by Alexis Angel
I'm silent.
"And what I do with Drake right now, and who I fuck," she says, putting emphasis on the word 'fuck'. "Is none of your business if I don't want to tell you. Not when we just met."
"You can't fuck him," I tell her, my eyes steely.
"You don't own me, Sloane," she says to me.
She's pulled back. Other side of the bed. I'm still holding her, but we're not about to fuck like we were before.
"No one owns me," she says with finality.
And that's it. I can see it in her eyes.
When Drake told her she couldn't come see me, what did she do? She fucking came to see me.
If I press this too far with her, I'm just going to drive her back to him.
I need to play my cards right.
Because something is up with this girl. I never thought I'd get hung up on a girl, until I met this one.
And I can't let her slip away. Not just yet.
"Babe, I'll never tell you what you can or can't do," I tell Natalie. Her face, filled with steely resolve and independence, starts to unfreeze.
She looks at me as I run my hands over her back, running it up and down her spine.
It takes a few minutes, but her expression starts to soften.
"I will never try to own you," I tell her. She looks at me. "Unless we're fucking. Because then, that ass is fucking mine."
Two seconds. Then a smile.
How can you resist a face like mine in the morning?
You can't.
Five more seconds, and Natalie's gorgeous fucking body is pressed against mine. I never want to let go of her naked form as it entwines in mine.
As I fucking kiss her on the neck.
And begin to take her.
Fuck, I'll do anything this woman wants.
All she has to do is ask.
Drake
I look down at my watch and draw my coat tighter against the wind. The weather is unseasonably cold and it makes me clench my jaw. Natalie should be here right now, and she isn't. I've waited long enough. Time is money and I can't sit around here any longer.
I take the elevator down to the lobby, and walk back out to the street. The sound of the city's traffic whizzes past me.
Just as I step foot onto the sidewalk, I see her—she nearly bumps into me. Her blonde hair is being blown by the wind and she's tucking it behind one ear.
She looks up and seems surprised to see me. "Oh, wh—what are you doing here?"
I feel my brow furrow, but I try to smile. I don't want her to see me like this—flustered, pathetic—so I swallow my irritation.
"I'm here because I thought you'd be here too," I say, in all seriousness. "You were supposed to be home. I've been waiting for almost an hour. Where have you been?"
"Where have I been?" she laughs, but it's clear she doesn't find this funny.
Her eyes are flashing like shards of broken glass. Despite my best effort to hide it, she can sense my irritation. "I'm not supposed to be anywhere. I can be wherever I want to be, Drake. Do I ask where you are every day?"
"Listen to me," I say. "I'm making it my business. I care, Natalie. I need to know where you were."
She shakes her head, unwilling to give me what I want. "It's none of your fucking business."
"I'm not here to fight."
"Look, I may like playing the little girl, but that's not me all the time. I have a life, outside of …" she thinks for a moment, searching for the right words, "us … this … whatever you want to call it."
The way she can compartmentalize her life, and go from hot to cold is confusing. And why is she acting as if she has something to hide? She's hedging, I know it. It must be Sloane. He must be getting to her.
"If you want my money for Dirty Lil' Angels," I say, "You need to change your tone."
"Change my tone?" she mocks, in a high-pitched laugh. "Didn't you just hear a word of what I said? You can drop the daddy act right now."
Fuck, she's sexy when she's mad. The way her chest heaves, and she crosses her arms, pushing the tops of her breasts closer to me. The way she purses her moist lips.
"Think about your company," I say. "Dirty Lil' Angels could use this funding; it will take you to the next level, but I'm not prepared to hand over that kind of investment capital when I can't trust you."
She looks at me for a moment without speaking, and the word trust hangs in the space between us like a dare.
"I have … alternate sources … of funding," she says, slowly, knowing that if she isn't careful, her words can change the course of everything.
Alternate sources. I roll those words around my mind for a second. I wasn't fucking born yesterday. I know what that means. That's the real reason she wasn't home.
Sloane.
"Would you trust the future of company on that alternate source?" I ask.
"Stop, I know what you're doing."
But the truth is, I can't stop. There's no way I'm allowing Sloane to have the upper hand in this. So I continue, "And is that alternate source of funding prepared to give you what I can?"
She looks up at me. "You know what you're problem is?"
"Enlighten me," I say, trying not to roll my fucking eyes.
"You think you can have anything you want."
I laugh. "Think? I know. I do get what I want, and I wouldn't be standing here in front of you if that wasn't true."
"Arrogant," she murmurs, almost under her breath. I barely catch the word before it's carried off in the wind.
"When you're older, you'll realize …" I begin to say, and then realize that I didn't mean to use that tone; I didn't mean to make it sound like she was a little girl, so I correct myself. "By that I mean, when you've been in business for as long as I have, you'll see that it's not arrogance; it's confidence. There's a difference. When you want something in business … in life … if you don't go out there and get it, you'll never have it."
Natalie stares at me, her blue eyes brewing a storm. She's refusing to hear a fucking word I say.
"I think you should be ready to not get everything you want," she says with finality, and without allowing me to get another word in, I watch as she turns on her heels, and walks away. I stand on the sidewalk, watching her hair dance in the tendrils of the wind, giving me a mocking wave.
Fuck.
I look out across the sidewalk, at the throngs of people shuffling across the intersection, and I decide to go back to my apartment. There's no fucking sense chasing after her right now. Right now, I need to decide what to do about Sloane.
I dig into my pocket and take out my cell phone. I text my driver, and he immediately responds, letting me know he's on his way and will be here in a few minutes.
Just as I'm about to shove my phone back into my suit pocket, I see a new text, and this time it's not from my driver. It's from a name that puts my mind into overdrive.
Linda.
What does my ex want?
I click the message, and realize it's a group text. I begin to read it.
"We all need 2 have dinner tomorrow nite. 6pm. The Oak Room. I've made reservations."
Great, I think sarcastically. Fucking wonderful.
Natalie
I look at my smartphone as I climb out of the taxi, realizing that I’m already half an hour late. Crap! I bet they’re already at the restaurant, and I really didn’t want to be the last one in today. Oh well, there’s nothing I can do now.
I stroll inside of The Oak Room with my head held high, ready to face the scrutiny of my oh-so-friendly family. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought this dress, low cut and tight fitting, but I couldn’t help myself. Sloane and Drake are going to be here, and I have to dress to impress. Besides, my mother hardly approves of anything I do, so why bother?
The three of them are sitting at a table on the far end of the room, and that’s where I head to. “Sorry I’m late, the traffic was --”
“Of course you’re late,” my mother tells me, turning her bright eyes toward me. H
er lips are pursed, and there’s a frown on her face; she hates people who are late with a passion, and I guess that hate extends to her own daughter.
“Well, you know me,” I shrug, taking my place at the table without looking at either Drake or Sloane. I don’t want them to think I’m playing favorites.
“I do know you, Natalie,” she says with a faux sigh, and I almost expect to add an ‘unfortunately’ at the end of her sentence. That’s my mother, always eager to praise her daughter. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate my mother; it’s just that she’s hard to love.
God, I need a drink.
I reach for the bottle of red wine sitting on the table and fill my glass. I take a gulp out of the wine, it’s oaky flavor coating my tongue, and take a deep breath. Let’s see what this is all about.
“So, why are we here, mom? Did I forget your birthday or something?” I ask her, already aware that whatever’s coming has to be important. After all, why would she even want her stepson and ex-husband here? Mom has never been the kind of woman to cherish her loved ones, and besides, I don’t think there’s any love lost between her and Drake anyway.
“Don’t be silly, Natalie,” she says in that scolding tone of hers, the way my name rolls out of her lips making me feel like a child again. Not a good feeling. “I wanted you all here because I have an important announcement to make. Since you’re family, I thought you should be the first ones to know.”
Yeah, right, I think to myself. My mother would've never called us here if she didn’t want something out of us. Perhaps she wants a piece of my company as well? No, it can’t be that; she’s Lady Decency through and through (or at least that’s what she wants everyone to think), and she’d never go near something as racy as my company. Her loss, really. I think that if she bought a few of my toys she’d stop being so uptight. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this about my own mother.
“So?” Drake asks from the other end of the table, he has his elbows there, and his fingers are laced in a patient posture; still, everything in him tells me that he’d rather be anywhere but here with his ex-wife. “Out with it, Linda.”
I look from him to my mother, and I swear I can almost see the hint of a grin creeping up on her lips. Instead, she just flashes him a humble smile and looks around the table, her gaze going from Drake to Sloane, and then from Sloane to me. I can tell she’s taking her time, allowing the tension to rise before she finally makes her dramatic revelation. She always had a flair for drama.
“I’m going to run for mayor,” she finally says, the words hanging in the air like grey clouds.
“Mayor? But Michael Anders has been your friend for --”
“This isn’t about Mayor Anders or about me. This is about New York and what’s best for the city,” she cuts me off, her explanation so cold I can almost feel the temperature in the room dropping.
Michael Anders has been the mayor for as long as I remember, and my mother always loved to brag about her friendship with the ‘humble and devoted mayor’, as she liked to call him whenever we had guests at our house. I guess that friendship’s over then.
“Yeah, and what the fuck does that have to do with me?” Sloane suddenly chimes in, reaching for the glass of whisky in front of him and downing the whole thing at once. “Did you just call us here to wish you good luck?”
“No, not at all,” my mom replies, and this time there’s a smile on her face. She looks almost ten years younger now, and I have a glimpse of what she looked like when she was my age. Blonde and fair-skinned, she was part of the New York elite, dazzling the whole city with how beautiful she was.
She still looks good for her age, but there are a few wrinkles showing up on her face now. The lines are barely perceptible, though, but I can tell that not one of them is the result of excessive smiling. To my mother, a smile and a laugh were merely tools to get whatever she wanted. And, oh boy, did she know how to laugh and smile; I guess she just never did it enough for it to show on her face.
“I called you here,” she starts after one of her dramatic silences, “because I need you all to put forth your best behavior.” Her gaze turns to me, and I feel a knot in my stomach. I don’t like where this is going, not one bit.
“It’s not like we’re savages, mom,” I tell her, but she just waves my comment away, her smart eyes locked on mine.
“I need you to sell your company, Natalie,” she finally tells me, the words hitting me at full force. I look back at her, completely stunned. Does she realize what she’s asking? She wants me to give up my business? To throw away all my ambitions, dreams, and success? And all this because she wants to be mayor. That’s rich.
“No,” I reply flatly, pursing my lips and staring her down. No way I’m going to get rid of Dirty ‘Lil Angels; that company’s my life. And besides, I’m working on a new prototype that’s going to turn my company into a veritable contender in the business arena. All I need is to roll my profits into development and secure the right investment, and now that both Drake and Sloane are vying for my attention, that seems more and more like a sure thing.
“She’s right, you know?” Drake cuts in, leaning back in his chair and looking at my mother with one arched eyebrow. “You can’t pop out of nowhere and ask us to change our lives just because you want to play politics.”
“Do you think this is a game, Sloane?” she asks him, turning to him so fast it almost seems supernatural. “I’m begging you, all of you… I can’t afford to have my family involved in any kind of scandal,” she continues, but I know she isn’t begging; she’s ordering us to play nice. Or else.
“I won’t be courting any kind of scandal… It’s not on my schedule,” I say, more and more pissed off with her. “But there’s no way I’m getting rid of my company.”
“You will make that company go away,” she replies, staring me down with her icy eyes. “It needs to happen, whether you like it or not, Natalie, and in the end it’s what’s better for you.”
“Don’t presume to know what’s better for me!” I cry out, jumping out from my seat and staring right back at her. A few heads are turning toward us, but I don’t care. But there’s someone who cares.
“Lower your voice, for God’s sake!” My mom hisses, conscious that we’re slowly becoming the center of all attention. Realizing that the situation is getting out of control, she grabs her purse and goes up to her feet. “Think it over, Natalie. We’ll talk about it later,” she tells me, and then turns on her heels and bolts out of the restaurant, walking with an elegant and poised gait that just pisses me off even more.
“She’s fucking nuts,” Sloane breathes out, watching her leave the restaurant with an amused expression on his face. Clearly, everything that Linda said went right by him.
“Hey, she’s still your stepmother,” Drake scolds him, and Sloane straightens up in his chair, the tension rises between the two of them.
“It’s not like she fucking acts like it,” he starts, and I realize I have to stop this before everything spins out of control. Yeah, what a lovely family reunion.
“Well, maybe it’s your fault. Maybe if you didn’t behave like a child all of the time, people would respect you more.”
“Respect? You’re just jealous of what happened between Natalie and I,” he shoots at Drake, balling his hands into fists.
“I’m not the one trying to impress her right now. Your bad boy act isn’t working, Sloane.”
If they keep going like this they might end up trading punches. That’s what my mother accomplished; she warned us to avoid scandal and now here we are, ready for a boxing match at The Oak Room.
“STOP IT!” I cry out, slamming both my hands on the table and looking from one to the other. “This has gone too far, and it stops this very moment,” I tell them, my words as solid as concrete. “Here’s what I’m going to do; I’m going to get us a room right now, and you have two options. One, you stay right here and fight like kids. Two, you come with me and we stop all this nonsense.” Taking a m
ove out of my mom’s playbook, I let my words hang in the air while I pause dramatically, and only then continue. “Your choice.”
I turn on my heels and head out of the restaurant, walking straight toward the hotel on the other side of the street. This insanity stops now.
Natalie
They follow after me like lost puppies, their hesitant but eager footsteps echoing in the hallway. Without looking back them, I grab the magnetic key card and press it against the magnetic reader on the door. The lock makes a barely noticeable sound and I push the door open, stepping inside the room and finally turning to them.
“You can’t be serious, Natalie,” Drake starts, standing side by side with Sloane. There’s lust and desire in their faces but, underneath all that, there’s also a kind of restless anxiety. It’s almost funny—two men like them acting all nervous around a petite woman like me.
“Oh, but I’m serious, daddy,” I purr, taking one step toward the two of them. I’m nervous too, you know? I don’t know what got into me to bring the two of them up here. But now that I’ve done it, it looks like the best decision I’ve ever made in my entire life. Because, really, why choose between slices when you can have the whole cake?
“Natalie, you --” Sloane chimes in, but I raise my hand and press one finger against his lips, shutting him up.
“I think there has been enough conversation for one night, wouldn’t you say?” I ask them, running my tongue between my lips. I place one hand on Drake’s chest, and the other on Sloane’s; my fingers trail down their button-up shirts, and they only stop when they find their belts.
Turning my wrist around, I flatten the palm of both hands against their crotches and grin. They’re already hard, their thick shafts pulsing against my fingers.
“You agree with me then,” I continue to say, softly squeezing both their cocks. I was already wet when I got up from the table, but now it seems like a dam has burst between my thighs. My thong is completely drenched now, and it’s sticking to my skin in such a way that I have to stop myself from sliding it down my legs.
