by Amarie Avant
“Not many,” I smirk.
“You're guarded. Excuse me, were guarded prior to myself.”
“Daniel, you've done an excellent job adding yourself into the equation at every turn. And if you keep at it, again I can only promise you that ‘the boot’ is permanent.”
“Permanent,” he mumbles. The light, airy conversation sends fluttery butterflies through my stomach. I smile giddily. “All right, the last three idiots?”
“They weren't all idiots. No wait, never mind.” I burst into laughter considering one self-righteous asshole in particular.
“Hey, hey, laughter is good for the body. Give me a reason to laugh too,” Daniel retorts.
“All right, like I said not all idiots or rude or any other adverse characteristic. Except for one. He told me how fat I was during our first dinner date.”
Daniel grabs at the thick meat of my hip, then ass, appearing to be in search. “What fat?”
I can't speak for laughing. “The guy was a doctor.” I sigh. Damn, how vain I was scoring a date with him. But I’d been on a quest for black love.
“Similar to your father.”
“Not like my father, but a nutritionist. Shit, I probably should have taken the hint. My dad has this tendency to dangle his single, black male cohorts. Not sure who would be happier if I scored a doctor.”
Daniel sneaks in. “Him.”
“Humph. My dad didn't do the usual introductions gloating about his gorgeous only child when we were first introduced. I'd stopped by the hospital with lunch one day. The nutritionist and I exchanged numbers and ended up going for dinner.” My tone curves with disappointment. “This vegan place.”
“Disrespectful!” Daniel slams a hand down onto my ass, pawing it. “He saw all these curves, these sexy hammy’s, and offered to feed you blades of grass?”
“Call me hammy one more time! You are truly not a comedian.” I press my hand against his chest. That doesn't deter the sexy grin on his golden face.
“At dinner, he told me his daily regimen. He wore bifocals—not just the sort people use for reading, but damn it, that anal retentive bastard read me each time I took a bite of lettuce.”
He gives my derriere a little squeeze. “C’mon, continue with the story. I have a vivid image, don’t leave me at the climax. As evil as you are, I know you stuck it to him.”
I purse my lips. Daniel just tossed a dig because of how I have treated him.
“Maybe I did… maybe I took into consideration that my dad had to cross paths with him at work. So anyway, all the while we ate, he'd say these little things: do you know how much sugar is in juice? There's no real nutritional value in raw sugar. It's less refined, slightly less refined. Instead of telling him to shove his doctoral degree in nutrition down his bony ass throat, I asked him if he thought I was fat. Not that I honestly gave a damn. Hell, I must’ve been so hungry that I was delusional enough to ask.”
“What was his reply?”
“That bastard asked me what my BMI was!”
We chuckle so hard that tears burn my eye ducts. I sniffle, and a giddy feeling sinks in. For moments of time, we’re frozen in a state of total bliss. And then curiosity gets the best of me.
“Enough horror stories on my end, Mr. Rutledge. Now, tell me, have you ever been in love before?” I inquire. “You've only said the keyword twice, but did you have your chance and let the woman of your dreams slip away?”
I hold my breath. The selfish part of me isn’t as open-minded as Daniel. Was he in love with any of his mistresses? Is he in love with any of them? Jada perhaps?
Daniel
Desire’s curvy body is molded to mine. I contemplate for a moment.
“Daniel, have you ever fallen in love?’ The twinkle in Desire’s gaze has dwindled as she rephrases her question once more. Damn, I really need to take her ass home. I need her to understand me.
Grabbing her about the hip and ass, I nudge and pull her atop of my thick, muscular waist offering her an elevated position.
“No, Des, I haven’t placed myself in the position to fall in love in the past.”
“So, there isn’t a single woman out there in the world that has held your heart?”
“What sort of idiot do you take me for to let a lovely woman who I’ve fallen deeply in love with get away? I’m too much of a fucking dictator to allow that.”
She grins down at me. “Hmmm. While I am confident you’re arrogant as hell, Daniel, you are a good man. However, try as I might, it’s rather difficult to believe you. And, trust me, I’m doing my best to focus on you aside from the mistresses. Surely you at least had the opportunity before.”
I rub the scuff along my jawline. “Damn right I've had ample opportunity to fall… in lust. Most women who are aware of my status have but one desire.”
“What's that?”
“To fuck raw,” I shrug, hoping it cushions the edgy truth of the matter.
“We did…” Her luscious thighs squeeze against my waist for a second.
“You have brains though, Desire. And too many values to be caught up in the art of entrapment.”
The feel-good moment we were once submerged in is gone, and I’m grasping at sand to return us there. She's doubting us again. I speak up, “Say what's on your mind.”
“Do you screw your Mistresses without condoms? I’m aware of Azaleas testing and requirements but…” her tone is hesitant as if attempting not to step on my toes while gathering the truth.
“I always wore condoms—consider the past tense, Desire.” My tone smooths out. I place a hand against her angelic cheek, and push up with my opposite elbow. “Desire, I am not fucking with you, beautiful. You’ve never been in love before me. I haven’t either. The women were business arrangements also, so no, I didn't fall in love. Too much has been on my plate, therefore the contracts. I don’t desire sleeping around, so Azalea’s services removed the ‘romance’ of it all. But you found me.”
Our mouths connect, and I taste thoughtful lips that have bestowed so much love that I’ve made it my mission to ensure Desire never doubts us. We’ve got a few more kinks to smooth out. Azalea’s girls were just the beginning…
The left side of Desire’s mouth tips slightly into a wry smile. Fuck, can't we get back a few moments ago? That was the perfect place to delve, to stay.
“I found you, Mr. Rutledge? I see you're misconstruing the story of us.” Desire murmurs about me being a narcissist, thick lips spreading into a true smile.
“Hell yeah, you found me. That feistiness came for me, bewitching me from a very imperative business matter. Just a few days ago, one of my oldest friends, Ephraim, said my time was up and fuck, he was correct. You found me a year or so sooner than anticipated, but we will make it work, Des.”
She places a hand over her face in an attempt to laugh. I block it, coveting every moment of being the benefactor of her smiles. “Boy, you keep saying I came to you, I found you. Humph, you’ve got a slight case of amnesia because in retrospect, all I recall is you came crashing into my life at my aunt’s office. All you. Issuing commands.”
“Commands you had no intention of keeping unless it accompanied a grudge while acquiescing.” I grab the meat of her hip and slide her body under me. “You misjudged. You saw a very bad, bad man.”
She gulps down desire. Her tone is sardonic. “Humph, Goldilocks. And you aren't a bad man?”
“Fuck yeah!” I shout, reaching up to kiss her lips. “I am an asshole, a wolf, given the situation. Also, you offered yourself to me to do exactly as I please, Des.”
Our mouths collide, tongues twirling, the only appetite to be had is down below.
###
Desire and I tiptoe downstairs at around noon. She holds an overnight bag and I lug down her rollaway. A Lincoln Town Car has pulled up to the front of the house. Yet, the coast isn’t clear. Riley is knocked out on the couch, the television turned off due to inactivity. His mother is nowhere around.
Instead of heading to the
airport, the driver takes the three of us to Pink’s Hot Dogs before we visit the track at Hollywood Park Raceway. Since then, Riley has happily commented about the luxury supercars he has ridden shotgun in with me. Just when he seems to need a dose of oxygen, his excited voice amplifies once more.
Riley has held the entire conversation all afternoon. The Lincoln Town Car navigates toward the private landing strip. He's in the backseat with Desire while I'm in front with the driver.
“Wow! Is that your jet?” he asks, pointing out of the window.
“That's one of them. Come check it out before you have to ride home,” I tell him.
The car pulls onto the track parallel to the turbo jet, the smallest manufactured by my company.
“How fast does it go?” Riley asks, hopping out of the car before the driver can assist.
“This tiny beauty has two engines, and it tops out at 542mph.”
“No way!”
I pat his back. “I kid you not.”
For about thirty minutes, Riley receives the grand tour of the jet. I show him the cockpit while the driver removes the token pieces of luggage Desire packed.
“Riley,” Desire peeks her head around me in the tiny cockpit, “time for you to go, buddy. Your mom finally replied to my text. She promised to cook dinner tonight and basketball camp commences bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“But my stomach is still full of our lunch.”
“Riley…”
He stays planted in the leather seat, pretending to switch gears. Not bothering to turn around, Riley asks, “You want me to eat Lauren's food? That stuff will kill me.”
“Boy, get up before I slap that tiny crook at the back of your head.”
He's up instantly. “Okay, okay.”
I press a hand against his shoulder. “Chin up. Do I make idle promises?”
Riley brightens in interest. “No.”
“We will return shortly. Next time, we can take a short fly over Catalina Island. How does that sound?”
“Awesome! Thank you,” he says while Desire guides him down the stairs.
I stand just at the top, attempting not to watch their display. All of the empty promises I offered to my kid sister flash before my eyes.
“Jules, when I get back from … I promise…”
“Tomorrow, Juliet, let’s take a road trip, tomorrow.”
“Jules, how was I to know our grandfather requested my presence at—”
I can hear her now, arguing that Wentworth I wasn’t her grandfather, but Desire is now standing before me.
“Daniel, where's the pilot? Babe, what are you thinking about?” Desire’s façade is clouded with concern and curiosity.
“Juliet.” I sigh. “My baby sis is the reason I do my best to follow through with promises to youngsters nowadays.”
“Oh, your sister. What happened?”
“Shit, what didn't happen? When she was young, all I did was fuck up with regard to putting her first.”
“You sound as if you’re her father.”
“Shit, the dynamics of our family? The domination of my patriarch? My mom had an extramarital affair. Celine sort of put the cart before the horse in the divorce proceedings. She was pregnant with another man’s child. Juliet paid for her crimes.”
“Juliet…” Desire murmurs. The disgust as to how my family could easily discard a vital piece of us sinks in. “Juliet was a love child, and your responsibility?”
“Exactly. My father loathed her. Or my grandfather did, which promoted the same level of hatred on my dad's part.”
Desire ruminates over my revelation for a moment and then asks, “What about the opposite side of Juliet’s family? What of her real father?”
“Celine took that to her grave,” I mumble, unable to connect to my mother in this instant. My shoulders rise and fall just as defeated. “No matter how the Rutledge dynasty is perceived, we were royalty, like the Kennedys, and then again we weren't. At least, Jules wasn't. But I try my best for her.”
Desire nestles her head against my chest. “You were thirteen when she was born. I remember you mentioning she went away to boarding school while you weren’t required to. But Daniel, the age difference was so great that…oh don’t give me the hopeless look. You're a good big brother.”
“There were no excuses. But I believe I’m a good brother now. At least, I strive to be.”
Her fingers slide through mine and lock onto them. She looks up into my eyes. “I'm sure Juliet considers you a good brother now, in the past, and always. No matter the ill treatment she received by others. You had obligations. And from the look of it, you’ve probably learned the hard way about spreading yourself thin. You did your best.”
“My best?” I breathe the words. “How do you come to such a noble conclusion?”
A smile brightens her entire face.
“You’re winging it, aren’t you?”
“Damn it, Daniel, I’m not winging it. This is a testy subject. You can’t pay for everyone else’s sins. You are a good brother because I know you. Half the greater Los Angeles is filled with women—young and old—who are in love with you.”
“The flowers?” I cock a smile.
“Yes, those orchids. I’m pretty sure you’ve sparked a few fantasies, saved a few lives, and uplifted some chick’s self-esteem. That being said, you went through such great lengths for a piece of ass, sexy ass,” she chuckles, “so, what would you do for the ones you love?”
Though her question is rhetorical, I wait for the words of affection, but Desire’s mouth becomes a feast for my lips instead.
“Um, where is the pilot?”
“You’re looking at him.”
“No, I'm not. I'm looking at you, Wentworth. I'll require some sort of credentials prior to placing my life in your hands.”
I chuckle softly. “I just maxed out a Bugatti with what I assume to be one of the most precious persons in your life, riding shot gun.”
“Firstly, there were trained drivers –“
“Not in the damn car there weren't. I'll have you know that I have acquired more training and certificates than John Travolta in this aspect.”
“Humph.”
“I have a Bachelors in aviation. I'm flying. It's the only way for us to get home.”
Desire
“Home? This is your home?” Palm to forehead, I mumble to myself about Texas. The Madame had a valid point about the tropical islands and exotic lands where Daniel traveled with his mistresses. Fuck, I’ve gotta get his old mistresses out of my head! They are the past, I’m his present, his future…
“Yes, Desire. Though I detect undertones of sarcasm, it took months for the proper land to be found and the architect to design the proper blueprint, just so ya know.”
“I’m sorry.” I lick my lips. “I assumed we were headed to Greenwich.”
“I’ve said it before. You’ve watched entirely too many documentaries on my family, Desire. Stick with me and you’ll never go wrong.” He holds out a hand at that.
“Bad bones?” I inquire. I bite my lip, while gliding my slender fingers into his thick, longer ones.
“An entire cemetery’s worth,” Daniel replies. My head kisses his shoulder as we walk from the jet. I can't help but realize that Celine Rutledge took her life in that home. Wentworth II also got into a fatal car crash not a few miles away from that very vast home. I have more questions but don’t want to kill the mood.
“A landing strip in your own backyard? Show me around, let's see if you can continue to exceed my expectations. What's your favorite place in the house?” From the outside glancing in, the mansion is gorgeous. All white walls, vast windows.
“I don't have a favorite place inside of the house,” he responds as we ascend a vast staircase leading to a lap pool.
My eyebrow arches.
“Well, I assume you're asking what's so important about my home. That is a secret in which I am prepared to show you once the tour is complete.”
; “I’m not a fan of secrets. Tell me now.”
“Okay, I bought the land for the trees.”
“The trees?” I stop midstride, head tilted and then I laugh. “Daniel, you are too cute.”
“What?” He shrugs.
I shake my head. He bought the lot for the land? I'm sure we aren't standing on oil or another natural resource. “You're pulling my leg?”
“I'm not. You are impatient, and don’t understand why yet.”
“Hell yeah, I'm baffled. I see you as the owner of a mansion in the sky. Amenities to include room service and a concierge. The token valet and door holder.”
“A vain, pretty boy, eh?”
“Hence the name Goldilocks.”
“Allow me to shatter your illusions.”
I nod, beaming as bright as ever. Up the stairs we go. As suspected, there is a lap pool, but no outdoor bar. Instead, there is a full outdoor kitchen which would be more suitable for a … family. Inside, there are vaulted ceilings, limestone and oak floors, a chef’s kitchen, theater and more.
“Hey, hey, hey, what's this room? Are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes?” I ask.
“Oh, this room?” Daniel nudges his chin toward the closed door. He pulls a key ring from his pocket and I gasp.
“Humph, perhaps I don't need to see what's in there.” My heel plants backward.
Daniel laughs. “You scared?”
“No. I just mind my damn business.”
“It's not a red room.”
I laugh. “Tsk, you obviously enjoy an array of hues.”
“We’ll just call it my ebony room.”
I scoff as the door is opened. He places the keys into his pocket, further heightening my curiosity prior to pushing open the door.
My breath catches, pupils expanding to receive a sensory overload.
“You did this?” I murmur the words, meandering into the room.
“Yes,” I hear him say from behind me.
“Damn it, Wentworth Daniel Rutledge the third, I am…” I am speechless.