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

22. High Stakes

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

High Stakes

Ivy reeled, colored lights and fanfare bursting all around her head. “That was...” She gulped, tried again. It was hard to breathe, or speak, or think. “What you did, with the acrobatics, and the pressure points, and the twirling me around... That was like, beyond tantric. That was... What do you even call that?”

With a rakish grin, he reached up to drum his fingers on the headboard and said, “Lunch.”

“Really? Wow. I’ve been doing that wrong.”

“Stick with me, baby. I’ll show you how to do every meal right.”

Fitting nicely into the space under his outstretched arm, she nuzzled for a second, then craned her neck to glimpse the hotel suite’s bedside clock. It was almost a quarter to one.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got to go already.”

She nodded, but kept her head on his chest. “Soon as my bones de-jellify.”

“Yeah, about that.” He combed a hand through her hair. “It might take a while.”

“You know, it’s not polite to incapacitate a working girl on her lunch hour.”

“Keep talking like that,” he yanked her closer and bore down on her, “and I’ll start feeling peckish again.”

Smiling, she blocked his frisky hand and weaved her fingers into it, gazing into his bedroom eyes. “I guess I should be thankful it’s not dinnertime, right? If that was lunch, I mean... I’m afraid.”

“You should be. Dinner can take hours, and you’d need at least a week to recover.” He lightly bit her breast, right above the nipple. “Maybe longer.”

“Mmmn...” He was feathering his lips over her nipple. “What’s—stop it.” She lifted his head. “What’s breakfast like?”

Still focused on her hardening nipple, he said, voice soft and raspy, “Breakfast, contrary to popular belief, can occur at any time of day, and it’s very filling.”

“Like a sexual IHOP.”

He frowned.

“Y’know, International House of...?”

“I know what IHOP is,” he interrupted. “Have you ever been to the Caribbean?”

Ivy failed to catch that train of thought. “No, but I’ve been to IHOP. Good pancakes.”

“Thing is,” Sever said, pressing their joined hand to the duvet, “breakfast is best spent on a beach.”

“Ah,” Ivy said. “Not directly on the sand though, I hope. ‘Cause sand makes sex not sexy real fast.”

His nose grazed hers as he shook his head from side to side. “In a great big hammock for two, in the shade of the morning sun, while the surf breathes over the sand mere footsteps away.”

“You’re so poetic sometimes.”

“We could be lazing about on my island, no one to get in our way.” There was a knock at the door, so he jumped out of bed. “Except the staff.”

“Colonist,” she grumbled.

As always, when he opened the door, there was a room service cart waiting for them. Only Vikram and Terrell were allowed into the suite, so one of them would wheel it in, knock, and go back downstairs.

“It was uninhabited, I’ll have you know.”

He moved beyond the door, so she called out, “Ecosystem destroyer!”

“Well, yeah.” He pushed in the cart, gulped down a glass of water and let out an ahh . “What sort of rich bastard would I be if I wasn’t?”

“Just tell me you pay them well and you let them go home.”

He poured another glass. “Two caretakers live there full time. They’re from Haiti, so they’d rather not go home. The rest of my staff live in Martinique, only come when I need them, but they’re salaried for the full year. A good three, four times what they’d make anywhere else.”

“Oh.” She took the water he offered. No further argument.

He munched on a grape. “So?”

She raised her brows at him, drinking.

Sever put her empty glass aside, and climbed over her. “Take a holiday with me.”

“A... What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. A little getaway? How’s this weekend for you?”

“This...? This weekend is not good for me?—”

“Great, then, next weekend.”

“Um, also no?—”

“Think of it, Ivy: an entire island, all for us.”

“And the staff.”

He ignored that. “Crystal clear ocean, bright blue skies, lush, private coves... it’s paradise on earth.”

“Sounds terrific, except for that one little problem of I have a husband .”

He shrugged like that was a tiny speedbump. “Tell him you’re seeing your cousin, uh, what’s her name.”

“No. I’m not involving Mala again.”

“Someone else, then. Tell him...” He pulled out of thin air, “one of your old sorority sisters is getting hitched, wants a last-hurrah weekend in Vegas. I’d buy that.”

Ivy absorbed this. “Okay, first of all, you lie way too well, it’s unsettling; and second, stop looking into my past! Just ask me about it!”

“What, the sorority?” He laughed. “I only looked into you that one time. I swear it!”

“You must have a photographic memory.”

“No, but I learned memory techniques from Dom O’Brien?—”

“Who?”

“—and you’re changing the subject.”

“You brought up my sorority!”

“I did.” He double-twitched his brow. “Did you all shower together?”

“It wasn’t like the movies. We were art and literary geeks, we didn’t want to live in the dorms anymore, so we... Why am I telling you this? I can’t ask any one of them to lie for me.”

“Doesn’t have to be a real person. Think outside the box, Ivy. Make up a name, I’ll have an invite sent tonight, plane ticket attached?—”

“Stop.” She put her finger on his devilishly persuasive lips. “No. I’m not doing this! Little lies and omissions I can handle, but a calculated ruse? That’s just ...awful. And you’re bullying again.”

He clamped his mouth closed, fighting his impulse to argue. She could tell it was an epic inner struggle. “Right.” He rolled off of her, holding up a surrendering hand. “If you honestly don’t want to, I won’t say another word.”

Ivy sat up, and pinned her hair for a shower. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t .”

“No, it’s that you feel you shouldn’t.”

“Pretty much the same thing.”

“Tell me this.” He lightly traced the curve of her thigh with the back of his hand, giving her goosebumps. “If it was guaranteed there was no way he could possibly find out... would you do it?”

She faltered for a moment, and he caught it.

“I can cover all your bases, Ivy.” He sat up to meet her, getting close and intense again. “I can check you into the Bellagio. I can reroute your calls. I can hire girls to answer phones, take pictures with you, plaster those pictures all over whatever social networks you’re on, he will never know a thing ?—”

“Absolutely not! I am not that person, Sever. I won’t run a whole production just to fuck under a waterfall!”

“But you want to go, and I want to take you.” His voice went from soft and whiny to strong and impassioned: “Let me show you what it’s like to have every little thing you want.”

He started kissing her collarbone, and that always drove her crazy, but she somehow managed to hold her ground. “This isn’t a little sailing trip, it’s a plane ride. To an island .”

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner... dessert, midnight snacks... All inclusive.”

She whimpered as he bit her neck. “You don’t understand.”

“I do. More than you know.” He turned her face to his. “Say you’ll think about it.”

“Have you thought about it?”

Ivy was actively trying not to think about it when he called her at work that afternoon.

People were talking right outside her door, so she lowered her voice. “It’s only been two hours.”

“Two and a half.”

“Bully,” she whispered.

“ Tigresse ,” he said confidently, “if I were bullying you, you’d be on a plane right now.”

He had a point.

“Can’t blame a fellow for gentle persuasion.”

“More like ‘firm’.”

“If that’s the way you want it,” he said naughtily.

“Look, I have work to do, can we do this later?”

“Wait,” he said. “I have a very important question for you.”

Ivy had a feeling it wasn’t all that important, but she waited anyway. “What?”

“If you were to say yes, would you write a checklist?”

She rolled her eyes, and tamed her smiling lips. “Probably.”

“And on that list would be...”

“You really need to know this? Right now?”

“Humor me, my little sensible working girl.”

How was he so horny again? And why was it contagious? “What would you suggest?”

“Well, bikini. The pink one, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“And the gold one.”

“I can get my own.”

“Why should you, when it’s really for me?”

The back of her neck prickled. “Anything else?”

“Pantyhose,” he said. “At least ...six pair.”

“Um... Not really island-wear.”

“I want you in the whole secretary getup when we land. Then, I make you strip down to your hose and swim in the ocean, where I proceed to fuck the sensibility out of you.”

He was so crazy. And so freaking cute. “End of list?”

“Mm-mm,” he disagreed. “Leave phone charger at home.”

She laughed. “Fair.”

Amorously, he said, “All day lip shine.”

“Check. Theoretically, I mean.”

“I want to watch you pack. Theoretically.”

“You have the strangest desires.”

“I want to eat buttered lobster off your tummy.”

“And I repeat...”

“I want to suck raw oyster out of your?—”

“Okay!” She felt an unbidden throb that shouldn’t be felt when coworkers were three feet from her door. “Thank you for that... update. I will get back to you.”

“Remember, tigresse ,” he sing-songed, “all I need is a name...”

“Goodbye,” she returned in sing-song.

“Hang on. One last thing, and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

She sighed.

“Check your email. Your private email.”

“Why?” she asked, suspicious. “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad.” He chuckled. “I promise!”

She woke up her computer screen and whispered, “This better be work safe.”

“It should be in your spam folder, if I did it right.”

Sure enough, there was one email in her spam folder from B. Fearless with the subject Timeshares in the Caribbean! Don’t say no!

Pursing her lips, she opened it.

Picture yourself running wild in this tropical oasis...

She scrolled down a series of photos. An idyllic cove, a hammock on the beach, tropical flowers in bloom, a docked catamaran at sunset, an amazing villa, ocean views...

“That last one is the view from my tub.”

Sever was blatantly preying on her weaknesses: her appreciation for beauty, her untapped adventurous streak, luxurious bath time... Him.

“Cassie,” she whispered.

“Sorry?”

Spurred by the adrenaline rush of being wildly, irrevocably bad, she said, “My sorority sister’s name. ...Cassie.”

Cassie’s getting married.

Who?

My college roommate? Cassie DiMaria? I’ve told you about her before.

You have?

Yeah. She’s throwing a bachelorette party in Vegas next weekend. I’m invited... She sent a ticket and everything. See? I swear it’s all true, I’m not lying, there’s gonna be pictures and actors and lies upon lies just so I can be completely alone with your irresistible Dad for two days

“What the hell am I doing?” Ivy asked herself, and took her cell phone to the roof.

The moment Mala answered, she said, “I’m about to do something drastic.”

“Okay,” Mala said. “How drastic?”

“He wants me to go to his, um—He wants me to go away with him for the weekend. To the Caribbean.”

“Whoa. That is drastic.”

“It gets drastic...ier,” she said. “He came up with this big production for an alibi... which, I’m not even sure I can pull off, or that I want to...”

“So there’s your answer. Don’t pull it off.”

“Yeah, I realize it should be that simple, but... I really, really want to go.”

“You just said you didn’t want to.”

“I don’t want to lie to Jason, but I do want to go with Sever.”

There was a long pause, then an incredulous, “ Sever ?”

Ivy gasped—audibly. She covered her mouth. Eyes wide in horror, mind racing, she felt distinctly like the world had just tilted sideways.

“Oh. My god. Stéphane... Stéphane Mark ,” Mala pieced together. “Oh, my god, Ivy! You’re having an affair with Sever Mark ?”

“I... I know how it sounds, but...”

“Do you? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’re regularly having bondage fun with your husband’s Dad .”

“O-okay, fair enough?—”

“Not just any Dad, a straight-up cartoon villain Dad! I googled him when you and Jason got engaged—do you know how many businesses he’s bought and killed? People he’s put out of work? I mean, isn’t that what your firm fights against?”

“I mean, we don’t agree on everything...”

“Is it just the sex? It’s got to be the sex. I can’t imagine you’d have anything to talk about...”

“We do, too,” Ivy said defensively. “I mean, it’s... He’s ... The sex is... I’ve never had ... It’s ...amazing. But we talk, too. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

“Seriously, Ivy? You jeopardized your entire life’s happiness for good sex?”

“No... You don’t understand... It’s deeper than that. Okay? It’s more than sex, it’s...” Her voice got shakier as she spoke. “It’s who he is underneath it all. Who we are when we’re together.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, wow, Ivy, this is bad.”

Did someone pour ice water down her back? “I know it’s bad?—”

“No! You think you’re in love with him!”

Where the hell did that come from? “I-I didn’t say that. I did not say that!”

“You said it’s deeper than sex. What’s deeper than sex?”

“I am not in lo—” The forbidden word dissipated into a painful puff of air. Her chest cavity hurt.

“You’re right. You’re not. But your behavior and the things you say are all, ‘Don’t judge our star-crossed love’.”

Ivy slumped against a hot adobe wall.

“Okay, so, I’m gonna play the family card here because it’s obvious you need tough love, not wishy-washy friend advice: Stop this . Stop doing this to yourself right now. You have no future with Sever Mark, and if you keep this up you’ll have no future with Jason either. This is empty plate, Ivy, all the way.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “He wants to marry me.”

“Great, so, you divorce your husband and marry his father? Kill two of Jason’s most vital relationships with one stone; cause a huge tabloid scandal... And for what? A guy who doesn’t care enough about his own son to know better than to mack on his daughter-in-law?”

“I didn’t say I would marry him— Because I,” she managed breathlessly, “I don’t...”

“Just... Be rational for a second. Be Ivybot. Let’s say it all works out. Let’s say you do love him. What would your life be like with him, just the two of you, after the dust settles? Is a famous billionaire gonna let you work? Do you think you’ll be happy, tucked away in his mansion all day? You want to be some trophy wife throwing garden parties, is that the life you want?”

Mouth quivering, she sniffled. “No.”

Mala sighed. “I’m sorry to be so harsh, but... this is not okay . You can’t take this trip with him.”

“I know you’re right, but...” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know you’re right.”

“Look at it this way,” Mala reasoned. “If Sever’s got it bad for you, and you give him this—if you go away with him? He’s gonna think you love him, too.”

She was right.

She was right.

After hanging up, Ivy stood there for several moments, then she did it. She dialed. As it connected, she turned to rest her forehead on the wall, pressing it into the bumpy stucco.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Sever said, like he owned the world. “Your alibi is winging its way to you.”

Her hand was shaking. “Please stop answering the phone like that.”

“Sorry.” His voice got low and flirty. “Are you making a list? Checking it twice?”

She took a deep breath. “I can’t go.”

“What? Why?” Crestfallen, he asked, “What’s...? I can change the date?—”

“No, I mean I can’t. At all. Ever,” she said, powering up the Ivybot. “This is my decision. Please respect it, and don’t ask me again.”

He was silent for a moment. “If that’s what you want.”

She stared at the ground. “It is.” A lump formed in her throat.

“Right. Well,” he said, clearly stung. “You know where to find me then.”

She swallowed and said, “Yeah.”

Feeling faint, she ended the call. She didn’t want to stop seeing Sever, but Mala had just given her a wake-up call: This was not normal. This was not okay. This was fucking insanity. This was certain doom.

Sever was stuck on her, and she’d been leading him on. She didn’t love him back; she loved the way he made her feel.

...Right?

What does “in love” even mean?

Ivy wasn’t sure she knew. What are the markers? When does it start, and when does it end? How can you know it’s real when you can be so easily tricked by hormones and instant rapport and sparky eyes?

Setting her phone down to charge in the kitchen, she considered her husband, camped out on the couch. He was lost in research, scratching his five o’clock shadow with the cap end of a pen, wearing only his dorky glasses, plaid boxer shorts and black dress socks. A few months ago, this inelegant sight, his patented work-at-home look, would have made her heart swell. Now, it just made her feel sad and tired.

“Jason,” she said. “Come back to bed.”

He looked up at her, processing what she’d said. “You sure?”

“Not... sex. Not yet. Just bed. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he closed his book and smiled to himself. “Okay.”

They lay on their sides, about a foot apart, facing the same direction. The air between them was full of questions. She reached back, took his hand and held it at her chin.

He was asleep in minutes.

She stared at beams of headlights on the walls for an hour.

While walking to her lunchtime gym class the next day, Ivy passed a newsstand that she regularly scanned for new issues of Art In America or Apollo .

The Ivybot was doing just fine—powered up for a consecutive twenty-one hours, in fact—until she glimpsed the cryptic headline that got her blood pumping like a real girl again:

THE ARTFUL SEVER MARK GIVES BACK

Gives back what?

Ivy grabbed the magazine off the rack, and started turning pages.

MARK SPINS OFF NEW ART FOUNDATION

At first, she didn’t understand it, and then she couldn’t believe it.

Since April—the month he took her to Paris—Mark International Holdings had begun investing in art galleries and art education programs all over the globe. He’d created a new foundation for it.

The name of this new foundation?

Zeitgeist.

Her college art magazine. With the essay he’d memorized and quoted back to her.

“You could say I was inspired by an extraordinary work of art,” Mark says.

Hand on her heart, she breathed, “Sever.”