childish and petty. Mark asked her what she needed and generally gave it to her, so if he in no
uncertain terms told her what he needed, it was impossible to say no. Demanding trade-offs like this
was small of her. And wasn’t it all much ado about nothing in the final analysis? It wasn’t as though she
cared at all about spending time with Ray Hernandez.
Later, as she was drifting in and out of sleep, Mark finally came up and crawled into bed next to
her. The preparations for the party had overshadowed the fact that this was their first night together
in their new house. It felt right to have his family there as well, and would have been even better if
Ava had stayed. She’d managed to push deep into the back of her mind thoughts of their argument
earlier that evening.
Fighting with Ava was not unfamiliar; they fought all the time, like sisters. But the accusations—
even the unspoken ones—that had been leveled were so personal that Dylan could not imagine that
this time she would first to reach out to heal the rift. Ava was wrong; she hadn’t been about to try the
cocaine. She’d just been dumbstruck when faced with it, because it seemed so incongruous with the
charmed life that these women seemed to lead. Why would they want to do anything that took them
out of their reality?
Not that Stephanie Alfieri’s life was perfect. People were accusing her husband of doping, after all.
And even the Hernandezes seemed to be having problems; the Mets golden couple couldn’t even hold
it together long enough to arrive at a party together. Dylan couldn’t imagine things ever getting that
bad between her and Mark.
Turning in the massive bed to face him, Dylan reached out a hand in the dark until she made
contact. Mark moved toward her immediately.
“Didn’t know you were awake,” he said. “I thought you’d be dead after all the work you put into
tonight.”
“It wasn’t that much work,” she said. “At least not for me. Thank you for being so cool about
everything.”
“Well, whatever you did, it was a great job. Everyone seemed to have a good time.” “Thanks.” Dylan moved even closer, resting her head on his chest.
“I didn’t see Ava afterwards though. Did she go to bed early?”
Dylan stiffened. “She left.”
“Why? What happened?”
“We kind of had a fight,” she admitted.
“Must have been a pretty bad fight. You two seemed fine this afternoon.”
“I don’t want to talk about it just yet,” Dylan said.
Thankfully, neither did Mark. “What do you want to do instead?” he asked, his hands already
under her nightshirt.
“Hmm. I don’t know,” she said, playing along. “If we put our minds to it, maybe we can think of
something.”
She felt Mark lean away from her and then the dim light from the bedside lamp came on. He
shrugged his shirt off and pulled off his boxer briefs.
“Strip,” he said.
Dylan laughed. “I’m beginning to like this game.”
But Mark was getting up and heading for their bathroom. Dylan stripped and followed him. He’d
begun filling the huge claw-footed tub and extended a hand to her. She went to him and they got in
together, sitting at opposite ends as it filled with warm water. The only light came from the bedroom,
so Mark’s face was partially obscured.
“When were you going to tell me about not going to law school in the fall?”
The question, asked so casually, hung in the air between them. Dylan felt her heartbeat accelerate. “Were you going to tell me?” Mark continued.
“Of course I was.”
“When?”
“I don’t know,” Dylan admitted. “Who . . . how did you . . ?”
“Dylan, law school used to be all you talked about. And you haven’t said a word about it lately.
Didn’t you think I might notice?”
She said nothing. The only sound was the gurgling of the water as the tub continued to fill. She
wasn’t sure what she thought.
“So Ava didn’t . . .”
“No. I guessed,” he said.
“So you tricked me,” she said, her tone accusatory.
“Is that how it is with us?” Mark asked, his voice quiet. “That I have to trick you into telling me
what’s really going on with you?”
“Mark, no,” she moved from her end of the tub and went to him, kneeling between his thighs. “I
just didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“I’m disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to tell me right away,” he said. Now that she was
closer, she could see the concern in his eyes. “I’m disappointed you could even think of doing
anything other than telling me. What did you think I would do?”
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. She thought of the way he’d looked at her in Montreal, when
she’d been photographed at that nightclub.
“I’m not your father, Dylan. If you don’t want to be a lawyer, that’s your decision. I’m here to
support you, whatever you decide. Do you want to go to law school?”
“Yes. Of course I do.”
“Then what happened?”
She shook her head, not knowing what to say.
What happened was that they’d gotten married, and there were parties and events and she’d been
trying to make friends with the other wives; and they’d bought a house, and she’d wanted to make it
look perfect, and then she wanted to throw the perfect party, and make sure everyone said good
things about the party . . . and somehow in the middle of all of that, and the new bustle of her
everyday life, she’d lost track of some things. That was all. She could apply again next year; it wasn’t
that big a deal.
“Being my wife,” Mark said slowly. “That’s not an occupation. You have a life to live separate
from that. If you tell me you want to stay home, you can, but don’t do this because you think it’s
expected of you.”
His words felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention being at odds with what he’d said once about
Cindy Hernandez knowing how to represent her husband. That was what she was trying to do—make
him proud of her.
As her chin sunk to her chest, Mark tipped it upward so she was looking at him. The tub was
almost full to the brim, so Mark reached behind him and shut the faucet off.
“Dylan,” he began. And then whatever he’d been about to say, he seemed to think better of it and
kissed her instead.
It started out as a soft, sweet kiss almost as though he was reassuring her of something. In the
back of her mind, Dylan wondered how much he saw, how much he knew; whether her uncertainty
was obvious to him. The truth was that in this house, in her new clothes, in her new life, she had never
felt less sure of herself. And that was saying something. Between her and Ava, she only appeared to be
the responsible one. In fact she was just the meek, timid one.
All her life, she’d felt as though just to keep up, she had to run harder than everyone else. Now, in
this new life, keeping up was a much more formidable task than ever before. Every single day, she
woke up wondering whether she would make some misstep, do something that would upset the
apple cart. Not the apple cart of her own life—but that of the conglomerate that Mark had become. He
didn’t seem to notice, but practically overnight, it was about so much more than
just the two of them. In some ways, he had a luxury she did not—ignorance. When he was playing, Corey didn’t want
to worry him with pedestrian concerns, and almost always looked to Dylan to answer questions about
the dozens of opportunities that were coming Mark’s way at lightning speed. It was her challenge to
present these options to him piecemeal and in a way that wouldn’t cause undue stress or take his head
out of the game.
Did you want to stop by that thing at the boys’ home? she’d ask, as though it was no big deal, never
letting on that if he didn’t, three hundred homeless pre-teens would be devastated. Or, Mark, did you
have time to sign those exhibition game programs? Never mentioning that they were a crucial part of an
auction block to raise money for a pediatric cancer ward.
So when Mark kissed her like this, like he sensed some of what she was up against and
understood it just did her in. Dylan moved closer still and fit herself astride him, wrapping her legs
about his hips. Almost immediately, Mark inched forward and Dylan felt his erection nudging against
her, and her body softening to receive him.
“Let me in,” Mark said his lips pressed against hers.
Dylan knew better than to take his playfulness to mean that he’d forgotten about her lie by omission about law school. They would revisit it, for sure. Sex could almost always distract him, but it
could not control him. Her respite was only temporary.
“You’re so silly,” she said, but she flexed her hips so he was part of the way inside her. “Much better,” Mark said, heaving a sigh. He wrapped his arms tightly about her and Dylan
pressed her lips to his forehead. He tasted salty, tiny drops of perspiration beading his face and
shoulders from the warm water and having her wrapped about him. He was nibbling on her neck,
and almost involuntarily, she pressed against him and he slipped even further inside her. Any other
man would have pounced right about now, single-minded in the pursuit of his own pleasure, but not
Mark. Even when they were making love, he was disciplined. He waited for her, he went slowly until
she was ready, or like now, remained completely still until she thought she might go crazy with
anticipation.
With his chest pressed against hers, she could feel the hoof-beats of his heart, racing because he
was excited. But he remained motionless. She wondered how long he could hold out, whether he
would move first and thrust himself deeper inside her if she didn’t lose her resolve and simply impale
herself.
Dylan pulled back so she could see his face and he gave her a small, mischievous smile as though
he knew exactly what she was doing. When his lips parted she lunged toward him, taking him by
surprise as she thrust her tongue in his mouth, and finding his, pulled it in between her lips, sucking
on it.
Mark may have been able to pretend to play it cool, but other parts of his anatomy could not and
Dylan felt him practically leap to attention, jerking inside her. She rolled her hips, arching toward him,
pulling him closer still. Mark’s chest was heaving now, and he unwrapped his arms from about her,
instead gripping the edges of the tub.
“Why’re you holding back?” she said against his neck, then kissing him again.
“Not . . .” he said, though he clearly was. “Are you ready for me?”
“Always,” she said against his mouth.
Still holding the edge of the tub, Mark surged upward so he was completely buried inside her and
Dylan steadied herself by placing her hands atop his, their fingers interlaced. Water churned about
them as they moved, sloshing over the edges of the tub and onto the floor. The noises they made and
slapping sounds of the water made them wild in a way they hadn’t been for a long time. Dylan’s thighs began to tremble and her hands fell away from Mark’s, losing their ability to grip
anything, as the force of her climax overcame her. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, feel
the water moving against her skin like wet silk and the musculature of her husband’s legs, tense
beneath her. But the prevailing feeling, the most overwhelming sensation was of Mark’s hard length
inside her, fitting perfectly, as though he was made for her. Dylan cried out at what felt like the top of
her lungs and Mark grabbed her close against him, kissing her to stifle the sound of his own noisy
release.
Always, after they made love he held her close and for a very long time, and this time was no
different though the water in the tub had begun to grow tepid. Dylan looked at him and his eyes were
languorous, sleepy. She gave him a small smile and raised a hand, running it over the soft bristly hair
on his head.
“Te quiero,” she said, and Mark smiled.
Miri taught her how to say that. When Dylan asked her if there was one essential phrase she
understand, or know how to say her sister-in-law didn’t hesitate.
Oh of course, Miri said. You have to know how to say ‘I love you.’
Dylan looked over at the massage table next to hers where Lauren Morales was having her back kneaded and pounded by the masseuse in the white uniform. She occasionally groaned softly; Dylan couldn’t tell whether it was in pleasure or agony.
“To be honest, I don’t want another baby,” Lauren said, continuing a conversation begun earlier at lunch. “But once they’ve popped one in there, try telling that to a Dominican man.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“There’s no plan to be had. There’ll be another little Morales running around in six or so months whether I like it or not.”
Dylan couldn’t imagine not wanting a baby of Mark’s no matter what the circumstance of its conception, but they’d already decided that they wouldn’t try for a few years, so she was scrupulous about making sure she took her Pill, leaving nothing to chance. Besides, who had time for a baby right now?
“But before I accept my fate, I’ve decided to plan a girls’ trip,” Lauren said. “To Palm Springs. You interested?”
Dylan thought for a moment. “What would we be doing there?”
“What does anyone do in Palm Springs?” Lauren said.
That was the problem; Dylan had no clue.
“We’ll shop. Go to a real spa . . .” she looked over her shoulder at her masseuse. “No offense. And we’ll party. So are you in?”
“Who else would be going?”
“None of the Dominican wives, that’s for sure. Except maybe Cindy if she’s game. If enough of us do it, I’ll charter a jet.”
Dylan swallowed. She had never traveled by charter before, and had only what she saw on television to prepare her for what that might be like. And she had to admit, she was curious.
“Sounds good. But if Mark is home . . .”
“No, we don’t plan stuff like this when the guys are home,” Lauren said laughing. “No way. This is for us to play while they’re away.”
Something in Lauren’s undertone warned Dylan that she should probably refuse to participate, but she shoved it aside. After all, if Cindy was going, it would have to be on the up and up. Unlike Stephanie and some of the other wives, she was never in the paper after having done something embarrassing like slapping a valet parking attendant (Marjorie King) or having a tantrum in Nordstrom’s (Vanessa Lima). Cindy would help keep things under control. And as back-up . . .
“Could I bring my friend, Ava?” Dylan asked. Her masseuse was pounding between her shoulder blades now, making it difficult for her to speak.
“Sure. Is she discreet?” Lauren asked.
“Of course,” Dylan said. “Does she n
eed to be?”
Lauren laughed. “Dylan, you’ll soon find out how weird people can get, believe me. Selling stories to the tabloids, blogging about you, stealing from you. People you never would have expected it from.”
“Ava would never do any of those things,” Dylan said with certainty.
“Are you sure?” Lauren lifted her head from the massage table. “I’ve seen siblings sell each other down the pike.”
“Ava’s closer than a sibling,” Dylan said.
On her way home, she thought about that. Ava was closer than a sibling in some ways, because their closeness was the product of choice and effort, unlike people born into the same family. Still, that closeness had not been in evidence for the past two weeks; not since the housewarming party. In fact, they hadn’t spoken at all and she was beginning to think Ava had no intention of calling her. But a trip to Palm Springs ought to be a good olive branch, even for someone as stubborn as Ava.
On a whim, she reached for console and dialed Ava’s cell phone number. Mark, before he left, had finally capitulated and bought her the Range Rover, admitting that the Jeep was probably going to die any day now. It was only the idea that it might die somewhere on the parkway when she was driving alone that had moved him to take her to get the one-hundred thousand dollar luxury, supercharged vehicle. It was such a smooth ride, it seemed to practically glide over the surface of roads, no matter their condition.
When Mark had signed the papers and tossed her the keys, Dylan had literally squealed in delight and jumped into his arms. That he loved buying her things was no surprise. What did surprise her was how much she loved getting them. Never considering herself materialistic before, Dylan still couldn’t get over how breathless it made her when she slid her American Express Centurion card across a counter toward a store clerk and in return got some exquisite thing. Like the soft as butter Fendi B Bag sitting on the seat next to her. Just looking at it gave her a thrill.
Ava’s phone rang twice and then her voice echoed throughout the interior of the truck.
“Palm Springs,” Dylan said without greeting. “Just girls for a few days of fun, drinking and whatever else people do in Palm Springs.”
There was a long pause and then the sound of Ava sighing. “Is that how you want to play it?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you me . . .”
The Seduction of Dylan Acosta Page 21