stable, was pre-med.
These women weren’t into drugs or needing women’s shelters to start new lives. I won’t lie, the lifestyle was taxing and sometimes people slipped. But the majority of my employees had full, functioning lives. They liked sex, and needed money, so they used one to supply the other.
But there was always someone who had to ruin it. Always someone who couldn’t see past my occupation and notice the man underneath the veneer of porn that surrounded me 24/7. I had no idea how my father had done it for thirty years.
Martin drew my attention away from the ignorant comments.
“Ellie used to work this room every year, getting even more money out of the people who’d already given thousands.”
I liked Martin. He had been kind to my mother and a good friend. He’d even been to our house a few times for dinner parties.
“Sounds like a determined woman,” Everly said.
>
“She was.” I looked up. “And I have no idea why. Just that these ladies needed our help and we were fortunate enough to be able to give it to them.”
I knew it had nothing to do with my mother’s upbringing. She came from money, hence my trust fund. She’d had every opportunity in the world, but she chose porn. I’d heard my grandparents weren’t accepting of it at first, but eventually they came around. Coincidentally about the time I was born.
“Ellie was a strong and confident woman—the strongest woman I’ve ever met—and it killed her to see other women in trouble. Ones who didn’t know who to talk to, where to go, didn’t know their own capabilities. She just wanted to help.”
After Martin took the next ten minutes to spout kind remarks about my family, he left us to mingle with the other guests. I didn’t much feel like mingling.
I led us away from the crowd into the dining room and settled us by the window. The lake was beautiful at night. So calm and magical.
It was cooler away from the guests and Everly wrapped her arms around her torso, her small hands rubbing her biceps to keep warm. I shrugged out of my jacket and placed it over her shoulders.
She thanked me with a smile. “You could have told me, you know.”
“About?”
“About your mom, this charity, your donations.” She stepped closer, letting her finger trace along my jaw then over my lips. I nipped at it. It only took one simple gesture for me to want to devour her. “It doesn’t change my opinion of you. I’d still think you’re a selfish, silver-spoon-fed ass.”
I laughed. “Noted.”
“Am I only here to check an item off the list?” She looked up at me like she already knew the answer—like the only reason she was asking was for confirmation.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. Either way, I was a pussy. I could lie, and risk never letting anyone see the real me, but wasn’t that what this whole plan was about? The redemption of my tainted soul? Or I could tell her the truth and risk rejection. I didn’t like either option.
What I did like was the sight of Everly in that dress. The way she looked when we walked into the room. The way she owned her entrance once she’d figured out my intentions. It was sexy as hell and I wanted to thrust her up against this window and have my way with her right then and there. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin this…whatever this was…between us. There was something more at stake than just sticking my penis into a waiting receptacle.
I wouldn’t force her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to push her to experience new things. That’s what her bucket list was all about. And although good old Gram probably wouldn’t be the person to add sexual things to that list, why couldn’t I? My brain was already there when it came to Everly.
I sidled closer, maneuvering our bodies so that she was in front of me. There was only one other couple in the dining room, at the opposite end, and they were deep in conversation.
“You look incredibly beautiful tonight.” I placed a chaste kiss on her lips and she moaned when I pulled away so quickly.
I nuzzled her neck, citrus infusing my nose, causing a swelling in my pants. Every damn time.
I slipped my hands between our bodies, careful to conceal what I was about to do next.
“It’s the dress. I’m only beautiful because of the dress.” She let her eyes fall to the floor and I changed course, bringing one hand up, tipping her chin so she’d look at me.
“Clothes are only as beautiful as the people who wear them. Don’t ever forget that.”
She gave me a half-smile. Everything about her was so modest, so unassuming and innocent. It never failed to suck me in, to take me to a place where I wanted to rip apart that sweetness and carry her over to the dark side with me. And right now I was feeling pretty dark.
I returned to my original plan and placed my hands at the apex of her thighs. Grabbing the fabric of her dress, I gathered it in my hands, pulling up the front until I could slip easily underneath.
She gasped. “Max!” She tried to grab at my hands and pull down the dress, but my grip was too strong. “What are you doing?”
“What?” I brushed my finger across the smooth flesh of her thigh and I heard it, the tiny whimper of pleasure that escaped her mouth. “These people already think I’m a heathen.”
She brought her hands up to my shoulders and squeezed. “I don’t believe it. You are not a heathen.” She looked at me with admiration, like she believed I was better than all the stereotypes.
Well, shit. Didn’t that just ruin everything.
Fortunately, my growing erection was too powerful for my brain, and its intentions were on override.
“You know…there are some perks to me being a heathen.”
“Is that so.” She cocked her head.
I nodded. “I have some very uncivilized thoughts running through my head right now. Thoughts that most people wouldn’t talk about in public.”
Her shoulders shook with the force of her shiver. She let her hands fall away from my shoulders and leaned into my body, her hands now making their way to the outside of my thighs.
“Like how I’ve wanted to see this dress pooled around your ankles since the first moment I saw you in it.”
Her lips parted and a soft breath escaped.
“Or how I wish I had pulled off your pants that night on the boat so I could have seen all of you.” The hum of the voices in the other room played in the background. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Something darkened her gaze. Not fear, or worry. Desire. It danced in the soft light, letting me know I had the go-ahead if I wanted to take it. I just didn’t know if I should. There were so many good things about Everly. So many good, clean, pure things. I was only dark and seedy.
“Do…do you want to come back to my place?”
I continued to caress her supple flesh with my fingers, moving in a slow circular pattern. “And what would we do there?”
“You could…”
I wanted her to say it. I wanted to know that she wanted this as much as I did.
“…help me study.”
That was not the response I had been hoping for. Maybe she needed to be coaxed a little bit more.
“Hmmm…is that all?” She shivered when I let my finger trail down the hollow of her neck. I leaned in, placing my mouth against her ear, making sure that no one would be able to hear my next words. “What if I want to take you home and put my mouth on your pretty pussy?”
She sucked in a breath and whimpered at the same time, it was half-begging, half-shocked.
She’d had at least five glasses of champagne. With each glass her body had unwound. I imagined the coils holding her in place unraveling. I knew there was no way she was going to get any work done tonight.
My hands had made their way under her dress. My fingers were touching bare thigh.
“I bet if I put my hands between your legs right now your panties would be soaked through.”
She looked up at me, a playful determination in her eyes. “What if I’m not wearing any panties?”
She was daring me to touch her. Daring me to test out my theory, right here in public. I looked over at the couple who still conversed on the opposite end of the room. They hadn’t looked over here the entire time.
Our eyes locked, and with a smile, I traced my fingers up her thigh. Higher and higher I circled her tender flesh, her skin getting hotter with every inch I traveled north.
She hadn’t been joking. Nothing came between my fingers and her soft flesh. She stepped wider, granting me access, and I swiped three fingers between her folds, wetness greeting me. Her head fell back and she moaned, loud enough to draw attention. With my free hand, I cupped the back of her head and brought her attention to me.
“We’re taking this slow and steady.”
If I went back to her house, I knew what would happen. I didn’t trust myself to stop it from happening. But I didn’t want the night to end. And God help me, I couldn’t sa
y no.
“But make no mistake, I’m getting to third base tonight, sweetheart.”
Chapter 12
Everly
I had managed to get him back to my place.
Having received a text from Grace a couple of hours earlier, I knew she and Sadie were out for the evening. We were totally alone. So now what the hell did I do?
I padded into my bedroom barefoot, having left the torturous stilettos by the front door.
He followed behind me, one slow step at a time into my sacred space. My bedroom.
He surveyed his surroundings, the tiniest glimpse of a smile curving the side of his mouth. “Now, this is more of what I was expecting when I picked you up the other night.”
“What do you mean?”
“The decor.” He rubbed his fingers over his chin. “It’s…lovely.”
My bedroom was my pride and joy. The inanimate representation of me. My queen-sized bed was bracketed by a white headboard and footboard. It sat in the middle of the room, facing the door. On either side sat white end tables with white lamps on them. At the bottom of the bed, a turquoise bench with a white-and-turquoise seating pad housed some extra pillows and blankets. California shutters hung on the window to my left. The walls were gray, and above my bed in black stencil was my last name.
I loved interior design. It soothed me. Comforted me. Took me away from all of the stress and anxiety of my regular life. I had high hopes for the rest of the house, but I had been hesitant to make any changes. Scratch that: I was too damn busy to do something I enjoyed.
I knew if I ever told that to Max, he’d whisk me away to the first paint store we could find. Part of me wanted to tell him so that I had an excuse and wouldn’t feel so guilty about wasting time.
“Did you decorate it yourself?”
I nodded. His mouth quirked up in appreciation. “It suits you. Understated, but when you step back and look at the detail…spectacular.”
I couldn’t help the swell of appreciation that started in my chest and rose up my neck to my head. Not only did I enjoy the compliment to my sense of style, but he had just described me in a way I’d never heard before. It was exactly how I wanted people to remember me, and of all people, Max Levin was the one to point it out.
