The Perfect Ruin

by Shanora Williams

  That caught me by complete surprise, and what a fucking buzzkill. I sat up to look him in the eye. “How do you know?”

  “I just know. She has before. She has her moments, I guess.” He sat up and put his back to me. “I know she didn’t just go meet a donor. She went to meet her current fuck boy.”

  “But why would he be in New York?”

  “Oh, come on, Ivy. Don’t act like you know nothing about her affair,” he grumbled, looking over his shoulder at me.

  “I don’t,” I confessed, and he looked away. “I didn’t even know she was having an affair until now. I didn’t know she’d cheated on you before either.”

  “She doesn’t talk to you about him?”

  “No,” I retorted. Why were we even talking about Lola? So what she was having an affair? So was he. Shouldn’t he have been focused on me instead?

  “I guess that’s a good thing. Means she doesn’t take him seriously. He’ll probably be at the gala tomorrow. Some guy named Eddie. I looked him up when I saw his name in her phone one night. Fucking asshole.”

  I climbed on my knees behind him, draping my arms over his shoulders. “How can I help?” I asked, laying kisses on the crook of his neck. I was tired of talking about Lola. For once I didn’t want our time together to have anything to do with her.

  I took his groan as a sign to continue. All he needed was to be distracted. With my hand, I turned his head so that he was looking over his shoulder. I kissed his supple lips, and then I climbed onto his upper thighs, nestling my sex on top of his.

  “Why don’t you just leave her?” I asked, rocking my hips forward and backward, grinding on top of his hardening cock.

  “Why would I? We’ve been married for sixteen years.”

  “Because you could have someone who would never cheat on you. Someone who would be ready to please and take care of only you. Does Lola do that?” Damn it. I was just like him. Could never keep her damn name out of my mouth.

  “No.”

  “Has she ever?”

  “She used to . . . before she opened her stores and started the charity.”

  “So, what, you only got one or two years of Lola pleasing and taking care of you?”

  “Our sex became empty very quickly. She’d only want me if she wanted to try for a baby. Eventually, I got fed up.”

  I leaned up and sank down his hard length, and he shuddered a wet breath. “You poor thing,” I crooned. “Well, you should consider making some changes,” I breathed on his mouth and he cupped my ass in his hands. “Do something that will make you happy.”

  “Like what?” he groaned, squeezing.

  “Like be with me.”

  “I just met you.”

  “So what?”

  “So . . . I know nothing about you.”

  “But you love how I feel around you.”

  He didn’t respond to that, but he didn’t have to for me to know it was true. Corey held me close to his body, splaying one of his large hands on my upper back and using the other to guide my hips.

  “What are you after, Ivy?” he rasped on my lips, and then he thrust his way up, burying himself inside me, making me moan.

  I could only smile as that question left his lips. “Only you, Dr. Maxwell. Only you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Let me ask you this, my dear therapist. Is it wrong to be infatuated with a woman’s husband? Does it matter that it’s the husband of a woman you despise? No, really, what do you think?

  Most people involved in affairs feel some kind of guilt or shame, but I felt none of that while sleeping around with Corey. In my eyes, Lola deserved what was happening behind her back, and hell, me fucking her husband was the least I could do.

  Maybe Corey felt some shame, but that was only because being with me was his first affair. He’d soon come to realize that he had nothing to feel sorry about because I was perfect for him.

  His wife cheated, so he cheated. He felt good with me and not with her.

  Fair was fair.

  None of that mattered at this particular moment, though. No, no. It was Passion Gala night! Showtime, baby! I had to show the world just how stunning I could be.

  I was currently sitting next to Lola in her presidential suite with bright lights in my face and a makeup artist studying my features, trying to figure out what look would match the dress I had hanging up in the back of Lola’s closet.

  My hair was done, courtesy of a woman named Pamela who Lola had hired for us. She’d wrapped my hair in rollers that resulted in big, bouncy curls and then pinned my hair in a half-up, half-down hairdo.

  Lola mentioned that Corey had decided he would get ready after our makeup was done, so he was nowhere in sight. Not that I needed him to be. The night before he hadn’t left my room until shortly after midnight, and amusingly enough, I’d taken a shower and gone down to the bar after he left and guess who I saw? Lola! Hanging off the arm of some delicious silver fox. He was handsome and definitely looked like more than a typical fuck boy, as Corey had called him.

  I was close to having my makeup finished when Lola looked at me through the mirror in front of us. “So, are you excited about tonight?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

  “I am. And you were right. This does feel like I’m getting ready for prom. I can’t believe I missed out on this feeling.”

  “It’s like a high, right?”

  “Yes, a high.”

  “Told you.” The witch grinned.

  The artist started on my makeup, leaving me no room to continue a conversation with Lola. Good. I needed to focus on myself.

  As expected, my makeup was everything and more. The artist did an amazing job and snapped a picture for his portfolio so he could remember this look forever.

  Then it was time. I needed to squeeze into my dress. I stepped out of my regular clothes as I stood in one of the corners in Lola’s room, then picked up the designer dress by the hanger, sliding off the spaghetti straps.

  I dressed carefully, making sure not to stretch the dress too much at the bosom or tear anything. Everything had to be perfect. I needed to be perfect. “Lola, can you zip me?” I asked as she stepped around the corner in SPANX.

  “Of course.” She stepped behind me and lightly tugged on the zipper, bringing it up to the center of my back. Then she stepped around me and beamed. “You’re a doll, Ivy. So beautiful.”

  I could only smile at her. I picked up the scarf Bobbi had made to go with the dress and ran it through my fingers. It would cover my shoulders and block some of the cold from the A/C as we entered the Green Garden Hall.

  In no time, Lola was dressed, and then there was a knock at the door. Corey was back. He needed to get dressed too. “I’ll leave you two alone and find Noah,” I said as I made my way to the door.

  Lola slid a foot into a silver heel. “Okay. We should be down in a few moments.”

  I glanced at Corey. He gave me a faint smile as he began unbuttoning his shirt. I bet he was still thinking about the night before. Our own dirty little secret.

  I left, and I felt good, Marriott. I was glowing. At first I’d hardly even recognized myself in the mirror when my makeup was completed. It was the most I’d ever worn, but now I understood why so many women wore lots of it. It makes you feel good—sexy even. Your lashes are longer, your lips look fuller, and your flaws are concealed.

  I sent Noah a text and he responded quickly, telling me he was already in the lobby, and that the limo was waiting.

  “Look at you!” Noah squealed when he saw me coming toward him. “You look like a million bucks, girl!”

  I blushed. It felt good to be noticed.

  Olivia was in the lobby too, standing near the door. Her dress was an A-line, pale yellow tulle dress. It was a simple dress. Nothing too extravagant. I liked that about Olivia. She didn’t care for attention. Noah had on a simple black-and-white tux.

  Olivia’s phone was pressed to her ear for a moment, and then she lowered it and rushed to us. �
�Okay, first off you look great, Ivy! Second I think we really need to get going. Genevieve said she needs us to look over a few things before they open the doors.”

  “I just texted Lola because I got the same text from Genevieve,” Noah said. She said she’d catch another black car and will meet us there. She’s okay with us handling whatever needs to be done.”

  Ugh. It was just like Lola to be fashionably late. Most times she was on time, but for this? No. She’d glide in wearing her feathery gown and everyone would notice and gasp and stare, awestruck.

  “Okay,” I said. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, then.”

  * * *

  So, Passion Gala wasn’t exactly like prom, Marriott. For starters, I didn’t think I would be needed so much. The ceiling light above one of the bars was flickering, so we had to tend to getting the bulb changed. One string of fairy lights wasn’t lighting up in the hall, so Genevieve and Noah had to quickly get a new pack from the storage room and replace it. It was too cold in the ballroom, so we had to wait for the room to heat up before letting anyone in.

  It was annoying . . . well, at first. After the doors opened and guests rolled in, it got better. Drinks were passed from the bars and hors d’oeuvres began to shuffle through the crowds, and it wasn’t so bad. I’d had a drink myself to loosen up.

  The gambling was first, and the laughter was boisterous, and people were jolly, which was Lola’s endgame. To her, the drunker a person was, the more they’d gamble, and the more a person gambled, the more money the charity made.

  All would have been well for me if I hadn’t caught a man’s eye. His name was John Hampton. He was co-CEO of a popular yacht club and owned several golf clubs all over the States. He was also married, which I didn’t care so much about, but he constantly told me how much I reminded him of his wife, and that was not cool. What woman wanted to be hit on constantly just to be reminded that they looked like the man’s wife? Lola had arrived around twenty minutes after the doors opened and noticed him talking to me. She gave me a keep-it-up-buttercup wink. Ugh. She sucked, Marriott.

  According to Olivia, John Hampton was a huge donor. He gave heftily to Lola’s cause. He also loved to refer to Lola as a sister and close friend, but he spoke of her like an old fling.

  “You know Lola and I went to college together?” John said to me during dinner. Lola was on the opposite side of the table, next to Corey, flat out ignoring him. “She was the one girl every guy wanted. I remember telling her that she’d go places; now look at her.” John sipped his whiskey. “So, what about you? Where’d you come from and how long will you be in New York?” He gave me a sleazy smile.

  I was repulsed. To put it simply, John wasn’t all that attractive. He was balding badly but trying to hang on to what hair he could, and his breath smelled like sardines. Not only that, but he wasn’t where my sights were. My eyes were only on one target, and that was the doctor sitting on the opposite side of the table, right next to Lola.

  A woman named Samira was seated on the other side of me with her fiancé, a retired professional golfer named Roland Graham. Samira and Roland were an interesting couple. He hovered around her like a shadow. When she spoke, he was very attentive, and if any man dared look her way or tried to mingle with her, he was in that man’s face, giving him a silent threat to back off. But for the most part they seemed like a nice couple. Strange, but nice. I wished I had a guy who was possessive with me, but in a healthy way, you know?

  As the night carried on, I noticed that Lola was drifting further and further away from Corey. Corey hung out in a corner with a few men, sipping his drink and pretending not to notice, but I took note of the subtle slide of his eyes as he looked for his wife.

  Lola had been drinking, it was clear. She was loose. And it didn’t help that the silver fox from last night was there. He came in an hour late, dressed impeccably in a tuxedo and black tie. He walked in as if he owned the place, catching the eye of several women.

  “Who is that man?” I asked Olivia as we stood by the bar with our drinks.

  She looked where I was looking, watching the silver fox carry himself across the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a chiseled jaw and a thin nose. “Oh! That’s Eddie Witherspoon. He used to be a professional basketball player, but he retired and started up his own real estate agency. He only invests his time in selling mansions and high-dollar condos, and because he used to be a big-shot athlete and is known as this delicious bachelor and all that, he gets the best clientele. Closes easily on most of the mansions and condos he sells. Lola says he’s really good at what he does.”

  Yeah, I bet he was.

  I couldn’t help watching Eddie make his way to the bar. He ordered a drink, and when it was handed to him, he turned and gave the room a scan. I knew who he was looking for.

  He went straight for Lola and pressed a hand to the small of her back. She turned to him and smiled, laced one of her arms around the back of his neck to hug him—because the other was occupied with a drink—and then placed a not-so-friendly kiss on his cheek. I glanced at Corey. He’d watched the whole encounter.

  His jaw ticked, and as Lola continued speaking to Eddie— or should I say flirting with him—Corey carried his drink with him out of the ballroom.

  This was my chance.

  “Text me if you need anything,” I told Olivia, and I walked away, steering my way through the crowd to get to the exit. I entered the hallway, where fairy lights were strewn between white drapes and vine garlands, giving the gala elegant vibes. I moved past the candles in lanterns, my heels clicking on the marble floors, and rounded a corner.

  Corey was standing in the hallway to the restrooms, his head bowed and his back against the wall. “Corey?” I called, and he picked up his head instantly. “Are you okay?”

  He blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m fine.”

  “I saw what happened. Eddie talking to Lola. I saw her with him last night too, by the bar in the hotel. It was after you left my room.”

  Corey sighed. Shook his head. “That explains why she wasn’t back in the room when I got there.”

  I stepped closer to him and grabbed one of his hands. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I felt bad for him, Marriott. I loved him, cared about his feelings, and he was hurting. I needed to make him feel better.

  I lifted a hand and cupped his cheek, turning his head so he could look at me. His eyes flickered down to my lips. My breasts. Then my lips again.

  I leaned in and kissed him on the lips, and I was pleased when he lowered his guard and deepened the kiss.

  I pulled back and looked down the hall. No one was around. Everyone was in the ballroom, drunk and oblivious. I took his hand and went past the restrooms to get to one of the closets. It was one of the bigger closets, with folded tables inside, and table covers and leftover decorations.

  Corey closed the door behind us and had me wrapped up in his arms in a matter of seconds. I moaned when he bundled my dress up to my waist just to pick me up in his strong arms and attack my throat with kisses. My back slammed into the edge of a shelf. It hurt a little, but I didn’t care. I had Corey in my arms, right in front of me, and it was what I’d wanted since he had to leave the night before.

  He placed me back on my feet and turned me around. I let out a wet gasp as he pushed up my dress again, breathing raggedly and entering me from behind. My fingers gripped the edge of the wooden shelf, a loud moan escaping me.

  “Yes, Corey,” I breathed. “Fuck me. Forget about her and take me.”

  And he did. He fucked me, slammed into me, and my moans grew louder while his grunts and groans mixed with my sounds of pleasure. The wood of the shelf felt raw against my palm as I held on to it to keep my balance, but he was raw inside me, cupping one of my breasts in his hand.

  For a split second I wondered if I would end up pregnant with Corey’s baby. He didn’t use protection and I wasn’t on birth control of any kind. He wasn’t being careful, and I wondered if maybe he d
idn’t care if I ended up with his child. That would certainly be good enough reason to leave Lola and be with me. She couldn’t carry a child in her womb for him, but I could. He’d have an obligation to leave.

  I guessed I would get to that when it happened. Until then, I took joy in letting Corey release some of his aggression with me. Lola wasn’t thinking about him and he knew it. She was more concerned about the contributions and Eddie Witherspoon’s dick than her husband.

  Corey let out a raspy groan and pressed his forehead to the back of my head as he performed one last thrust. “Fuck. You’re so good, Ivy.”

  So good? He thought I was so good.

  I sighed as he pulled out, and as he adjusted his pants, I fixed my dress.

  It was quiet for a moment.

  “We should leave early,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked without making eye contact.

  “She won’t notice.”

  “Then she’ll leave with him.” Corey fixed his tie. “I need to get back.”

  He turned and walked out of the closet, leaving me standing in the dark. What the hell was up with him? Why couldn’t he just get over her already?

  Oh yeah. Right. Because he’d been married to her for sixteen years. I swear, Marriott. He was making this harder than it needed to be. He had the perfect woman right in front of him—me—and he was wasting the night worrying about Lola and Eddie.

  Inhaling and exhaling, I opened the closet door and walked out. I went back to the ballroom. The atmosphere had changed since I walked out to find Corey. The lights were dim, and only the strings of fairy lights on the white drapes across the ceilings gave visibility. It was louder now, and the bars were overcrowded.

  Everyone was drinking. Laughing. Chatting.

  And then a song came on and I froze. “Keep Ya Head Up” bumped out of the speakers and Tupac’s voice brought back memories.

  Back rubs and forehead kisses. A warm bed and a night-light. Glowing star stickers on the ceiling. Quick spaghetti dinners with dollar corn bread. Daddy teasing Mama over dinner about her new hairdo, when really he loved it. Me laughing when Mama scrunched her nose and teased him back about his naked chin.