He stroked her head, pausing to clasp the back of her neck before his hand moved down, a long sweeping caress that ended possessively in the small of her back.
“I wouldn’t dream of dragging you anywhere by this beautiful hair. Pulling it a little in bed is as far as I go,” he whispered, tracing her smirk with a gentle finger.
They stared at each other silently.
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
He sounded definite. Something loosened in her chest.
“Are you?”
“Yes. But I’m worried.”
“A lot has happened. You’re unsettled.”
“Yes.”
“Uncertain.”
“Yes.”
“Do you doubt my love for you?”
“No.” But she answered quickly, and not as certainly as she might have once.
“Well, that’s something,” he muttered.
“I don’t doubt that you love me.”
“Then what is it? Are you worried about my father?”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “And I think you should be too. He’s not gonna just give up like that, Nori. He’s had you for 30-plus years. He’s not just gonna cede this ultimate victory to me, some little nobody he thinks isn’t worth shining your shoes. You’ve insulted him, left his company, and gone ahead and married me after he did the most drastic thing he could think of to stop you. He’s pissed.” And fucking crazy. But she kept that behind her teeth.
“I don’t care.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “I don’t, fucking, care,” he repeated. “You are my wife. We’re going to merge our lives together. We’re going to start a successful business together, make art, make love, and make tons of money. Then we’re going to make a few babies, and no one is going to stop us. Do you hear me?”
Margot wanted nothing more than to nestle into the arms that held her and believe every word he said. The need to believe him was like a physical ache it was so strong. But something just wouldn’t let her do it, and he was clever enough to know it.
“You’re still feeling the effects of the past few days,” he said. “You’ll believe me soon enough. When our lives go on, and nothing can separate us, you’ll believe in our love again. I’ll make you believe it.”
Chapter eighteen
They decided Nori would move into her house and rent his place out for now. Time enough to look for a bigger place when they started a family, he winked. It was his way of reminding her she’d agreed to go off birth control after they married.
“We’re about to start a new business,” she reminded him.
“We’re modern,” Nori announced. “Junior can come to the office with us. Better he grow up ensconced in the day-to-day running of his birthright.”
Margot just raised a brow. Birthright, huh? Well, at least Nori was planning on some longevity with this new venture.
The phone rang. “Hello.”
Silence.
“Hello.”
Whoever it was hung up.
“Wrong number?”
She nodded, and thought no more about it. But it happened twice more over the next three days. She didn’t pay them any attention either. They were busy integrating his possessions with hers, putting his books and music on the shelves, swapping out her “dinosaur CD player,” for his state of the art stereo system – “Hey, stop talking shit. I’ve had that stereo for over a decade and it still plays fine.” – and organizing removal of his furniture into storage.
“We can use the couch and such for the new office,” said Margot, ever practical.
Nori just smiled and kissed her, and she didn’t complain when he hustled her into bed, despite the fact they’d only left it a few hours before.
“You’re determined to knock me up, aren’t you?”
He nodded solemnly. “If we try really hard we could have the first one by next summer.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Well, alright,” she pretended to grouse. “I’ll just close my eyes and think of England. Oops. I mean France.”
He sputtered he laughed so hard, and punished/rewarded her with a lush spanking that resulted in a swift, but fabulous climax for them both.
The phone rang while Nori was showering. He had to meet the builder’s at the new office.
“Hello.”
“Hey, girl.”
Fucking George.
“Nigga, haven’t I told you don’t call my motherfuckin’ house?”
He laughed. “I just wanted to say congratulations. Heard your old ass finally got married again. And you caught yourself a rich one.”
“Yup. Step up from yo’ broke, psychotic ass. Peace.”
“Bitch don’t hang up on me.”
“Why the fuck not? I like hangin’ up on your stupid, wife beatin’ ass.”
“That fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he laughed, but it was a humorless sound. Whenever she’d heard that laugh in the past a blow usually came right after. “You still talkin’ shit. But I guess that’s a good thing. You gon’ need to talk some shit to get some money out that honkey.”
“I told you the last time you came by here and assaulted me you wasn’t gettin’ shit. Maybe you didn’t believe me. But I’ma say it one more time for the cheap seats. I wouldn’t give your pathetic, black ass a glass of motherfuckin’ water if you was on fire. Know that. Believe that. Accept that. ‘Cuz the next time I see you, I’m pressin’ charges. And that’s on the boss.”
“Oh, that’s your word?”
“That’s my motherfuckin’ word, nigga. Trust. ‘Cuz somethin’ ain’t right with you. I got a restraining order, but you still don’t seem to fuckin’ get it. Drawing isn’t my preferred method of artistic expression, but maybe I should try and paint yo’ dumb ass a picture. I do not want to be bothered with your low lifed ass. Stop calling my house. The next time you do, expect to hear from the man.”
“Keep talkin’ that shit, bitch. I’ma make yo’ skinny ass see things my way,” he promised.
“I’m not seein’ shit yo’ way, ho. If it was pitch black and yo’ broke ass was a motherfuckin’ lighthouse I’m still not seein’ shit yo’ way.
“Oh, yeah? ‘Cause see, you and I both know there’s things you ain’t told that high on the hog honkey you fooled into marrying you. Ain’t that right?” he laughed, an evil, dirty sound. “Yeah. I think there’s at least one thing you ain’t told Mr. Moneybags, and if I was to tell him, well. I wonder if he’d forgive you. He’s French right? Rich. Conservative. His people are likely Catholic, even if he ain’t. This little secret wouldn’t sit well with him. At the very least, he’d think, this dirty bitch lied to me. And, what else is she keepin’ secret?
“I ain’t got no secrets from him,” she lied, trying to bluff. “And even if I did, I’d let you tell him before I give you a motherfuckin’ dime. You can’t strong arm me, nigga. Who the fuck you think you dealin’ with? I ain’t no young girl, no more.”
“We’ll see, ho. We shall see.”
She was shaking when he hung up. She jumped when Nori said. “Was that Tommy? She said she was meeting me at the – what’s wrong?”
“Nothin’, nothin’. I just had a twinge. I think I’m ovulating.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She would be soon. That and potentially throwing up bile because she couldn’t seem to contain this perpetual outpouring of filth from her past.
He came forward, pulled her close to examine her face. “You look a bit wan, my love. Go and lie down. I kept you up too late last night.”
“Doesn’t seem to have done you any harm,” she teased.
He grinned. He did look wonderful, full of energy and as perfectly handsome as always. They’d been up until the wee hours, talking and laughing and making love, but he still got up early and went to the gym. She had to drag herself out of bed to make their breakfast when he returned a few hours later.
“There’s something about you that energizes me. Maybe it’s the fact that you�
��re mine now. Tied up and legal.”
She laughed softly at his silliness. He looked so happy there was no way in fucking hell she was gonna tell him about George. At that moment, seeing his beautiful face, his joy and love for her radiating like a sunbeam, she’d rather die.
“Go on,” she coaxed. It had been tough before, but since Marriage-gate – Tommy again – it was always a bit of a wrench leaving one another. “If you linger too long I’ll wrap you up,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his beautiful mouth.
He nuzzled her, his forehead briefly resting against hers. “Rest. I’ll need you at full strength tonight.” And with a last kiss he was gone.
Margot sat down abruptly on the couch and wondered what the hell to do. She was tired. Tired of having happiness within her grasp. Of touching it, kissing it, fucking the hell out of it at night and enjoying every minute, eating across from it at every meal, only to have it threatened by some worthless piece of shit who wanted something for nothing.
What the fuck was wrong with people that they never want to let you go? Shit could be over, dead over, and crap to begin with. Why not just cut your losses? No. That was too much like right. Let’s hold on, choke the life from some damn body, or try. If you can’t break ‘em down one way, you can always drive they ass crazy another.
Well, George could try. That bitch could do whatever he liked, but she was done. Yeah, she had a secret. And she had every intention of telling Nori about it, in her own good time. Not because she was hiding it, but because sometimes it still broke her heart. Every truth doesn’t need to be told. It’s okay for some things to stay underground until the time came for them to see the light. She would not be forced.
He’d beat her, lied to her, broken her young heart and spirit and worse, and now he had the unmitigated gall to think he was gonna humiliate her, threaten her and take her money too. She’d die and go to hell first. And George was about to learn that lesson.
The next day things were quiet, but Margot wasn’t fooled. She knew how George worked. He’d chill, let her stew in her own juice, worry – or so he thought – so the next time he made contact, she’d be so fucked up she’d agree to whatever he said.
Margot snorted. She talked to her girl Steele earlier, a gangster if there ever was one, and she’d agreed to pay old George a visit.
“And I’ma bring my little friend with me, case he wanna talk.”
“Perfect,” Margot said. Steele’s little friend was deadly, and she wielded him like a pro.
“So, that means I got your permission to shoot him if he don’t listen?”
Margot laughed. “Nah, girl. But you can pistol whip that bitch until his head swells up like a balloon. I’ma go with you.”
“You sure? Plausible deniability and all that.”
“You make potential violence sound so sexy.”
Steele just laughed. “I gotta go, pimp. Just lemme know when we goin’.”
After Nori left she took a long, fast walk, with a knife in her pocket, just in case. Then she had a bath and a nap, ate some fruit, drank some tea. She was now on the couch, surrounded by her tools and three completed pieces. One was a custom job for a customer who would be gleefully picking up her necklace and earrings tomorrow and bringing a fat money order to show her appreciation.
While her hands did what they would Margot weighed her options. George was too unpredictable. He was the type of bitch to drop that bug in Nori’s ear with pleasure, hoping to destroy her relationship just because. Then the bitch would run to the tabloids and tell them so his broke ass could get paid and fuck her twice.
She couldn’t let him get the upper hand. She had to get ahead of this thing, nip some of the potential fallout in the bud. She had to tell Nori the secret.
She cooked a beautiful dinner, chicken stew with roasted squash and parsnips and a chocolate-mango mousse for dessert. She made Moscow mules for their cocktail, put on the shorts and bandeau he liked, and worked until he got home.
When she heard his key in the lock, she put the drinks on a tray, and waited for him to appear in the kitchen.
“Look at this,” he kissed her, eyeing the spread with sparkling eyes. “Let me wash up, and I’ll be ready to do my part. I brought you something.”
“What?”
“You have to find it.”
She patted him down while he washed his hands, and found a small tissue paper wrapped object in the last pocket. Inside was a broach with a tiny, dark porcelain face.
She laughed. “It’s beautiful! Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t. My old assistant mailed it to me from Paris. It’s a wedding gift for you.” He kissed both her cheeks. “She said to tell you, you are invited to lunch the next time we are in France, and she looks forward very much to meeting Mrs. Nori James. I helped her start out on her own. She runs a popular second hand shop near Colette, does very well for herself with consignment.”
“I must send her a thank you.”
“I’ll give you her information later. Are you ready to eat? I’m starving. Lunch was half a stolen sandwich and some flat ginger ale.”
They ate, and she enjoyed watching him roll his eyes in pleasure as he demolished every scrap she put before him.
“You’re so wonderful,” he said, later, hands full of her in his favorite position on his lap on the couch, her bum cushioning a very present erection, titties against his chest. “I missed you today. The builders are making excellent time on the new office. Soon you must come there to spend all day with me. We’ll work side by side and make all of the decisions together for our new business.”
“I don’t think we should be together all day every day.”
“Why not?”
“We’ll get tired of each other.”
“I can’t imagine that happening,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Je t’adore.”
“I adore you too, but –”
“But you’re used to spending time alone each day.”
She nodded.
He pretended to huff irritably. “Fine. But I’ll miss you terribly. If you can live with that, so be it.”
She laughed softly. “Guilt?”
“Whatever works to keep you in my arms, close at hand, within my sight.”
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered against his lips.
At the end of a long, luxurious kiss she found herself beneath him in their bed.
It was funny how quickly things stopped being hers and became theirs. Things that had been hers for years she gave up without hesitation or thought. It felt right to share with him; he belonged to her.
She’d said the words before, but now she repeated them. “You’re mine.”
“Yes, and you are mine.”
She prayed her secret wouldn’t change that. But first they’d make love. She’d enjoy him without the truth between them, soak up his unspoiled attention, his reverence, his unleashed appreciation for her unsullied by the old wounds she’d soon unwrap.
Tears pooled, and though his lips were investigating his favorite path along her hip bones en route to another favorite place, he sensed it and looked up.
“What is it?” He rolled onto his back and wrapped her tight. “You’re sad. Why?”
She sobbed, tears falling as she shook her head.
“Margot. Talk to me. Whatever it is I’ll fix it, don’t cry.”
“I, have to tell you something.”
He stroked her back soothingly, kissed her cheek, her eye, the corner of her mouth. “Surely it’s not so bad? It’s not as though anything you say will make me love you less,” he teased.
“I hope that’s true.”
“Margot,” he chided. “Of course it is. What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he insisted.
“After I annulled my marriage to George, I had an abortion.”
He stopped stroking her. But he didn’t let go. She took that as a good sign.
“I didn’t want to, but after I talked it over with my family, I realized it was t
he best thing to do. I was very young, and to be honest, the idea of being attached to him in any way, let alone for the rest of my life, made me sick.
“He beat me so bad physically, it took weeks for all the marks to fade. And I was worried the baby wouldn’t come out right. It was many months before I could sleep a night through. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, my heart thumping half out my chest fearful I was back in that hotel room with him.
“I just couldn’t do it. In my mind I knew the baby wasn’t responsible for what he’d done, but in my heart, I just couldn’t separate the pain he inflicted from that child,” her voice broke, and then she waited.
She expected him to move away, to stop touching her, to stiffen, but Nori’s touch became gentle, more gentle than he’d ever touched her before.
“Silly, girl,” he chided. “Did you think I would love you less for that decision?”
She hesitated, then nodded. Now was a time for the truth.
“You did what you thought was right,” he said firmly. “I’m a little shocked you thought I would hold it against you. You were a child. You made the right decision, you and your family.”
“You’re Catholic.”
“Yes, I was raised Catholic. But I don’t actively practice. I believe in God, but I also believe in kindness and forgiveness, and you want my baby, right?”
She nodded emphatically. “Yes.”
“Well, then. No more worry over the past, hmmm? I have too much in the present for you to concern yourself with.”
She laughed softly at the deliberately arrogant statement, but sobered. “I wasn’t gonna tell you. Not today, I mean. I would have eventually, but,” she shook her head.
“Why did you?”
“George.”
He stiffened, protectively pulling her closer. “What about him?”
“He called, threatening to tell you.”
He cursed luridly in French. “He’s gone too far,” he said quietly. “I warned him.”
“What? You warned him about what? When?” She pulled away to look at him, evading his arms when he tried to hold her close. She needed to see his face. “You talked to George?”
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