by Nikki Chase
“Sorry to hear that,” I say. She looks so sad and fragile that I want to pull her into my arms and cover her in bubble wrap so she doesn’t get scratched or broken. I smile at her and say, “I know you signed a non-disclosure agreement, but did you tell your mom about the fake marriage?”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t tell her about this,” she says, a little too quickly.
Realizing she might not want to tell me she’s leaking my secret, I add, “I promise it’s fine, as long as she doesn’t tell anyone else. I get that you may want to tell the people close to you. Penny knows all about it, so it’s only fair that your family knows, too.”
“No, it’s not that,” she says, not meeting my gaze.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, really. I just didn’t tell her about it. That’s it,” she insists. She thinks she’s being sly, but it’s obvious she’s keeping a secret.
She fidgets with her hair and bites her bottom lip—nervous tells that I haven’t seen much at the dinner table over the past week. Somehow, this topic is making her uneasy.
It’s okay if she doesn’t want to talk. It only makes her seem more mysterious and more desirable to me.
At least I know she’s not desperate to be with any man who flashes her some money. Just that fact alone already makes her a better potential partner than most women I’ve met.
I’m a patient man. I can wait. But I also always get what I want.
I wanted lots of money and I got it.
I wanted my daughter back and I got her.
Now I want Megan and I’ll get her, too, sooner or later.
“I had a wonderful time,” I say when the elevator door opens to my apartment—or our apartment, I should say.
“Yeah, I bet those photographers managed to take lots of pictures, huh?” Megan giggles as we step into the living room.
“I don’t give a fuck about the photographers.”
Megan widens her big blue eyes and stares at me.
I don’t know if she’s surprised by my cursing or by my lack of concern about the photos, considering they’re the main reason we went out in the first place. But sometimes, things take on a life of their own and you can only improvise and see how they turn out.
“All I care about is you right now,” I say. Trapping Megan’s gaze, I take one step closer. I’m invading her personal space now. I’ll leave her alone if she wants me to, but she’s not telling me to go away.
It’s dark in the living room, with only one small table lamp turned on. Outside, the city still buzzes with activity, the bright lights overpowering the darkness of the night. It’s quiet here, though, thirty floors above the ground.
With nobody else in the house, there’s no one to see us, or to hear us. We can do anything we want. Nobody’s going to stop us.
Hell, Megan is my wife. The things that I want to do to her, all the dirty images in my mind—not even society or religion would object to me turning them into reality.
So it’s all down to this beautiful, mysterious creature standing in front of me. What does she want?
I put one hand on the side of her smooth, creamy neck. It looks so long and graceful with her hair put up. I’ve stared at it—and the rest of her—all night, and I can’t take it anymore.
Megan just looks up at me, her lips parted, as if ready to take me. She doesn’t say anything, but her breathing gets quicker and shallower. The veins on her neck throb rapidly, along with the beating of her heart. I like knowing I have this kind of an effect on her.
As I lean in, she tilts her head to the side and her eyelids flutter close. I don’t need any more encouragement. Running my own business has taught me that opportunities need to be seized when they arise, because they don’t always come twice.
Her lips are soft, full, and delicate. I let out a sigh, releasing the pressure in my chest that has been building up all night.
She tastes good—sweet and sensual and feminine. My cock stirs in my pants, reacting to the raw sexual energy swirling around us, taking us both for a wild ride.
I run my hand down her back and press on the small of her back, pulling her to me. I trace her lips with my tongue and she opens up for me, eager and pliant. She’s asking for more.
That’s it; I’m not going to hold back anymore.
I cup the back of her head and tug her close, grabbing her hair with my hand, messing up her updo. I sweep inside, plundering her mouth, taking possession of her body.
I nibble on her lips, and she lets out an adorable little gasp. She whimpers as she gives herself to me. Arching her back, she pushes her lips back against mine and presses her tits against my chest.
Her chest is heaving from the heavy, irregular breathing. Her hands clamp onto my arms, holding on tight. She wants more. I do, too.
I move my hand to the top of her back, where I find the zipper of her dress. I start to pull it down, eager to see the delicious figure she’s hiding underneath.
Suddenly, Megan jerks away. Putting both her palms on my chest, she pushes away.
“Sorry, I can’t. We shouldn’t.” Without further explanation, she slinks into her room, her high heels click-clacking sharply and rapidly on the floor.
And here I thought I was about to get lucky tonight. I’m already stretching the fabric of my pants with my raging hard-on, which is starting to throb with excitement.
I’ll have to take a cold shower. Or I’ll jerk myself off while fantasizing about things going differently than it just did.
It’s okay, though. I can tell she wants me, too. It’s just a matter of time now.
She’s already my wife. Now it’s time to make her my girlfriend, as well.
Megan
“Do you want me to read you a story tonight?” Ethan asks as Penny gets up from the couch and makes her way to her bedroom.
“I’m not five, Dad.” Penny rolls her eyes.
“Okay, just thought I’d ask.” Ethan gives me a look. “Can you believe this? The attitude on her. She’s not even a teenager yet.”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s adorable how Ethan and Penny interact. I’m seeing a very different side of Ethan. He’s not at all like how he is at the office.
“She’s a good kid,” I say.
I like Penny’s sass, and there’s another big reason why I’m glad she’s around.
After the kiss last night, I don’t know how to act around Ethan. But she removes the awkwardness and breaks the tension.
Even when she’s not around, like right now, I find it easier to talk to Ethan because we can focus on her, rather than whatever this is that’s going on between us.
“To be honest, I don’t even know what she reads these days,” Ethan says.
“If she’s anything like I was at that age, she’s probably more into pictures of boys in magazines than storybooks anyway.”
Ethan grimaces, and I laugh at his expression. We’re still sitting in the living room with the TV on, but neither one of us is paying attention to the sitcom rerun anymore.
I hear laugh tracks occasionally, but I can’t pay attention to the TV and Ethan at the same time. It takes everything in me to have something resembling a normal interaction with him.
It feels like there’s a big distance between us, even though we’re only a few feet apart, sitting on couches arranged around the same coffee table. Maybe I just want him closer, like he was last night.
I don’t know. I have no idea what I want.
He’s the one who destroyed my family. And I’m here to get some intel on him, as well as make some money off him in the process.
But seeing him like this, just relaxing at home after a long day at work, doting on his daughter…
It kinda makes it hard to keep thinking of him as some heartless monster, especially when his ex-wife could have been lying the whole time. If Ethan was honest when he told me about Ashley last night, then he’s a kind, patient man for not exposing her true c
olors.
“Penny used to love detective books,” Ethan says, gazing into the distance at the skyscrapers beyond the glass walls. “I used to read them to her at bedtime. I’d flip to the back to read the ending when she fell asleep and threaten her with spoilers whenever she was misbehaving,”
“That’s adorable,” I say, laughing as I imagine Ethan telling Penny to stop whining or he’d tell her who killed Mrs. Peacock.
Jesus, Ethan, stop being so damn adorable. You’re making it hard for me to keep hating you.
“Yeah.” Ethan lets out a heavy sigh as sadness descends over his eyes. “It was less adorable when she started coming up with stories about where her mom had gone. She used to tell people her mom was secretly working on some case, trying to catch a jewel thief.”
“That’s really creative of her,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “It’s still adorable, actually. Just in a rather sad way.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Ethan gives me a sad smile.
He grows quiet in a way that leaves no doubt in my mind that he has been telling me the truth about Penny the whole time. He seems to be replaying bad memories in his head, thinking about how he could’ve done better. I’ve seen that same look on my mom’s face.
“She knows the truth now, of course. Which is that Ashley doesn’t care about her.” He pauses like his next words are too hard to say out loud without some emotional preparation. “It’s hard for her, you know? She’s mature for her age, but she’s still just a kid. I feel bad for that sometimes. Maybe she’s had to grow up more quickly because of how badly Ashley and I have fucked things up for her.”
“I’m not a parent, so I’m not going to pretend I know how you feel. But as someone’s daughter, I can tell you that Penny probably knows how hard you’re trying.” I remember the first time I met her and add, “She even told me that herself. I asked her about you not picking her up from school and you know what she said? ‘He tries.’”
“She said that?” Ethan looks at me with surprise in his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for telling me that. That means a lot to me.” Ethan smiles as he exhales loudly. “It’s just that, sometimes I feel like I have no clue how to be a dad, you know? And I’m worried that I’m ruining her childhood, which will ruin her whole life.”
“That’s a little dramatic.” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “She’ll recover from whatever trauma you inflict on her. Maybe she’ll need lots of therapy, but you have the money, so she’ll get there.”
“That’s dark.” Ethan laughs. “You have a dark sense of humor.”
“So people tell me. Sorry if that was too much.”
“Not at all. I like that.” Ethan sets his gaze on me, looking at me with a mixture of amusement and wonder in his blue eyes. “That’s honest. You live here now. I wouldn’t want you to pretend to be something you’re not, just to avoid hurting my delicate sensibilities.”
I laugh nervously, uncomfortable now that he’s shifting the focus onto me. I’m worried about him finding out the truth about me—why I’m here, and how I’ve been snooping to get some juicy information on him.
Despite me warming up to Ethan, I continue to send updates to Michelle. I feel more and more guilty with each successive email,
Previously, I just didn’t want to jeopardize my mission. Now, I feel bad about doing these things behind his back when he and Penny have been nothing but wonderful to me.
But I can’t stop now. Not when I’m already so close.
Yet I don’t want him to stop looking at me like he’s doing right now.
I realize I’m being greedy. I want to have my cake and eat it, too, but obviously I can’t have it both ways.
“So, uh, Penny also told me how she had to walk a long way to school a few years ago,” I say, changing the topic.
“Yeah, that was back when she was living with Ashley. She never took very good care of Penny, which is why the judge gave me sole custody.” With a voice full of regret, he adds, “I shouldn’t have let her take Penny away.”
“But you probably didn’t know Ashley was going to do that.”
“I should’ve known. Ashley was never a good mother. We didn’t plan on having Penny, but life has a way of changing your plans sometimes. I chose to be a dad, while Ashley… Well, she was always wishing Penny weren’t around to cramp her style.”
“How did Penny end up with Ashley in the first place, if that’s the case?”
“I was not in any condition to take care of a child at the time. I was sick. Really sick. I couldn’t even leave the hospital. Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Both my parents had died in an accident a couple of years before that, so Ashley was all Penny had left, for better or worse.”
“You were sick?” This has never come up in any of the research I’ve done on Ethan. And I’ve done a lot of research.
“Yeah. It’s not something I talk about, usually. But you… I feel like I can tell you stuff,” he says with a smile. “I had some money that my parents had left me, and I spent it all on my treatments. I felt guilty about using all that money on myself.”
“You needed that money to live. There was no reason to feel guilty.” This hits home because my mom has also sacrificed a lot for me, and being the beneficiary of that sacrifice can feel like too much sometimes.
“I know that now. It seems crazy to feel that way, looking back. But at the time, I’d been spending nothing on myself and everything on Penny. It seemed wrong to suddenly dump so much money on myself, you know? Especially when there was no guarantee I was going to make it.”
“Yeah.” I remember the nights when Mom would come home after work, burning up and sweating from a fever, but refusing to see a doctor or to even miss work. “But you need to take care of yourself to be a good dad for Penny.”
“That’s what I told myself,” Ethan says. “When I finally got my health back, I wanted Penny to come live with me. But for someone who never wanted to be a mom, you’d be surprised how much Ashley fought me when I made my intentions clear.”
“She wouldn’t let you take Penny, even though she didn’t want her?”
“Yeah. She just wanted to hurt me. She didn’t care how it affected Penny.”
“That’s diabolical.”
“It motivated me to get ahead. I decided that I had to be successful. It was the only way for me to take Penny back and protect her from Ashley. I worked really hard. I did everything I could. Finally, I found an attorney who was confident he could get me sole custody. He was expensive, but I worked my ass off to afford him.”
“When was this?” I ask as my heart begins to pound in my chest. Could this be why he did what he did?
“I don’t know. It didn’t happen at some particular point in time. It was a process that took years.” Ethan pauses to think. “Penny finally started living with me about six, seven years ago. I recovered from my illness about ten years ago. So between those two events, my whole life was all about working and scrimping so I could pay the lawyer.”
I think about the timeline. Everything fits.
My jaw slackens, but I try not to show my surprise in front of Ethan.
“I did some things I’m not proud of during those years. Made a lot of money, and made some enemies, too.” Ethan chuckles wryly. “I don’t blame people for still hating me. That’s probably why Ashley’s stories are so popular anyway. Maybe I brought it upon myself.”
I can’t find the words to say. Hell, I can’t even organize my thoughts right now. So I remain silent.
“I’m sorry. These are such depressing stories. You must be bored,” Ethan says.
“No, not at all.”
That’s not why I’m quiet at all. I’m just rethinking everything I’ve always thought about Ethan Hunter.
I need to be alone right now. There are too many contradictory things swirling around in my head right now.
“I’m just sleepy,” I lie, faking a yawn and a stretch. “I sho
uld get back to my room now. Good night, Ethan.”
“Good night,” he says as I walk away.
Maybe I’ve been wrong all along. Maybe he’s not a monster. Maybe he’s just another guy who’s doing his best when life throws him a curve ball.
Maybe he’s not so different from me after all.
Megan
Eight Years Ago
Mom and Dad walk ahead of me, their hands linked, holding on so tightly to each other that their knuckles are turning white.
It’s rare to see them this close lately. They’ve been fighting a lot.
Not just the heated discussions I used to hear coming from their room when I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
No, they’re fighting right in front of me now, like they can’t stand to hold it in even for a few minutes longer. Really, it only takes a few steps to take the argument into their bedroom, but they don’t even bother with that anymore.
They fight in the kitchen while I have breakfast before going to school; they fight as soon as they get home from work; they fight in the living room while I do my homework upstairs. I have to wear headphones to concentrate on anything.
I put my hand inside the pocket of my coat to play with my iPod, running my thumb over the smooth surface of the scroll wheel. I leave it off, though.
I choose to listen to my parents talking in normal voices to each other. Each night, I find myself raising the volume of the iPod to drown out my parents’ voices. This is a nice change of pace.
Besides, the speakers inside the mall are playing Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, which I’ve been playing on repeat. The music sounds different when Chris Martin isn’t practically screaming in my ears. It’s better.
All around us are other families. Parents and children. Couples on dates.
We probably look just like them, but we’re different.
While they stroll leisurely, we’re marching with purpose. While they chat casually with one another, I’m silently watching my parents speak in hushed, tense tones. While they browse the stores for things to purchase, we’ve only paid attention to one store in particular.