“What are you doing in here?” Hugo asks me.
“How is he?” I answer with my question.
“Fine. Drawing another maze. Most likely it will be so intricate it will give you a fucking headache.”
“It’s amazing how well you know him.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“You really love him.”
His eyes become furious. “Juliet, I’m not doing this with you.”
“Then let me have the last damn word. Only when defenses arise, curiosity for the truth increases.” He gives me a look. “I made that up.”
“I know.”
“So your dad is a son of a bitch.”
“Yes he is and I have finally figured out how I’m going to get my revenge.” He goes to his desk and pulls out a bottle of cognac.
“What?” I ask as he pours himself a glass.
“My father’s wife is a neglectful, wants to please everyone, daddy’s little girl. She’s already one pill away from being on a permanent high to avoid the realities of her bound to fail marriage. She flirted with me last night. She was vulnerable. A consequence of my father’s infamous ‘I won’t be able to make it tonight’ line.” He arches his brow, the glass at his mouth. “I’ve never slept with my father’s conquests. I find it repulsive. but I’m now starting to like the idea. Let me guess, you’re appalled.” He drinks from his glass.
“Well, you know once you’ve heard one diabolic plot, you’ve heard them all.” I get serious. “Don’t do it.”
He swallows the burning libation and sets the glass on the table. “Why not?”
“Well, what about the inheritance your mother left you?”
“I don’t care.”
“Then don’t do it because it isn’t worth it. You don’t want to be like him.”
“Spare me the lecture of being the bigger person.”
“How about the lecture of being a person?” My voice gets louder and I stand up from the bed. “Jesus! You people. All you do is just play these games to see who can outdo who in being the biggest prat.”
“I like to have sex with women, Juliet.” He comes closer to me, pointing to his chest. “I like to bring emotional harm to them and everyone around them because it is what I like to do. It is the only thing that makes me remotely close to being happy.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to find something new to make you happy.”
“Like what? Like you did? I know about you. I have a cousin from London and I asked about you. You freaked out once some idiot jumped off a roof because she couldn’t take the truth.”
So, he wants to go there.
“No,” I say adamantly. “I realized that I was a bitch and I didn’t like being a bitch.”
“You sure you aren’t a bitch now?”
“Well if I am, I am a bitch that I approve of.”
“Yeah a bitch that used to cut herself.”
Now that hurts. Damn, that really hurts. Guilt washes over his eyes as he realizes that he went there.
“Scars are always a price to pay for the bullshit, right?” I say and his jaw twitches as he looks down.
“If you excuse me, I have a plan to act on.” He starts to brush past me, but I step in his way, my shoulder hitting his.
“Don’t,” I plead.
“Get out of my way, Juliet.”
“Don’t do this.”
“You really think you begging me is really going to change my mind?”
“No, but maybe a wager will.”
“What, another coin toss?”
“No, a dare.”
He huffs, amused.
“Kiss me and you will see how important I am.” I say one of the first quotes I ever read. It was written on a wall in London near my school. I thought it was one of the most beautiful lines I ever read. The day I read it the idea of true love awoken in me. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.
“Seriously? We’re quoting a woman who stuck her head in an oven?”
Damn, he knows Sylvia Plath too?
“Kiss me and if you feel something in that kiss, if you feel just something… then I win.”
“You are crazy.”
“Clearly… but I’m willing to take a chance on you, Hugo, because…” I trail off. What do I say? Well, I guess I’ll just say the first thing that comes to mind. “I might could fall in love with you.”
His face completely disarms. That must be a first.
“Or maybe I do love you, I don’t know,” I shrug, truthfully. “I have to be to do this bloody shit, don’t you think? I think you’re a narcissistic, cowardice arsehole hell bent on destroying humanity because you don’t want to just cry your heart out like the rest of us, but I’ve always been attracted to rugby players who wear polo shirts and colorful bowties so I suppose this is a step up for me.”
“You are clearly out of your fucking mind.” He chokes on the words.
“Your face is clearly turning red.” I smirk at him.
He frowns. “Because you’re pissing me off.”
“I’m sure you probably have gotten the L word from a lot of girls but me… I’m different. I know I am. I see it in your eyes. I annoy you because… you’re scared of me. I frighten you. My love frightens you. Well here is some news for you… I’m petrified of you. Your pain scares the shit out of me. But because of my feelings, I’m going to make a sacrifice and let you kiss me. It probably won’t end well, given you are a stubborn bastard, but it’s worth a shot and… I have a strong heart. I can take it. So do it. I dare you. I won’t stick my head in the oven. I won’t cry after. I’ll just go on with life. Like we’re meant to do when people hurt us because you will probably hurt me after this. But I will go on… and maybe try again tomorrow. So do it. Take what I am offering you. Take me.”
His eyes rake over my face and he looks like he’s literally going to break. I’m a fucking fool for this but as Jane Austen once said, ‘We are all fools in love’ and more of a fool I become once he grabs me by the back of my neck and our lips touch. We collide hard, but stay still. Our lips don’t move. Just the mere touch of each other sends us adrift. The rapid air from his nostrils strikes me with force and I’m sure mine is doing the same. I give in. My bottom lip trembles as I separate it from the top, allowing my tongue to seep through them and break through his. His breath shutters as he opens and slowly caresses his tongue against mine. His lips move faster with hunger and urgency. I become in sync with them, tilting my head to the side and allowing his tongue to dive in further. Our mouths are at war with one another. The perfect battle at that. I’m trying to make him feel while he is trying to prevent me from succeeding. I slide my hands around his neck, grabbing hold of his hair and pressed my body against his. I can feel his hands hesitate. Don’t hesitate. Don’t ever hesitate. I moan into his mouth. Now his hand is on my waist. The other hand that was gripping my neck hard starts to slumber. Now it just gently lays there while the other hand digs its fingers into the fabric of my shirt. His touch electrifies me. Definitely not going to win this round. But to be totally honest, neither of us will. He may walk away, but he will walk away still with the taste of me on his lips.
He pushes me to the wall, now covering my mouth with his callousness. He rips me to shreds with his tongue and teeth and I love every bit of it. I’ve kissed many guys in my life. Before I started having sex, I was a kissing whore—can’t even keep count of how many, but this one. This kiss is in the top five at least and if Liam from Yorkshire weren’t so good, Hugo would be number one.
Oh fuck it!
He is number one. Liam’s kissing never made me want to rip my clothes off, giving up any kind of dignity left in me. Hugo is the bloody devil.
The kiss comes to a halt. Our foreheads press together. My eyes still closed, my tongue crossing over my bottom lip tasting what is left of Hugo. It tastes of the leftover cognac. It’s the best taste in the world now to me. I think my blood pressure’s up too. And not to be vulgar, but I’m definitely wet.<
br />
I open my eyes. His still tightly closed. Open your eyes, Hugo. I press my fingertips on his lips, willing him to look at me. He opens them. One blue. One green. I don’t think I will ever get tired of looking at that contrast. The perfect ocean and I think I just took a dip in it. Now I want to drown in it.
“Well,” I breathe out the words. “That… was gratifying.” I’m completely limp.
“It was…” I didn’t expect him to agree. “But I’ve had better.”
And there’s the bastard I know. He lets go and walks out. I lean the back of my head against the wall and place my hand over my stomach that is swarming with the metaphorical creatures I loathe. Fucking butterflies.
14
HUGO
Stand-up comedian George Carlin once said that if there is a God, he is convinced he is a he. Because no woman could ever fuck things up this badly.
I call bullshit on that. Women can fuck things up badly. I’ve been surrounded by nitwits my entire life. I’ve been surrounded by men capable of unintelligent comprehension and I have been surrounded by women capable of deliberate destruction. Men don’t think before they fuck up. They don’t do it on purpose. They’re dumbasses. Women, they do. They’re not dumbasses. A woman could fuck things up badly. Jesus, I think my rant is converting me to feminism.
My whole life women close to me have fucked me up one way or another. My mother, of course, with her flying act. Scarlett turning me into basically a vampire and now Juliet. She’s fucking me up. Scarlett turning me into an asshole, I’m okay with that. I like being a bloodsucker, but Juliet she’s just—I don’t know! I don’t know what she’s doing to me. That kiss. That kiss. That fucking kiss!
“What do I owe this pleasure of surprise?” I didn’t even realize I had arrived at Scarlett’s new condo. When did the doorman even let me in? I’m all over the fucking place.
I rush pass her and head straight for the bar. “Where is everyone?” I ask, pouring myself a glass of… hmph, Remy Martin Black Pearl. Nice.
“My future in-laws are out shopping and plotting my demise, I suppose.”
“Your fiancé?” I pour her a glass.
“At work.”
“Good.” I down the drink.
“You seem on edge,” she notices and I face her.
“I’m quite excited actually.” I force a dry smile. “I am plotting to destroy someone’s life.”
She smiles sinisterly.
“My father.”
“Well this is a very pleasant surprise. What brought this on?”
“Nothing, it’s just that my usual debauchery is not enough anymore. I’m going to fuck his wife.”
“Sounds well cultivated.” Her dry sarcasm causes disdain.
“Whatever, I just know that I need to destroy something and he is the one I want to destroy.”
Scarlett rolls her eyes, unimpressed. Suddenly her eyes drift. She’s thinking something. Now she stares at me and grins.
“It’s like I was made to have everything easy.” She says.
“What are you talking about?”
“Harper, your step-grandfather,”
“I met him once. He called me Hugh. He’s an asshole but a smart businessman.”
“Smart indeed. He’s coming out with a new data security system. It’s set to change technology apparently and every American capitalist wants it. It’s called Neolock and your dad is set to invest. Patrick wants to but given your dad’s upper hand, well he had no chance until now. Harper finds out that not only is his daughter sleeping with her husband’s son but that her husband is cheating.”
“I like where you’re leading me to, but everyone knows my dad cheats. Half the men we know do. That’s not a big deal. He won’t let go of an investment for that.”
“It is if your daughter is the most precious and valuable thing to you. She’s a daddy’s girl. She’s an in denial poor little rich girl who doesn’t know how to stand up for herself cliché. It’s the oldest tale of a socialite. She. Will. Break. Patrick’s company ranks higher than your father’s—you know this. Once Harper sees how your father took advantage of his little girl, he will drop them from the deal and Patrick will get picked up. Especially when there are pictures involved. Harper would rather drop a few million at least than see his little girl’s naked body on every social network.”
“How do you know he’ll just go for Patrick’s that quick?”
“I have another mission for an old friend. He’s working on it. With two major companies out, Harper is a smart man. He will choose the best. Townsend is the best. The only other one is Fairchild and ever since he died, well no one has been able to get that company up and running again.”
“What did happen to William Fairchild before he died?”
“Last I heard he let his nephew handle the New York office and two years ago he went off to marry some girl he met at a bar. That’s when he was forty-one and the girl was my age I heard. Six months later, death by testicular cancer. Right before he died he was named the fourth richest hedge fund billionaire in Forbes. Patrick was fifth.”
“You must’ve googled everything about the Townsend family and the business after the first date.”
“Come on, Hugo, you know me better than that,” she says, smiling. “I researched after the first moment I saw him.”
I chuckle. “Well, then… I guess we’re back.”
“I guess so.” She bites her lip and grabs me by my shirt, pulling me in for a kiss.
What the fuck?
“What’s wrong?” she asks, noticing my lips barely moving against hers. I’m hesitating. Why am I hesitating? Now the kiss between Juliet and I is being compared to Scarlett. What is this?
“Nothing,” I lie.
She stares intuitively at me. “Don’t lie to me, Hugo. You never lie to me.” She sounds a bit hurt. I feel guilty for that. Why am I feeling guilty? Why am I lying?
“I’m fine,” I lie again.
“Fucking lie to me again, Hugo,” her tone rises.
“It’s really not a big deal.” I turn away, looking at anything but Scarlett. “Juliet,” I rub my chin, thinking. “She’s becoming more of a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“A problem that is… unfamiliar. Yeah, that’s the word for it.” I can face her now. “She told me she might could fall in love with me.”
“What?” Her face contorts in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me you believe that.”
“I don’t know. She’s very unpredictable. She says what she wants and usually what she says she means. I do think she’s fucking insane.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Did you sleep with her?”
“No,” I pause before continuing, “but she did kiss me before I came over here.”
“Kissed you,” she repeats slowly.
“Yes. It was one of her clever games to try to get me to show emotion. She did it to try to stop me from waging war on my father.”
“How was it?” she asks sounding concerned.
“It was good.” I act unbothered. “I won’t lie. I became a little unhinged by it, but it is just a phase.” I walk closer and wrap my arms around her waist. “She wants to be but… she will never mean anything to me.”
“If she means nothing, then break her.”
“It’s too risky, you know that. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. It will blind you and because of that blindness you will become desperate. You taught me that. It leads to reckless planning.”
“I think you’re being a pussy,” she says adamantly. I let go and back away from her.
“I am not being a pussy, Scarlett. This girl… is easy and risky at the same time. I don’t have time for her to get attached. She has no filter.”
“You have no filter. So what is it?” She notices I’m keeping something and I can continue keeping it. I will keep it. “She showed me scars of hers. She used to be a cutter.” This is low even for me. I just told Scarlett about the consequences of desperation a
nd yet here I am desperate. I’ve never been desperate before in my life. Well that was a lie. I was once, but that no longer was the case once Scarlett the hunger of my cravings. I craved freedom from morality. Freedom to not give a fuck. This is me. So why can’t I stop myself from regretting telling this information about Juliet to the one person who would use it to destroy her if she crosses her?
Scarlett’s amused. “I haven’t heard that term since Odette Hill.” She laughs a little. She hasn’t heard that term since Odette Hill because I never told her about Lydia. Never told anyone until last night. “I knew she wasn’t as tough as she claims to be.”
“On the contrary, she is.” I’m defending her.
“How can she be? I guarantee you if word gets out about that, she would die.”
I say nothing. Scarlett looks me in the eye. My veracity washes over her face. God, my eyes tell a lot apparently.
“You admire her, don’t you?”
“I oddly respect her but other than that, I only pity her,” I say with conviction forcing myself to believe it.
“Fine then stay away from her. Don’t let her distract you. If she tries, spit that bullshit in her face each time. At some point she is bound to give up.” Scarlett sighs. Juliet’s no threat to her. She glances at her watch. “Patrick will be back soon and I need to go see someone.”
“Who?”
“You don’t want to know.”
What the hell does that mean?
JULIET
“Come along girls.” Jordana, Poppy, and I follow Ms. Eleanor across the street. We are heading into Rockefeller Plaza. She is guiding us with her old fashion white umbrella over her head. She’s wearing an all white dress with ruffles and white-laced gloves. She looks like a southern belle while we all match our usual personalities. Poppy in a pink, fluffy short skirt, tan wedges, white silk shirt that hangs off her bony shoulders, and white sunglasses that bring out her strawberry blonde hair. Jordana’s outfit is all black. Sexy and divine as usual. Black pants and a black sheer top that clearly reveals her black bra. Her jet-black ray bans match well with her cinnamon hair. To me, she kind of resembles a young Anna Wintour. I’m in a long green maxi dress with my gold nameplate necklace that I always wear and yellow gold diamond bracelet that was given to me by my mormor. I always fiddle with it when I’m in deep thought and right now I am thinking deeply about the kiss I shared with Hugo. I can still taste and feel his lips on me and the bewitching outcome I have endured has become some type of drug to me. I know it’s bad, but I want it. I need it. I crave more.
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