Elah's Plaything

by Lydia Rowan

  “Yes; he’s an ass—butt-hole, but he’s not threatening or anything.”

  “I don’t care that he’s not nice, Lottie. I’m asking if he’s expecting you to have sex with him.”

  Lottie closed her eyes and wished the floor would swallow her. She and her mother were close, but their one and only conversation about sex had been a stilted and awful affair that involved her mother stiffly explaining the basics and telling her that she “was a woman” now that she’d gotten her period and that she needed to make sure she didn’t get into trouble. Her mother had practically vibrated with embarrassment, and Lottie had never wanted to repeat the experience. So to have her so blatantly ask the question created a triple stream of discomfort. First, it implied that Elah would try to take advantage of her sexually, and if nothing else, last night had proven that wasn’t the case, not to mention that Elah seemed to have at least something of a code, and abuse didn’t fit into it. Second, and most disturbingly, it pushed the idea of sex with Elah to the front of her mind, allowed her to let her thoughts journey down that path, let her imagine what it would be like to touch him, to have him touch her, made her acknowledge that she wasn’t as opposed to the idea as she should be. And third, it left her sitting at the kitchen table in her childhood home talking about sex with her mother, while thinking about having sex, and very much enjoying said sex, with the man who’d forced her to marry him.

  Come to think of it, “discomfort” didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

  “Umm.” She cleared her throat. “No, he’s not… He hasn’t…” she managed to choke out.

  “Don’t let it get to that point,” her mother said sharply, saving her from having to say more. “If you have even an inkling, get out of there.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will. Do you know him?” Lottie asked quickly, desperately reaching for any other topic of conversation.

  Her mother shook her head.

  “No, not that I recall. I’ve heard the name, of course, but I can’t say that I’ve met the man. Sounds like a real troublemaker.”

  “Mama, you also told me not to judge people based on gossip.”

  “You got Stockholm Syndrome now?”

  “Be reasonable, Ma,” Lottie said. “I need to make the best of this situation, and maybe if I try to understand where he’s coming from, I can make some headway, which is going to be pretty hard to do if everyone keeps telling me that he’s the devil incarnate.”

  Lottie didn’t intend to defend him, though it certainly came out that way, but she did mean what she said. What she’d seen of Elah so far had proven that he was highly aware of his reputation, and if she fed into that, she’d get nowhere with him. A better approach, she’d decided, was to try to find the human that lurked somewhere underneath the intimidating exterior and work from there.

  “Fine, but like I said, be careful. And promise you’ll bail me out if I need you to.”

  “I will,” Lottie said with a laugh.

  They finished breakfast without a peep from Greg or her father, and as she prepared to leave, she considered going back to say good-bye before deciding against it. She didn’t have the energy to look at the jittery creature that had replaced her father, and if Greg tried to talk to her, she might lose it. Instead, she hugged her mother and walked out to the expensive car that didn’t feel like hers.

  She’d spent most of the morning at her parents’, and since he’d decreed that she not retrieve her belongings from her apartment, she decided to go shopping because she needed clothes. As weird as it felt, she used his credit card to buy a couple of basic outfits, and, for the heck of it, the tablet she’d been eyeing for months. But that only killed a few hours, and far too soon, she found herself headed back toward what it finally dawned on her was now her home.

  Chapter Five

  “Is married life everything you’d dreamed?” Hart asked that afternoon when Elah finally made it to the office.

  He shrugged. “Not a dull moment so far.”

  “I expect not. Councilman Trufant taking it as well as you expected?”

  Elah considered a moment and then said, “Even worse, actually.”

  “So that’s why you’re looking so chipper this morning. I’d thought you and the missus had hit it off better than you’d hoped.”

  Hart snickered at his own joke, but stopped when Elah cut a glance his way.

  “What? I can’t be concerned about my old friend, hope that he enjoys his wedded bliss?”

  “More likely you’re looking for a way to convince me that I’ll regret this forever.”

  “Purely an added benefit.” Hart turned serious and looked at him. “Elah, I mean it. It’s not too late to drop this.”

  “It was too late twenty-five years ago.”

  “Only because you chose to make it so. I can tell you that letting go of the past, grudges and all, is freeing. It will give you your life back,” Hart said earnestly.

  “And you’re speaking from experience, of course.”

  “You know it.”

  Elah did. Hart had a rough past but with Elah’s help had mostly put it behind him.

  “And besides,” Hart said out of nowhere, “that woman shouldn’t suffer because of your hatred of her father.”

  “Jesus Christ. I’ve given her a lovely home, a nice car, whatever she chooses to buy. She’s not living in a penal colony.”

  “I was sure you’d learned that money isn’t everything. She has feelings and emotions, Elah. And she has to be at least decent to go through with this. It’s fucking stupid as far as I’m concerned, but she must love her father to put herself through all this for his sake.”

  “Hart, I’m not going to discuss this any more. It’s done. Now let it go.”

  “Fine, you’re the boss. But the man I thought I knew and counted as a friend wouldn’t make an innocent woman pay for someone else’s sins. Just something to consider.”

  Hart shuffled the papers in front of him and started moving through the day’s business, but the words—as Hart had no doubt intended—stuck with him through the afternoon and as he drove home that evening. Elah had been dreaming of Trufant’s downfall for his entire adult life, had built a fortune and business empire—and cultivated a reputation for ruthlessness—all for the purpose of bringing at least some measure of justice to those the councilman had wronged over the years.

  Including Elah’s father.

  But Hart was right. Ordinarily he wouldn’t involve an innocent in this scheme. Still, he wouldn’t let this chance slip through his fingers. When he parked next to the car he’d given Charlotte this morning, the fact that she was inside his house and that he’d have to at least minimally interact with her hit him. In all the back-and-forth about the morality, or lack thereof, of his marriage, the reality of what being with her every day would be like had taken a backseat. He’d been high on excitement yesterday when he’d insisted they share a bed, but now that he was calmer, the potential awkwardness of their living situation was unavoidable.

  He couldn’t sit outside forever, so he grabbed his briefcase and walked into the house. The foyer looked the same, but he heard faint music and smelled the most pleasant aromas coming from the kitchen. He dropped his keys and briefcase and headed toward the kitchen. Charlotte moved around the space, humming quietly to the music that came from her phone as she chopped a tomato. Her hair was still in a neat bun, but she was dressed down in close-fitting yoga pants that hugged her wide hips, rounded backside, and thick thighs and an oversize shirt that was cinched at the waist and clung to the full mounds of her breasts, one of her shoulders exposed by the rounded neck of the shirt. Elah was certain his kitchen had never seen this much activity or liveliness. It was so…domestic.

  “Making yourself at home, I see.”

  Elah’s voice was harsh, heavy, and not at all as he’d intended, and he felt a little jab of regret at the way Charlotte started and the fear that stole over her face.

  “Oh. I-I’m sorry. I just”—s
he pointed toward the tomato with the knife in her hand but after looking between it and him, she put it down guiltily—“I thought I’d make dinner. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’ll clean this up,” she said as she began to hurriedly gather and discard trash.

  “It’s fine,” he said, but she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

  “Charlotte,” he said again, voice low and firm.

  She started again but paused and looked at him, her eyes wide and a frown marring her features.

  “I said it’s fine. Please go ahead.”

  She stared at him for a moment, hesitance clear in her tall, womanly frame, but she blinked and went back to the counter and picked up the knife to continue chopping. He removed his jacket and tossed it on one of the chairs, where it landed with a light swish. She watched the jacket fall, and he noticed her slight grimace. He picked the jacket up and neatly draped it across the chair, smiling at the satisfied nod she gave.

  He settled on one of the bar stools at the island bar and watched her preparations. She sliced the tomato into neat, precise chunks and deposited them into a bowl before placing two chicken breasts on the grill centered on the eight-burner gas stove.

  “Chicken for dinner?”

  He sounded like a moron, but Charlotte humored him.

  “Yes. I’m just whipping up a salad and some grilled chicken. Nothing fancy.”

  “Do you like to cook?” he asked.

  “Very much so,” she said, her face lighting up with pleasure. “My mother and I spent hours together in the kitchen when I was young.”

  He could easily conjure a homey image of Charlotte and her mother making dinner, a fucking picture-perfect, all-American family. Bile churned in his gut; Elah had certainly never had many moments like those, at least not after.

  “And it still relaxes me. I don’t do it too much, though, since it doesn’t make sense to prepare elaborate meals just for myself.” Charlotte chattered on, her voice rising with enthusiasm and a hint of nervousness as she continued.

  Elah considered how uncomfortable she must be and tried to be more approachable.

  “Um…that’s nice.”

  The silence fell between them heavy. He needed to try again.

  “Um…can I set the table?”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling tentatively.

  He stood and walked to the island’s bar sink and washed his hands, then headed toward the cabinet and retrieved two plates.

  “Two plates? I didn’t say you could have any.”

  He froze, turned, and looked at her with what he knew was an arctic gaze, and she shrank back, her eyes widening and her face shrouded in a mask of fear.

  But she recovered quickly. “Jeez, I was kidding.”

  Of course she’d been kidding, but the grim colorlessness that had been his life for as long as he could remember didn’t leave much room for joking, so he was woefully out of practice.

  “Elah,” she smiled brightly, her voice warm, “would you be so kind as to share dinner with me?”

  He nodded, probably more gruffly than he should have, and walked to the table with the plates.

  They didn’t speak again as she finished her preparations and brought the food to the table. She served them both and then sat, and they proceeded with the meal in silence.

  “Your face is going to get stuck like that,” she said after a few minutes. “Really, you should relax. That level of upset can’t be good for a man of your age.”

  Elah’s gaze flew to her, taking in her unmoving features.

  “Of my age? I’m in my early—”

  He cut off abruptly when he saw the teasing light enter her eyes and the merest hint of a smile curve her lips. He had to suppress the smile that tried to sneak through. I really am out of practice, he thought. How many years, decades really, had it been since someone had teased him? He couldn’t recall, but the expression on Charlotte’s face suggested he was in for a lot more.

  They ate their dinner quietly after that, but there was a degree of ease and comfort that hadn’t been there before. The meal was simple but tasty, and Elah shared his appreciation.

  “Thank you,” he said as they cleared the dishes. “That was very good.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  They stood awkwardly in the kitchen looking at each other, and then Elah walked toward his study.

  “Um…I’ll see you later?” she asked, her voice tentative.

  He heard the unspoken question and struggled with it. There was no legitimate or even rational reason to enforce the shared sleeping quarters, but something in him rebelled at the idea of her slipping away to her own space, retreating from him. He went with his gut.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” she said, her expression revealing nothing.

  “Okay,” he repeated for no reason at all.

  Another awkward moment passed, and then he turned and went into his study. He struggled to put aside thoughts of Charlotte Trufant and focus on the business that he’d been neglecting in the days prior to and since his marriage. But every few minutes, something about her would sneak through. Trufant was rotten to the core; of this Elah had no doubt, but his daughter seemed genuine, funny, and maybe even kind. Perhaps it was a facade, but Elah’s instincts said it wasn’t. Not even the best pretenders could keep it up for long, and though their time together had been limited, Charlotte had been the same person throughout, even as she’d endured great stress.

  He’d have to stay cautious, and definitely wouldn’t let his guard down, but having her around might not prove the unpleasant burden he’d expected.

  Chapter Six

  “I might have to hurt you, Lottie.”

  Charlotte smiled as her best friend, Isis Goodloe, walked into her office, closed the door, and leaned against it.

  “And for what reason might you have to do that?”

  Isis laughed, her face alight with humor, and then walked over and sat at the edge of Charlotte’s desk.

  “Don’t play. This is serious. A little bird, several little birds in fact, have been singing in my ear. But what they’re saying can’t possibly be true.”

  “And what are they saying?” Lottie dragged out the question, feeling mischievous. She’d expected Isis to barge in an hour ago, and it was just too hard to pass up the chance to rib her.

  “Oh, just the most ridiculous thing. That you, Charlotte Trufant, daughter of the lauded president of the city council, James Trufant, and my best friend, has gotten married. To the notorious Elah Avakian.”

  Isis leaned back and laughed, almost slapping her thigh until she stopped and narrowed her eyes, presumably at what was probably Lottie’s blank expression. The twitch at the corners of her lips must have given her away, for Isis’s eyes widened and the other woman’s jaw went slack.

  “Lot, you aren’t laughing.” She paused, her gaze searching Lottie’s face. Then her glance flitted to that stupid ring Elah had insisted she wear. “Oh God! It’s true.” She laid a hand across her chest in dramatic fashion.

  “I hate to credit gossips, but in this case, they are correct.”

  “Oh my God,” she repeated. Then she stood and walked over to a chair, where she slid down deep into the seat and then popped up immediately, settling her laser-beam gaze on Lottie’s face.

  “Come now, Isis. Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “Dramatic! This is the most insane thing that’s happened in years.”

  “I can’t argue with that. And how’d you hear about it already?”

  She waved the question away. “You know I can’t reveal my sources, but how I know is secondary. What the hell is going on?”

  Lottie felt her smile drop at the question. Could Isis know what was happening? She leaned back, trying to keep her expression even as her thoughts raced. Isis eyed her with curiosity, but Lottie couldn’t tell what else, if anything, her friend knew. Of course, since she wasn’t freaking out, Lottie could only assume Isis didn’t know. Lottie trie
d to imagine how Isis would respond if she knew that her marriage was nothing more than an exchange to protect her father, tried to imagine how she’d react if the roles were reversed. It wouldn’t be pretty, and if Isis didn’t try to have her committed, she’d no doubt lose some of the esteem she held her in, maybe wonder why she’d become friends with a person so sorely deprived of good judgment.

  Lottie cursed her lack of foresight. She was unsure how much to reveal, but knew it couldn’t be much, hadn’t actually considered how she’d handle this topic in daily discussion, which, now that she considered it, was sure to occur. She needed a game plan and quick because this scene would be repeated to varying degrees a multitude of times as the news filtered out. But Isis was different, her closest confidante and most trustworthy friend, and Lottie needed someone who wasn’t as invested to give her perspective.

  “It was…unexpected.”

  “Understatement of the century. How are the folks talking it? Avakian is rich, but he’s not exactly one of the new black elite that I was certain Papa Bear had picked out for you. Hell, he’s not even a pretender like that sycophant, Greg.”

  Lottie didn’t say anything. Her parents had long discussed the type of man they’d hoped she’d marry, and, except for the money, Elah would in no way qualify.

  “They’re coping…” Lottie trailed off, realizing that her words painted a less rosy picture than that of a happy, newly married woman in love.

  “I was willing to believe that since I last saw you”—Isis tapped her jaw and tilted her head thoughtfully—“three days ago, you somehow met a man that you hadn’t, as far as I know, ever seen before, got swept up into a whirlwind of instant love, and got married. But that is not a crazy-in-love face. That is a what-have-I-gotten-into face.”

  “Um… It’s not… Well…” She trailed off again, not quite sure how she wanted to phrase this.

  “Let’s try this again, Lottie.”

  She took a deep breath and launched into a truncated explanation. “My family has a…situation, and after meeting with Elah, we determined that a…partnership would be mutually beneficial.”