“You’re just going to keep using me and leave me. That’s what this is all about. I am a person, Tax. I have feelings. You can’t treat me like this.”
He lets out a deep sigh. “Mia, don’t do that.”
“I thought you wanted more.”
“I do. Don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then do as I fucking say.”
I slowly slide off each strap of my dress, and let it collapse to the deck. Underneath the dress, I have on a white bra and cotton bikini briefs.
“White cotton panties?” he asks. Usually I wear lacy thongs.
“This dress has a tendency to kick up in the wind, so I’m just trying to cover up.”
He grins subtly. “I like it. There’s an innocence about it.” I look down. Yesterday we were flesh to flesh, but today, we are back to me being stripped alone. “Your bra. I want to see your tits.”
I unclip, my eyes darting past his shoulders to make sure the captain isn’t around, but he hasn’t made an appearance since he greeted us.
The sun heats my breasts as I let my bra drop to the floor. Tax lets out a hushed groan. His shorts expand underneath his waistline and he rubs a hand against the bulge.
“Let your hair down.”
I grab the elastic and tug until my hair falls down my shoulders and back. I slide my thumbs into the waistband of my panties.
“No. Keep those.”
He walks over to me, and slides his fingers through my hair. Suddenly, he is softly pelting one side, then the other. I haven’t worn my hair into two braids like this since high school. My white panties dampen in reaction to his mixture of force and tenderness.
“Mia, you need to understand there are things about me that will never change. This being one of them.” He doesn’t have to specify what he means. I’d be a fool to think this beast of a man would ever lose that ferocity.
“That can be a good thing,” I say.
He cocks his eyebrow.
“Tax, I told you I was looking for something. This is what I was looking for.”
“Then why do you fight me? Cry? Why do you keep trying to see past this?”
“Because I want all of you, not just this. I fight you because I am fighting myself. Because I have always felt wrong for wanting these things, but you allow me to have these things without the culpability. If I always give in, if I don’t fight, then that means it’s all me. It means I am sick.”
He runs a fingertip along the wet spot of my underwear. “You’re not sick, Mia. You’re the most alive you’ve ever been.” The spot expands underneath his touch.
“I am understanding that now. I don’t need you to blackmail me. I’d willingly give it to you, can’t you fucking see that? But I need you to allow me to trust you. That means you can’t just vanish when we’re done. I know that you came here for me, that you spent the night, but I feel like once we get back, it’ll happen all over again. Most of all, you threatening to expose my secrets doesn’t make me feel secure or safe with you. I don’t even know where you live. You can just decide to up and leave forever, you could still expose me after all this, and when you’re done with me, and I’ll just be broken.”
“I keep my word. I would never go back on what I promised.”
“Why should I have any reason to believe you?”
“Because I am here now, because I came here for you.”
“And yet you hold threats over my head. I think you’re afraid too.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Then why do you keep pulling away when I get close?”
His eyes shift away from mine.
“You have all the power. You know everything about me and I know nothing about you. If you’re afraid of letting me in, can you imagine how I must feel? You came into my life, crashing like a meteor, and if you just leave me like that...I’ll never be the same. I want to know that you’d fucking care if I died tomorrow. Because sometimes it feels like you could dispose of me at any moment. Like you could replace me in an instant. I like what we do, but what we do outside of that matters just as much. Let me do it willingly. Don’t blackmail me. It’s the difference between you being my lover and you being my...” I hesitate to say the word that has lingered in the air since we first met. “Rapist.”
“Don’t you ever fucking call me that,” he snaps with fire in his eyes, darting his finger at me. “You always had a fucking choice. You begged me to fuck you the very first night.” He circles away from me in anger.
“I didn’t mean it. I mean, I don’t want to mean it. But that means you have to show me otherwise. There’s a reason you just snapped at that word, because when you are forced to face things you lash out. Clearly what I said resonates, otherwise you wouldn’t have just gotten so angry.”
“Mia, you have no fucking idea what you are talking about.” The veins in his forearms bulge as he tenses his fists. “You have no idea what that word means to me.”
“Then tell me.”
His lips form a tense line, as if his life story would explode out of him if he were to relax them. His chest sinks with a slow exhale.
“Don’t ever call me that again.” His tone is still firm, but there’s something softer underneath. It’s almost as if he’s asking instead of telling.
I soften my voice to a plead. “As long as you threaten me, then none of this is real. How can we trust each other’s feelings? If you stop holding the video over my head, then you can trust I am with you genuinely, and I can trust that you aren’t just here to hurt me. I want to know this is real. I’m just trying to say, I’m afraid you’ll leave. No one else is like you, Tax.”
I reach out to touch him, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me in close. “Mia, I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to promise me the same. I mean it when I say that this is to protect you. I don’t want to hold anything over your head. There was a time when I relished the thought of humiliating you in that way. Not anymore. But I will do it if I have to. Only if I have to. For you.”
“Tax, you never did,” I say. He had me all along. If he had walked into that conference room without that recording, without his threats, it would only have been a matter of time before I was naked in front of him anyway. He bewitches me with his powerful aura. I would have fallen into his arms in spite of myself, no matter what. He had me the second I smelled his scent, felt his chest press against my back in my kitchen. The rest is just pretense.
“No one is like you, Mia. No one,” he says, passionately colliding his lips against mine, biting my bottom lip painfully. My hips press against his forceful touch. “I don’t know how to fucking do this. Don’t you see that? I don’t know how to be with someone. Maybe you should leave. I can put up the video and then this will all be over. You can start over somewhere far away. I’ll let you start over.” He says it the way two young lovers muse when they fantasize about running away together, knowing it’s an impossibility.
“I don’t want to start over. I like my life. And I won’t go anywhere without you,” I vow.
I look down on Mia’s face, resting in my lap. Her dark hair is still in messy braids, like she so often used to wear them when I knew her in a past life. Her skin glistens with a golden hue under the afternoon sun. Her breasts lie beautifully on her chest, her bare pussy still glistens from our sex. She lies here in the vulnerability of sleep, trusting that I will keep her safe from an unknown fate.
I wish I had the strength to let her go, but every time I try, she begs, and I can’t resist her. I should put out the tape, ruin her career and life. Then I can work to convince Jude that’s payment enough. But I know Jude, that won’t suffice. Just like Tripp’s injury wasn’t enough. It’s either death or life. I choose life. Then I can finally have my sister back and keep Mia too.
Mia is not the person who hurt me years ago, just like I am not that kid who was a constant victim of circumstances. I am beginning to believe Mia never truly meant to hurt me. Maybe she thought it would be a sil
ly prank, or she felt the need to protect her friendships. Perhaps she was scared of Tripp. She deserves to pay, but not with death. Killing her would only be punishing myself. For the first time, I can see a future beyond the vendetta. Jude can have everything she wants, but she can’t have Mia. She can choose to accept the gift I will bring into this world with Mia, or she can go to hell.
Someone should nominate me for worst new corporate president of the year. Tax chartered the yacht for the entire weekend. We went to the Bahamas. Yeah. Did you know you can do that? Just hop on a boat and go to the Bahamas? Well, now you do. It was a weekend full of insatiable sexual appetites, amazing food, and lots of sleeping.
If Laney was suspicious, she hid her suspicions well and happily took on the added responsibility of representing Alea at the conference. I told her Draconi wanted to fly me out to talk about some long term plans for the company, but not to worry as this was a good sign. The truth is, the only Alea talk that happened is when Tax had me demonstrate the rest of the product line.
But now I am back, away from the fantasy world of an impromptu vacation. Things are already different though. As a matter of fact, I am sitting in Tax’s penthouse condo, to which he invited me over for dinner before heading back home to face another workweek.
The sweeping open space is completely surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with endless views of Lake Michigan and downtown Milwaukee. I look far out into the distance as the sunset glows around the Calatrava Pavilion of the art museum. Its white wings look majestic as dusk falls.
The condo wafts with the smell of garlic, olive oil, and roasted tomatoes.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I ask.
“Nope. You’d probably fuck it up. It’s not a frozen pizza,” he calls from the other side of his enormous living space.
“That’s not fair. Pizza is Italian too.”
Frozen pizza is something I ate quite a bit after my mother died. My father tried, bless his soul, but I could not stomach his culinary efforts. It’s still something I stock in my fridge regularly, as it’s always been a habit to pop one in when I have guests over. I wonder if he knows that about me from that one time I tried to make one for us and he bailed, of if it’s just one of the many things he knows from spying on me.
I make my way over to the open kitchen, a chef’s dream with huge grey caeserstone countertops, various stainless steel sinks, and two commercial ranges with ovens. I bet those ovens would make some kick-ass frozen pizza.
“By the way, I DO know how to cook. I am just usually so busy with work.”
I observe Tax as he chops up fresh herbs in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. I am standing on the side of his neck tattoo and it’s hard not to bite it. There’s something so hot about watching this man stand over a steaming skillet, intently prepping food in his casually sexy getup.
My eyes scan the modern minimalist apartment, and I notice something. For one, he has a ton of books. An entire wall is dedicated to a floor to ceiling bookshelf, brimming with books. The apartment is minimalist and spotless, except for the bookshelf, which is spilling over. It’s clear they aren’t just there for show, that he pulls books out regularly. It adds a human touch to the monotone and linear theme of his condo.
And I notice something else: There are no pictures. Not a single one, of himself or anyone else.
“So...Rex?”
His rhythmic chopping stops. “Yes? What about him?”
“He’s your brother.”
“I think we went over this already, or were you too drunk to remember?” he asks, snidely. By the way, I have picked up on this in the months since we have met: His humor is drier than the Sahara. I can pick up on the almost imperceptible changes in his tone that are the difference between a literal statement and a joke, but others might think he’s just being a blunt jerk. And he is blunt, but that’s part of his humor. I enjoy it. I like people who don’t bullshit.
I roll my eyes at him. “No, I was not too drunk. He’s obviously not a blood relative. You mentioned your parents are gone. How are you two related?”
I watch Tax make a series of mental calculations before he says anything. I expect him to dodge my question. He is giving me more of his time and attention. But as far as information about who he is, he has still been very greedy.
“We met on the street,” he says, clearing his throat.
“The street?” I ask, looking around at the very expensive habitat. “You hung out on the street?”
“I lived on the street.”
“Oh...” I say. I know he doesn’t want my pity. It’s probably why he is reluctant to mention it. “So you don’t have parents in common, it’s more like you’re brothers because you are so close?”
He keeps his face down and ahead at the chopping board, but his eyes dart over to me a few times. “Yup, exactly like that.”
“That must be nice, having someone you can be that close with. I’m an only child. My mother had me when she was young and she always promised me a sibling, but then she got sick.”
“I know.” Tax says it with the softness of understanding. I tell him snippets of my life all the time, forgetting I am likely telling him things he already knows. He looks up at me. “I didn’t mean it’s less important since you are telling me what I already know. Just that I understand. Losing people.”
“Oh, I know you didn’t mean it that way,” I say. “You mean your parents?”
“Yeah. I lost my mother when I was young too. My dad died when I was older.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, kissing his neck. The softest peck of my lips makes his entire body flinch with discomfort. I can’t receive love. I remember the words he told me after he first showed me his scars.
“Tax, I won’t be mad, I just want to know...did you plant Rex into Tiff’s life?”
This time he doesn’t take nearly as long to think about his response.
“Yes, I did. But Rex is a good guy. He likes Tiff. He considers her a friend. Just because he was put there doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. We’re all put into situations that we have to make do with.”
I take a deep breath, still trying to wrap my mind around the level of surveillance my life has been under.
“Rex likes you too Mia. He’s the reason I ended up in Miami. He gave me some brotherly advice.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t even know there were forces like that working in my life,” I say.
“Mia, everyone who meets you falls in love with you.” I watch Tax’s eyes as they jump, realizing in an indirect way he just said that he’s falling in love with me.
“Oh, I don’t think you had those feelings when you met me,” I joke, getting him out of his mental corner. “You hated me.”
“Hate is a feeling.” My words coming out of his mouth. I get under his skin too.
“So Rex is your only sibling?”
“I have a younger sister too. We aren’t very close,” he says.
“What’s her name?”
“Judith Ann.”
His responses are choppier when he speaks of her.
“Well, you have made quite the life for yourself,” I say. “This is incredible. I am sure your mother would be proud.” He slides the herbs from the cutting board onto a skillet. The skillet sizzles and pops as a billow of steam rises from the pan.
“I like this,” I say, wrapping my arms around him from behind, taking in a deep breath of his smell, his warmth. “Learning about you.”
“Mia...” he says, hesitantly, like he is bracing us both for a rejection. “Can you grab the white wine from the fridge?”
My heart sinks, he’s asking me to let go of him, but he’s just doing it in a less brutish way. It doesn’t hurt any less.
“Sure,” I say, sliding my arms away from his tense torso. I understand just that small conversation, that opening up his life, his family, is a leap for him. The very act of showing me his home is saying to me: I’m staying, Mia. I won’t vanish.
I
can’t expect everything to pour out of him at once.
Within minutes the pasta, colorfully flecked with fresh herbs and vegetables, makes its way onto two plates. He pulls out the crackling golden Chilean sea bass from the oven and places a fillet on each plate.
We sit out on his expansive deck, with views of the lake twinkling underneath the moon, white sailboats perched along docks, and little orange and red glowing lights as vehicles cruise along Lincoln Memorial Drive.
“Thank you, this is amazing. I never would have thought you could cook like this.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” he says with a half a smile. Oh how I love when he shares his smile.
We eat in peaceful silence. For the first time, I believe Tax. He won’t leave me. As unconventional as we may be, he won’t just use me and discard me.
In This Moment – Sick Like Me
Contrary to what Rex might tell you, I do work. You just don’t sit on hundreds of millions of dollars. You manage it, you grow it, you invest it. And I tried really hard to work today, but my mind is restless. I made promises this weekend, and I keep my promises. And now, all I can think about is how I can keep them all. I believe I have it figured out, but until Plan C is complete, I will be on edge.
I haven’t spoken to Jude since she gave me her keys. We’ll make up, we always do. I just need time, and I’m glad she’s giving it to me. Hopefully she’s thinking about what I said to her. I know my change of heart appears self-serving, and it is, but I do want my sister to build her own life. This past decade we concocted plans so complicated and risky, that it seemed like our mission of payback would never end. Well, the end is near, and I think Jude and I have different ideas about where to go from there.
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