Page 16 of The Husband Contract
She heads closer toward me and takes a seat across from the large mahogany table that I call my desk. She taps her long, French-manicured nails across the table, and I listen tothe pitter-patter. Her eyes meet mine, and she licks her lips. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet," I say, shaking my head. "I need to think about the right move."
"Where is Sergio right now?” she asks, looking at me, and I feel anger filling me again.
"Somewhere in Thailand. I think he's in Koh Samui right now," I say. "I spoke to him last night."
"And how's he doing?"
"As well as could be expected." I don't regale her with how I'd listened to him moaning and groaning for fifteen minutes about how his heart was broken and how he didn't know if he was going to be able to recover from the pain. My brother is soft. Weak. And if he wasn't my brother, I would want nothing to do with someone like him. But I know why he's like that—our parents didn’t show him love, didn’t show him care or concern. And now all he’s doing is seeking it from women. Love, acceptance, validation. And unfortunately, he always seems to find the wrong ones. I know what it is to feel empty and alone. To feel like you aren’t loved, but I went the other way. I don’t care if anyone loves me. I don’t need a woman to feel like I'm enough. I have my money and my friends.
"And how are you, Sebastian?" Louisa stands up and walks around the desk. I feel her hands on my shoulders, squeezing, and I look up into her eyes. They are cold and searching. There has always been something distant about Louisa, like there is an ice cage around her heart. It’s something I’ve noticed, but never inquired about. It’s none of my business, and for her line of work, it works well that she never seems to have emotions. That’s why I hired her, even though we had a brief history as teenagers, but she never cared enough to let its ending bother her.
"I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm annoyed, but I’m fine."
She continues to massage my shoulders, and I feel her right hand slipping slightly around my neck. She plays with my jawline, running her fingers against the stubble. Her hand slips down, and I watch as she kneels to the ground. Her eyes don’t leave mine, and I feel her hand on my belt buckle.
“I can help relieve the stress,” she offers, parting her lips into an O, and I watch as she slips a finger in and sucks.
I shift back, shake my head, and jump up out of the chair, breaking contact with her. This isn’t the first time she’s offered, but I’m not interested. I stand up, head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up my office, and look out at the skyline of the city to gather my thoughts and distance myself from her.
Manhattan is a city that I love. I love the hustle and the bustle. I love the skyscrapers. I love that it’s the epicenter of the world. I watch taxis dodge each other and pedestrians on the road. I watch people talking,locals walking quickly, and tourists walking slowly. I look down at the photo in my hand again and stare at the woman’s face, thinking about my next steps. I look into her eyes and my own narrow. My breath catches as a distant, but distinct memory hits me. I do know this woman.
Louisa is suddenly by my side, and I feel her hands on my arm, squeezing slightly. I turn to look at her.
"If you ever want to relieve any stress or discuss anything," she says, biting down on her lip again. Her eyes are smoldering. She’s beautiful. Very beautiful. And she could have almost any man she wanted—and she did. But I don’t want her. Maybe she is perfect for me because she is so cold and closed off. I am the same. We could fuck, and it would mean nothing to either of us. But I’m not interested.Maybe it was because she’d come into my life right after a tragedy, but I just didn’t want that with her.
"Do you remember that one time?" she says, licking her lips slowly. I can see the saliva glistening on them as she parts them. Then she sucks on her finger again and throws her head back, and starts moaning. I watch her eyes fall to the front of my pants.
"I can still remember it," she says huskily. "The taste, the feel, having to open wider than I’d ever had to open before in my life." She grins as she pulls her finger out and runs her fingers down the side of my arm again. "I guess they call you Big Boy for a reason, don’t they?" Her laugh is grating, but I don’t want to be rude. It was one blowjob as a teenager. It didn’t mean anything to me. I don’t even remember it.
"So, you said this Willow, she’s in Whispering Haven?" I change the subject. My mind thinks back to the coat girl from the club with the flashing eyes. She reminds me of the woman in the photo, only she hadn’t been as hot. “Not in the city?”
I see a flash of disappointment in Louisa’s eyes, but she nods. I watch as she heads back to her bag and pulls out a folder. “Willow Montgomery. Lives in Whispering Haven. Owns a bed and breakfast.” She flicks through some papers. “Anything else?”
“I thought she looked familiar. I thought—” I clear my throat. “I guess I was wrong.”
“She often takes jobs at places where she can meet new targets.” She looks me dead in the eyes. “The paperwork says she recently got a job at the Magnolia Club, but I’m not sure in what capacity.”
“My club.” My heart races. So maybe I wasn’t wrong. “She’s looking for another rich guy?”
“I suppose so.”
I try and remember our brief conversation. She’d beengoing through my pockets. And she’d been rude. Her mask had slipped a little bit then. Then I remembered how she’d reacted when she’d heard my name. Maybe she realized who I was. Maybe she was nervous I knew she was a con. Had she been smiling at my friends? Likely hoping to catch one of their attentions and rip them off. Fury rumbles through me. She is definitely on the make, trying to catch another rich man.
“She works at the hotel and the club?”
"Yeah. Whispering Haven Bed and Breakfast," she says. "She works there when she’s not gallivanting around the world." She laughs. "But the business is not doing so well. I’m guessing that’s why she took the money from Sergio. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a drug habit or something, because where’s all the money going? It’s not that luxurious of a hotel."
“I don’t care where the money is going,” I growl.“I need you to do me a favor, Louisa."
"Yeah, what’s that?"
I am about to ask her to place a reservation for me, but then I change my mind. I want the element of surprise when it comes to Ms. Willow Montgomery. I don’t want her to know I'm coming.
"Nothing," I say, smiling. "You enjoy the rest of your week. I will be out of the office for a while."
"Thank you," she says, looking slightly disappointed. "You tell Sergio that I’m thinking of him," she adds, opening my office door.
