End With A Bang (Slap/Bang Duet #2)

19. Ours

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ours

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Jason murmured as they approached Ellison Cole’s conference room door, his client in tow.

His paralegal was out sick, and she was called to step in. “Like I said,” Ivy told him, and herself, “I’m a professional. High road all the way.” Anxiously, she patted her updo, a low bun. “How’s my hair?”

“Perfect. You look fantastic.”

She took a deep breath, and together, they entered the Ellison Cole conference room. Three suits stood to greet them, including Kara, who said, “Oh look, he brought the little wife.”

Unbelievable. Did the high road include vaulting over a conference table and punting another woman out the window? If not, it really should.

“Ivy’s the best PA in the firm, you know that,” Jason said, sitting diagonally from his lover, leaving the direct-opposite seat for Ivy.

“She’s certainly the best dressed,” Kara said, insinuation meter on high. “Is that Armani, dear? Or McQueen?”

“I’m not big on labels,” Ivy said, once she’d talked herself down from a rampage. “But thanks for the compliment, ‘dear’.”

Jason tapped a pen on his pad, his discomfort palpable.

Tom Ellison cleared his throat. “Why don’t we get started?”

“Great,” Jason said.

Rinsing her hands at the ladies’ room sink, Ivy heard the clack of approaching heels. Don’t be Kara, don’t be Kara, don’t be Kara...

“Oh,” condescended Kara. “You’re still here.”

Terrific . “Can we not?”

Opening a lipstick, Kara pulled an innocent face. “Beg pardon?”

“Whatever,” Ivy said, trashing a paper towel and making a beeline for the door. “I don’t have the time or the energy to trade insults with you.”

“Too busy earning those designer duds?”

That halted her in her Louboutins. Was Kara trying to bait her, or had she actually seen something?

Returning Ivy’s glance in the mirror, Kara said, “I’ve seen you around town in your new wardrobe. Sum total must be thirty Gs. How does a girl making about twice that much a year afford to splurge like that?”

Ivy accosted her and hissed, “I have a husband with a trust fund who just slept with a skank. You do the math.”

“Look at that. You do have the energy.” Kara calmly put her lipstick away.

This woman was a piece of work. Barely containing her rage, Ivy said, “Stay out of my life.”

“Or what?” She reached for her open clutch, and out of pure, childish impulse, Ivy swept it off the counter, making its contents spill on the floor. “You’ll beat up my bag?”

Instant regret. She hated how this woman got to her. “I mean it. Dig in someone else’s yard before I go digging in yours.”

Placid as ever, Kara smirked and crouched down to retrieve her scattered makeup, wallet, and open plastic pill box. “Be my guest, Tyler. Maybe you’ll find what I’m looking for.”

Ivy frowned. “Which is?”

With a throaty chuckle, Kara snapped her pill box shut. “I get why he likes you so much.” She stood up and brushed past her. “You’re ballsy. Dumb, but ballsy.”

By ‘he’, she means Jason, Ivy wondered. Right? “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know one thing,” Kara said, door handle in her grasp. “When this all blows up in your pretty little face, I’m gonna have good seats.” She winked, and was gone.

Alone in the restroom, Ivy repeated a mantra to calm herself down: If she had proof, he would know. If she had proof, he would know. And if he knew...

She closed her eyes, and a tear spilled down her cheek.

I am not going to cry at Ellison fucking Cole became her new mantra, and she steeled up.

Kara didn’t have proof. That’s why she went for button-pushers like Paris and the new wardrobe—to gauge Ivy’s reaction.

Looking down at her suddenly-obvious $1800 dress and $950 shoes, Ivy noticed a small elliptical blue pill near her toe. She picked it up, read the embossment—LILLY 4415—and stashed it into her own purse.

She had some research to do.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you up there without an appointment.”

Katie, the Mark International main floor receptionist, was testing Ivy’s last nerve. On top of the passive-aggressive ‘tude, she was blonde, cute as a kitten and dressed like a Hostess Sno-ball, all fuzzy and pink.

No earthly desire for the women at corporate, he says. “Look, he’s not answering his phone, and it’s an emergency. Can you just tell him I’m here?”

With a nose-scrunching grin, Katie said, “Pretty sure I can’t.”

She’d been itching to punch someone all morning. Might as well be this chick. Crossing her arms as a restraint, she said, “What floor is he on?”

“Mmkay. Let me break it down for you, Miss...?”

Uncomfortable with adding ‘Mark’ since the start of her affair, or making it obvious that she was related to him in any way, Ivy said quietly, “Tyler.”

“Sever Mark is a very important man, ‘mkay, he’s not gonna blow off work in the middle of the day to...” Her face fell. “ Ivy Tyler?”

“Yeah...”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Katie tittered nervously and picked up the phone.

She had carte blanche all the way down to the front desk? She couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by his lack of discretion, or turned on by the priority he gave her.

And the power. Yup, turned on.

“Hi, Terry,” Katie said. “Miss Tyler is here to see Mr. Mark. ...Great!” She hung up and blinded Ivy with a smile. “Someone will be right with you, Miss Tyler. Please, have a seat! Can I get you anything? Bottled water? Coffee? Champagne?”

“No, thanks.”

In short order, Terrell came out of the elevator.

“Hiiii, Terry,” Katie sing-songed, flirtatious.

“Hey, girl,” he said, then nodded at Ivy. No hey, girl for her. No “Terry” either.

In the elevator, Ivy asked, “Does everyone call you Terry?”

“Nah,” he said, staring straight ahead. “I can’t stand it. But she’s a little hung up on me.”

“You’re not interested?” He didn’t answer for a moment, so she said, “I’m sorry. I have no filter.”

He shrugged. “I’m gay.”

Surprised, but happy to know something else about him, she said, “That was heteronormative of me. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” They reached the top floor, and he said, “This your first time here?”

“Yeah,” Ivy said. “Why?”

The elevator doors opened, and she heard muffled shouting.

“No reason,” he replied calmly, and walked ahead.

“Good afternoon, Miss Tyler,” said Mayumi, Sever’s personal receptionist. She was neither blonde, nor a fuzzy cupcake; she was a total smokeshow. “I’ll announce you?—”

“I got this, May,” Terrell said as he ambled past her desk.

Ivy scurried to keep up. “You didn’t tell him I’m here?”

“Don’t have to.” With a keycard, he unlocked a set of double doors, revealing the source of the shouts: Sever, standing in the center of his enormous office, lambasting three men.

“—out of your collective ass long enough to stop telling me why I can’t and start telling me how I can . What!” he shouted, annoyed that someone had entered the room. When he didn’t get an answer, he swung his head to the door, and saw her.

Before her eyes—and everyone else’s—Sever Mark melted into goo.

Transfixed, he said softly, “Leave us.”

She felt her face flush.

As his men filed past her, she thought she heard one mutter, “Speak of the devil.”

Ivy was the devil? What did she do? She must have misheard.

Terrell left and closed them in.

Still gooey, Sever tilted his head.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

Slowly, he stalked toward her.

“I-is everything okay?”

“It is now,” he said, stopping before her to do that not-touching-but-might-as-well-be trick he did so well. “There a zipper on this thing?”

She shelved a grin. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Pity...”

“Stop,” she said, evading his lips. “I need to talk to you.”

Teasingly, he whispered, “Small talk? Or big?”

“Huge.”

“That’s just my size?—”

“Stop it! I’m serious! Is this all women are to you?”

He laughed, “What?”

“Little pink objects of desire?”

“You’re in purple today,” he said, closing in again.

She poked his chest. “Front Desk Barbie isn’t. Does she wear pink every day? Is that a requirement here at Sterling Cooper?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Candi, or Cakie, that... ‘60s throwback gargoyle at your front door.”

Sever seemed genuinely confused. “Mayumi?”

“No, Katie . The girl downstairs. But, now that you mention it, Mayumi is...” Ivy deflated, “...also pretty.”

Charmed, he touched her pouty lip. “Mayumi is also married to a woman. And she happens to be trans.”

Ivy let that sink in. God, I’m bad at this...

“You,” he put both hands on her face, “are my one desire, Ivy Tyler. Whether you like it or not.”

She realized she was nuzzling against his palm, and stopped. “It seems like everybody here knows that.”

“They know you’re important to me. As they should.”

“If Jason came here, or talked to one of them...”

With an emphatic eyeroll, he let go of her. “Can’t have him finding out.”

“No. We can’t .” She watched him walk to the wet bar and pour a glass of water. “Step out of yourself for a second and think how badly it would destroy him.”

He let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh, it’s for his sake, is it? We’re protecting him ?”

It took her a moment to form words. “I know you care about him. You’ve been protecting him for years.”

“Ivy,” he said frankly, “You’re not protecting anyone but yourself. You can dress your cowardice in all the hero medals you want, but that doesn’t hide the truth. No matter how this ends, everyone’s gonna lie bleeding. Everyone.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, then another, and no I’m not a crier mantra could prevent more. Crumbling, she turned around. She had to get out of there.

“Fuck,” Sever muttered, and captured her en route to the door. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please don’t cry. Please! I’m a bad, horrible man, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you were right,” she said between sobs, caged by his arms. “I’m a coward. I am. I had a shitty day and I... I came running to you, like you could fix it somehow...”

“I’ll fix it. I will. Tell me what to fix.”

“I’m the one who broke it, Sever, I need to fix it?—”

“No. No, forget what I said. Let me fix it.” He turned her to face him and said, “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

She shook her head, wiped her tears, feeling stupid for having driven all this way. “It’s not worth worrying about. I’m sorry. I’m just being paranoid, I think.”

Sever walked her to a nearby couch, sat down with her. “Try me.”

She sniffled. “It’s Kara. You know, bitch lawyer?” At his nod, she went on, “I don’t know if she’s still following us or what, but she’s definitely clued in. Not enough to prove it to Jason, but enough to taunt me with it, and... Anyway, this pill fell out of her bag.”

He took it from her. “What is it?”

“It’s an antipsychotic. It can treat anything from bipolar disorder to acute schizophrenia. It’s a high dose, so naturally, my mind went...”

“To the extreme.”

Ivy nodded. “Add the fact that I know she owns a gun, and... blam, paranoia party in my head.”

“Well.” Gently, he took her hands in his. “She’s not been following us, that much is certain.”

“I just wish I knew what she was after.”

“You mean besides your husband?”

“Yes,” she answered plainly. “If she only wanted him, she’d have evidence by now. She’s looking for something else, Sever. Something major. And it might be about you .”

He gave her a warm eye-smile. “I’ll call my guy, get him back on her scent, all right? No stone unturned.”

Chewing on her lip, she stared down at their joined hands. “You’ve never met Kara, have you?”

“Never. If she’s got something against me, it’s indirect. Maybe I did her Daddy wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of this, you and I. Together.”

She smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” he inhaled at her neck, unpinned her hair, and teased her dress up her thighs. “Don’t make me rip this off you.”

Ivy caught his wrist.

She could have complained that he’d spoiled her perfect coif, could have insisted that they not have sex when she was expected back at work in thirty minutes.

Could have.

But what she did instead was take his hand and place it on her hip, right above her zipper.

You ripped my dress after all, Stéphane. Do I need to punish you again?

She sent the message, put her phone down on her bureau, and pulled the Alexander McQueen dress over her head. Her phone buzzed.

Mala

Um... I think you maybe mis-sent these? Unless I missed something. ;)

Heart racing, Ivy scrolled upward. Lo and behold, she’d sent that text to Mala , her cousin, not Le Mal , the code name for her secret lover.

And– oh shit , she’d sent another one, too:

I’m still cleaning paint out of weird places.

Ivy ran damage control in her mind. What the hell could she tell her oldest, dearest friend; her closest surviving family member? She couldn’t say it was Jason— she’d used another name!

Maybe she could ignore it until Mala forgot about it...

Incoming call: Mala

Dammit. Ignore? Or answer? Her finger hovered over green, then red… She chose green. Feeling slightly nauseous, she put on a cheerful tone. “Hey, Mal! How are you?”

“I’m good,” Mala said. “Hey, is everything okay with... everything?”

“Everything’s great! Uh, I’m sorry about that text...”

“It’s okay! We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah...” Ivy felt a lump form in her throat. She sat down on her bed, stared down at her toes and said, “I’m cheating on Jason.”

There was a stunned silence. “What?”

Fighting tears, Ivy gave her a condensed version of the story; one that left out certain key details such as who this “Stéphane” actually was.

“Wow...” Mala marveled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m a horrible person, you can start there.”

“No, you’re not horrible, but... It’s so... not you.”

“I know.”

“You’ve always been so anti, I mean that whole thing with your Dad...”

“I know,” she said, pulling another tissue out of the box to dry her tears.

“And... Stéphane? I gotta be honest with you, he sounds kind of manipulative.”

“He is—I mean, he was. At first. But now, I swear, he’s like a different person. He’s the man he used to be, and... I think I helped him get there, so he fell in love with me, and I...”

Mala waited. “Do you love him back?”

“I... have strong feelings for him. He’s like no one I’ve ever met. But he’s not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to mother.”

“So, you’re just gonna keep stringing both of them along?”

“No,” Ivy said, defensive. “I’m not... stringing. I’m confused.”

“I get that, but, eventually Jason’s gonna find out.”

“Eventually,” she said. Operative word. “Until then, can’t I just have my cake and eat it, too?”

“I guess... but you know what happens when you eat a whole cake, don’t you?”

“You’re satisfied and sleepy?”

“No, you’re left with nothing but a big ol’ empty plate and a tummy ache. I don’t want that to happen to you, Ive.”

“Me either.” Her eyes welled again. “What do you think I should do?”

“I can’t tell you that. You’ll do whatever feels right, and that’s fine. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” Ivy said, and she meant it.

One hour later, however, she was tied to Sever’s bedposts, begging to be hurt.