All the Forbidden Things

by Jones, Lesley

  I stare right back as he gives a small shake of his head. Sometime soon I’m gonna have to tell him I’m in love with his sister.

  He’s going hate me at first, and I understand why he would, I’m just not going to let it stop me.

  Cal was not pleased when he arrived at Jay’s to discover we were staying over in the cottage and away from everyone in the main house. Marnie explained it was because we were staying for a while, and it worked out better for them and their girls not to have to be quiet when the baby was sleeping. Cal wasn’t happy, but he kept his mouth shut and settled for watching me like I was a lion and his sister a baby gazelle.

  If only he knew I’d already pounced.

  And his sister was most definitely not a baby anything.

  Since arriving here I’ve fucked her every night, every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon. We’ve covered every room, every surface, and almost every position, and Billie’s been a willing participant each and every time.

  She rode my face last night. Straddled it, spun herself around, leaned forward, and sucked my cock as I ate her out. She’s not particularly experienced in oral sex—rarely having given it, and never having received it—but she didn’t let that slow her down. Like all things in life, Billie is fearless and uninhibited in bed.

  These past couple of days have given me a taste of what our future could be like, and how our us might look. And I want it so fucking badly for Billie for Layla and for myself that I can’t wait for my divorce to be settled so we can all move the fuck on. We even spent last night looking at properties online.

  As much as Billie says she wants to live in Cornwall or the surrounding area, she also loves the life Jay and Marnie have and would consider this area too. Personally, I don’t give a fuck as long as it’s behind a big-arsed fucking wall and gate so I can lock the world out and my girls in where it is safe and no one can bother us.

  Billie kisses the side of Layla’s head and it makes me want a house full of our babies. Billie has already told me she can’t wait to start a family, but she’s young, so there’s no rush.

  The day Whitney left, I vowed to myself that I’d never get seriously involved with another woman again. Most people would be running at about a million miles an hour away from a relationship after experiencing what I’m going through, and I thought I’d feel the same. But then Billie happened. She stepped out of that car and rocked my world.

  Her blue eyes land on mine and, for a few quiet seconds, we just stare while enjoying the crackle. My mind races back to last night, and the things she’d let me do to her.

  “Do it,” she’d said. “Just do it, Max. All the things. I want you to do all of them.”

  My fearless Bamm.

  And now, here she is, no make-up on her gorgeous face, wearing a gold-coloured beanie with furry ears, a matching scarf, fingerless mittens, and a fluffy pair of bed socks with watermelons all over them. As I take all of that in, my dick hardens, and all I want to do is whisk her away and do more very bad things to her while she wears nothing but that hat and those socks.

  And she knows it. Without having to say a word, she knows what I’m thinking and knows what I want. She raises her brows, licks her lips, and gives me a sexy smile.

  A phone rings. Marnie has a no-phones-at-the-table rule, which has almost killed Jake and Kenzie, so everyone’s mobiles are in a large wooden bowl on the benchtop.

  We’re all so chilled, switched off, and disconnected from the world outside that nobody even bothers to move when the first call comes through, but then another ringtone sounds, and a slither of unease begins to coil it’s way up my spine.

  Kenzie stands, goes to the bowl, and sorts through everyone’s phones. She passes one to me and one to Cal. “Aaron,” is all she says, just as a third phone begins to ring. She picks it up, passes it to Jay, and repeats, “Aaron.”

  I know . . . I just know it’s gonna be bad.

  “Aaron?” Jay's eyes find me as he answers. “Yeah, he’s right here. You wanna call him on his? He has it in his hand now.”

  “Yep, no worries, see ya, mate.”

  Jay gestures with his head towards my phone just as it rings in my hand. I answer and Aaron launches straight in without a hello.

  “Diksha’s office served Whitney with the custody papers and an eviction notice this morning. Her lawyers have called an urgent meeting. Micky’s on his way to pick you up. They’ll stay back at their offices and wait for you to get there.”

  My mouths is as dry as a nun’s fanny, but I manage to talk around it. “Is there anything I should be worried about?”

  Silence. It’s so loud and destructive, it almost makes my ears bleed.

  “Aaron?”

  “There are some new accusations being made, I don’t know what they are, but they’ve told Dikasha we may want to renegotiate the conditions once we do.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah . . . look, we knew she’d start playing games at some stage.”

  “They started the weekend when she fucked with Billie. How far out is Mick?”

  “He’s not long left, will be with you around five, I reckon. Listen, Max.”

  “What.”

  “You best bring Layla with you.”

  “What? Why? No. No fucking way.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on Max, knowing Whitney, she’s just fucking with you because of the eviction notice, but I don’t want to take any chances. Let’s play everything by the book and have Layla available to her if that’s what we’re told to do.”

  I want to throw up the turkey and all its fucking trimmings I’d just eaten for lunch.

  “Bring Billie with you. I’ll book you a hotel room near Waters and Co’s offices, they can wait there until we find out what the fuck is going on.”

  I say nothing. If I open my mouth, I’m pretty sure I’ll just spew all over the dining table.

  “I’ll call Micky with the hotel details, and I’ll meet you there.”

  I remain silent.

  “Max?”

  “What?”

  “We’ve got this. She doesn’t stand a chance once we present her with everything we have. I know it’s hard, but try not to stress too much.

  I end the call.

  “Don’t forget you need to wear your Carnage shirt,” Billie tells me with a fake smile plastered on her pale face. She’s tried her best to remain upbeat, but I know it’s all bullshit and bravado. Fake, just like this whole situation with Whitney and her new accusations.

  The drive from Hampshire back to London was made in almost total silence. Even Layla has been quiet. And, now, here we are, holed up in a hotel on The Strand, awaiting Aaron’s arrival.

  “I’m not wearing that stupid fucking T-shirt to a custody meeting about my kid. Grow the fuck up, Bamm. Today’s a day when I need to not look like a rock star who’s banging his nanny.”

  I hated myself before the words left my mouth, before they’d even entered my head, before I knew such spiteful words existed, but because I was angry and so fucking scared, I said them anyway.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She looks like a little girl as she sits on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs. Because she’s so short, they don’t reach the carpet. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, and her eyes are wide as she stares at me.

  I drop to my knees in front of her. “I’m scared, and I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just need to hold you for a minute before I go.”

  She launches herself at me, and I hold her, breathe in the citrus of her perfume—her sunflower scent—and attempt to fight off the nervous anticipation controlling me.

  “I’m scared too,” she whispers against my chest. “What if this is my fault, what if they take her away from you because I got drunk? What if you lose her?” She can barely stand because she’s shaking so hard.

  “No, baby, that’s not it. It’s something else, something new, and whatever it is, it’ll be nothing. She’s got nothing on us, s
he’s just trying to fuck with us because I want her out of the house.”

  I kiss her ear and her cheeks and jaw and, when I find her mouth, I kiss that too.

  “We knew we were gonna have all this shit to deal with, we just need to stay strong and wade through it. I can’t stand seeing you fall apart like this every time Whitney pulls one of her stunts. You’re the bravest person I know, Billie Wild, and I know for a fact Whitney Federov is no match for you.”

  “She’s a bitch, and I hate her,” she mumbles into my chest.

  “I know, but we’ll be rid of her soon, then we can buy our house in the country and fill it with brothers and sisters for Layla. Horses, chickens, and alpacas. All of the things, Bamm. We’ll have them all.”

  “Pygmy goats?”

  “If you want pygmy goats, we’ll get a dozen of them.”

  She tilts her tear-stained face up towards me and smiles. And I know right then I want to give this girl the world. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.

  “Whatever you want, Bamm, if I can make it happen, you can have it.”

  It’s on the very tip of my tongue to tell her that I love her, but a knock at the door interrupts the moment so I settle for dropping a soft kiss to her mouth.

  I stare at the floor, trying to think, to process exactly what it is I’ve just seen up on the screen in Whitney’s lawyer's office.

  Drawing a deep breath in through my nose, I let it out slowly through my mouth and brace myself to take the images in again.

  Me.

  Me lying on my bed.

  One arm across my torso, my hand on my chest. My other arm above my head.

  A bottle of Forty-Three lying on its side next to me.

  Layla in her cot.

  The screen turns blue before a video starts to play.

  The blood pumping around my body turns so cold, tiny shards of ice form, cutting and tearing at my veins, shredding my heart as Layla’s shrill cry echoes around the otherwise silent office.

  My muscles are numb. I can’t move. So I just stare at the screen, watch the vision of the camera panning around the room. Me, passed out on the bed, bottle of alcohol lying on its side next to me, Layla’s hungry cries coming from her cot. And then it zooms in on Layla, her face pink and angry, tears coating her cheeks and clinging to her lashes, and that’s when I lose it.

  I turn my head—nothing else, just my head—towards Whitney. My mouth’s dry and I have to clear my throat before I can talk.

  “You left her there?”

  Whitney’s chin tilts up as her glacial green eyes meet mine. Her brows raise, and her fake smile freezes on her lips.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s crying, Whitney. She’s crying her hungry cry, you made your video, and instead of taking her and feeding her, you just left her there, hungry and crying.”

  Whitney’s eyes slice towards her lawyer, Christian Waters.

  “Ms Federov wasn’t responsible for this video, but we’ve been assured that almost as soon as it was taken, you woke up.”

  I keep my eyes pinned to Whit’s as I speak, nodding as I do so. “I’m assuming the video is meant to imply that I’m passed out drunk, not that what you’re seeing is a single dad, passed out from exhaustion, and yet, whoever took it, never, at any time thought Layla should've been removed from that situation?”

  “Mr Young, I think you’re missing the point—”

  I bite back a bitter laugh. “Oh, Mr Waters, I think my point has been very clearly made,” I continue to nod, my eyes still burning a path in Whitney’s direction. “So, this is it, this is your new accusation?” Diksha, the best family law counsel money can buy, asks.

  Finally tearing my eyes from Whitney’s smirk, I watch as my lawyer stands and leans her arse against Christian Water’s desk so that she’s facing Whitney.

  “You’ve got this, and we’ve got the tox reports from the hospital and witnesses who are willing to testify that Whitney often purchased cocaine from them … as well as all of this …”

  She passes the manila envelope I didn’t notice her holding over her shoulder to Waters. He slides the papers out and studies them before looking up at Whitney. Gesturing to one of his assistance, they take the papers from him and hand them to Whitney, who smiles as she glances at them for seconds, before looking up at Diksha. “What can I say? Sometimes I’m a very bad girl.”

  She shrugs and passes them back to the assistant, who passes them to me.

  I skim read the print: Six DUI”s and three arrests for possession in various countries around the world. I look up and meet my wife’s eyes. They widen as she shrugs and smiles. Who the fuck is this woman?

  Diksha shakes her head and looks around the room with her brows raised. We’re all looking as astounding as she is at Whitney’s attitude. Her dark eyes land on my wife and look her up and down with contempt.

  “You do realise if this is made public, Layla will likely be made a ward of the court, meaning both of you being cited as unfit parents?”

  “Well, that’s why we're here. I don’t want to put it out there, but I will. If I have to, I’ll use it.”

  Without my even looking, I feel Whitney’s cold gaze slice to me. “Imagine the damage this could do to your career, Max. Not only will you lose your daughter, but you’ll also likely lose your precious band.”

  “You know what Whit? I don’t think I’ll be losing anything. Do you know why? Because I don’t think you’ll take it that far. You don’t want Layla. You don’t care about me or this piss poor excuse of a marriage. So, tell me, Whitney, what the fuck do you want?”

  “Max,” Aaron warns.

  “No, Al. I’m done sitting here listening to this bollocks. Let’s get it done. What. Do. You. Want?” I punctuate each word, but I don’t shout.

  I’m done with this bullshit. Done being in this city, this office, around these people. I just want this over with. I know Whitney, all she’s looking for is some leverage.

  “Two million a year for five years. A house back in Los Angeles. Joint custody.”

  “How’s that gonna work? Joint custody, if you’re living in the States?”

  Whitney's thin lips slide into a smile. “Oh, I don’t want her with me, not full time. Layla’s yours. She can live with you, you can arrange her education, blah, blah, whatever. She can stay with me, let’s say … four times a year, and I’ll come visit her, maybe five. You know, just so no one thinks I’ve abandoned my own child. I just want the paperwork to state we share custody, so when I need to, I can have access, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

  For a few seconds, I feel like I’m about to pass out. I think it’s the rush of adrenalin, or my body fighting the anger building inside me. I grip the arms of my chair, genuinely worried that what I’m experiencing could possibly be a heart attack, and focus on my breathing because, if I don’t, I’m likely to wrap my hands around my wife's throat, drag her by it out of these offices, across the busy roads, along the embankment, before tossing her into the Thames.

  “We’re agreeing to nothing right now. I’ll consult with my client and reschedule for some time next week,” Diksha tells the room.

  “You do this Whit, when you lose, just know that everything else I offered is off the table. As per the terms of our prenup, you’ll come out of this marriage with exactly what you deserve, fuck all. Nothing, exactly what you’ve contributed.”

  “See, again, Max, that’s where you’re wrong. I also want a house in London and five return flights a year for when I make those trips to come visit my daughter, who I’ve so considerately allowed to continue living in London with her father so as not to destabilise her little world. Oh, and I’ll also take a million in spending money for me, you know, just because.”

  I laugh, because what the fuck? The woman’s certifiable.

  I watch her nod her head towards a member of Water’s team, and the flat-screen telly that had been displaying the image of my prone form in all its glory switches
to an image that ends my world.

  Billie.

  Straddling my lap.

  Back arched.

  Head tilted back, face to the ceiling.

  Mouth open, eyes closed in the throes of orgasm as I bite down on her nipple.

  I stand so fast my chair tips back and hits the floor.

  I don’t even remember moving, but I’m now standing in front of Whitney, who’s smiling up at me. She lets out a sigh, and it’s only Aaron’s grip on my shoulder that stops me from breaking something.

  “I want it all, Max. Everything I’ve mentioned, I want it all else I’ll go public with these.”

  “We’ll sue,” Aaron states.

  “For what? And anyway, I don’t care.” Whitney shrugs. “I’ve got nothing to lose, so sue me. I. Don’t. Care.”

  Shaking her head, she laughs up at me. “You really thought you’d get away with it? You”—she points her finger at me—“do not get to cheat on me with that little cunt. I want her gone. Away from you, away from my child.” She pauses and takes a deep breath before smiling first at me and then Aaron and then Diksha. Her eyes finally settle back on me.

  “I get what I want, Max, starting with her gone. Otherwise, these will be uploaded to every single social media site in existence.”

  Whitney's narrowed, cat-like stare slides around the room, landing on each person in turn. “If you all wouldn't mind, I'd like a few moments alone with my husband.”

  “Ms Federov, I really don't think—”

  Whitney pierces Waters with a glare, instantly shutting down his protests.

  “Max?” Aaron questions from somewhere behind me.

  “I'm good. You can go.”

  The room finally falls silent, and I hear the click of the door closing. Picking up my chair, I sit back down on the opposite side of the table to Whitney. Lacing my fingers together, I rest my hands in front of me and stare at them. I remain silent, hearing only the loud thud of my own heartbeat in my ears. In an attempt to calm my temper as well as my racing thoughts, I take a few deep breaths, releasing them slowly before finally looking up at Whitney.