The Heiress

by Cassia Leo

  I shook my head. “You’re like an evil mastermind of torture. This is sadistic.”

  He shrugged unapologetically. “You’d better break out those earbuds, baby, ’cause you’ve got work to do.”

  I sighed as I tossed the USB drive onto my unmade bed, half-hoping that it would somehow get lost before I had to listen to it. “My turn,” I said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the windows overlooking the swimming pool and the ocean, which was when I saw Leslie wheeling my mom over the wooden pathway leading to the beach. “Look at that…” I said, my voice trailing off as I watched them.

  “Is that what you wanted to show me?” Daniel said, but almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw what I had brought him upstairs to see.

  Standing on top of a round table a few feet away, in front of the center window overlooking the ocean, was my latest sculpture. I’d spent most of my nights over the past two weeks obsessing over this piece.

  Realism was not my strong suit, especially since I began my foray into surreal and cubist styles so many years ago. But I wanted this piece to convey emotion that Daniel could easily interpret.

  The woman wore a flowing dress, the skirt of which she gripped in her slender hands as she danced to what I imagined was a lush, romantic rhythm. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted as she felt the music deep inside her.

  “I put her here so she can dance in the sunrise,” I said, feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than I had when we stepped into the room.

  Daniel stood in complete silence as he stared at the sculpture. Maybe he didn’t mean it literally when he asked me to name my next sculpture after his mom. Every moment that passed as I waited for him to break the silence made me more certain I had messed up.

  Then, he turned to me and gently grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me close so he could look me straight in the eye. “Are you real?”

  I sighed with relief as I smiled up at him. “Define real.”

  His mouth fell over mine, stealing my breath as he parted my lips with his tongue. He held my face firmly as my arms fell slack at my sides, as if his kiss was siphoning the energy from my entire body. My knees were about to buckle when he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

  “I have another surprise for you in my car,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper heavy with longing. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

  As he let go of my face, I had to stop myself from reaching for him. He reached the bedroom door and my stomach fluttered as he glanced back at me and smiled before disappearing into the corridor. As I waited for him, I wandered toward the bed, thinking I would search for the USB drive. But when I reached the foot of the bed, I thought of what Daniel had said when he’d handed me the memory stick. “You can see the gift I gave your mom once you’ve memorized every song on this USB drive.”

  The first image that popped into my mind was a diamond ring. I shook my head at the silliness. Daniel and I had known each other less than two months. His gift to my mother would be something more immediately meaningful. But, then, why wasn’t I allowed to see it yet?

  I let out a frustrated sigh as I began digging through my messy bedsheets for the USB drive. “Aha!” I said, holding up the memory stick and staring at it, wondering if perhaps, hidden in one of the songs, was the reason Daniel had kept my mom’s gift a secret.

  Walking around to the side of the bed, I shook my head in dismay as I surrendered to the harsh reality that I would have to listen to every song on this drive. I placed the stick on the nightstand. When I turned around, I found Daniel standing in the doorway, watching me with a gorgeous smile.

  “Stay there,” he said, then he stepped out of the doorframe for a moment, disappearing into the hallway.

  He reappeared with a cardboard box in his good hand. The box looked to be about the same size as the box I’d sent him, which had contained a very expensive original Picasso. He gently set the box down on the floor, propping it up against the wall, then he disappeared into the corridor again. He returned with another cardboard box, smaller than the first, which he propped up against the wall next to the other one.

  “What are those?” I asked.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the packages. “This is actually not a gift for you. It’s a gift from you to me,” he replied, smiling at my obvious confusion. “It’s the only gift I want from you. Well, other than your sexy body.”

  I rolled my eyes as he let go of my hand and began lifting the top flap of the box. “This is turning out to be a very interesting gift-giving session,” I muttered.

  He looked up at me as he reached his hand inside. “Oh, it’s going to get even more interesting later,” he said with a wink. His hand emerged from the box, lifting out a canvas artwork I recognized as the mountain scene I’d painted on our first date. “This is the only gift I want from you,” he said, gently resting the canvas against the box it came out of. “I have no doubt that one day this will be just as priceless as that one,” he said, pointing at the other box, which was obviously the Picasso.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “How the hell did you get that?”

  “I know people,” he replied, then laughed at my unamused expression. “I called Layla, the director of the studio, and she told me Rebecca, the birthday girl, took your painting home that night. Layla was kind enough to give me the parents’ phone number, and they were very understanding when I told them why I wanted it.”

  “You took it away from Rebecca?”

  He shook his head. “No, no. It wasn’t like that,” he said, walking toward me. “Rebecca’s mom said that once they got it home, Rebecca didn’t want the painting in her bedroom. So it’s been sitting in their garage for the past month and a half.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

  He reached forward and my heart raced as he grabbed my waist to pull me flush against him. “Rebecca’s mom said she would give me the painting in exchange for sex.”

  “In exchange for what?” I shrieked.

  He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth, lingering long enough for me to feel his smile curving against my lips. “God damn. You’re sexy when you’re jealous.”

  I made a very weak attempt at pushing him away. “So that first box is my gift to you… Then, why is that other box here?”

  He grabbed both my hands as he looked me in the eye. “I know you wanted me to have that Picasso, but I can’t accept that kind of gift from you. That’s just not the way my mother raised me.” He pressed a finger over my lips as I opened my mouth to protest. “No, you won’t change my mind. My mom raised me to take care of her and my siblings. I’ve always been the one who protected them. The one who cared for their every need. If I take that painting, it won’t be me taking care of them anymore. And, before you say it, no, this does not make me a sexist little shit.”

  I laughed. “Oh, really? Because it sure sounds like a giant load of sexist bullshit.”

  He shook his head and pointed to the painting of the mountain scene. “Remember what I said to you in that art studio while you painted that beautiful piece: Never be afraid to be yourself. Well, I take that to heart. Especially after pretending to be someone else for so long, I don’t ever want to pretend with you again.” He grabbed both my hands again, giving them a gentle squeeze to emphasize his point. “Baby, this is just me being me. If this is going to work between us, you have to let me take care of you.”

  “But you will be taking care of me, as my bodyguard,” I said, mentally cursing myself as I realized I was pouting like a teenager.

  He smiled as his hand cupped the side of my face. “And I’ll kill for you, as your bodyguard or not.” He softly swept his thumb over my cheekbone as he gazed into my eyes. “There are a lot of good things that came out of this deception, and the best thing is you. But the crash course Sabrina gave me in rich guy manners and ‘How to Sound Like a Warren Buffett Wannabe’ actually lit a fire in me… I’m going back to school, too, to ge
t a degree in finance.”

  An enormous grin spread across my face as tears welled up in my eyes. “We can be study partners?”

  He chuckled as he reached up and wiped a tear from my cheek. “Hell fucking yes.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist as I buried my face in the warmth of his solid chest. “I’ll take back the Picasso if you agree to acknowledge that I did nothing to earn that Picasso or any of this other crap I inherited.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “I guess.”

  “So technically,” I continued, “the only reason this wealth is mine and not yours is because my parents boned then my dad died, which is a pretty stupid way to earn something.” I tilted my head back to look up at him, seeing the look of recognition in his eyes. He knew what I was going to say. “Which means that I have about as much of a right to this money as you do.”

  His face was serious as he looked me straight in the eye and said, “I don’t want any of it.”

  I swallowed hard as I stared right back into his brilliant green eyes. “I don’t either, but I’m stuck with it. And you’re stuck with me. And just like you, I was also raised to take care of the people I love.”

  His serious expression softened as he seemed to surrender to these words. “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair?”

  He smiled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “That it will be at least four more years before I’ll be able to outsmart you in these kinds of arguments.”

  I shook my head as I smiled up at him. “Never gonna happen.”

  Epilogue

  Seven years later

  The sun rose at 6:53 a.m.

  All along the edges of the bedroom curtains, the sunlight changed from indigo, to green, to gold, then to peach and back to gold. With every change in hue, I was rapt with attention, watching as the shadow on the duvet created by the small protrusion of Kristin’s belly became more and more defined by the growing light.

  She slept peacefully, trusting I would not wake her until it was absolutely necessary. She loved sleeping on her back, but I knew from experience that she would not be able to indulge in her favorite sleeping position much longer. At four and a half months pregnant, she had no more than a month before the weight of the baby would force her to start sleeping on her side—with that damn pregnancy pillow—the way she had when she was pregnant with Amelia four years ago.

  I let her sleep for another hour and a half, while I stared at my phone, responding to emails and checking on the markets. Kristin hated when I checked the markets before getting out of bed on a day off. She said it affected my mood for the rest of the day. That wasn’t entirely true. It was just that, obviously, when the markets were down, I tended to get more doomsday messages from clients than I did when the markets were up.

  The Dow was up today. I turned my phone off and tossed it into the top drawer of my nightstand. I wouldn’t be needing it anymore today. Today, Kristin would have my undivided attention.

  The clunk of the phone hitting the bottom of the drawer made her stir.

  I slid my hand under the comforter, finding her swollen belly. “Happy anniversary, baby,” I murmured, as I leaned in and kissed the soft skin on her neck.

  She groaned as her eyelids slowly flickered open. “Happy anniversary,” she whispered.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  My mind was clearly set on one thing, and one thing only: anniversary sex. But she’d been having some morning sickness lately, so I had to at least check in with her first.

  A lazy smile spread across her face, as her brain woke up and registered what I was really asking. She nodded. “Yes,” she replied, answering my implied question rather than the one I’d actually asked.

  I chuckled as I slid my hand inside her panties. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

  Her mouth fell open and she let out a small gasp as I found her spot. “Five years of marriage has a funny way of turning a person into an open book.”

  “Are you calling me transparent?” I said, my hand frozen in place.

  She grabbed my hand and I laughed as she began using my finger to touch herself. “Stop talking and just fuck me.”

  I pulled my hand free of her grasp. “As you wish.”

  Knowing how she liked it best, I grabbed her hip and rotated her body away from me, so she was facing the window. She giggled as I slid my hand over her baby bump, continuing down between her legs again. Closing her eyes, she let out a blissful sigh as I found her spot.

  I slid my leg between hers, spreading her knees apart like butterfly wings. Then, I draped her leg over mine, giving my hand easy access to her center. She whimpered as my finger whispered over her sensitive skin, being as gentle as possible. When the volume of her cries increased, I slid a finger inside her.

  She was primed and ready.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed as I pushed into her from behind.

  I paused for a moment, my mouth pressed against the back of her ear as I savored how perfectly I fit inside her. Keeping one hand between her legs, I slid my arm underneath her and caught her breast in my other hand. I thrust into her slowly at first, reveling in the soft warmth of her body against mine. But it didn’t take long for both of us to lose ourselves in the moment.

  “Harder,” she begged.

  And harder I went.

  I yelped as Daniel pulled out of me and scooped me up onto all fours in one impossibly swift yet careful motion. He grabbed my hips and I laughed as he yanked me backward, so he could stand on the floor behind me. His hand slid down my backside and between my legs again, instantly finding my spot. Sometimes, I was certain he knew my body better than I did.

  I looked back at him over my shoulder and his eyes locked on mine as he massaged my center. His other hand reached forward, grasping my shoulder to hold me steady as my legs began to quiver. I hung my head, breathing heavily as the orgasm rippled through me. Before I could collapse, he slung his arm around my waist and plunged into me.

  His body curved over mine, his mouth landing on my shoulder as he sank in and out of me. He was slow and deliberate at first, his teeth scraping gently over the back of my neck as he took his time to draw out the pleasure. But as he traced the tip of his tongue over the back of my ear, I heard the moment his breathing quickened and I curled my fists around the comforter to brace myself.

  My eyes widened and I gasped as he stood up straight, grabbing onto my hips as he pounded me from behind. His skin smacked against mine and I laughed heartily as I realized I was going to come again. My increased sensitivity and seemingly endless sex drive was my favorite perk to being pregnant.

  “That is one sexy fucking laugh,” he said, his body quivering against mine as he slowed his thrusts until he had finished inside me.

  We were both silent as he pulled me up onto my knees, his body pressed against mine as he took my breast in one hand, his other hand landing on my belly. I turned my head and his mouth curved against mine as he twitched inside me.

  As he began to soften, he pulled his head back and looked me in the eye. “I have a surprise for you.”

  I smiled. “I know.”

  His eyebrows scrunched together and his green eyes looked stricken. “You know what it is?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “No, but I know you have a surprise. I mean, I figured you’d have one since you’ve surprised me on every other anniversary.”

  He rolled his eyes and laid a gentle smack on my ass before he pulled out of me. “You scared the fuck out of me,” he said, holding out his hand to help me off the bed. “Come on, dirty girl. It’s shower time.”

  As we lathered each other up in the shower, I thought of all the surprises Daniel had sprung on me before this one, trying to work out what this one might be.

  The first time he surprised me was on the one-year anniversary of the day we met at the offices of Golde Property Management. He dressed up like a cop and handed me a fake eviction notice, then he pretended to
arrest me and take advantage of me in my jail cell. Definitely one of my favorite surprises.

  Another memorable surprise was our third anniversary, which was traditionally supposed to be a leather gift, but had more recently been replaced by crystal or glass. Daniel surprised me by taking me to the art studio of Arturo Uribe, Manhattan’s most sought-after glass sculptor. Arturo spent all day teaching me everything I’d ever wanted to learn about glassblowing and sculpting.

  I knew that this year’s surprise would probably be found in my new art studio. I had been using the master bedroom at the beach house as my art studio for the past seven years. It had the best view of the ocean; therefore, it had the best lighting. It was also the biggest room on the second floor. Unfortunately, this meant my studio didn’t exactly meet all my needs.

  I still had to trudge downstairs and into the laundry-slash-utility room to wash clay and paint off my hands. I’d learned that lesson the hard way when I backed up the plumbing system with bits of hardened clay. The utility sink downstairs was equipped with a special constant-flow sink trap and filtration system to prevent any paint or sculpting material from hardening in the pipes.

  It took a few years before I finalized the architectural design for my art studio, and we began construction six months ago. The new two-story building sat on the east lawn, just to the right of the pool if you stood facing the ocean. The building was completed last month, and I’d spent most of the past three weeks working with an interior designer to make the inside my perfect combination of beautiful, practical, and inspirational.

  “Do I need to get dressed up for this surprise?” I asked, looking at Daniel’s reflection as I towel-dried my hair in front of the double sink.

  He disappeared through the doorway that led into the walk-in closet. “You know your surprise is in the studio,” he said, confirming what I already knew. “You can walk across the lawn naked, for all I care. Not like you haven’t done it before.”