by Lucy King
“Don’t let it come between you now,” said Mercy, meaning every word of it. “Please.”
“Really?” said Zel, a wicked gleam appearing in her eye. “I could beat him up for you if you’d like.”
“I’d rather you didn’t mention it to him at all, actually.”
Zel looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “OK, I won’t. But the offer still stands.”
“Thank you, but it’s fine,” said Mercy, aiming for dismissive with a small shrug and a quick smile. “It was a long time ago anyway. Water under the bridge. Entirely forgettable.”
“Oh,” said Faith, looking a bit deflated. “Was it? You used to have some pretty explicit dreams from what I remember. Did the sex not meet up to your expectations?”
“I’m not sure I need to hear this,” muttered Zelda with a wince.
“Aw, come on,” said Faith. “I have to live with the knowledge that you and Dawn are banging my brothers. What goes around comes around.” She turned to Mercy. “So spill.”
Abandoning her drink Zel clapped her hands over ears and started humming to herself.
“It more than met my expectations,” said Mercy in a low voice, going warm with the memory of it. “The whole night was incredible.” Until the morning, when it wasn’t.
Faith’s mouth dropped open. “The whole night?”
Mercy nodded. “Pretty much.”
Faith sighed dramatically. “So I’m the only one of the four of us who’s never had really great sex. How unfair is that?”
“Your time will come,” said Dawn, reaching over and pulling Zelda’s hands from her ears.
“And to be fair, I’ve only had sex like it the once,” said Mercy.
“No one else has matched up?” asked Faith.
“Something like that,” she hedged, although it was actually worse than that. There had been no one else, period. Seb had seen to that. Ever since him, every time she dated anyone she invariably found herself questioning their motives, and any mood that might be developing swiftly died. Frustrating didn’t come close.
“Maybe you should go for it again,” said Dawn.
Mercy started. Blinked. “Go for what again?”
“Sex with Seb.”
“Lalalala,” said Zelda, clamping her hands over her ears.
Mercy ignored her and stared at Dawn, who had for some reason clearly lost her ever-loving mind. “Why?”
“Why not?” said Dawn. “You’ve always wanted him and it sounds to me like he’s attracted to you.”
“No, he isn’t.” He really wasn’t. That night had been all about manipulation, nothing more.
“Do you honestly think he would have taken you to bed just to shut you up?” said Dawn. “Bit drastic if you ask me.”
“She has a point,” said Faith.
No. She didn’t. She hadn’t been there. Dawn had simply come down with a bad case of I-want-everyone-to-be-as-happy-as-me-itis. “He knew I had a crush on him,” said Mercy. “He can hardly have failed to. I mean, I wasn’t exactly subtle about it, was I? Firstly there was that Christmas I spent with you, Zel.” She cringed inwardly as the mortifying lengths she’d gone to to get Seb’s attention fluttered into her memory. “I batted my eyelashes at him so much I pulled a muscle in my right eyelid. And he couldn’t have been less interested. Every time I tried to engage him in conversation he simply walked away. So embarrassing… And then remember that morning we were all sitting outside the Mother Superior’s office? I sighed like a pathetic lovestruck fool and he looked at me like he could see right into my soul. If he hadn’t guessed before, he certainly knew how I felt about him then, and he stored it up and used it five years later to manipulate me.”
Dawn looked at her shrewdly. “Did he actually say that, though?”
Mercy frowned, trying to remember the conversation from that Friday night three weeks ago. “Well, maybe not exactly,” she conceded. “But I put it to him, and he didn’t deny it.”
“That’s not quite the same.”
“Close enough.”
Dawn hmmed. “Did he try the same thing when you confronted him after the party?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she said. “Same circumstances, right?”
“More or less.”
“And he let you give him a piece of your mind?”
Mercy nodded. “All of it. Until I left.”
“Why didn’t he do that the previous time?”
Mercy opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I don’t know,” she said, confused.
“Consider this, then,” said Dawn, evidently seeing the finishing line and going for it. “If Seb really hadn’t wanted to talk five years ago he could have simply thrown you out. He didn’t have to seduce you. And he didn’t have to carry on doing so. It’s a pretty difficult act to keep up if you’re not really into it.”
Yes, it was quite, wasn’t it? But – “You’re wrong.”
“I don’t think I am.”
Mercy frowned, now totally muddled. “Either way,” she said, trying to get a grip on something she did know. “I don’t have time for sex.”
“Everyone has time for sex,” said Dawn, who was clearly getting a lot of it. “Good sex, anyway.”
“Not me,” said Mercy, shaking her head and ignoring the stab of envy. “I’m six weeks into a tough two-year MBA program and I’m not going to screw it up for anything, least of all a relationship.”
“Who’s talking about relationships?” said Dawn. “Does Seb even do relationships?”
“No evidence of it,” put in Zelda, who stopped humming to contribute. “In the months I was living at the Mausoleum I never saw any sign of a date.”
So what was Dawn suggesting? “I couldn’t just use him for sex,” said Mercy, faintly appalled.
“Why not?” said Dawn bluntly. “Wasn’t that what he apparently did to you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, but-”
“Ah, revenge sex,” said Faith wistfully. “Could be good. That scar is sexy as hell.”
“I have to agree,” said Dawn. “So why don’t you take a moment to think it over, Mercs? And in the meantime, I’ll get some more drinks.”
*
A moment? A moment? Mercy needed a lifetime to sort out the mess in her head and even that wouldn’t be long enough.
Drinks were bought, conversation continued, laughter abounded, and it all went straight over her head because she could barely even think what with all the questions racing through her mind.
What had brought about Seb’s change of heart with regards to Zelda? she couldn’t stop wondering. How had he gone from so adamantly refusing to admit there was a problem between him and his sister to seeking a reconciliation? Did it have anything to do with what she’d said, or was it something else? And why did the reason for it matter when surely all that was important was that something which only recently had seemed utterly impossible was actually happening?
And then – and more annoyingly – she kept asking herself why had he slept with her all those years ago? Did Dawn have a point? Could he have taken one look at her and been overwhelmed with lust? Unlikely, but maybe it could have happened. After all, she’d taken one look at him and had wanted him. Or not. Was he merely the manipulative pendejo she’d always considered him?
Agh. She was going round in circles. Driving herself nuts. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it. And she was drinking orange juice now so she couldn’t even drown her sorrows in alcohol. Not that that was ever a good thing because, well, look at Zel, but still. She could do with some help here.
“Are you all right?” asked Zelda in response to her sigh, which had evidently been deeper, longer and more noticeable than she’d thought.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been very quiet,” said Faith.
Yes, well, who wouldn’t be? “Things on my mind,” she muttered. “Questions.”
And she wanted answers, she realized suddenly. Maybe she’d be prodd
ing a hornet’s nest. Maybe she ought to just leave things well alone, concentrate on her studies and leave the ground clear for Seb and Zel to muddle their way through the train wreck of their relationship without interference. But generally she wasn’t good at letting things lie. And she wouldn’t get a moment’s peace until she knew.
“Would you mind if I went to see Seb and got some answers?” she said to Zelda, her heart beginning to pound because maybe that wasn’t all she was asking permission for although she really didn’t want to think about what else she might want from him.
Zel shook her head and smiled. “Go.”
Chapter Four
‡
Seb was staring at his computer screen when the phone on his desk rang, although really, he didn’t know why he was bothering. He’d been putting in twelve hour days at the office for the last three or so weeks, ostensibly working on the Foundation’s spending strategy for the next five years, but for all that he’d achieved he might as well not have turned up at all. His concentration was shot and his productivity was at an all time low, and it was all because of Mercedes bloody Hernandez, who, contrary to all his expectations at the time had turned his life upside down because he didn’t know whether to be grateful to her for provoking him into talking to Zelda or furious that she’d meddled in the first place and caused him the kind of emotional grief he’d managed to avoid for so long.
Stifling a sigh of the weary exasperation that had dogged him for days now he picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
“I have a Mercedes Hernandez in reception for you.”
For a second Seb froze, then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose because, oh, well, this was just great. As if she hadn’t been on his mind pretty much constantly recently, now she was here? At his office? Why? What did she want this time?
Well, he was going to find out, wasn’t he, because one of the many conclusions he’d had no choice but to reach lately was that ignoring things didn’t make them go away. It merely buried them until one day someone, perhaps one gorgeous, sexy and irritating as hell Argentinian, decided to dig them up. Facing up to whatever was thrown at him was what he was going to do from now on, he’d decided, and if tonight that was to be Mercy then so be it.
“Thanks, Linda, send her up,” he said, cutting the call, getting to his feet and walking round to the other side of his desk against which he intended to lean in a ‘My turf, I’m in charge’ sort of way. Which he most definitely was because Mercy might have blind-sided him the other night but he was more than ready for her now.
And it was just as well, he thought five minutes later, because a weaker, less-prepared man might lose his head over the woman who was now once more sashaying towards him, looking undeniably hot in some kind of short flowery flippy dress thing that emphasized her show-stopping curves and her long toned legs, a short denim jacket and a pair of surprisingly sexy cowboy boots. But not him. Never him.
“Seb,” she said, the natural huskiness of her voice grating over his senses nevertheless.
“Mercedes,” he said, ignoring it.
She came to a stop a couple of feet in front of him and for some reason his entire body tensed and his fingers automatically tightened around the edge of the desk. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“No problem,” he said, meaning it because none of this was a problem – at all – and forcing himself to relax.
“I went to your house. They said you were here.”
“As you can see.”
“You work late.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Nice office.”
“Thanks.”
“It looks as though it hasn’t changed for years.”
“Apart from the addition of technology, it hasn’t.” His great-great-great grandfather, brand new oil dollars weighing him down, had ordered the construction of the building from where over the years the Madison empire had expanded into property, banking and hotels. This office had remained pretty much untouched ever since, hence the wood panelling, the massive mahogany leather-topped partners’ desk and the giant chandelier. He liked it, but even if he hadn’t, it wasn’t his to change.
“This morning I’d have said that suited you,” said Mercy, turning her attention back to him and giving him a faint, but, for the first time, genuine, smile.
“But now?” he said, slightly confused by the flipping of his stomach in response to what was after all only the hint of a curve of her lips.
“Now I’m not so sure.”
And what was that supposed to mean? “Intriguing,” he murmured even though it wasn’t in the slightest. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
Lifting her bag off her shoulder, Mercy sat, and after pushing himself off his desk and stalking round to the other side, so did Seb.
“So what can I do for you, Mercedes?” he asked, leaning forwards, resting his forearms on the desk and feeling oddly glad that it stood between them. “I presume you haven’t come to discuss the furnishings.”
“No.” She shook her head, then swallowed and took a deep breath, all of which made Seb wonder if she was nervous. It would be interesting if she was. And, come to think of it, deeply satisfying to see her on the back foot for once. Sitting back and relishing the switch of positions, he waited.
Mercy cleared her throat and pulled her shoulders back. “I have some questions for you.”
Seb’s eyebrows rose. “Questions or accusations?”
“Questions.”
“Makes a change.”
“Hmm.” An unamused pause. Then, “I’ve just had a night out with the girls.”
“Are you drunk?”
Mercy blinked at him. Bristled, possibly. “What? No. Of course I’m not drunk. I grew up on a vineyard. I don’t overindulge. Ever.”
“Didn’t stop you at St. John’s.”
“That was ten years ago. Ancient history. I’ve been a wine maker for years now and I’m a good one so I know its effects. One drink is my limit. Always.”
“And was your night out with the girls fun?” he asked, not that he knew what fun was. He didn’t go out socially if he could possibly avoid it. Nor did he drink. The potential for loss of control was simply too great. And fun was very definitely for other people.
“Usually it is. Tonight, though, it was more thought-provoking than fun. Zelda said you want to reconcile.”
Seb started for a moment because he hadn’t expected news to travel that quickly, but then he nodded because there seemed little point in denying it. “That’s right.”
“Why?”
Ah. Well. Wasn’t that the question of the century. For days after Mercy had waltzed into his apartment, whipping up a storm and speaking to him in a way that no one dared do these days, he’d wiped the whole night from his mind.
But then, somehow, she’d started slipping into his thoughts and niggling away at his conscience. He’d pushed her out, reminding himself over and over that she was wrong and he was fine, but it had become increasingly difficult to ignore her and what she’d said.
Especially the part where she’d basically told him he was to blame for everything that had befallen his sister.
Despite his best efforts to prevent it the seed of that had taken root and he hadn’t been able to squash it. Instead it had grown until it was so big and so strong that it had battered through his ironclad defences, struck at the very center of him, and had had him suddenly questioning everything he thought he knew.
Was he to blame for Zelda’s troubles? Might she have had an easier ride of things if he’d been there for her instead of removing himself both physically and emotionally? Might they have been stronger together than apart? Had all those times she’d been expelled from school really been cries for help? And what about her subsequent behavior? Had she been as lost as him?
The more the questions had ricocheted around his head the more he’d realized that the answer couldn’t be anything other than a horrible, deafening
yes. The way he’d treated Zelda had been horrendous. He had failed her. In every terrible way possible. All she’d ever wanted was him to be there for her, and he’d run a mile, convincing himself what he was doing was the right thing for her, when really he was doing it because it was the right thing for him.
That Zelda was all right now was testament to her strength and the loyalty of those who cared about her. Her friends. Her boyfriend, Ty. Who’d been around for weeks and who he hadn’t even heard of before she’d enlightened him yesterday. He hadn’t even questioned where his sister was when she’d disappeared for the whole Labor Day weekend.
Amends, an apology, an explanation, he’d figured, didn’t come close to what he owed her. He was only grateful she’d given him the opportunity to pay his dues.
“It was about time,” he said vaguely, having no intention of spilling what was left of his soul to the woman who already knew way too much about him.
Mercy looked at him quizzically. “I thought you said there was nothing to fix.”
“I reassessed.”
“Because of me?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
“It just does.”
“I suppose it might have had something to do with what you said,” he said easily, as if what Mercy had said hadn’t been cataclysmic. “So thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You were pretty brutal, though.”
“All for a good cause.”
“You’re not intimidated by me in the slightest, are you?” he said after a beat.
She looked at him quizzically. “Should I be?”
“Many are.”
“They don’t know you like I do.”
Seb stilled at her words because what did she mean by that? Was it an insult? He couldn’t tell. Her tone was too neutral. Not that it mattered one iota what she thought of him. “No. Well. Perhaps not,” he said coolly. “But as much as it pains me to admit it, I did listen to what you said, and I decided to take your advice. So do feel free to gloat.”
