Emma Frost Mystery Box Set 4

by Willow Rose

  Chapter Six

  He hoped he could sneak in without her waking up. Brian Mortensen fumbled with the keys to open the front door. The Uber behind him left as he finally managed to step inside. The house was so quiet. Brian sighed deeply and took off his tie, then kicked off his shoes. He exhaled as he put down his briefcase next to his shoes, thinking about Jonna, the woman he had met with tonight while his wife thought he was working late.

  It was all his co-worker Carl's doing. Setting them up. He had done this for ten years, and his wife had never found out. For him, it had all begun with a fling at a Christmas party…it was a cliché, yes, but the truth nonetheless. Carl had told Brian about it in detail, how this very attractive senior member of the staff (he didn't want to mention any names, but Brian knew very well who she was nonetheless) was being very seductive.

  "She was all over me, being like, 'Oh, there's no one else in the building,'” Carl had explained. And then they had sex in her office.

  It wasn't the fact that they had sex or the fact that Carl was having an affair that was so interesting about this story. No, what had made Brian listen extra carefully was when Carl talked about what had happened afterward. The sex was the fun part, of course, but there had been a side effect to it, an unexpected one, that held Brian's interest.

  Once Carl had come home after the party, he had been so overwhelmed with guilt, he had made love to his wife the next morning in a way they never had before, attending to her every need in a manner that revitalized their sex-life and their entire marriage.

  That was why Carl did it, he had told Brian. He had affairs that usually never lasted more than a few months at a time. They would mostly meet up in some hotel room, and he would get to try all the things his wife wouldn't let him, and then he would come back home feeling so incredibly guilty that it made him be the best husband he could ever be. Plus, the secrecy, the knowledge that he was keeping this big of a secret from his wife, made it very erotic to him, arousing even. It was a rush he kept coming back for more of. Just like a drug.

  "It’s incredible," Carl had told Brian a couple of months ago. "You should try it."

  Brian had thought about it. A lot. His marriage was suffering and had been for a very long time. Especially since Ann got laid off—or forced to retire early as they liked to put it. Ann used to be this sexy woman whom he couldn't keep his hands off, but now she was doubting herself and feeling worthless in a way that made her not want to have sex with her husband. It had been going on for so long that Brian was getting desperate. He had tried to explain to her that he had needs too, that he needed the closeness, but she kept pushing him away. And, on top of it all, there was the matter of her growing paranoia that drove him crazy. Ann kept hearing sounds and kept telling him she believed someone was following her. She tried to hide the fact that she was taking pills for it, but he had found them hidden behind the tampon box in the bathroom. He had no hope of getting her back to normal anytime soon.

  Soon, he began to consider Carl's proposition and, weeks after he had told him about it, Brian was sitting in his office while Carl created a profile on Ashley Madison, the place where he could meet his next fling, as Carl liked to put it. It was apparently this website where you could chat with women who were looking for the same as you. Nothing but casual sex.

  "Make sure you only chat with those that are already married. This is crucial. They need to be like you. Otherwise, they'll get clingy and start to ask you what you're doing and why you're seeing other women and text you during the day, and you don't want that," Carl had explained as they scrolled through the many women. Brian had never in his wildest imagination pictured himself meeting some woman through a website and then having sex with her just like that.

  Was it really that easy?

  As it turned out, it was. Brian soon started to chat with this woman and would stay at the office for hours after everyone else had left and “chat” with her. The chatting soon turned into them wanting to meet up, and tonight had been the night.

  But much to Brian's surprise—or disappointment—the sex hadn't been great. It had been awkward and clumsy, and he hadn't enjoyed a minute of it. He kept comparing this woman to Ann and quickly realized that she fell short. At one point, he had even found himself fantasizing that this woman was, in fact, his wife.

  Now that he had tried it, Brian didn't feel quite the way he had thought he would. As he walked up the stairs toward their bedroom, he did feel guilty, as he had expected, but he didn't really feel that other part that Carl had talked about. The erotic part, the part where you feel almost high on an adrenalin rush and want to do it all over again.

  All he felt was the guilt part. A deep disgust with himself for having done the unthinkable to his wife and all he could think about was that he would never ever want to do anything like this again.

  Brian stood in front of the door to their bedroom and placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling like the worst husband in the world. He sighed and opened the door, wondering if he was ever going to be able to live with himself after this. Was he ever going to be able to look his wife in the eyes again?

  Maybe you should just tell her everything.

  It was against everything that Carl had advised him, but Brian knew it was the only thing he could do. If Ann left him, then so be it. He was the one who had screwed up by listening to an idiot like Carl. How could he have been so stupid? Brian and Ann had something unique. So many years together was truly special, and now he had destroyed it all.

  Luckily, the kids were all grown and had left the house, so they wouldn't suffer from it, at least not as much as they would have had they still lived at home.

  Maybe she'll just laugh at it with you when you tell her how awful it was? Maybe you can laugh at it together?

  Brian shook his head. He knew his wife very well. She was going to be terribly angry with him because of this. But she might be able to forgive him…in time. At least, he hoped she would.

  She might when she sees how sorry you are.

  Brian walked into the bedroom, not turning the lights on. He took off his pants, and then realized he was standing in some kind of water, his socks getting soaked. Brian sighed, thinking it was that darn toilet that had leaked again, then finally turned the light on in order to size up the damage. He felt annoyed at the prospect of having to spend yet another huge amount of money on a plumber and probably a new toilet.

  If you had only listened to what he told you last time and changed the toilet out for a newer model, this wouldn't have happened.

  "Hope you have a canoe," the bastard plumber had said when he left.

  As the light turned on and Brian looked at his wife, he knew immediately something was wrong. And not just because of the water on the floor. As he stared gaping at his wife's wide-open eyes, he also knew a simple I'm sorry wasn't going to cut it. There would be no relief, no laughing at how stupid this whole thing had been. He was going to be eaten up with guilt for the rest of his miserable life.

  Chapter Seven

  "Alexander is totally into you. Why don't you want to go out with him?"

  Maya sighed and looked at her friend. Christina had been on her case about Alexander for weeks now, but Maya kept telling her she didn't want to date him, or anyone for that matter.

  "I want to focus on school," she said. "We only have six months left, and I want to keep my grades up."

  "Yeah, right," Christina said and sat up on Maya's bed. It was Sunday, and Christina had slept over.

  Maya looked at her friend. "It's the truth."

  "So, now you can't both date someone and get good grades? That's ridiculous," she said.

  Maya sighed and looked at her phone. The truth was that she had decided not to date anyone. Not after she lost both Asgar, her best friend who was madly in love with her, and Samuel who…well, that was a whole different story, but he too was gone, at least she hoped he was. She hadn't seen it for herself, but her mom had assured her he was dead. Maya had been in l
ove with Samuel, and she had almost ended up getting herself and her brother killed. It had broken her heart that he turned out to be who he was and, to be honest, she didn't really trust anyone anymore. It was a whole strange story, and she didn't want Christina to know anything about it. She probably wouldn't understand it anyway.

  "Come on," Christina said. "Just go out with him once. Just one time and then tell me you didn't enjoy it. If you don't do it because you like him, then do it just to look at him. He's so yummy!"

  "Sounds like you should go out with him instead," Maya said and got out of the bed.

  Outside the window, the yard was dressed completely in white. She could see Victor playing with his new friend Skye between the trees. If they were, in fact, playing. It seemed very quiet to be that. They were both sitting in front of the tall trees, eyes closed, legs in a lotus position, looking like they were meditating, backs turned against each other.

  "What are they doing?" Christina asked, looking over Maya's shoulder. Maya sighed and shook her head.

  "I honestly don't know."

  Those kids were so weird, Maya couldn't even begin to explain it to Christina. The way they were constantly talking to one another without opening their mouths and letting out any sound, and then there was the matter of them lifting things by the power of their minds alone.

  I have the weirdest family in the world.

  There was a light knock on the door, and Maya's mom peeked inside.

  "Good morning, girls. Sleep well?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Frost," Christina said, sounding perky.

  Maya's mom smiled. "Good. Breakfast is already on the table downstairs. The rest of us ate earlier, but we thought we'd let you two sleep in. Help yourself to anything you need. I'll be in my study."

  "Okay, Mom," Maya said, hoping she would just go away before she said something embarrassing. Her mom had just written a book about Samuel and all that had happened to them, and Maya had begged her not to publish it because she didn't want everything that went on in her life to be public. Even though her mother changed the names in the book, people would still know it was her, she believed. Fortunately, her publisher had told her they didn't want to publish it, and Maya had been very thrilled about that, even though it upset her mother visibly. This story was just a little too close to home, she thought. She didn't want her friends to start realizing just how weird her family was. That was why she usually asked Christina if they could sleep over at her house instead, but for some reason, Christina was so fascinated by Maya's mom because she was a writer and famous and all that, that she always begged Maya to have the sleepover at her house.

  "We will. Thank you, Mrs. Frost," Christina said. "Say…are you working on anything interesting lately?"

  Christina had read all of Maya's mom's books, and often she would ask Maya tons of questions about them, especially about the characters and what was going to happen to them. It would annoy Maya greatly. Christina was her mom's number one fan.

  "As a matter of fact, I am," her mom said.

  Oh, great. Now she's gonna get all chatty and talk about the book that no one will publish.

  "Oh, really? A new book is coming out soon, I presume?" Christina said, clasping her hands together in excitement.

  Maya exhaled. She almost rolled her eyes at her friend but wanted to remain polite.

  Presume? You never use words like that.

  Christina was just trying to impress Maya's mother. Maya knew she was and most other kids might have found it fun that their friends adored their mother so much, but not Maya. She didn't want to have to wonder if they were friends with her because of her famous mother or because they liked her.

  Maya's mom thought it over for a few seconds before answering.

  Please don't give her the whole speech about the publishing house being idiots and having no balls. Please, don't.

  "Well, yes. I am working on getting it published soon, I think."

  "Really?" Christina was almost shrieking when she spoke. "Well, let me know when it comes out. I want to be the first to read it."

  "Will do," her mom said. "I just need to…"

  "Okay, I think it’s time for us to get some breakfast," Maya said and signaled her mom to stop. She could tell she was about to start talking about her troubles of getting the book published. She had that look in her eyes.

  "I’m starving and so is Christina. We should really get something to eat."

  "Oh, okay," her mom said. "Sure. As I said, there's bread on the table and butter and cheese in the fridge."

  "We'll probably just grab some yogurt and fruit," Maya said.

  "Really?" her mom said. "The bread is really good, though. I put sunflower seeds in it this time."

  "Sounds delicious," Christina said. "I think I would like some of that."

  "Well, help yourselves to whatever you want," Maya's mom said. "I have work to do."

  "Break a leg," Christina yelled after her as she was about to leave.

  Maya grimaced.

  Break a leg?

  Maya's mom paused, then smiled politely. "Thank you…I guess."

  Chapter Eight

  I had an idea. A plan almost. I didn't know if it was going to work, but I wanted to try at least. I wasn't going to just sit there in my house and mope over the fact that my publishing house wasn't going to take on my book. Nope. It wasn't my style. I wasn't going to send it to another publishing house either. I was sick of publishers and editors and of them telling me what to do and especially what not to do.

  It was easier than I had thought it would be. I had asked a friend of mine, who was a graphic designer, to create a cover for me, then opened the webpage. I uploaded my manuscript to it, then set a price and pressed PUBLISH. The webpage told me the book was now in review and that it would take twenty-four hours before it would be available in the store.

  Just like that.

  All my other books were already available as e-books in the same online store, so after I formatted it, I didn't really have to do anything else, not even create an author profile. I stared at the screen, wondering if anyone would ever realize it was out there.

  I had to take advantage of the fact that I was already a household name. If I wanted this book to be seen and read, there were ways of doing that. I knew people in the media business all over the country, so I wrote emails to all of them, sending them a copy of my book. I explained that I had decided to self-publish it since no one dared to publish it because it was controversial and that I hoped they might do a little feature or write a note about it in their paper.

  I closed my computer, feeling pretty good about myself, found my box of macadamia nut cookies in the drawer, and started to eat. The cookies were like a week old and tasted stale, but I still ate them. Morten had been on my case lately, trying to get me to lose weight. He was monitoring what I ate and trying to “help” me by asking me if I “really wanted to eat that.” My mom soon chimed in, and that meant I could hardly eat anything without one of them—or sometimes both of them—watching me and commenting on my choices. It was very annoying, to be honest.

  It was all Dr. Williamsen's fault for telling me I had high blood pressure. And my own for telling my family about it when coming home from my check-up. And my mom's fault. Yes, it was definitely mostly her. She was the one who had told me I should start doing yearly check-ups. But after this experience, I wasn't going to go again next year, that was for sure. I would agree to do decadal checkups if there was such a thing. But not every freakin' year. Nope. Wasn't doing it.

  I was probably just agitated when he took my blood pressure, I decided. I did feel a little wound up because I was nervous and all. Check-ups were scary. I was terrified he would come back out and tell me I had three months to live because of some lump I had failed to discover on my own.

  It was so my mother's fault, I thought to myself while chewing my cookie. I had hidden chocolate and snacks all over the house and was eating in secret now, which made it less fun. It made me feel li
ke a child.

  It was only when Sophia dropped by that I could eat with no guilt because she ate along with me. She wasn't big like me though, and she didn't have high blood pressure, which I now envied her tremendously. I guessed that having six kids kept her on her toes constantly and that was why she was so fit. I didn't envy her that part. Having Skye in the house had made my life easier, but I wasn't going to have any more children. I was done with that part, thank you very much. My babies were my books now, and I had just sent one of them into the world to see if it would fly. It was ridiculous how I felt a lot more nervous about this one than the many others I had written.

  Chapter Nine

  "I'm sorry I’m late."

  Morten leaned down and kissed my cheek. I was sitting at the dinner table with my parents and all three children when he walked in. Morten's seat had remained empty all throughout the meal.

  "The phone has been invented," my mother said.

  I gave her a look to quiet her. She was right, though; Morten should have called and told me he would be late, but if anyone was going to say anything, it had to be me and not her. Not that I was going to. It wasn't like we were married or even lived together. He had told me he would stop by for dinner, but I knew he could get held up at work. It happened.

  "Let me heat up a pork chop and some mashed potatoes for you," I said and went into the kitchen. I filled his plate with food, then nuked it before I returned. Morten gave me a tired smile.

  "Thanks, sweetie."

  I sat down, then grabbed a cold pork chop and ate it while Morten shoveled down his food. Now it was my mother's turn to give me a look.

  "What? I can't let the poor man eat alone," I said. "I’m just being polite and trying to make him feel comfortable."

  "You don't have to," Morten said, chewing a mouthful. "I don't mind eating alone."