Page 2 of The Marriage Agreement
“Some clients act like everything revolves around them.” She gives me a small smile and adds, “Wait for me?”
I nod and watch her walk into the house, her assistant in tow. I stroll around the party and my body cools a bit as I watch the guests. Most are now mildly inebriated and less guarded. The party is in full force and its only threat is the clouds. They have been gathering all day, threatening to rain on the birthday party.But even Nolan Hawthorne, the third, has the power to ward off rain.
Nolan Senior seems to enjoy the attention. For a man hitting seventy, he’s acting like this is his fifth birthday. I scoff. Looking at him now as he slaps one of his friends on the back and doubles down in laughter, one would think, he’s a kind, affable man. They would be wrong. The man is ruthless not only towards his enemies but his family as well. Except for the youngest daughter, according to Nolan Junior. Nolan junior is always talking about how their father spoils Ivy. It’s no secret she’s the favorite. Even my mother, who had the unfortunate job of being Nolan’s senior’s assistant, would tell me all about the little blonde kid he likes to spoil.
“Mr. Sinclair?” Someone says behind me. I turn around to see Farlow, the butler, standing straight in his well-tailored suit. He passes a note in my hand. “A lady said to give this to you,” he adds. I frown and take the note, but before I can ask who, he’s gone just as quickly as he appeared.
I’m at the center of the Maze. Come find me. - Bree
Beneath the words is a crude diagram of the labyrinth, with directions to the center. I pocket the note, wondering how Bree knows about it. Even though I am loosely connected to this family, this is the second time I’ve been to their famed Hamptons estate, and I’ve never been in the hedge maze. But don’t all these rich pricks socialize together often? They do it so much that they probably know every detail of each other’s ten homes. There’s a table with a champagne tower close by. I grab two glasses and follow the directions.
The maze is lit up with lamps tucked into the hedge at each corner, making it easy to see but also dark enough to not make faces that recognizable. The center isn’t that hard to reach, and after a few twists and turns, I’m there. There’s a large fountain at the center and two stone benches on each side and at thefountain is Bree’s standing with her back facing me. No, that’s not Bree. Bree has a red dress and a blonde pixie haircut. This woman is wearing white and has long hair. “Ivy?”
She turns to face me, her dress swishing and her hair flowing in the breeze. She looks more ethereal now than before. The low light of the lamps stresses her otherworldly features, taking my breath away. I’m dumbstruck for a moment as I stare at the woman in front of me. It’s only now that I’m realizing that she’s no longer the little girl that would bother my friend. My gaze scans her face, noting the famous Hawthorne cheekbones that make everyone in her family a beauty, but on Ivy, they make her a goddess. Her big emerald eyes have an oval shape that would have looked catty on anyone. They are mesmerizing on her. I gulp as my gaze caresses her body. Her breasts have grown a lot in the past year. A late bloomer. What am I doing? I shouldn’t be lusting after her, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re not Bree.” My voice is curt and she flinches.
“No,” she takes a couple of steps forward. I take a step back. She stops. She grips the sides of her dress and looks down. “I just wanted to talk to you, but you kept ignoring me.”
I lift the paper in my hand. “So you thought deception would work? Goodbye Ivy.” I turn to walk away.
“No, wait.” Ivy grabs the hand that’s holding the two champagne glasses. “Please, don’t go.” I turn around. Damn. She’s even more beautiful up close. Her green eyes are glazy with… tears? Was she crying? A sudden compulsion to learn whoever caused her to cry and bust them up comes over me. It makes me pause.
Confident that I won’t leave, she lets go of my hand, takes one glass, and downs half of the contents. “You were ignoring me the entire night. Why?”
“Come on Ivy, you know why.”
“Oh.” Her hair falls, creating a curtain around her face. She steps back to the fountain and takes a seat on the edge. “You must think I’m embarrassing throwing myself at you like that.”
I sigh. And walk over to stand in front of her. The ledge she’s sitting on brings us to the same height. “I’ve never been embarrassed to be with you, Ivy.”
“But?”
“You and I together would be inappropriate. I’m older than you. You’re my best friend’s sister. My boss’s daughter. I’m playing with fire just standing here talking to you.”
Her eyes widen. “But you’re interested in me? Y-you find me attractive?” Fuck. I should have led with I don’t like you. But it would be a lie. I am interested in her. Dirty thoughts have occupied my mind the entire day today. She smiles as if I’ve confirmed a long-held belief of hers. “You do.”
“You’re nineteen.”
“Twenty actually.”
I grab her glass. “Not old enough to drink that.”
She rolls her eyes and takes the champagne flute back. “I’m old enough for a lot of things.”
The meaning behind her words is clear. My nostrils flare as I wonder what is beneath that fucking dress of hers. I grip the stem of the champagne glass just so I don’t flip her dress and skim her thighs.
“I am not some little boy you can play around with, Ivy.”
She leans back and parts her thighs. She’s practically whispering when she says, “You think I don’t know that?” I step closer to listen, I tell myself, but that’s another fucking lie. “They call you Damien the devil. Because of your devilish skills in bed.”
“No.” My voice goes down a register, “Because of the ruthless way I discard them after.”
She shivers and leans forward. “As long as I discard you first, it doesn’t matter.” Our lips are only an inch apart. Lavenderwafts into my nostrils and I dip my head to follow the scent on her neck. It feels like the most natural thing to brush my lips against her neck. She tastes of earthy wood, lavender, and vanilla. A heady combination. Her moan makes me hard.
“I’m a bad guy,” I say. It’s my last warning to her, but she doesn’t heed it. Instead, she draws me into her by pinning her legs around my waist. That’s the last straw. I hear the shatter of glass as I let go of my wine and I hold her face in my hands, clasping my lips against hers. The kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. There’s shyness about her I didn’t expect from someone so forward. It makes me want to kiss her even deeper so she can come out of her shell. I hear another shatter of glass as she lets go of her wine and pulls me into her embrace. Our bodies fit perfectly together and the sensation of my cock pressing into her pussy drives us both wild. The clothes that separate our bodies feel oppressive. I want to rip them all off.
My hand goes to her shoulder and I flip the spaghetti strap off her to reveal her left breast. She’s not wearing a bra. I can’t help it. I latch onto her nipple and bite. She screams. We hear voices. We both go still. Clarity comes back, but only a little. My gaze is on her white breast and I’m partially fascinated by how pink her nipple looks.
