Mansions

by Whitney Bianca

  I can see it's already starting to happen. In my heart I know she wants to be mine and mine only. Nothing is going to get in the way of that – not Jessica, not the nurses, not Bryan and most certainly not my wife.

  “When you didn't come home, I tried to call. I checked the whore's loft, but the parking spot was empty. I went to your office and you weren't there either,” she says and I don't believe her farther than I could throw her. “But you were here the whole time, fucking a prostitute like you didn't have a care in the world.”

  “You came here because you haven't gotten it through your spoiled little skull that what you want isn't always what's important,” I say, keeping my voice as even as possible. I drop my hands from her arms and take a step back. The anger is coursing through me, but I'm not a slave to it. Now that we're away from Adrienne, I feel more in control. I am in more control, even as I stand here naked and still slightly hazy from the morphine. “Stop crying,” I say because I have no patience for it, unlike her father. She straightens her face and her demeanor changes instantly.

  “We're married, Dorian,” she says, redness still staining her cheeks from the faked display of emotion. “That means something.”

  “I agree,” I say, carefully. I know the marriage still means something, I'm just not sure what yet. Especially with Adrienne sleeping peacefully a few hundred feet away.

  “You can't disrespect me like this,” she says, placing the palm of her hand in the center of my chest.

  “Go away, Selene,” I say, because I'm tired of talking. I want to go back to the bedroom and shut the rest of the world out. I still have to make Adrienne pay for the stunt she pulled. It's her fault Selene is here, in a way. If I had gone back to the city when I was supposed to, my wife never would've come upstate. I suppose it's water under the bridge now. Adrienne drugged me and she will pay for that. Selene is sticking her nose in my affairs and she'll have to pay for that as well. It's becoming dangerously apparent that I have too many women in my life and they're all out to make it hell. They'll lose and I'll win in the end, though, because that's how I play. It's just a question of when and how much shit I'll have to put up with in the meantime. The victory must be worth the aggravation.

  “Did you pay for her? Is she charging by the hour?” Selene ask, dropping her voice low. “How much does one have to pay to fuck a bitch with no legs these days?”

  “You wouldn't believe how much,” I say, because the cost has been staggering and it has nothing to do with money.

  “And here I thought it was Jessica Stockton-Hamina,” she drawls, her eyes flashing. “I thought you wanted that old woman as some sort of challenge.” She throws back her head and laughs.

  “I'm glad I can provide you with endless entertainment,” I say, even though my whole body goes cold at the mention of Jessica's name. It's only a short logical jump from Jessica to Adrienne. It's too close for comfort.

  “You know what would entertain me?” my lovely wife says, the smile on her face disappearing as abruptly as it appeared. “I would prefer that no one heard about this. I would prefer to not become a laughingstock. Therefore, you will stop this.”

  “Is that a threat?” I say, cocking an eyebrow. I almost laugh, but I stop myself. I don't want to provoke her further but she's gone off the deep end if she thinks it's actually going to happen.

  “No. It's a demand,” her voice dripping in honey. “You will stop this and you will spend time with my family at the holidays. You will be a good husband to me.” I don't care for sweets and I don't care to be shook down, either. The funny thing is my lovely wife doesn't quite realize the dirt she has on me. I'm sure she thinks I'll be embarrassed if our circle finds out what I do up at the mansion on my free weekends. But she doesn't know the half of it. I'm not afraid of those dimwits in designer that she lives to impress.

  “I'll think about it,” I say. She purses her lips and I know it's not the answer she wants. Unfortunately for her, it's the only answer she's going to get for now. I have to figure out how to placate her another way. I'll buy her something expensive, maybe a house in London like she's been asking for. My financial advisor would tell me it's time to start cutting my losses. The women are slowly bleeding me dry. Money's not an issue, but I hate to keep throwing it after bad. My marriage with Selene has always had an expiration date, I'm beginning to realize. It just took me until now to realize that she wasn't the only fool on our wedding day.

  When I married her, I'd convinced myself it would be for life. As I stood there at the altar, I told myself I wouldn't be interested in searching for a wife ever again. There was no one more perfect for me than Selene, I'd thought at the time. Other women were for fucking, not marrying. No one else offered me the advantages and benefits that she did. She was a piece of clay, to be molded in my likeness, and her connections were impeccable. However, as I stand there at the top of the staircase, naked and still woozy from the drugs that Adrienne injected into me the night before, I realize that I've been so naïve. I'd never thought of myself as innocent before, but I realize now that I was. The day I'd married Selene had been the most innocent day of my life. My intentions had been so pure. Too pure.

  Now that I've been touched by Adrienne, I can never be pure again.

  “Selene, go to California,” I say calmly. “Have a good time.”

  “Are you dismissing me?”

  “You never should've come here,” I say. I soften my tone as much as possible but I still want her to know that I'm also serious. I want her to know that the consequences may be severe if she disobeys me. “But I'm willing to forgive this transgression.” She stares at me for a long second and I can see the gears turning in her brain. She's not a fool, my little wife. She's a vapid shell of a person, but she's not stupid. I hope she's realizing just how much it'll be in her best interest to walk out the door and forget this ever happened.

  “I don't want to see that woman ever again,” she says and, inwardly, I sigh. Part of me knows she knows. Not knows who Adrienne is, but knows what she is. Selene knows Adrienne is trouble. Adrienne's been trouble from the minute I met her. And maybe now Selene is realizing the same thing. The truth is that Adrienne's the one who's going to ruin us. She already has. Selene stares at me and I can see the fear in her eyes. Maybe I'm imagining it, but I can swear I see it. “I'll leave right now if she goes, too.”

  “She will go,” I say. “When I get my money's worth.” Selene doesn't like that answer, either. She sticks out her lower lip and scowls. “If you'd paid for something, you'd expect to get the most out of it as well,” I say, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Of course she would. Appealing to her sense of reason might be the best way to go about this, I decide.

  “All this time I thought you were a good businessman,” she tsks. “Paying for a service upfront is never smart.” I don't respond because if she wants to feel smarter than me, I'll let her. I'm tiring of the conversation, anyway. I want to go back and lay down and bury myself in Adrienne and pretend that none of this ever happened. “Do you know how silly you sound?” She shakes her head. “I can't have a serious discussion with you when you're naked and covered in a whore's cheap perfume.” She runs her hands through her smooth, shiny hair and arranges it perfectly on her shoulders. Then she puts her hands on her hips and stares me straight in the eye. “I'm going to Napa. When I get back, we'll talk about Christmas.”

  I nod and bite my tongue because I don't want to talk anymore. It's more advantageous for me if she believes she has the upper-hand. I'm already forming a plan, a plot to get Selene out of the way permanently. She leans in and pecks me on the cheek, scrunching her nose like she can smell Adrienne all over me. I hope she can. I like the idea of Adrienne being embedded on my skin. I like the idea of her essence mingling with mine. I like the thought of our DNA melding together.

  As I watch Selene turn and descend the stairs, I think of how easy it would've been to push her. It would've taken hardly any force at all. A slow smile stretches ov
er my face as I imagine her broken body on the floor below, all odd angles and as lifeless as a doll. I could've done it and had it been over with. But that's crazy. There's too many ways that a rash action like that could've gone wrong. If she'd lived, for example. Only gotten a broken leg and a few broken ribs. That would be a tragedy I couldn't afford.

  No, there has to be another way.

  I just have to plan it properly.

  I step down a couple of steps and watch my wife until she leaves. Her heels click on the marble floor as she makes her way to the door. She stops and glances back at me before she goes and I don't look away. I wait for the door to close heavily behind her before I make my way back to the bedroom. I stop in the doorway, my brain suddenly going hazy again. I grip the doorframe as I wait out the sensation. I curse Adrienne lightly in my mind for doing this to me. I hate being impaired like this, even if it is temporary. She will most definitely be punished, I think, and that cheers me up.

  “Dorian, where are you?” I hear her mumble from the bed. The sound of her voice sends ripples of pleasure down my spine. She still sounds like she's sleeping, but she's calling for me anyway. I let go of the doorframe and will the wooziness to pass. She holds out her arms for me, her eyes still closed. I climb into the bed and slide into her embrace, a moan escaping my lips as I settle against her soft body, chest to chest. This is where I belong, without a doubt. I gently pull her thigh up to rest on my hip and her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't open them. “Where did you go?” she whispers close to my ear as I relax into her. I notice then that my grandmother's earrings still shine in her ears. The sight fills me with a strange feeling, one I'm too fucked up to explore further.

  “I never left, ma petite,” I say. “I've been here the whole time.”

  *****

  He's acting strangely.

  He knows that I drugged him. He knows that I kept him away from work for almost a week. He knows that I was planning to keep drugging him and keeping him helpless in my bed. Pliant to my every whim. He knows it all.

  And he doesn't seem to care.

  “You clever little thing,” he says as he puts on a clean shirt. His hair is still wet from the shower and a few drops darken his collar. He looks good as always but also different. He should be outwardly calm and inwardly angry. He should be teeming with venom and wanting to make me pay. But he's not. He's smiling. Genuinely smiling.

  “You aren't angry with me?” I ask, wringing my hands unconsciously under the blanket. Anger, I can handle. This – whatever this is – I have no damn idea how to handle it.

  “No,” he says. “I feel better than I have in years. But that might still be traces of the drug in my system.” Then he laughs and my eyes widen in surprise. He's laughing at a time like this? Maybe the morphine has affected him more than usual.

  “Then stay,” I say before I can stop myself. “Stay here with me.”

  “You know I have to go, Adrienne,” he says, stepping closer to the bed as he buttons his shirt all the way to the very top. “You know every move I'm going to make before I make it.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “You keep me on my toes.”

  “Do I?” he says, glancing down at the empty places on the bed where my legs should be.

  “You know what I mean,” I say but I can't stop myself from giggling at the irony.

  “Tell me what I'm going to do right now,” he says, lowering his voice enough for me to feel it all the way down my legs, even to the toes that no longer exist.

  “You're going to get in the car and drive all the way down to the office. Then you're going to tell your secretary to make a reservation for an overpriced dinner with your wife. Then later you'll fuck her and yawn and go to sleep and do it all over again the next day,” I reply.

  “And then what?” he says, leaning in even closer.

  “I don't know.”

  “Yes, you do. You know that I'll come back to you. Each and every time.” He lifts a hand and runs his finger down the slope of my nose. “But this time you wanted me to stay. You really wanted me to stay.” I bite my lip because I don't want to say something I'll regret. “You won.”

  “But you're leaving,” I whisper.

  “You still won,” he says with a smile, then presses his mouth to my temple. “I admit defeat.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Selene and I play nice for a few days.

  I surprise her with a new car the day she returns from California. It's a dark green Audi and she seems pleased with it. We don't talk about what she saw at Lockwood. We don't talk about much of anything. We go on as if nothing happened, but neither of us has forgotten.

  On Saturday, we attend the wedding for the daughter of a state senator. Selene acts surprised when I remember, like she expects me to cancel, but I don't give her the satisfaction. I dress up in a suit and tie, with no complaints. I hold out my arm for her, like a husband would. She smiles and takes it.

  The reception is large and lavish. There's caviar followed by a three course meal. The night seems never ending. We move together like the power couple we were destined to be, working the room. I can feel eyes on me before I see her and I instantly know she's there. I hope she hasn't come here strictly to see me, but I have a feeling she has. I turn my head slightly to the right, scanning my eyes through the crowd until I see a flash of red hair. She's dressed all in black and she's wearing sunglasses in the middle of the crowded ballroom. Her hair is down around her shoulders, not styled and off of her neck like normal. She isn't wearing lipstick and her lips look thin and pursed. I don't want to deal with her, not tonight. Her usefulness is gone and her presence has worn out its welcome.

  “Is that Jessica Stockton-Hamina?” Selene says, not bothering to whisper. She tries to sound bored, but I can hear the venom behind her words. She still thinks I have a thing for Jessica and, I admit, Jessica commands more of my attention than I would prefer. I was rough with her and she looks worse for wear. I don't feel bad, though. She had to know that Adrienne wasn't coming home. She had to know there was no more digging to be done. She had to give up. “She looks like she skipped an appointment with the salon. I can see gray hairs,” Selene says, her voice dripping with gleeful schadenfreude. I ignore her and continue shaking hands, mindlessly thanking the donors to my mother's foundation.

  Jessica moves closer.

  I flash my teeth and keep my muscles loose and try to focus on the couple in front of me. Mr. and Mrs. Bruin Vaughn, who were close enough friends with my parents to attend their swinger parties in my youth, are deserving of my attention. I chat with them inanely but my mind is on the redhead that's closing in. Finally the Vaughn's move on and I smile at the next couple, a Chinese billionaire and his beautiful young wife. Before I can say hello in Mandarin, Jessica Stockton-Hamina surges forward and steps in front of them.

  “I need to talk to you,” she says and I can hear the waver in her voice. I wonder if she's on something. I'm sure she's no stranger to muscle relaxers and anti-anxiety pills.

  “Call my assistant,” I say, looking away. “Set up an appointment.”

  “I need to talk to you now,” she hisses. She grabs my arm and I stare down at her pale fingers on my black tuxedo jacket.

  “Why, Jessica, I'm surprised to see you here, darling,” Selene coos from beside me. “That is an... interesting look.” We both ignore Selene as I force myself to look Jessica in the face. I don't want to give her my full attention, but I know it's the only way she'll leave without making a scene. She has to feel like she's being heard. And I need her to hear me, as well.

  “You owe me,” she says. “I want what you promised me.”

  “This is a wedding. A little rude to be acting so strangely and taking attention away from the bride,” Selene says with a light laugh.

  “Shut the fuck up, Selene,” Jessica snaps. I glance over her shoulder and find Bryan in the crowd. He's not too far away, dressed in all black and blending in with the guests. It's what he does best. I have a f
eeling I'll need him soon. I catch his eye and nod. He starts moving toward us, slowly but surely. “I want Adrienne,” Jessica demands and clench my fists at the sound of her name.

  “There is no Adrienne,” I say, keeping my voice low but firm.

  “The piece of her.” Jessica reaches up and takes off her sunglasses. Her eyes are bloodshot and wild and I know instantly there will be no reasoning with her or charming her. Perhaps I made a mistake in showing her the shin bone. I should've just shown her the melted camera. The shard of bone is a priceless treasure. Of course Jessica would want it, too. “She belongs to me and I want her back.”

  “Adrienne is dead,” I say, firmly. I can feel Selene's eyes on me.

  “She would want me to have what's left,” Jessica says, her voice rising. Loud enough that others will be able to hear what she's saying. “She wouldn't want to be alone. She would want to be with me.”

  “Why would she want to be with you?” I ask even though I know it's cruel. “She didn't want to be with you when she was alive.”

  “Give her to me!” she screams. “You owe me that much. You owe me!” Bryan is suddenly at her side and I nod at him. He slides an arm around her waist and she shoves at him. “Don't touch me!”

  “Mrs. Stockton-Hamina, good to see you again,” he says blandly, so low that I almost don't hear him. He keeps his face blank, expressionless. He's a consummate professional and it occurs to me for the millionth time how lucky I am to have him. I make a mental note to give him more stock options as soon as I'm back in the office. Jessica digs around in her purse and pulls out something. I can't see what it is at first, but then she shoves away from Bryan and turns toward the crowd. She holds up a thick piece of paper and I realize it's a picture of Adrienne.