She never called again.
Nick also came back to Boston, though he wasn't a problem. Sometimes, she caught him looking at her a little wistfully, but then he was would smile his puppy-dog-smile, and continue on with whatever he was doing. He and Jameson even spent an evening together, playing poker in the library. She wasn't sure what happened, but by the end of the night Nick had a black eye, Jameson had split knuckles, and they were talking and laughing like they were the best of friends.
Boys are so fucking weird.
“Did I tell you,” Jameson suddenly started. “We got an invitation.”
“We did?”
“I did,” he corrected himself.
“To what?” she asked.
“I am cordially invited to the wedding of a Mr. Wenseworth Dunn and a Ms. Petrushka Ivanovic,” he prattled out. Tate burst out laughing.
“You're shitting me. They didn't,” she gasped.
“Oh, they did. It has a plus one. I thought of inviting Sanders, but I think you look better in a dress,” he told her.
“Probably. I'll only go on one condition,” she said.
“And what is that?”
“We get to have sex, as loudly as possible, in a bathroom during the service,” she told him.
“You're so filthy, baby girl. I love it,” he chuckled, his arms getting tighter around her.
“Where does 'baby girl' come from? Did you call Pet that?” she asked. He scrunched up his nose.
“You've always just been that, it's your name. Since the first time I saw you. Pet had her own nickname, after I got to know her,” he replied. She pushed herself up so she was straddling his waist.
“Ooohhh, I want to know,” she breathed.
“Fotze.”
“Meaning?”
“Cunt.”
She laughed again.
“I'm almost jealous. Are we going?” she asked, sweeping her eyes across the harbor.
“I'll think about it,” he said, sighing and resting his hands on his chest where her hands had been a moment ago.
She looked down at them and smiled. He had a scar on the side of his hand, running from just under his pinky knuckle to the top of his wrist. When he had punched out the window on the Jag, the cut had gone deep. Sanders had stitched it up. Apparently, he wasn't as good at sutures as he was at everything else. But she actually liked it. She had scarred Jameson.
It was only fair.
“Where is Sanders? I thought we had plans to go to lunch. He's always bailing on me,” she complained. Jameson laughed.
“He's scared of you. Ever since you got him so wasted on his birthday that he couldn't even see straight, he doesn't trust you,” Jameson reminded her. She laughed.
“Oh, he was fine.”
“I have never seen a grown man puke that much.”
“Shut up. Where's Ang, then? It is suspiciously quiet around here,” she looked around her, realizing it for the first time. Jameson's hands moved to her thighs.
“It's probably because I asked everyone to stay away,” he told her. She raised her eyebrows.
“You asked everyone to stay away?” she clarified.
“Well, I told them to stay away. In very graphic language. They are staying in a hotel for the weekend,” he said.
“Why?”
He sat up suddenly and she laughed, holding onto his shoulders so she didn't lose her balance. He secured her legs around his waist and then stood up, carrying her to the stairs. She glanced around them, wondering what was going on.
“Because I have plans for us tonight,” he told her, going down to the upper deck. He had finally replaced the furniture that the angry maid had thrown overboard. But he walked past it all, carrying her to lower deck.
“Oh really? And what kind of plans, Mr. Kane?” she asked.
“Very devious ones,” he said. She laughed.
“How devious? You just got back from L.A. yesterday – I thought you'd be worn out,” she teased.
“I am never too worn out for you, Tate. You always get the final bite,” he assured her, carrying her into the depths of the boat.
“Damn straight.”
He took her into their bedroom, laid her out on the bed. Covered her body with his own. Kissed his way from her chin to her knees, and then back up again. She sighed, smiling against his mouth, wrapping her arms around him.
Sometimes, he was so sweet, she thought her heart was going to burst. The way he looked at her, sometimes, just killed her. Like she was the only woman he ever wanted to look at ever again. She thought maybe he had been looking at her that way for quite some time, and she had just never noticed.
Stupid girl.
Other times, he was so evil, it made her feel alive. Like she was on fire. Just the other day, they had gotten into a “discussion”. She threw a dinner plate at his head, calling him retarded. He shoved her under the freezing cold shower, calling her a hot head. She told him to go fuck himself. He told her she was so much better at it. They didn't even make it to the bedroom. He used her t-shirt to tie her hands together and she got burns on her knees from the rug in the hallway. Ang walked in on them on his way to his room. He claimed he was going to need counseling.
The absolute best time of my life.
“Tatum,” he murmured against her skin.
“Hmmm?” she replied.
“You still owe me something,” he said softly, then leaned away from her. She opened her eyes.
“Excuse me?” she asked, a little lost. She glanced at him. He was leaning halfway off the bed, rooting around for something on the floor.
“I hope you haven't forgotten. I haven't,” he said, then came back up, holding something in his hand. An empty bottle of Jameson, with a handwritten note on the label. She laughed, taking it from him.
“Oh, jesus, I had forgotten. This is why you made everyone leave?” she asked, re-reading her promise to do anything for him.
“Oh yes. Tonight is going to be very interesting, baby girl,” he chuckled, sounding evil as he crawled off of her and walked towards the bathroom.
“Oh god – is the sexy secretary locked in there!?” she exclaimed, propping herself up. He laughed.
“No, but the night is still young,” he pointed out, disappearing into the other room. He came back out, carrying a duffel bag. He dropped it at the foot of the bed and it landed with a loud THUD. Multiple somethings clattered and clanked around inside the bag. Her eyes got wide.
“Oh my god,” she blurted out. He laughed again and crawled back on top of her.
“Scared?” he breathed, dragging his teeth over her hip bone.
“Terrified,” she nodded.
“Good. I like you scared.”
“Makes sense. You are Satan.”
“Yes. Please don't ever forget that.”
“Never could.”
“Say it again, before we get started,” he whispered, pushing her bikini top out of the way.
“For a man with a huge ego, you sure need a lot of affirmation,” she groaned as his hands swept up to cup her breasts.
“Say it,” he ordered, squeezing.
“I love you.”
“Again, please,” he breathed, and then bit down hard on her shoulder. She gasped.
“I love you, so fucking much.”
“Ah, thank you, baby girl. I love you, too.”
His mouth moved back to hers, forcing her lips apart. Tonight would most definitely not be a night of sweetness.
Abso-fuckin-lutely love it.
“Jameson,” she breathed, struggling to take off his shirt.
“What?” he growled, tearing at her bikini bottoms.
“When I said anything -,” she started.
“Tate,” he warned. She laughed, until two of his fingers shoved their way inside of her.
“I didn't literally mean anything, I meant -,” she continued, not hiding her smile very well.
“Tate,” his voice was sharp. Almost as sharp as the nails on her throat.
<
br /> “I get to choose, and then you have to do anything I want, cause really, I'm the one who has to -,” she began again with a laugh.
“Tatum.”
“Hmmm?”
“Please, for the love of god, just this once, I am begging you, shut the fuck up.”
Reception
The Kane Series, #5
~1~
Jameson Kane rolled his head to one side, then sharply jerked it in the opposite direction.
Crack!
“Ah, thank god. I've been trying to do that since yesterday,” he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“I told you I could book you a massage. Several times,” Sanders pointed out.
“Why pay money for something Tate will do for free? I swear, first thing when I get home, I'm going to lay down, then have her walk up and down my spine in a pair of five inch heels,” Jameson stated.
“Sounds painful.”
“Sounds delightful.”
The car they were waiting for pulled up and he slid into the back seat, quickly followed by his sometimes-assistant. Jameson didn't think he would ever get used to it, sharing a back seat with Sanders. The young man had been driving him around for so many years, it was bizarre to suddenly shift.
Sanders had resisted at first, when they met up in Switzerland for a business meeting and Jameson insisted on renting a car and a driver. The assistant could either sit in the back, or walk.
After four days of walking, Sanders gave up and got in the backseat.
“Why didn't Tatum meet us at the airport?” he asked, smoothing his tie as the car pulled away from the curb.
“Because Tatum doesn't know we're here,” Jameson replied.
“Pardon me?”
“We're three days early. I wanted to surprise her.”
“Forgive me, sir, but she hates surprises.”
“I know.”
“So why do you do this? It will just make everyone miserable.”
“That's part of the fun,” Jameson grinned.
It was a lengthy drive. Sanders made an attempt to work on his phone, but Jameson took it away, knowing the other man well enough to figure he'd try to warn Tate.
“I can only stay for a week,” Sanders reminded him when they finally pulled onto the pebble lined driveway.
“Yes, yes, you keep reminding me,” Jameson said.
“Well, whenever you two want me to visit, it always turns into more. Hong Kong was only a year ago and it turned into a huge fiasco. I was gone for almost three weeks in the end,” Sanders reminded him.
“Never gonna shut up about that, are you?”
“Most likely not.”
“Just enjoy the vacation,” Jameson snapped.
The car came to a stop and the men climbed out. Sanders tipped the driver while Jameson went ahead and unloaded their bags. They had done so much traveling that they were now excellent packers – one suitcase a piece was more than enough for short business trips.
“I don't see any cars, are you sure she's here?” Sanders asked, looking around as they climbed the steps to the house.
“I'm sure. We sold the Bentley.”
Sanders stopped moving.
“You sold my car?”
Jameson smiled.
“Your car? Funny, I'm pretty sure I bought it. Besides, it's not like you're ever around to drive it anymore,” he pointed out, taking out his keys to unlock the front door.
“But ... but ... that car ...” Sanders stammered.
“I'm joking. It's getting detailed, they'll deliver your precious baby later today.”
“Forgive me for saying, sir, but you are not funny.”
The house was quiet, which surprised Jameson. Usually when he got home from work, if Tate was already home, there was some sort of noise filling the house. The woman simply couldn't keep quiet. A TV blaring, music blasting, or even her just talking to herself while she attempted to cook.
“Tate?” he called out, jogging up the stairs. Their bedroom was empty, as were the two guest rooms that flanked it. The bathroom was vacant, as well. Downstairs he found the gym, kitchen, and library in the same state.
“In the back,” Sanders stated, meeting up with him in the living room. Jameson nodded and led the way. A door at the back of the room gave way to the conservatory, beyond which lay the backyard and, of course, the swimming pool.
When he walked outside, the first thing he saw was Tate. She was at the other end of the pool, walking in his direction, her head bent down as she looked at a magazine. Closer to the house sat a lounge chair, and fair skinned girl with carrot colored hair was stretched out on it. Jameson's grin turned wolfish.
He loved it whenever Tate invited Rusty over. He liked Rusty a lot, and it wasn't because he harbored any sexual feelings towards the girl – it was because he made her nervous. Scared. He loved that, and always made it a point to really live up to his satanic nickname in front of her.
But before he could say anything, another person entered the picture. Jameson stood completely still as he watched a man walk across the lawn. The younger guy was wearing board shorts and flip flops, no shirt. He shouted something to Tate, and Jameson recognized his voice.
“Do you know him, sir?” Sanders asked in a steely voice. Normally, Sanders getting all protective would've made Jameson laugh, but at that moment, he was too busy thinking of the different places on his property where he could hide a body.
“Yes.”
The man was a junior broker, Richard Klimas, and he had started at Kraven Brokerage the previous fall. He and Tate had met at the company Christmas party, and it had been obvious from the start that Rich liked her. They were close in age and were both energetic. Add to the mix that Tate pretty much embodied sexuality in general, and boom. The man was in love.
Or rather, the man was in lust.
“Why are you reading!? It's gorgeous out, you're by a pool, you're in a bikini! You should be swimming!” Rich was laughing loudly. Tate laughed as well.
“Eh, today is more of a sun tan day,” she replied, not bothering to look up as she spoke.
“Oh, I think it's a swimming day,” he teased. She shook her head.
“Not for me, but you can totally feel free to -”
As Jameson watched through narrowed eyes, the younger man suddenly rushed at Tate. She barely had time to look up from her magazine before Rich ran into her, wrapping his arms around her waist while throwing them both into the pool. Tate managed one good shriek before they hit the water.
“I am going to hope that he is a friend of yours,” Sanders added, and his voice almost sounded angry.
Well, angry for him.
“No, he's not,” Jameson answered.
When the pair finally broke the surface, Jameson was pleased to note that Tate was well away from the other man.
“Not funny!” she told Rich, her voice full of annoyance as she threw her now soaking wet magazine to the side of the pool.
“Oh, c'mon, it was fun!” he yelled back.
Tate rolled her eyes and continued to swim away from him, and it was then she finally looked over and noticed the new arrivals. Jameson managed a curt smile, though he could see out the corner of his eye that Sanders wasn't smiling at all. In fact, he was standing completely still and stiff, not even blinking. Tate hesitated for a second, then began taking long strokes to reach them.
“I swear, this is not what it looks like,” she grumbled as she got close. Jameson squatted down.
“Isn't that what everyone says when their husband comes home to find them with another man?” he questioned.
“Please. If I was going to cheat on you, I'd make it spectacular. You'd find us having sex while hanging from the chandelier in the entry way. Help me out,” she snapped. He grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her out of the water, standing her in front of him.
“Then what the fuck is going on?” he demanded. She noticed Sanders and smiled while she began wringing out her hair.
�
�Sandy! You came back with him? I didn't know that was the plan! And weren't you coming home in a couple days?” Tate asked, looking back at Jameson.
“No, I'm home now. Tatum. Explain.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Rich was waving and saying hello. Rusty was looking uncomfortable in her lounge chair, pulling a towel over her bikini clad body. Tate turned back around and gestured for her two guys to follow her into the conservatory.
“He just showed up!” she hissed, glancing out the windows. “Scared the shit out of me! I was cleaning shit out of the garage when he popped up. Said he was 'in the neighborhood', and figured he'd 'see how I was doing'. Then I couldn't get rid of him! So I called Rusty and made her come over, thought I could pawn him off on her.”
“Great friend,” Jameson snorted. She glared at him.
“Shut up. You'd rather I was here alone with him?”
“No, I'd rather he wasn't here at all. Just tell him to get the fuck out.”
“Not all of us can be as rude as you, Jameson.”
“I once heard you tell a man to go 'suck his mother's dick' just for smacking your ass. I think you can tell Rich Klimas to get out of your house.”
“That's different, that was a stranger. This guy works for you! I didn't know if you knew he lived out here, or if you had told him he could stop by whenever, or if you'd come back and be pissed off that I'd offended a colleague or whatever. I figured I would just suffer through him for a couple hours, then shoo him away and hide inside for the next couple days,” she explained.
“Weak, Tate,” Jameson called her out.
“I have no problem informing him that it is time for him to go, and that in the future, calling before dropping by is a prerequisite,” Sanders interrupted. Tate beamed at him.
“Thank you, Sandy. At least someone is nice and understanding,” she turned to glare at Jameson.
“It would be my pleasure,” Sanders replied before heading outside. Tate turned to watch him go.
“I swear, he gets bigger every time I see him. Do you think he-” she started, but was cut off when Jameson roughly grabbed her upper arm and began dragging her out of the conservatory. She knew him well enough to keep her mouth shut till they were in the library and the door had been slammed shut behind them.
The Kane Series Boxset Page 94