by Lilly Black
By the time Marcel is packed up to leave, it’s almost 6:00 pm. They’ve done everything to me that can be done to prepare a girl for a night like this short of arming me with silver bullets to take down the she-wolves, and as I stand in my closet looking in the mirror, I’m astonished. I’ve never had my makeup so flawlessly applied, and my hair has never been so perfect and shiny. True to his word, Marcel has hidden the evidence of the new piercing even beneath this dress’ tight, satin bodice, and they’ve pushed up my breasts to reveal perfect cleavage in the oval cutout of my gown. When Marcel folds the mirror panes behind me, I see that the necklace seems more like a part of the back of the décolletage than a separate piece as the earrings sparkle behind wisps of dark hair, and the bracelet on my left wrist complements my long, naturally shaped nails in a shade of liquid gunmetal that Marcel mixed himself. I can’t believe that’s me looking back. I feel red carpet ready.
On his way out, Marcel takes me to Cain for his big reveal, treating me like a work of art as if my contribution to the outcome was nothing more than raw canvas. It makes me feel shy, but I thoroughly enjoy the jaw-drop I get when he parades me into Cain’s office.
“You look exquisite,” Cain says, and as Marcel twirls me around before him, I feel like he may have created a version of me that stands a chance at not being outshined by Cain.
“No touching,” Marcel warns as Cain approaches me.
“Yes, Sir,” Cain says, his eyes never leaving me as Marcel slips out of the office.
“Fuck the party. I want to rip that dress off of you right now,” Cain growls.
“Shut up!” I say shyly, hearing the front door close as he pulls me to him.
“If I kiss you, will it fuck up Marcel’s work?”
“Yes. So put on your tux, and let’s get this over with as quickly as possible, then you can fuck it all up.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Moments later, he comes out in his black tuxedo pants and vest with his jacket slung over his shoulder, handing me his tie.
“I was hoping I’d get to see my mark on you,” I say, my lip pushed out in a pout as I put the tie around his neck.
“And I wanted to see my ring in your navel.”
“I could demand that you take off your pants,” I threaten.
“Not unless you plan to fuck me.”
“You’re a terrible sub,” I remind him, and as I turn to walk away, he grabs my wrist, snapping me back to him, his front against my back. He kisses my ear, carefully avoiding the dress’ collar, and when I feel him growing hard, I rock my hips, pressing against him.
“From the minute we leave the club,” Cain whispers, “I’m going to show you just how terrible a sub I am all…night…long.”
The Charity Event
As Cain pulls the Maybach onto the 5 North toward La Jolla, the anxiety kicks in. I’ve been doing well, all things considered, but now that we’re on our way, it’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking. As I wonder how I am going to maintain the confidence I need at the country club when I’m a complete wreck inside, I try to remember the names of all the exes. Sunny, Victoria, Amber, Ann…Ana-something?
Fuck me! I draw a blank, but remember them or not, they’ll be there, watching me, knowing what it’s like to be with Cain. They’ve kissed him, shared his bed, touched him, fucked him. He has done things to them…things I can’t bear the thought of…his beautiful face…his lips…his tongue on these other women floods me with a burning jealousy.
If I don’t get this in check, I’m fucked, I think as Cain pulls to the side of the road just before the country club driveway.
“Are you ready?” he asks, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say, an apologetic expression on my face.
Hold it together. Don’t let your insecurities show.
“Relax. My mother knows she’s on very thin ice with me, and if I have to leave your side for even a minute, I’ll make sure you have a bodyguard.” He says it like he’s kidding, but we both know I can’t safely be left alone there. Maybe Catherine won’t make a scene at her beloved country club, but what horrible things would she say to me if there are no protective ears around? It doesn’t matter anyway. I have to do this. I cannot allow people like Catherine Ballantyne to diminish my worth. That’s my job.
“And remember,” Cain adds, “there will be a lot of beautiful women here tonight, but they all pale in comparison to the woman on my arm.” Though shy about the compliment, it’s the boost I need, and holding my hand, he pulls back onto the road.
The Torrey Crest Country Club, a grand structure of beige stone, is alive with light around the main entrance, causing the beveled glass doors to cast tiny rainbows on the walls. Young men in blue vests take keys as men in black tie and women in dazzling gowns step out of luxury cars and limousines. It’s all just a big cliché, but at least the valets aren’t wearing red.
When Cain gets out of the driver’s seat, he hurries around to open my door, and taking me by the hand, he tosses the keys to the valet, who frowns.
“Sorry, kid,” Cain says.
“What was that about?” I ask as we walk toward the door.
“He was hoping for the Bugatti.”
“Guess there are perks to this job beyond tips from rich assholes,” I joke, making the doorman on my side snicker as two of them open the doors wide for us. Inside, even the lobby is abuzz with activity, but Cain leads me straight through to the ballroom, which is larger than a football field, another of the wonders of La Jolla where somehow the rich have carved out more square footage than seems possible.
The ballroom is beautiful with a light wood dance floor in front an orchestra, and the tables are all set with sparkling crystal, china, and silver with fresh flowers in the center with white roses overflowing from their squat vases. Overhead the chandeliers are dimmed, and though the light still causes faint reflections on the windows lining the far wall, I can make out the coastline in the distance. This would be a beautiful place for a home. In my dream house, I can see the cliffs of La Jolla from my bedroom balcony.
As I try not to stare or look overly impressed, Cain leads me to our table. It’s by the dance floor at the front of the stage, the first table on our side. It’s set for eight, and with their father, mother, Caleb, the harpy, Cain, and I, we’re missing two guests. I assume Cary will be one of them, and when Steph taps me on the shoulder from behind, I think with disgust that he must be our 8th. He isn’t. He has come to ask me to dance.
And why the fuck would I do that? I hate the guy. It’s because of his big mouth that the other women at our table are at odds with me, and even if I wouldn’t rather have my teeth pulled out with pliers than spend one moment in his company, there’s the fact that I want to fade into the woodwork, not take to the dance floor and make a spectacle of myself!
“I promise you won’t regret it,” Cain whispers, brushing himself against me lightly, his lip grazing my ear, and now I have to dance with the jerk because I feel like I’m on display as Cain lures carnal thoughts to surface.
Well, there’s nothing like Steph to kill a girl’s hard on.
Putting on a happy face, I offer him my hand, and he leads me to the crowded dance floor, pulling me into a stance with one arm on his shoulder and the other in his hand.
“Relax and let me lead,” he instructs, and with no real choice as I have no idea how to do all of the silly ballroom dances that I secretly want a man to know while openly making fun of those who do, I put myself in his hands.
“I just want you to know how sorry I am for what happened at Qualcomm,” Steph whispers as he moves me gracefully around the floor.
“It’s done,” I say.
“But I need you to understand something. When I said…what I said, it wasn’t a slip. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“If you’re asking for forgiveness, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” I scoff, and he laughs.
“I’m a
dog, and the night we met, you saw right through me. I assumed Cain’s intentions with you were the same as mine, so when I saw you at the game, I got jealous and acted like a jackass,” he admits and pauses to dip me suddenly. “I had no idea how much you mean to Cain.”
“What do you mean?” I fish.
“Don’t be coy, Evan. You know he’s in love with you.” Then just after putting a wide-eyed, drop-jawed look on my face, Steph spins me around.
“What makes you say that?” I ask when we’re face to face again.
“It’s all over his face when he looks at you. Anyone can see it.” The song ends and everyone on the dance floor begins clapping for the band as I stand staring at Steph, not knowing what to say. He takes my arm in his and escorts me back to the table.
“I just want you to know that I’m on your side,” he whispers as we walk.
“Thank you for the dance,” I say politely as we approach the table, and all of the men stand. I still don’t trust Steph, but who knew he could be charming?
“Evan,” Cary says when we’re seated. “I think you know who everyone else is, but this is my date, Sylvia. Sylvia, Evan is Cain’s girlfriend.” I light up inside just hearing those words spoken aloud.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to Sylvia.
“Sylvia and I went to high school together,” Arianna says, and I don’t know if she’s just making conversation or trying to out Sylvia for being about ten years older than Cary. Everything is so strained at this table, it’s hard to tell. Uncomfortable with the silence that follows, I turn to Cain.
“You didn’t tell me Steph was such a good dancer,” I say.
“You looked great out there,” Cain says, but Cary begins to speak over him.
“Mother made us all take lessons, including Steph. You should drag Cain out there and see what he can do.”
“You should,” his father adds. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Cain on the dance floor.”
“I can’t remember the first time,” Cary jokes.
Really? Didn’t Cain dance with the exes at these events?
“Any time you’re ready, my lady,” Cain says, his thinly veiled reference taken as mere chivalry by all but me. It makes me hesitate, and Catherine steals the spotlight.
“Come on, son,” she says. “Dance with your old mother.” Cain has no real choice if he wants to keep the peace, but before rising, he grabs my hand under the table, squeezing it reassuringly. As soon as Catherine is gone, the mood at the table lightens.
“Evan, dear,” Cain’s father begins, introducing himself and asking me to call him Jack while on the other side of the table, Arianna strains to hear. “I just want you to know how pleased we are that you’ve joined us this evening.” I thank him, and as he speaks, I can see so much of Cain in his face. Cain looks nothing like his mother, but he could be a carbon copy of his father, an extremely handsome man in his late fifties.
“It’s so nice to finally get to meet you,” Jack says.
“You’re all Cain ever talks about,” Caleb explains, but as Arianna’s lips become a thin line, he leans back in his seat, clamming up.
“And it’s so good to see him like this,” Jack continues. “Cain has always been so…distant…” As Jack says the word, he looks at his other sons for their input.
“Dispassionate,” Cary says.
“Bored,” Caleb adds, and I think he’s talking about himself as much as Cain. In fact, as I look around the table, those seem like good words to describe all of the Ballantyne men.
“Whatever it is, you mean the world to him,” Jack says, and as I’m frozen, not knowing how to respond, Cary saves me by directing our attention to the dance floor where Cain is playfully dipping his mother just a few feet away from us.
As I turn in my seat to watch them dance, I’m mesmerized by Cain in his tux. Tonight he’s the consummate, black tie fantasy, and he’s mine…all six feet, four inches of beautiful perfection…mine…
But he used to belong to the exes, who make me suddenly aware of their presence. I realize why I haven’t seen any of them yet. I’ve been seated, probably deliberately, with my back to the majority of the other tables, but now I can see and feel their eyes upon me. From the dance floor, a woman in a sparkling red, siren gown is boring holes into me, and at a table on the other side, a woman in blue scowls in my direction. And they’re not all just staring. A woman with long, dark hair in a black gown sits across the room as a blonde in a slinky, black and gold dress points straight at me. I don’t need a closer look to tell me who these two are.
The song finally ends, and Cain returns to me. The men stand, and when Catherine sits down, Jack tells her how lovely and graceful she looked. Caleb, like a robot, agrees as I compliment Cain on his dancing skills, then whisper about the women staring at me.
“Let’s give them something to watch then,” he says, giving me a long, sweet kiss that must be torture for Catherine to watch. Good. Fuck her.
As the evening wears on, Cain, Cary, and Jack keep the conversation flowing for the rest of us. Dinner comes and goes, and everyone at the table remains civil except for one inappropriate dig from Arianna, which Cain shuts down beautifully, though disconcertingly.
“Those earrings look familiar,” she says. “Didn’t you borrow those from Grohl’s for Liz once?”
“Maybe, but they look so stunning on Evan, I bought them for her.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper to him. “You know I’d be more comfortable with cut glass.”
“Which is why I want to bathe you in diamonds,” he says, his eyes burning through me as I laugh nervously, and when the band starts back up, he takes me onto the dance floor so I can casually point out the women who have been staring at me. As he would seldom ever dance at these functions, knowing how jealous they must be makes being on display like this a little easier for me, though I’d rather be pressed hard against him at Envy than be waltzing around this place…or whatever the fuck it is that we’re doing.
As Cain flawlessly leads me, I direct his attention to my spectators, and I learn that the red dress is Victoria, blue is Lourdes, and I was right about the twins. When he notices the dark-haired sister wearing a formal dress with a black leather waist, he remembers something about Lorraine he had all but forgotten. Toward the end of their relationship, though already adventurous, she had developed curiosities that he wasn’t ready to consider in high school…bondage curiosities, but she wanted to be Dominant. Even at seventeen, Cain knew he was no one’s submissive.
“She may have planted the whole idea in my head, but only you could make a slave of me,” he whispers, and as I feel my nipples tighten beneath the very thin fabric of my dress, I have to make light of his comment.
“I don’t know. Lorraine looks like she could probably teach me a thing or two if we hooked up for that ménage à trois you’re always talking about.”
“Don’t mix my worlds,” he says firmly.
“You brought me from your secret world to this one.”
“Evan, you are my worlds,” Cain says, gently touching my face with his fingertips. I’m stunned, so in love with him at this moment, but before my defense mechanisms even have a chance to ruin the beauty of it, the music comes to an abrupt halt. Everyone pauses as a tipsy, elderly man takes the stage and rambles about the cause for which we’ve all gathered here, which is human trafficking, not unwed mothers, though I’m only giving him partial attention. What brings me back down to Earth is hearing Cain called to the stage. By the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting this, but he shakes off the surprise before the spotlight ever hits him. He looks around for his brothers, who are nowhere to be found, and though he doesn’t want to leave me, I don’t want the spotlight on me any longer than it has to be.
“Go,” I urge him. “I’ll be okay on my own for a minute.” He smiles and kisses me under the spotlight, earning us an awww from the crowd that makes me wish I were invisible, then he walks casually across the danc
e floor, one hand held aloft as he meets thunderous applause. I think vaguely how awkward I must look standing here in his wake as he plays his role expertly.
“He’s like a rock star around here,” I mutter to myself.
“He is a rock star around here,” says a voice from behind. I turn and find the dark twin, Lorraine.
“Excuse me?” I ask, politely, though inside I’m anxious as hell.
“Lorraine Meriwether,” she says, extending a hand quickly.
Rain, sister of Sunny Merry-weather?
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I blurt out. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“It’s a dumbass name, but we can talk about that later,” she says, her tone growing urgent as she speaks. “You’re going to want to come with me. Now.”
“I don’t think…” I begin as I turn back to look at Cain up on the stage to see if he’s aware of her attempt to abscond with me, but I can’t see him at all now because the crowd has closed in around the dance floor. Worse than that, a small group of women led by the blonde twin is coming at me.
What the fuck?
“It’s her or me. Who do you trust?”
Lorraine tugs at my right hand, and utterly alone, I go with my instinct and follow her. Quickly snaking through the crowd, she leads me across the lobby, down a partially lit hallway, and into a vacant, out of the way ladies’ room.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” I demand as soon as the door is closed behind us. She slumps down in a pink, velvet chair with gilded arms by a side table, offering me the opposite chair, and now that we’re not rushing around, I get a better look at her dress. The leather Cain and I saw from the dance floor is actually a corset over a severe black, taffeta gown.
“So you know who I am?” Lorraine asks. Faintly, I can still hear Cain speaking from the ballroom, and worried that he’ll freak out when he doesn’t find me waiting where he left me, I take out my phone to text him.
