by Messer Stone
“Let it go, sweet girl,” he rasps against my ear, his hips still moving against mine. “Let it all go.”
CHAPTER 19
Parker
I’m starting to realize that what I feel for Mercy Chase is dangerous. She was under my skin pretty good before, but now that I know what it’s like to be inside her… I’m pretty much finished.
Sex has never felt like this before. Sure, I’ve always tried to be considerate in the bedroom. Getting off without ensuring that the woman I’m with gets the same feels like bad manners.
With Mercy, though, it’s like my fucking life depends on it. Watching her come is searingly gorgeous. So raw, so visceral and real.
When I finally let myself go, I get a grip of her hair and pull her up a bit so that our faces are locked together. I want her to see my eyes as I fall apart.
The second I pull out, I want to slip back in. Somehow, I restrain myself. If I were to push her body too far, if I hurt her somehow, I’d never forgive myself.
After I’ve cleaned us both up and gotten rid of the condom, I settle down between her thighs and hitch her legs over my shoulders.
I’m not sure how long I spend with my mouth on her, I just know it’s not long enough. I’ve never been so desperate, so greedy for more.
Watching her as she writhes under my firm grip, listening as she calls out my name, pushing her to the point of total incoherence as I make her come over and over and over again— is the single most incredible experience of my life.
When she curls away, begging me to stop on a desperate sob, I reluctantly kiss my way up her body. She’s lying on her side and I wrap myself around her, pressing my front into her back.
Brushing her hair away gently, I press a soft kiss to her ear. “You okay?”
She gives me a grunt in response and less than a minute later her breathing slows and evens out as she drifts off to sleep in my arms.
I can’t remember the last time I slept with someone. As in actually slept. Sharing a bed requires a level of trust and intimacy that I’ve never been comfortable with. And yet, the idea of leaving Mercy alone here so I can go sleep in one of the guest rooms never even occurs to me.
* * * *
“Can’t you come home for just a little while?” I peer anxiously over my shoulder. “Mom’s been crying a lot. I can’t get her to stop. I’ve tried talking to her, but—”
My father’s voice is harsh and impatient over the phone. “Women get emotional sometimes, Parker. Just ignore it.”
A gaggle of other voices rumble through the line. “Yeah, tell them I’ll be right in— look, Champ, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight. It’ll most likely be late but we can chat a bit if you’re still up.”
With a sigh, I put the phone back in its cradle and head back to my usual spot— sitting on the wall just outside mom and dad’s room.
The blue cast on my arm is bothering me and I snake a finger under the plaster, trying to scratch an itch. Lorelai’s signature stands out as the biggest among the many names scrawled there and it makes me smile.
I’d never admit it or anything but I miss my sister like crazy. This is the longest we’ve ever been apart. When she found out I couldn’t go with her to camp because of my arm, she said she would stay home too. I made her go without me and I’m glad I did. No point in both of us suffering.
This has been the worst summer ever. My arm is broken. Most of my friends are away on vacation or at camp. And I can’t even play with the friends that are here because I don’t want to leave my mom alone. I can’t explain it, but the idea of leaving her home by herself gives me a strange feeling in my gut.
It all started right before school let out. I’m not sure exactly what happened. All I know is that mom told us that she had a baby in her belly. People had been in the house, moving a crib and a rocking chair into the room across from mine, painting it different shades of pink. And then one day I came home and the room was empty. Dad sat Lorelai and I down and said that mom didn’t have a baby in her belly anymore and that we shouldn’t ever talk about it again.
At first, nothing seemed off. Three days later I broke my arm and mom fussed over me like she always does. But then Lorelai went off to camp and Dad started working more. That’s when I noticed something was wrong.
Mom won’t talk to me. She won’t come out of her room. She cries constantly. She barely eats. Dad isn’t here much at all but when he is, she acts really happy. When he leaves, she goes back to crying. I’ve tried to tell him that something is wrong but he doesn’t believe me.
Maybe he’s right, though. My dad’s a smart guy. He runs a big company. And I’m only ten. What do I know?
It’s almost July. Soon, summer will be over and I’ll have spent all of it worrying over something that’s probably not even a big deal. My best friend Boyd is back from London. He lives on my block. I think I’ll go see him.
Mom doesn’t need me here. Nothing bad will happen to her if I leave for a little while.
* * * *
I wake up with a jolt, breathing hard. Mercy is wrapped around me, her cheek resting on my chest as she snores softly. The dream falls away until I can’t remember it at all.
Smiling to myself, I press a kiss to her forehead and ease gently out of bed, careful not to wake her. I can’t let her sleep forever, of course. Knowing her, she’ll want to be home before Sophie and Jason get back from their sleepover. But another hour or so won’t hurt.
My body usually wakes itself up at 4:30 on the dot. The fact that it’s almost 7 is evidence of just how thoroughly that girl rocked my world. I slip on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt before tip-toeing out of the room.
I swing by the kitchen and ask the staff to whip up a full breakfast spread. Waffles, omelets, bacon. I’m not sure what Mercy likes to eat in the mornings and I want her to have options.
In the breakfast room, Miles has left me a cup of coffee, my tablet, and a packet of information about the event I have to attend this evening. The 11th Annual Bolton-Callahan Foundation Gala.
People tend to consider a spot on the guest list to be a revered badge of honor. Personally I’ve always hated the spectacle of it. But founding and running the Bolton-Callahan Foundation has given my mom so much joy over the years. So, I always attend with a smile on my face.
My phone rings and I see that it’s Stephen Kuo from my in-house counsel department. At first I wonder what on earth he’s doing up so early on a Saturday. Then I remember that he’s on the team that’s ironing out our acquisition of Gordon-Shields, a hot new investment company with a growing foothold on the West Coast.
I bring the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”
“Hey, boss.” Stephen sounds anxious, which is extremely unusual for him. “I hate to bother you on a Saturday, but I think you need to come in.”
“Why?”
“Well—”
“Do I look like a cunt to you?” Boyd Avery’s thick English accent booms over the line. “Then why are you trying to fuck me? Trying to slip in a non-reduction clause right under my fuckin’ nose? Are you fuckin’ serious—”
The tirade is cut off by the sound of a door shutting.
“We’re having a little trouble playing nice,” Stephen says.
“So it would seem,” I groan.
He’s right, I have to go in. I can’t let this deal go south. My dad’s been pushing hard for it and even though I’m CEO now, he’s still Chairman of the Board and he’s got enough influence to make my life difficult even if he wasn’t. “Get Boyd out of the room and just tell everyone to take a breather. I’ll be there in thirty.”
I hang up and immediately make another call. Before I leave, I need to make some arrangements.
I’ve decided to take Mercy to the Gala tonight. People bring interns to this sort’ve thing all the time, so no one will think anything of it. It’ll give her a chance to get all dolled-up in a fancy dress. She’ll get to dance, maybe, and eat some good food.
I try not to think about how making her happy has become my favorite thing to do.
It’ll be a challenge to conceal what I feel for her. But I will. Otherwise I’ll expose her, draw attention to her, make her a target for the sharks I have to swim with.
And that can’t happen. Ever.
Mercy
When I get back to my house, I stand in the kitchen for a long time, trying to process everything that’s happened. I’ve had sex. Mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex. With Parker. My boss. My almost former client from my short career as a high-end prostitute.
And now I’m going with him to a gala. And not just any gala. The BCF Gala, one of the biggest events on Manhattan’s social calendar.
I dubiously agreed, because I very obviously can’t say no to him. I think he could tell me to jump off a cliff and I’d do it with a dreamy smile.
My legs are still wobbly from the night before. I’m pretty sure sex is ruined for me now. Instinctively, I know that it will never be as good with anyone as it is with Parker.
He’s taken care of everything, of course. Someone is scheduled to be at the house with the kids while I’m gone and my dress and shoes are being delivered later, along with someone to style my hair and do my makeup.
The day drags by at a snail’s pace. Sophie and Jason get home at around 10:30 and I force myself to focus on them. We do some chores around the house and then I take them out for lunch at their favorite fast food joint as a treat.
“So I have to go to this party tonight for work and I won’t be back until late,” I explain between bites of my salad. “But a really nice lady is going to come and stay with you while I’m gone.”
“Will Parker be at your work party?” Sophie asks after she polishes off a chicken finger.
“Yes.”
She lights up. “Then can I come too? I could wear my blue dress! The one with the butterflies!”
“You’re not invited, dummy,” Jason scoffs, broodily shaking his red hair out of his face.
Sophie’s lower lip wobbles. “I’m not?”
Shooting a glare at Jason, I pull my little sister close and give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “It’s a boring party for grown-ups. Trust me, you’ll have much more fun staying home. If you promise to be good for the babysitter, I’ll tell her you can stay up a bit past bedtime.”
Once Sophie is placated I look back at Jason. We still haven’t talked about what happened at the school and I know we likely won’t.
The truth is I don’t know what to say to him. Do I scold him for fighting with Wayne? Do I praise him for standing up to a bully? Do I explain to him that he can’t go roughing people up every time someone makes a crass comment about me? This kind of thing clearly requires a level of parental wisdom that I’m quite simply not capable of.
In the end, a completely unrelated question comes out of my mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want to have more people over tomorrow night?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just the Warners.”
Something in my heart aches. Normally, we’d be throwing him a party. The Chase family birthday parties were famous in our neighborhood. Now, we’re just planning to have a quiet dinner.
“Is that okay?” he asks.
I swallow back a lump in my throat. “Of course. It’s your day, birthday boy.”
* * * *
By the time Parker arrives to pick me up at six-thirty on the dot, I don’t recognize myself. I’m wearing a sleeveless black dress with a plunging neckline and a tulle skirt that sweeps the floor. Glittering drops of silver are smattered across the bodice and waistline. My dark hair is styled in an elegant low bun and I’m wearing a face-full of makeup, complete with red lips and winged eye-liner.
When I find Parker in the kitchen he looks like a golden-haired James Bond. His tux fits his body like a glove and just looking at him makes my knees go weak.
“Wow,” he breathes, looking dumbstruck. “You look…”
He trails off as his eyes run up the length of me.
“Good, I hope?” I laugh nervously.
“Good doesn’t even come close. You look like something out of a fairy tale.”
My heart stutters as I playfully lift up my skirt, raising a foot and twirling it around to show off the red soles of my brand new Louboutin’s. “Just call me Cinderella.”
He laughs and offers his arm. “Only if I get to keep you past midnight.”
The babysitter is a woman named Tonya. She’s about forty or so with kind eyes and an easy demeanor, winning over both my siblings within moments of her arrival. I tell her about Sophie’s bedtime, and warn her about Jason’s habit of sneaking late night snacks. I also make sure she knows to bring my dad his dinner in about an hour.
When we get to the car, Parker squeezes my hand. “Are you ready?”
I give him a brave smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
****
When the car pulls up outside The Plaza, my heart drops into my stomach. I try not to visibly gulp when Parker takes my hand, helping me to step out onto the sidewalk. The iconic, green-roofed building is awash in the soft glow of lights, standing out in the night like a beacon of Manhattan prestige.
The sounds of New York are all around me— honking cars, wailing sirens, the chatter of passing pedestrians. Further along down the sidewalk, I spot what must be the main entrance to the Gala. A red carpet lined with flashing cameras.
Parker leads me in through a side door and while I’m relieved, I’m also slightly hurt. Why exactly, I’m not sure. If he’d asked me which entrance I would’ve preferred, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen the one with paparazzi. Feeling ridiculous, I push the feeling out of my mind.
After slipping down a secluded hallway, we enter the grand ballroom and I gasp in wonder. Gold glitters from every surface. The breathtaking ceiling, the beautifully draped curtains, the sparkling chandelier. Even the people seem to sparkle, gathered together in a flock of elegance and status as white-coated waiters wander amongst them, carrying silver trays ladened with long-stemmed glasses of champagne.
I glance over at the receiving line by the main entrance and get my first in person look at Parker’s parents.
Silas Callahan is a thoroughly imposing man, both in demeanor and appearance. It’s easy to see where Parker gets his height and build, but other than that he bears little resemblance to his son. He’s got a thick mane of black hair, with a peppering of gray at the temples, and a beefy mustache.
And while Parker seems to constantly glow with vibrant, youthful energy, his father is impossibly stern. Even from across the room, his ease with command and authority is clear. People seem to stand straighter as they approach him.
Beside him is his wife Pamela. She’s petite with delicate features and a head of blond curls styled loosely in a bun. Her rose-colored one-shoulder gown sets off the warm glow of her skin as she greets each guest with a beaming smile.
Parker grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and hands one to me. I take it gratefully, throwing back a long gulp.
“Woah, easy.” He chuckles, easing the glass away from my lips. “If you’re not careful I’ll have to carry you home, Cinderella.”
“There you are, you twat.”
I jerk my head towards the booming English accent to find a giant dressed in a tux.
Unlike Parker with his lean, athletic frame, this man is covered in bulky muscles. His dark hair is buzzed short and I can see the ink of a tattoo peeking out from under the white oxford shirt collar at his neck.
His gaze initially sweeps over me, glinting with polite appreciation before focusing back on Parker. “I oughta smash in that pretty boy face.”
Parker, clearly un-phased, pats him on the cheek. “Save it for Monday, alright?”
“The deal is rubbish, Park. I know your dad is pushing for it, but—”
“Have you met my new intern?” Parker asks, putting his hand on my shoulder.
The man looks at me with a furrowed brow. “You have a
n intern?”
“Mercy Chase,” Parker nods at me and then at the giant. “Meet Boyd Avery. Chief Operating Officer at CG, and galactic pain in my ass.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say to Boyd as I shake his hand. He stares at Parker for a few minutes, eyes narrowed in curiosity, before he looks at me.
“Likewise.” His dove gray eyes run over me. “You’re positively stunning, love. How come I’ve never seen you on the thirty-eighth floor?”
“Well—”
“Because she works on the thirty-ninth floor. With me.” The warning in Parker’s voice is clear and it has a smile stretching wide across Boyd’s face.
“Right, of course.” He laughs and shakes his head, as though we’ve just let him in on a secret.
Beside me, Parker tenses. He opens his mouth to speak, but then Lorelai appears at his side wearing a stunning strapless silver dress. A slender man with jaw-length brown hair and a delicate face scurries behind her.
“There you are!” She smiles at me and kisses both my cheeks. “You clean up nice, baby doll.”
“Uh, thanks.” My cheeks go pink at her praise. “So do you.”
She turns back to her brother. “Mom has been looking—
Suddenly, she stops speaking. Her mouth hangs open a bit before slamming shut and hardens noticeably as she glares at Boyd. “What are you doing here?”
The giant COO is looking at Lorelai like he can’t decide whether he wants to strangle her or kiss her senseless. “I was invited, princess.”
“I know that, idiot. You’re always invited but you never actually show up.”
He shrugs. “There’s a first time for everything.”
His eyes darken even further when they drift to the man at Lorelai’s side. “I take it this is the poor bloke you’ve tricked into marrying you?”
The poor bloke laughs nervously as he accepts Boyd’s rough handshake. “Spencer Page.”
Lorelai gives her fiancé a saccharine smile. “Why don’t go and find our seats?”