Neither of her parents ever made it past grade eleven in high school. By graduating college, her father sincerely believed she had moved mountains.
She rocked herself tenderly in the shower. It had been long since she missed her father so much. She finally understood the burden of solitude her father carried ever since her mother cascaded her life into alcoholism. She, like him, was all alone to bear her pain. And for the first time, she feared she possessed the same demons that tormented her mother; a dying urge to resort to the evils of the bottle to drown her sorrows.
*****
Clayton opened his eyes slowly. Almost immediately he could smell her scent linger in the bedroom. He leisurely stretched across the bed to feel her. But all he felt were his sheets.
His body stiffened. She was probably helping herself to breakfast. He had awoken much later than usual. He looked over at the clock on his bedside table. It was well past eight o’clock in the morning.
He swung his legs over the side and pulled over a pair of boxers. He was already yearning to have her again he might as well not bothered.
He strolled over to the living room, anticipating that she would be by the windows sipping a hot cup of coffee and most probably have one made for him as well. The very thought stirred a heated desire inside of him.
But the living room was as bare as it always was each morning he had spent in that apartment, and so was the kitchen. There was no smell of coffee, no dirtied cups tracing her lips, no nothing that evidenced her use of the kitchen.
He tensed. She can’t have left. They had an incredible night. The best as far as he could remember. He felt that what he shared with her, he never felt with any other woman before.
His mind rapidly scanned over the details of the night. He had torn her dress. It was practically un-wearable.
His pace quickened towards his bedroom, his eyes scouring the floor. The dress was gone. How the heck had she worn it? He combed a frustrating hand through his hair.
She didn’t want to be his mistress, he recalled her saying. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening.
He reached for his cell and scrolled down for her number. He wanted her back. At any cost.
*****
Kate heard her mother coughing incessantly. She pulled on her dress and rushed over to her. There was no time to feel sorry for herself any more. She had her fair share of crying and now she must look towards the best interests of her family. That was all that mattered.
“You okay, Mom?” she asked, nearing the bed.
“I’ll be fine,” her mother replied, pulling in another deep breath.
Kate furrowed her brow. “You’re running out of breath. I have to take you to the hospital.”
“No, I will be fine,” her mother insisted. “It’s nothing.” She tried to heave herself up against the bed-head. And when she failed, she punched against the mattress in frustration.
Kate fixed her pillows and helped her mother up. “All you had to do was ask,” she said, impatiently. “You know I’d have helped you up.”
“You never ask for help,” her mother snapped. “Why should I then?”
“That’s not fair, Mom,” Kate said, hurt, although she understood her mother was speaking out of her frustrating circumstances.
Her mother sighed. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I’m sorry I never did anything right in my entire life. And even as I say that, I’m sorry I still desire for another drop of alcohol. Just one more taste of it.”
Kate held her mother’s hands. “Don’t say that Mom. Don’t even think of it. If you take any more of that, I’m afraid we’ll lose you.”
Her mother smiled. “And how do you think I’ll get any more of that sweet poison? As much as I would like it, Rudy and Libby won’t get me any. And there is nobody else who does care to visit your poor mother and sneak her any alcohol past your security senses.” She rubbed Kate’s hand. “It’s just a pathetic woman’s dying wish. Ignore it.”
Kate’s eyes stung by her words. “How can you so easily say that, Mom? Your love for alcohol destroyed Dad’s life. He lived with your memories and died in them, hoping all the time you’d return to him, for him. Your addiction has affected us all and we’re the living consequences of it. Alive and yet not fully alive. Struggling through life because of your bad choices. Does it even occur to you, we all want our mom back? At least I want you back. The others- Libby, Rudy, Johnny and Lily, they never knew the wonderful mother you once were. I’m afraid Lily will not even remember you. She’s so young. So how can you just so easily say you want another drink when all it has done was shatter our lives? Don’t you love us? Not even a little to stop wanting any more of it?”
Terri cupped her daughter’s face. “I love you all a lot. But addiction is such, that even though you’re fully aware of the harm it can do to you, you still crave for it. Don’t you realize it? You carry it too. The addiction gene.”
Kate looked up at her in shock. “Mom,” she protested. “I haven’t been addicted to anything in my entire life.”
Terri smiled. “Oh yes, you have. You’re addicted to me and to those four brats out there that belong to me.” She sighed again. “It isn’t too late, Kate. Send them away to foster care, and carry on with your life. I’ll bear the brunt of that sin. You, on the other hand, don’t deserve to slave the way you do. I made the biggest mistake when I came back into your life. I should have known what you would do for us. You take on responsibility just as your father did. A bit too seriously, I’m afraid. I think I may have slightly taken advantage of that quality too when I did contact you for help the first time.”
“And you think I could just walk away, happy to live a life, knowing that my siblings are in foster care? Mom, you’ve lost your mind.”
“They are strong kids. They’ll manage.”
Kate huffed. “Yeah, Libby will. So might Rudy and Johnny. But what about Lily? She’s only a baby.”
Terri grinned. “She’s your baby.”
“Mom.” Kate rolled her eyes in disbelief.
“You’re the only mother she has. I see the way she follows you around.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Kate said, shaking her head. “That topic has now officially been closed. You need your medication.” She reached to the bedside table and picked a handful of bottles. She frowned as she inspected the contents. “You’re running out of ursodial and prednisone.”
“I’ll manage,” her mother replied, pulling in another deep breath. “You’ve started work. You’ll be paid soon, right?”
Her gut knotted, her face paling from the memories of last night.
“Kate,” her mother asked, worriedly. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she attempted a small smile. She shook her head to calm her mother. “It is you I’m worried about. We need to go to the hospital, Mom. The doctor said you have to go to the hospital if you suffer from a shortness of breath.”
“I’m just tired,” her mother insisted.
“Mom, I can practically hear you wheezing from here.”
“Give me a prednisone. I will be fine.”
Kate spilt out a pill, her mind rapidly skimming over her strategies to save her family.
*****
She laid her mother back on her bed. She had been painstakingly watching her for a while, afraid she would lose her breath at any moment. Finally, when her wheezing lessened, her eyes fluttering from the drowsiness of her medication, Kate released a contented sigh.
She heard her phone buzzing in her bedroom and rushed off to answer it. She was still hopeful for an interview from her other job applications she had lodged earlier. Although, it was unlikely she would ever be offered an obscene salary again.
She didn’t recognize the number and answered it with a rising optimism in her chest.
“Hello,” she said.
“Where the hell are you!” the man demanded at the other end.
She paled when she recognized his voice. Her mind reasoned f
uriously. It couldn’t be Clayton. Why would he call her?
“Who is this?” she spoke carefully into the phone.
“How do you think I felt when I woke up this morning and found you had disappeared!”
“Clayton?” she said, her legs trembling beneath her. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed, her heart in her mouth.
“No woman has ever dared to do what you did, Kate Ripley. And I will make you pay for it,” he threatened, furiously.
She didn’t respond well to threats, anger and irrationality rapidly coursing through her veins. “So you felt cheap. Made you feel like a whore. Now, you understand how I feel when you demand for me to be your mistress.”
A silent static hovered between them.
“You agreed to do this and you will abide by its terms,” he said sternly.
“I’ve changed my mind as you had. I told you that already. I told you I didn’t want to be your mistress before we did what we did. I will look upon it as a one-night stand and no more.”
“I don’t do one-night stands. This was a contract and as far as I’m concerned, it still stands. It seems there are some fine prints to discuss with you. Now, shall I come over to your place or should I take it to the media, as you first suggested?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Kate said, shakily, her mind racing over the shocking reactions of her family and friends. “That would only mar your own reputation. You wouldn’t risk it.”
“My dear, Kate, there are many ways of disclosing the details of this affair without risking my own good name.”
Kate paled. There was a higher probability that she would be seen as the vamp in this story. The tart for hire, the gold-digger seeking to abuse and malign the status of a wealthy man. If anything, she would be inclined to lose more than he. With all his wealth and power, it would be simply a passing news, while she would be left to face the consequences for a lifetime. Her mind re-collected Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton. Except Monica Lewinsky didn’t have four dependent under-aged siblings, living in squalor with a cirrhosis afflicted dying mother.
“ Kate, do you want me to come over to your place or you, mine?” he repeated, frustratingly. “I need an answer now.”
“No,” she spat out quickly.
“No?” he asked, unsurely. “Don’t make this hard, Kate. It’s not hard to find out where you live. I can always ask Bob Whitton to look up the details of your first contract.”
“No, don’t do that,” she said. She couldn’t bear him discovering the manner in which she lived. If there was anything she could do, she was at least determined to retain her pride and her ego. “I’ll come over to your place,” she said, slowly.
“In an hour,” he demanded.
“I can’t come in an hour,” she retorted, incredulously.
“And why not!”
She took in a sharp breath. This man was so frustratingly annoying, she found Libby milder to her temper. “I’ll be there tonight at seven.”
“I won’t wait until seven in the evening to discuss the details of your predicament!”
“Well, you have to!” she screamed back. “I’ve got a life other than the one that unfortunately includes you. And if you dare as come looking for me before seven, the hell with the entire deal. Media or court, whatever!”
She turned off her phone before he could answer her. She wished it was one of those old phones where she could take her anger out on by banging its handset repeatedly.
She threw her cell onto her bed and looked furiously at it, her mind reeling over the details of their conversation. What fine prints? What could be worse than being the mistress of the despicable Clayton Reid?
Chapter 6
It was very rarely that Clayton was defied and least of all by a woman. He clenched his teeth, his fists in a tight grip.
He had thought she would have come running to him after threatening her. Instead she had smugly told him to wait until the evening.
He paced his bedroom furiously like a spoilt child. He had gotten his way for so long that her defiance enraged him.
He called his personal assistant for his appointments in an effort to deviate his anger.
“And then there is Maxwell Haase’s launch party on his new fashion line at eight-thirty tonight,” trailed Evan Spann.
“Cancel it,” Clayton sulked into his phone. “Cancel anything and everything after six and clear my day tomorrow.”
“Yes…of course, Clayton,” the surprise clearly noted in his assistant’s voice.
Clayton had tirelessly worked every day of the week in the last ten years, managing to keep appointments and networking through social events. He had come to understand the power of networking very early on in his career, building his business and raising it to an insurmountable height that surprised even his father.
It was expected that he would branch away from his father, preferring to stand alone in the matters of running his company. His father had foreseen that his stubbornness would stand in the way of teaching Clayton anything in addition to the continual rift that floated between them since Clayton was a child.
Clayton poured out a glass of orange juice. His appearance at social events would have to be changed. There was Kate Ripley to consider. And he knew she was just as stubborn as he was. He downed his juice, strategizing. He was a ruthless businessman and even a more ruthless lover. Kate was going to pay for the hours of torment she had caused him all morning. And for his torturous wait until seven.
*****
Kate walked with a determined stride through the doors of Clayton’s luxurious full service building, her chin in the air, her arms swinging angrily at her sides.
No longer did she pause to admire the beautiful interior of the reception and the foyer. Nor did she care for the curious looks of the modish patrons gracing the lobby. Her old jeans and grey tee probably was a prêt-a-porter from a discount store, but she was proud of them.
She hopped into the first available elevator. She glared at the prudish couple undecidedly staring into it. The woman with the little, white Maltese dog in her arm held onto her husband’s elbow, silently restraining him from stepping into it, her blue mascara laden eyes affixed on Kate’s outlandish tee shirt slogan.
Kate looked down at it. Ran into my ex- Put it in reverse and hit him again! “Got it from Sam’s Mart,” she snarled. “I’ll give you the address.”
The woman looked at her, flabbergasted.
“So are you coming or not?” Kate asked, impatiently.
The woman stepped back, aghast and open-mouthed, pulling her husband along with her.
“I guess not,” muttered Kate to herself and pressed the button to Clayton’s penthouse.
She didn’t get much trouble with Libby when she left. Libby had been strangely quiet since their morning tussle. She relayed instructions to Libby and repeated them to Rudy for good measure.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she had said.
“So you’re not working today, then?” Libby remarked, sarcastically.
“No,” Kate replied in a forcefully calm tone. “I don’t think this job would be right for me. I intend to quit but I need to be there to tell them why. So, if you don’t mind holding the fort while I’m away, I’d really, really appreciate it,” she ended with equal sarcasm.
Libby glowered at her.
Rudy stepped in quickly and assured her they would be fine.
And Kate left her apartment, a little relieved that her accursed association with the contemptuous Clayton Reid was coming to an end.
*****
She marched to his door and pressed onto his doorbell. When he failed to answer it as fast as she wanted him to, she hammered onto his door in an irascible fit.
It opened, and she swung it hard. She stood in the entrance of the hallway, while he stood at the other end. They stubbornly stared each other down in an ire-filled standoff.
“You want some wine?” he offered, breaking the silence.
“I didn’t com
e for wine,” she snapped. “You said there were some fine prints we needed discussing.”
“Hmmm,” he muttered, walking away, ignoring her which only riled her more.
“I don’t know how it is you normally treat your employees,” she growled through clenched teeth. “But I will not be allowed to be humiliated or be bullied any more by you.”
He spun around in anger. “Humiliated is what you did to me this morning. I woke up in the hopes of having you in my arms again- only you weren’t there to hold.”
Her eyes inevitably ran down his pants and she grinned. “I guess we can call it even, then,” she said cheekily, enjoying her imaginations of how he must have been tormented to have her again.
He arched an eyebrow as he read the slogan on her tee-shirt. “Is that meant for me?”
“I thought it was appropriate in light of our circumstances,” she replied snidely.
“Except that I’m not your ex.”
“No, you’re not. And neither are you my anything. But it’s close enough and well worth wearing if you get the message.”
He etched dangerously closer to her. “I am your lover and you are my mistress. It’s time you learnt that fast.”
She scissored back, her pulse racing, her emotions caught up in a confounding storm again. She despised the man but each time she confronted him, she’d lose herself in his spellbinding gaze. She fought with her inner spirit, trying to convince herself she wasn’t attracted to him. She couldn’t be. He was an egotistical bastard, a narcissistic, pompous, self-centered…
He pulled her hard to him, his mouth reached for her neck as he began kissing the end of her jaw-line, stimulating her erogenous zone. He cupped her buttocks and pinned her firmly against him, feeling his arousal against her tummy. A moan escaped her lips.
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