Serenity (Inevitable Book 5)

by Janet Nissenson

  Before he could protest further, Sasha had placed one of her hands on his shoulder and picked up his hand with the other. Automatically, Matthew’s arm banded about her slender waist, holding her a respectable distance from his body. It was, he thought absently, a far cry from the way he’d seen Lindsey almost dry humping one of her dance partners a little while ago.

  And surprisingly, with Sasha’s softly murmured instructions, he found himself moving her around to the music, not stepping on her dainty toes even once. He gazed down at her, the top of her curly head barely reaching his chin, and realized he hadn’t felt this sense of calm in a very, very long time.

  “You’re doing great,” she assured him. “See, I told you. Anyone can dance provided they receive the proper instruction. However,” she added more severely, “you weren’t kidding before when you said you needed a massage. You’ve got knots in your shoulder that a Shibari master wouldn’t be able to untie.”

  “What exactly is a Shibari master?” he inquired, unfamiliar with the term.

  “Oh, just someone who’s skilled with tying patterns and shapes with rope,” she replied hastily. “It’s, ah, usually for bondage purposes. You know, like in BDSM.”

  Matthew coughed. “Are you into that stuff?” he wheezed. “Is that what you meant earlier about having weird boyfriends?”

  Sasha laughed delightedly. “I never said they were weird. Just that they wouldn’t necessarily fit into a fancy society event like this. And, no. I’m not into ‘that stuff”. But I do appreciate all different art forms, and I saw a photography exhibit of Shibari last year. It’s actually quite beautiful, very intricate. You should look it up sometime.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  A sudden, unbidden image of the graceful, lovely Sasha bound up in intricately knotted silk ropes made him hard again, and he was thankful that several inches still separated their bodies. By the time the song ended a minute or so later, he’d brought his unexpected erection back under control, and led her off the dance floor with a hand lightly resting on her elbow.

  “Well, thank you for the dance,” Sasha told him. “And I do hope you’ll get in touch. For that massage I mentioned, of course. I could feel all the tension in your body just now. And if your neck and upper back are anywhere near as tight as your shoulder feels, you need a massage urgently. So even if you forget to ask Tessa for my contact info, or just prefer to go to someone else, please make sure you get that massage soon, Matthew.” She took a step back and frowned a little as she studied his face. “You have a very unsettling aura about you. Oh, I’m sure you think all of that stuff is for quacks and weirdos. Don’t worry, most people feel the same way. But believe it or not, I do have something of a gift for reading peoples’ emotional states. And yours - well, you don’t seem like a very happy man, Matthew. And that’s a shame, because you’re also one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. So please take care of yourself, hmm?”

  She touched his cheek briefly, softly, but for long minutes after she disappeared back into the throngs of guests, Matthew felt the imprint of her hand on his skin as though he’d been branded. And the way she’d so swiftly and neatly summed up his emotions was almost frighteningly accurate - because it had been a long, long time since he’d been truly happy.

  Chapter One

  July – San Francisco

  Matthew had spent a good part of his life being called a nerd. Or a dweeb. Or a braniac. As a boy he’d been far more interested in reading a book or performing experiments with his chemistry set than playing sports. And as a teen and young man, he’d spent way more time writing computer code and designing software programs than pursuing members of the opposite sex.

  But his continued fascination with academics, science, and computers didn’t mean that he wasn’t also very much a man - a man with the same sort of physical needs and desires as others of his gender. A man who got turned on by the sight of a beautiful, sexy woman, or who wouldn’t necessarily look the other way if he accidentally stumbled across a couple locked in a passionate embrace or an even more intimate situation.

  However, when the female of the said couple happened to be his own wife - a wife who was even now moaning in pleasure as her young, buff lover was fucking her with great enthusiasm - and in Matthew’s own bed, to boot - he didn’t find the sight the least bit arousing. By rights he should be furious right now, should be yelling at the top of his lungs, shoving his fist into the face of the arrogant prick who was - well, ramming his prick into Matthew’s eager, willing wife. But, as he continued to watch their frantic coupling with an odd sense of detachment, the only rational thought that crossed his mind was that now he was going to have to get rid of that bed. And what a inconvenience that was going to be.

  “Do you think you two could finish this up soon?” he drawled in a weary voice. “I’ve got the flu and can barely stay on my feet. And as loud as you’re being right now, I’ll be able to hear you clear across the other side of the condo.”

  Lindsey Bennett froze in place, not an easy feat considering how hard her eager young lover was screwing her from behind. She was on all fours facing the foot of the bed, her long, dark brown hair half covering her face as her oblivious companion continued to shove his cock in and out of her all-too-willing body. Those ridiculously overlarge breasts of hers - as fake as a three dollar bill - barely jiggled an inch no matter how hard her paramour thrust his hips against her buttocks . Her dark green eyes were wide with shock, her mouth falling open in stunned silence as she met her husband’s narrowed gaze.

  “Matt. Oh, God,” she croaked, trying desperately to ease herself away from the man who was still embedded inside her body. “Will you stop already?” she screeched, slapping the leanly muscled flank of her lover. “Jesse, for Christ’s sake, stop! We’re not alone, you idiot.”

  “Huh? Whatsa matter - oh, shit.”

  As Jesse - the flirtatious, egotistical personal trainer who worked at the exclusive private health club that the Bennetts belonged to - recognized Matthew, he visibly paled, then gulped, before gingerly withdrawing his still-engorged penis from Lindsey’s body. Lindsey wasted no time in springing from the bed, not bothering with clothes, and frantically grabbed hold of Matthew’s arm.

  Her green eyes were still wild with shock, her normally perfectly groomed hair a careless tumble about her shoulders. “Matt. Matt. For God’s sakes, you’ve got to listen to me,” she babbled, not bothering to disguise the panic in her voice. “This - this isn’t what it looks like, I swear it.”

  Matthew glanced down at his wife’s hand clasped almost desperately around his bicep. As usual, Lindsey’s nails were long and perfectly manicured, covered in a shiny scarlet polish. Her wedding rings were almost garishly large, the ostentatious stones far too big for her small fingers.

  She didn’t seem in the least bit concerned that she was buck naked at the moment, but then Lindsey took great pride in that slim, tight body of hers and enjoyed showing it off. Privately, Matthew considered his wife too skinny with her boyishly slim hips, and practically no curve to her buttocks, and he could practically count each of her ribs right now. And of course those godawful breast implants threw her entire frame way off balance. She was too petite and small boned to be able to carry off such large boobs, and half the time Matthew was afraid she was going to topple over as a result of being so top-heavy.

  He wrinkled his nose in distaste, the odor of sweat and semen and sex that clung to her naked body unmistakable. Evidently she and Jesse had been at this for some time before his untimely arrival.

  “Really, Linz?” he asked sarcastically. “What exactly is it supposed to look like? Because from where I was just standing it sure looked to me like you and Jesse were having a real good time. And in my bed, to boot. Now, I know that just because I’ve got a genius I.Q. that doesn’t always translate to street smarts, but even someone as naïve as you seem to think I am can see for myself exactly what’s been going on here. And I also know that Jess
e is just the latest in a very long line of your, er, playmates.”

  Lindsey’s pretty mouth gaped open in shock, evidently too flabbergasted by this unexpected revelation to offer up a protest. Taking advantage of her momentary silence, Matthew grabbed up a handful of her discarded clothing and shoved it into her arms.

  “Get dressed,” he told her harshly. “And make it quick, because I wasn’t kidding about having the flu. I want you and Lover Boy out of here within the next five minutes or I’ll call security to have you both tossed out.”

  “You can’t do that!” protested Lindsey wildly, even as she clumsily pulled on her lingerie. “You can’t have me thrown out of my own house!”

  Matthew made a noise that resembled a snort. “But it’s not your house, sweetheart,” he reminded her snidely. “The condo technically belongs to the business. The fact that you’ve chosen to use it for your little love nest whenever you feel the urge - which is pretty fucking often, according to all the reports I’ve received - doesn’t make it half yours. Neither does the fact that you’ve seen fit to leave more and more of your things here. So get yourself dressed - fast - and get the hell out so I can get some sleep. And that goes double for you, jackass,” he told Jesse, pointing a threatening finger at the trainer.

  Jesse, to his credit, had begun to dress the moment he’d recognized Matthew, and was even now shoving his feet into his Nikes. “Mr. - Mr. Bennett,” he stammered. “I - I’m sorry as hell about this, really I am. And - and I wouldn’t blame you in the least if you punched my lights out right about now. In fact, I probably deserve it. So go ahead - do your worst.”

  Matthew regarded Jesse with undisguised distaste. “Yeah, you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” he taunted. “You’d like it if I roughed you up a little, left a few bruises, maybe even a broken rib or two. That way you could sue me for assault, maybe come out of this fiasco with a nice settlement.” He shook his head. “Forget it. As I just mentioned, I’m a pretty smart guy, way too smart to fall for a set up like that. And at this point, as sick as I feel, I’m way more likely to barf all over you than I am to land a punch or two. But mostly, I just don’t care enough, Jesse. It really doesn’t bother me all that much that I just caught you in the act with my wife. It does bother me, however, that now I’m going to have to replace that bed. I liked that bed, damn it.”

  Jesse stared at Matthew in disbelief. “You - you’re just going to let me off the hook that easy? Just let me walk out of here like nothing ever happened?”

  Matthew gave the much younger man an evil grin. “Oh, I didn’t say that, Lover Boy,” he drawled. “But there are far more effective methods of getting revenge than physical violence. I figure all it will take is a quick phone call to the owner of the club, and you’ll be out on your tight cheeked ass. Especially if Ian Gregson also calls, as he’s been threatening to do ever since you stupidly propositioned his new wife. You might be interested to know that I was the one who convinced him to keep it under wraps. But no longer, Jesse. Did I mention how much I like this bed? Or used to like it, I should say.”

  Jesse looked sick to his stomach, as though he’d suddenly contracted the same nasty flu bug that Matthew had been fighting off all morning. Wisely, though, he chose not to make matters worse by arguing his case, and merely strode out of the bedroom as though the place was on fire. Moments later the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the spacious condo, and Matthew turned to face his wife, wondering with a rather devious sense of satisfaction how the hell she thought she was going to charm her way out of this mess.

  He held up a hand to forestall whatever lame-ass excuse had been about to pass through her lying mouth. The very same mouth that had more than likely been wrapped around Jesse’s cock less than an hour ago, the same one that had without question given dozens of different men a very eager blow job over the past few years.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Linz,” he told her, fighting off the waves of dizziness that were threatening to make his legs give out from under him. “I might be sick but I’m sure as hell not delirious, so there’s no way I just imagined what I saw. And you can protest and whine and deny your life away, but it’s been obvious to me for a long time now that you’ve been humping every hot young stud who crosses your path. Unfortunately for you, your nerdy, naïve husband wasn’t born yesterday after all. I’ve had a private detective trailing you for almost two years now, and even he was shocked by how much action you’ve been getting. So don’t bother lying, because you’ll just make a fool of yourself, hmm?”

  Lindsey’s green eyes were practically spitting fire at the revelation that her amorous activities hadn’t been nearly as secret as she’d assured herself. “I wouldn’t have to look for action as you so crudely put it,” she spat, stepping into a towering pair of red Louboutin stilettos, “if you were at home more than a few hours a week. You might as well be married to your fucking job, Matt, considering how little the kids and I see of you these days.”

  Matthew felt the room spin sickeningly around him, the sensation almost as bad as the churning in his stomach. He slapped a hand against the door jamb to hold himself upright, and just hoped he wouldn’t pass out - or throw up - before he could toss Lindsey out of here on those ridiculously high heels. “I’m too sick - and way too disgusted with you - right now to have this conversation,” he replied wearily. “Except to say that I warned you about all of this - many, many times - when you pushed and coerced and begged me to take the company public. You knew what you were getting into, Lindsey, so don’t use my job as an excuse for why you can’t keep your legs closed. Now, would you please leave? I really am sick and I need to take a nap. Which is going to have to be in one of the guest rooms now, since there’s no way I’m ever sleeping in this bed again.”

  “Fine,” she acquiesced huffily. “Take your stupid nap. We’ll talk when you get home tonight.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t be coming home. Not tonight or any other night. This is it, Linz. I’ve held on as long as I could because of the kids, but I just realized I can’t take any more of your antics. Our marriage has been over for a good long time, and I’m finally ready to deal with that. I’ll be calling my lawyer just as soon as I get a few hours sleep. In the meanwhile, I suggest you get your own lawyer so we can hash all this out as quickly as possible. I’ll call the kids tonight or tomorrow at the latest to break the news. Or if I’m feeling better I’ll arrange to pick them both up from school tomorrow and tell them face to face.”

  Lindsey stared at him in horror. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered huskily. “Come on, Matt, it was just a harmless little fling. Nothing to get all upset over. And definitely nothing important enough to start talking about a divorce over.”

  He sighed tiredly, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. In addition to the fatigue, dizziness, and nausea that had been plaguing him all morning, he was pretty sure he was also running a fever. His PA - a stern but frighteningly organized woman named Elena Ordenes - had nagged him all morning about going home or seeing the doctor - not necessarily in that order. In the end, he’d acquiesced to her orders, and agreed to nap for a few hours in the company-owned condo located just two short blocks from the office. What he certainly hadn’t anticipated was that Lindsey would be using the place for one of her sordid little assignations.

  But her ill-advised little “afternoon delight” was proving to be the catalyst Matthew had needed for a long time now to make some much-needed changes in his life - a life that he hadn’t been happy in for long months, if not years. And for once he wasn’t going to let her pleas and tears and empty promises sway a decision he should have made a long time ago.

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about filing for divorce for awhile now,” he admitted. “Even before I knew for sure that you were fucking every hot young stud you could coerce into your bed. And you do like them young, don’t you, Linz? At least Jesse’s closer to thirty, not like that college football pl
ayer you banged last month. Jesus, you’re old enough to be his mother.”

  Lindsey opened her mouth to protest, before giving a resigned little shrug. “I’ve got a problem,” she acknowledged in a small voice. “I probably need counseling. We need counseling, Matt. So before you even start mentioning the word divorce we should definitely see a marriage counselor. I’m sure after just a few sessions it will all work out. In fact, I can ask Holly for the name of the person she and Phil saw when they were having problems last year. She swore the sessions did wonders for them, that their marriage is better than ever, and I know it can be the same for us. In fact, let me call her right now and - ”

  “No.” Matthew shook his head emphatically. “Do not call Holly. Do not call a marriage counselor. I fully agree that you’ve got problems - not the least of which is a condition known as nymphomania. But I have no intention of seeing a counselor, and no interest in saving this farce of a marriage. It’s over, Lindsey, and probably should have been four or five years ago. Now, please leave so I can get some rest before I collapse right here. And if I have to sleep in this room - where I’m guessing you’ve brought more than a few of your fuck buddies - I’m really, really going to be sick. I’ll have all your things packed up and sent to you at the house, though considering how much crap you’ve managed to accumulate here that might take a couple of days. Now, get out before I have you escorted out.”

  She glared at him as she picked up her Hermes satchel. “If you think for one minute that this is even close to being over,” she hissed, “then you’re stupider and more naïve than I’ve ever imagined. There’s not going to be a divorce, Matt. Not now and not ever. And as soon as you get over this little hissy fit you’re having, you’ll apologize for all the horrible things you’ve just said and beg me to forgive you. Just like old times.”

  Lindsey stormed out of the condo, slamming the front door behind her for emphasis. Matthew wearily made his way to one of the guest rooms, toeing off his shoes and pulling back the covers. But just before he collapsed onto the mattress and let sleep take him over, he had just enough presence of mind left to pick up the telephone and press the number for the building’s concierge.