The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  Once he’d calmed and sleep began to overtake him again, Ellie asked quietly, “Why were you yelling for a swan?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just… those dreams again.” How could he tell her?

  He knew, as he drifted before sleep, that with her there he’d sleep soundly. What was it about her that caused that magic?

  Whatever it was, he couldn’t give it up.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Eli wants me to go back to D.C.,” Ellie said as he put a plate of French toast in front of her.

  “What? Why now?” he asked. She could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

  “Actually, he wants us both to go.” Henry dropped his fork on the floor. “Henry! He doesn’t know. I didn’t say anything. It’s for one of his fundraisers.”

  “He needs us both there for some charity event to save the dolphins?” Henry asked warily as he sat down with a clean fork from the drawer.

  “This one’s diabetes, actually,” she said.

  “Okay. I mean, it’s his place,” Henry said. “Can’t really overstay my welcome.”

  “Don’t be weird,” she said.

  “It is weird, kitten,” he said. “All of… this.” He gestured at the space between them.

  “So… what, then?”

  “I don’t know. I guess… let’s keep up appearances. Eli would think it’s stranger if I didn’t go after staying at his cabin so long. Let’s just… I’ll see you at the party, I guess.”

  The Secret Service agents didn’t bother giving them any space as the two SUVs headed toward the regional airport. Henry held her hand the entire way. This might be the last time we touch, she thought. Ellie couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in her stomach.

  As Henry hugged her goodbye, she asked again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive back with you?” At least she could buy a few more hours alone with him.

  “No, you should go,” he said. “You don’t think Eli would find it odd you forgo a first-class ticket to sit in a car with me for hours?”

  “Yeah, okay. You’re right,” she said.

  She took an Uber from the airport after her mom texted her, as usual. Sorry! Cooking! Meet you at home?

  In the kitchen, her mom squeezed her tight with one arm. In her other hand was a spatula coated in what must have been her latest vegan kale concoction. She absolutely glowed. Maybe that was what weeks at a yoga retreat and resort in Mexico did to you. “How was Cancún?” she asked her mom.

  “Bali, sweetie.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “And it was amazing. But tell me about you. How… how are you?”

  They hadn’t had a chance to talk since the Sean thing had fallen apart. In Ellie’s rush to just get away, she’d simply shot her mom an email. She figured Eli would fill her in—or the news channels. “I’m okay,” she said.

  “Really?” Her mom’s blue eyes were lit with concern.

  “Really, Mom. Much better. I think I just needed some time away.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Reassured, her mom gave her one of those trademark smiles. Clearly, Eli hadn’t told her about the death threats. “Go put your stuff upstairs. I, uh, I neatened up your room for you,” she said, her eyes fixed on the bubbling green in the wok.

  There wasn’t a single box left stacked against the wall. It was like college had never happened. Like Sean had never happened. Ellie’s room hadn’t changed since she was a kid. She just hadn’t cared in high school, and embraced the pink, frilly princess theme as ironic. Then it was college and straight into living in the sorority house. By her junior year, she was basically living at Sean’s, though they’d never made it official. Ellie ran her finger over the vanity table with its delicate legs and porcelain knobs. Maybe none of it did happen.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said as she strolled barefoot into the recently remodeled kitchen. Her mom was constantly remodeling now. The appliances were chef-grade and the light fixtures were all LED bulbs. From the nonsensical white marble countertops to the surplus of skylights, everything was gourmet and luxury.

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” her mom asked, her eyes glued on the Barefoot Contessa who chirped away on the kitchen TV.

  Ellie walked up behind her, grabbed a spoon from the counter, and stole a bite.

  “Hey! That’s not done being seasoned yet.”

  “Yeah,” Ellie said as she stuck out her tongue and pretended to gag. “No amount of seasoning is going to save this.”

  “Oh, hush. You’ll see when you’re my age. You’re not going to keep that perfect little body of yours forever with no effort,” her mom said.

  “Mom? How do you know… when you’ve met the one? Or, like, how can you tell if you just think you’ve met the one, but you’re wrong?”

  Her mom sighed. “Honey, I wish I could take your pain away.” Shit, she thinks I’m talking about Sean.

  “It’s not about that,” Ellie said, but her mom looked at her like she was full of shit. “Really. I’m just curious.”

  “Well, I’m probably not the one to ask,” her mom said. “Look at your father and me. Not exactly a match made in heaven.”

  “Yeah,” Ellie said. “Hey, what exactly do Navy SEALs do? Do you know?”

  Her mom looked up at her. “You should probably ask Eli or Ryan about that,” she said.

  “They don’t like to talk to me about that stuff. Why do you think some of them have PTSD, and some don’t? Even when the ones who don’t mind have seen worse things.”

  “I don’t know, Ellie,” her mom said, sprinkling a terrible-smelling powder into the wok. “Everyone’s different, every soldier is different. Your dad’s PTSD from his Navy days, I never really understood. He’d never talk to me about it. You’ve got to ask each person about their own unique experiences. Why?” she asked suddenly. “Did Ryan say something? Do you think he has PTSD—”

  “No, Mom. Geez, I was just asking.”

  “Well. Okay.”

  “Do you ever feel…” Ellie said, and she hopped onto the counter to let her legs dangle.

  “Off,” her mom said automatically.

  “…like your stomach is empty, but you’re full of heartache at the same time?”

  Her mom stopped stirring and looked at her squarely. “Sure. Every time your dad went on deployment.”

  Ellie was surprised. There was a time Mom felt like this?

  “Don’t look so shocked,” her mom said with a laugh. “That’s lovesickness that you’re feeling, sweetie.”

  “It is?”

  “And that means you must be in love. Okay, who is it? Spill,” her mom said, turning the stove off. “You better not be back with that asshole Sean, Ellie—”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, don’t act like your ears are so sensitive. I had to bite my tongue for years with the three of you so you wouldn’t sound like you were raised by sailors. Even though you were, partially—”

  “What’s the drama?” Every time Sam entered a room, she never just walked in. She strutted.

  “Sam!” Ellie was grateful to get out of her mom’s questioning and wrapped her arms around Sam’s slender shoulders. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “Okay. Bye, Ms. Scott!” she said. “That smells just… wonderful.”

  “I’ll be sure to save you some,” her mom called behind them.

  In Ellie’s room, Sam fell dramatically onto the twin bed. “So? Tell me everything. You’ve been AWOL. Not even a single ’gram to let me know what’s been going on. You look good, though. Have you been working out?”

  “Sam, shut up,” Ellie said. “I need to tell you something.”

  It all came out in a flood. “Oh my God, you slut,” Sam said with a laugh and she slapped Ellie on the butt. “I can’t believe you did it! And fast, too! You made poor Sean—sorry, that dickless loser Sean—wait two years without even a cordial blowie.”

  “Sam,” she said as she gestured downstairs to where her mom was surely trying to listen.


  “Sorry. But, real talk though, this guy’s dependable, right? Like, you’re happy about it. Right?”

  Ellie swallowed hard. “I mean. I think so? I’ve known him forever, but –”

  “But what?”

  “When I was telling him about grad school, and about how I was thinking about the west coast but maybe it was too far… he told me not to make any plans based on him.”

  Sam made a face. “Typical, commitment-phobic man. I swear, they never grow up. It doesn’t matter if they’re twenty or sixty. Did I tell you about the total silver fox I dated for like a week before college? He was—”

  “Sam! Focus. Here, please,” Ellie said and pointed at herself.

  “Right, sorry. Okay, I have an idea. This guy’s gonna be at Eli’s party tonight, right?”

  “He’s supposed to be.”

  “Okay. Hold up one minute.” Sam pulled out her phone and started texting.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Texting my latest distraction,” Sam said. “There. Eli won’t care if I have a plus one, right?”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’ll let him know. He has to be more official now, so I’ll need this guy’s full name to put him on the list.”

  “Fuck. I need to know his last name?”

  “Sam!”

  “Just kidding! Kind of, but I’ll totally Facebook stalk him and find out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But tonight? Tonight we’re gonna find out if Henry has feelings for you or not.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” Ellie asked.

  “Trust me, I have my ways,” Sam said. Her phone buzzed. “Yes! This dude’s on board.”

  “Dude?”

  “Well, that’s what he is,” Sam said.

  “Okay. I need his last name. Seriously, now. Eli might already get pissy with me bothering him over this just a few hours before.”

  “Fine,” Sam said. “I’ll just ask him.” She texted another string of messages with lightning-fast fingers.

  “What’s his first name?” Ellie asked.

  “Suck deep.”

  “What the hell, Sam, we need to focus a little here?”

  “I just told you! It’s Sukhdeep.”

  “You’re dating a guy named Suck Deep?”

  “I don’t like to put labels on it,” Sam said. “And, get this, it means lamp of happiness. And let me tell you, it’s appropriate.” Her phone buzzed. “Oh, weird,” she said as she looked at the screen. “His last name is Harrington. Maybe he’s adopted or something.”

  “Sam.”

  “Okay, okay, all eyes on you! Damn, getting dicked regularly sure made you demanding. So. First things first. We figure out what you’re going to wear.” Sam went to her closet and started flipping through the hangers.

  “That’s your master plan?”

  “Ellie,” Sam said as she turned around with a serious face. “Please. Don’t discount the power of the right outfit.”

  Sam flew through the entirety of Ellie’s closet in two minutes. “This all sucks. It’s like the YEEZY Season 2 line knocked up Ann Taylor in here. Do you own anything that isn’t a neutral and covers ninety percent of your body?”

  “Thanks,” Ellie said to her back.

  “Not to worry, my little nympho,” Sam said. She pinched Ellie’s cheek like she was a kid. “I know the perfect place. My closet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Henry pulled at his bowtie while Eli finished his welcome speech. He’d bought the tux a year ago and had only worn it once before, for one of Eli’s black tie campaign fetes. He’d thought it was a stupid purchase then, and he still did. Who buys a tux, anyway? Where the hell was she?

  The crowd burst out in applause, which caused Henry to follow suit halfheartedly. He turned around and scanned the crowd for her. Nothing. Not that he’d know what to say to her anyway. And with her brother so close, he didn’t want to get tempted at all.

  There’s no way you can get caught touching her, he warned himself.

  At the bar, Henry ordered another drink. “The usual?” asked the pretty, olive-skinned bartender as she looked him up and down. There were hundreds of people, yet she remembered his drink of Pendleton whiskey. At another time, he would have jumped on that easy prey. She smiled at him and showed off perfect white teeth. He thought of Ellie’s own smile and that one crooked incisor that made the bite marks she left all over his body uniquely hers.

  He just nodded at her and stuck a twenty in the tip jar. And that’s when he saw her.

  Ellie descended the staircase in a black lace dress that kissed the top of her thigh. Beneath the intricate lace was, he guessed, a nude slip of satin. If he was wrong, if it was nothing, she was basically naked.

  He started to grow hard and shifted against the bar to hide it. Ellie moved like a cat hunting in the night and made those staggering heels look like nothing. The sole point of modesty featured was a high neckline and merely a suggestion of cap sleeves. But the lace bundled and puckered into what looked an explosion of a bouquet just below her jaw. It made her impeccable face the ultimate showstopper.

  Somehow, she’d managed to contain that wild hair. It was tucked neatly into a chignon but the sheer volume of it required a dangerously large updo. Even from here, he saw how the cherry-red of her lips was the only touch of color she needed. She looked absolutely perfect—were it not for the man whose arm she’d threaded hers through.

  Who the fuck was he? Henry knew he and Ellie hadn’t actually talked about it, but he’d assumed they wouldn’t be bringing dates. And he looked like a fucking GQ model with bronzed skin and slicked-back hair. The man whispered something into her ear, and she laughed up at him, giving him the look he’d thought was reserved just for him.

  Did she think he’d just let it slide? Fuck no. No pretty boy could intimidate Henry—not in this state.

  He put down his drink and started walking straight toward her. “Hey!” the bartender called. “Your drink!”

  Henry didn’t answer her, but met Ellie and her boy toy just as they reached the bottom of the staircase. Ellie gripped her date’s arm a little tighter. “Can I talk to you?” he asked curtly.

  “Good evening,” the model said to him and reached out his hand. His accent was so syrupy thick Henry could hardly make out the words. Henry brushed his perfectly manicured hand aside.

  “Uh, sure,” Ellie said. “I guess so.” But she didn’t move.

  “In private.”

  “Is all okay?” the model looked at her with concern. “We are the, how you say, on a date. If you don’t mind,” he said to Henry.

  “Nobody asked you,” Henry said. Ellie was hesitant and made a face. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here.”

  Henry glowered, and Ellie reached out to touch his arm.

  “Would you like the drink?” the model asked her.

  “Yes, Dante, that would be lovely,” she said, and allowed the ethereal being to lead her away. Henry followed their every move. They ordered from the same bartender, Ellie a white wine and the model either water or a gin and tonic. Ellie licked the glass rim in what she probably thought was a discreet manner. To Henry, it looked like she about to give the glass the ride of its life. He stirred once again in the wool black pants and made an awkward adjustment at the tiny bartop table.

  “Henry! Hey, man, glad you could make it.” Eli was suddenly at his side, skirted by his usual brigade of security.

  “Oh, hey! Good speech up there. I was really moved,” Henry said. He did his best to act natural.

  “Oh, yeah? What was your favorite part?”

  “The part about the arthritis,” Henry said as he tried to keep an eye on Ellie and her god of a date.

  “You could at least get the disease right,” Eli said. “What’s wrong with you? You seem distracted.”

  “Nothing. Just tired is all.”

  “Let me get this straight. You go to my cabin without even telling me—not that I mind, of co
urse—won’t take my calls—”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Is this about a girl?” Eli asked. Henry didn’t answer, but Eli didn’t give up easily. “Come on, I know you. So tell me. Who is it?”

  “Eli,” Henry started. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

  “It is about a girl,” Eli said. For a moment, Henry saw only the laidback, long-haired kid in Eli he’d grown up with.

  “Mr. President, the Davidsons want to thank you.” A stern-looking woman in a red suit tapped Eli on the arm.

  “Going to have to raincheck that. Duty calls,” said Eli as he let the woman pull him toward a geriatric couple who clutched matching Manhattans.

  He was frustrated, but why? You weren’t going to man up to him anyway. What were you going to say? That you deflowered his baby sister and that—now—things are awkward between you and her?

  Henry caught a glimpse of Ellie on the dance floor with her date. It was no dive bar, so she held herself a little more composed. Even so, Henry watched as the model traced circles on her bare back and rested his palm a little too low on her hip.

  He could no longer keep his cool and stalked directly over to her. “We need to talk. Now,” he said. Henry grabbed her arm and started to pull her across the dance floor.

  “She will not go,” the model said. He tried to position himself between Ellie and Henry.

  “I suggest you back the fuck off right now before I destroy that pretty face of yours.” The model retreated, and one hand moved up to protect his face.

  “Henry,” Ellie hissed, but he didn’t care if he caused a scene.

  In the hallway, Henry checked two doors before he found an unlocked supply closet. “They took ‘get a room’ literally,” he heard a middle-aged couple laugh as he shut the door behind them.

  “What the hell do you think—” Ellie started, but he shut her up with his mouth on hers. Henry pushed her up against a wall, her skin like hot velvet.

  It wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d meant to lecture her, scream at her, get all his frustration out. Instead, his mouth was devouring hers, and it was like he’d rediscovered her all over again. When he cupped her ass and found she wasn’t wearing anything underneath that skimpy dress, his cock began to throb. “Bad kitten,” he told her, and dropped to his knees.