by Liv Morris
“Jack, I was wondering where you went,” Sally smiled.
“Yes, sorry. Phone call.” I rolled my eyes as if random work calls happened all the time.
“Have you met Annabelle? You probably wouldn’t remember her—she was barely a teenager at the wedding,” she laughed, hugging her sister. Belle rolled her eyes. Well that made me feel great. At the wedding when I was twenty, and fucking woman after woman, she’d been twelve! The thought made me sick. What kind of perverted freak was I?
“Yes, Annabelle and I have met,” I said, smiling sweetly. “So what do you do, Annabelle? Are you still in school?” I asked innocently. She shot me a look.
“Yes, I’m still in school. I’m in my last year at St Martin’s High school,” she replied calmly.
“Really, that’s fascinating! God, high school was so long ago I can’t even remember it,” I said with a forced laugh. Belle glared at me. Sally, oblivious to the tension in the room, laughed.
“Yes, I heard you were a bit of a player in high school. Luke told me all about you. And I bet things haven’t changed, have they? Are you ever going to settle down?”
“What’s the point in settling down when women are throwing themselves at me?” I laughed again, taking a swig of my beer. Belle slammed a fork down on the table, her jaw clenched.
“Excuse me,” she said storming out of the room.
Sally shook her head, her brow furrowed. “Sorry about her, you know how it is—teenage hormones and all that,” she apologized.
I knew how it was, all right. Something told me this lunch was not going to get any easier.
Chapter Ten
“So,” Luke began as Mrs. Gale slipped into her seat. We all sat around the table, waiting for Luke to continue. I could feel Belle’s eyes boring into me from where she sat across the table. I pretended not to notice, leaning in as though Luke’s next words had me on the edge of my seat. “There is a reason we asked you all to dinner tonight. As you know, little Thomas will be here in a couple of months, and we want all of you to be involved in his life.” Luke reach for Sally’s hand and then turned his attention to me. “Jack. I’ve known you for years. You’re my oldest friend, and as hard as you play and as much as you claim to hate kids, I know you’d make a great father. We would be honored if you would be Thomas’ godfather.”
Even though I had been expecting it, actually hearing those words was a whole other story. A lump formed in my throat. What the fuck, why the hell was I feeling so emotional? I didn’t want kids, my own or someone else’s. I knew the chances of something happening to both Luke and Sally were slim, but all the same I just didn’t need this responsibility right now. Or ever.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, reaching for my water.
I searched for the right words and realized they weren’t there. If I was going to decline, now was not the time—not with all these people around, and especially not with Belle staring at me from across the table. I couldn’t think straight with her in the room.
“Thanks guys, this is a huge deal. It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to ask this of me.” And it did mean a lot. It made me realize exactly how much Luke loved me.
“And, this might come as a surprise to my favorite sister, but Anabelle, Luke and I would be honored if you would be Thomas’s godmother.” Sally smiled at Belle, who laughed and nodded.
What the hell? How was I going to get this girl, this underage girl, out of my head if I had to see her every time something baby-related came up? The only saving grace of this whole situation was with her as godmother, chances of me ever having to fulfil my obligation became even slimmer.
“Thanks, Sally and Luke. It means a lot to me that you want me to be a part of Thomas’ life,” Belle said quietly.
With the formalities out of the way, the rest of dinner moved quite quickly. If anyone noticed the tension between Belle and me, they didn’t mention it. Everyone talked and laughed amongst themselves, and every now and then my gaze would meet Belle’s until one of us looked away—usually me.
Four o’clock couldn’t come fast enough, because it gave me the perfect excuse to leave. I was meeting Dad for dinner to discuss something business-related. It was always business with Dad. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a conversation that wasn’t about work. Just once, I’d like him to sit down with me and talk like a normal father and son would. That would never happen though, and wishing for it would only feed the fury inside of me.
“Thanks for dinner, guys, it’s been great,” I said, shaking Luke’s hand and kissing Sally’s cheek. “Mr. and Mrs. Gale, it was lovely meeting you both again. I hope we can do this again soon.”
“You too, Jack. I hope we can do this again soon. You’re a good man, according to Luke.” Mr. Gale shook my hand gruffly. I managed a smile, trying to push the images of me on top of his daughter out of my head. If only you knew, I thought.
I turned to Belle, my heart pounding. Leaning in, I kissed her cheek, breathing in the fruity scent of her perfume. As my lips touched her cheek my whole body jumped. I had done the one thing I didn’t want to do: react to her.
I was fucked up. Even now, after everything, after knowing who she was and how old she was, I still wanted her. More than that, I needed her.
***
I entered Calare’s, the only restaurant in this part of London my father would step foot in, and glanced around. He wasn’t there—not that that was really surprising considering I was twenty minutes early. I approached the waiter. He led me to a small table in the corner by the window. I thanked him and sat down, ordering a glass of scotch.
Glancing out the window, I sighed. My life was never this complicated. I worked hard to keep things clean and free from drama. This was the last thing I needed right now, especially with Dad on my back about this deal. I felt the vibration of my phone against my thigh. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled it out. One new message. I opened it, not realizing it was from Belle until it was too late.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what I can say to make this right. The last thing I wanted to do was lie to you. I thought you would have ran a mile if you knew I was only seventeen.
I snorted and shoved the phone back in my pocket without replying. So she did have my number. The thought of her roaming through a phone (her father’s?), searching for my number, made me smile.
A pretty, redheaded waitress walked over to my table carrying my scotch. She smiled as she set it in front of me. Tilting my head slightly, I narrowed my eyes and grinned up at her.
“Thanks,” I murmured softly, not taking my eyes off her. She blushed and tucked a stray curl of hair back behind her ear, as if she were embarrassed by my attention.
“Can I get you anything else while you wait?” she asked, not quite meeting my eyes. She was so into me that it was almost sad. The lack of eye contact, the blushing, and the way she looked at me was a dead giveaway. This would be easy.
“Just your number,” I said huskily. At least this meant I wouldn’t need to spend the evening alone. Little Red would be more than capable of distracting me. She giggled, her eyes darting around the room. She pulled a napkin out of the holder and jotted down her number. Shoving it towards me, her eyes met mine.
“I’m finished here at six,” she said softly. Her body language told me this was out of the norm for her. I was sure plenty of guys would’ve hit on her, but she never reciprocated. The difference was none of those other guys were me.
I averted my attention to the imposing figure walking through the restaurant: my father. As he neared the table, I took in his expression. As usual, it was hard, emotionless and intimidating. My father was a master at masking his feelings. Even as a child I’d never known what he was feeling. He could say one thing and then act in a completely different way.
“Jack. How’s my boy.” Dad slid easily into the chair opposite me, his tone informing me he really didn’t give a shit how I was. He was big on appearances, so on the surface we mig
ht have seemed like a normal father and son meeting for dinner on a Sunday evening. I knew better than that, and I wondered what he wanted this time.
“I’m fine, thank you. How are you? I was caught up with Luke. They asked me to be the godparent of their child.” The words slipped out and I instantly regretted it, already knowing the reaction they’d receive.
Dad’s booming laugh filled the restaurant. “You?” he said incredulously. “What the hell do you know about kids?” he laughed.
Probably about as much as you, I thought. I so badly wanted to react, but instead I simply smiled.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, reaching for my drink.
Dad flagged the waitress over, Little Red, who looked as though she’d been waiting for the chance to approach me again. “Darling, can you get me scotch, please, no ice. Do you know what you want?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “Not hungry. I had a big lunch,” I muttered.
“Suit yourself,” he said, scanning the menu. “Let’s see. I’ll have a beef Wellington, medium rare, and please tell the chef to try not to burn the pastry this time.
Little Red nodded, her eyes wide as she jotted down Dad’s orders. I swallowed a laugh. It was good to see that my father intimidated some people more than me. She walked away, my father’s eyes glued to her ass.
“So, are you going to tell me what this is about?” I asked dryly, taking another swig of my drink and forcing his attention back to me.
“Yes, the Delenski deal. They’re on the edge of clinching the deal, so I just need you to help push it over the edge. Nothing too hard, just doing what you do best.” Another dig at my lifestyle. He was on fire tonight. What was with people and their need to constantly remind me? It irritated the hell out of me. I wasn’t five; I was capable of remembering, goddammit.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “When does she get here?”
“They arrive on the thirtieth. She’ll be here for four days, and need you to make those four days memorable,” he said, raising an eyebrow, just in case I hadn’t caught his meaning. I laughed, shaking my head at the lengths my father would go to for money.
“Fine,” I agreed. I stared at my half-empty scotch, my nails working around the rim of the glass. An awkward silence hung in the air over us like a bad smell. This is what it was like: when talking about business stopped, there was nothing left to say. I pushed my chair back and stood up, not in the mood for small talk.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I leave. It’s been a big day and I need to get a jump-start on tomorrow’s appointments.” At the mention of work, my father nodded and waved his hand. That was the end of our meeting—no ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later’, just a wave of the hand to let me know he was done with me.
I stormed out of the restaurant, pissed off at my father, at myself, and at Belle.
I was so fucking pissed at Belle. Or was I pissed off at myself for feeling the way I did about her? I wasn’t sure. As I walked through the cool, brisk air towards my car, I saw my life for what it was: a mess. A big fucking mess. My nights were filled with nameless women and empty bottles of scotch, anything to try and fill the void left by my mother leaving, and my constant need for my father’s approval. In the midst of all this I’d met Belle, which had turned out to be a disaster.
I reached my car. I was probably not fit to drive. In fact, I probably hadn’t been fit to drive from Luke’s house to the restaurant. Fuck it, it’s not like I lived far away. Turn left in a block, and fifty meters along, turn right, then left, and I’m home.
I got in the car and started the engine before I could second-guess myself. I managed to complete the drive without totaling the car. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. This was one of the many times I was glad to have more than one property in London. No matter where I was, I was sure to be close to home.
The first thing I did when I got inside was pour myself another scotch. The second thing I did was text Little Red my address. I peeled off my clothes and jumped in the shower, trying to wash away the last few days. I refrained from jacking off—I’d save that shit for later.
After my shower, I sunk into the armchair closest to the TV and watched a rerun of Shameless. I shivered, my skin cold against the leather of the chair. I wore tracksuit pants and nothing else, my glass of scotch resting against my bare chest.
***
At just after six, there was a knock at the door. I heaved myself out of my chair and walked over to it.
“Hey,” I smiled, opening the door and moving aside to let her inside.
“Hi.” She smiled back shyly. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. I’m glad I did though.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked, pouring myself another scotch, ignoring the buzzing in my head that was telling me I’d probably drunk enough today. She nodded.
I grabbed another glass, dropped two ice cubes in it, and half-filled it up with scotch. “Here you go,” I said, sliding up across the bench to her. As she took it from my grip, I let my fingers move over hers, making her smile.
“This is a nice place,” she commented, moving over to the window that overlooked the city.
“It’s open, if you want to go out there.” I grabbed my glass and followed her. We stood on the balcony and took in the lights. Dusk was just settling in, making for a beautiful backdrop against the city buildings.
“It’s stunning out here,” she breathed. She balanced her drink on the edge of the balcony, her palms downward on the foot-wide stone wall as she breathed in the cool, fresh air. I placed my hand on her back. She jumped slightly, giving me a small smile. I chuckled to myself. God, she was nervous.
“It certainly is stunning,” I said standing behind her, pressing myself up against her. Her black skirt finished just above her knee, but the long slit on her left side made it seem much shorter. I worked my hand around her waist and up under her shirt. She breathed in sharply as my fingers touched her skin. I tilted her head and began to kiss her neck. Each time my mouth met her soft skin, she moaned softly. Gently, I turned her around so her back was against the balcony and she was facing me. With one finger I traced her hairline around her face and over her ear until my hand gripped the back of her neck, under the loose strands of her restrained hair.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I said.
Leaning forward, my lips connected with hers in a soft kiss. Pulling away, I reached up to her messy bun and released her fiery red hair. “You’re so fucking sexy,” I muttered, my fingers working quickly to separate the buttons running down her shirt. I slipped the soft silk off her shoulders and unclasped her bra, letting that fall away too.
If she was bothered being on display to half of London, she didn’t show it. She was so caught up in me and what I could do for her that nothing else mattered. Her nipples hardened as the cool breeze rushed past them. Her breasts were nice and round, full but not too big, the perfect size for my hands. I grabbed her waist and lifted her up so she was sitting on wall of the balcony. Her grip on me tightened.
“It’s okay,” I whispered softly as I licked her ear. “I’d never let you fall.” She seemed to trust me, as my tongue trailed down to her breasts. I circled her nipple with the tip. She cried out as I began to suck, first gently, and then with more force, more intensity, and more desire.
My hand roamed up her thigh, slowly moving between her legs. Her barely there panties were so wet, which told me just how ready she was for me. I worked my finger along her entrance, teasing her, making her want me. With one hand clutching her waist, my other hand worked quickly to free my hard cock. I slipped on a condom and slowly looped my thumbs around the edge of her panties. She moaned softly as I began to slide them down, until they fell away. She stepped out of them. I lifted her leg, hooking it around me.
The balcony wall was the perfect level for me to slide myself into her. She gasped, crying out as her back arched at my unexpected force. With both hands locked around he
r waist, I pounded into her, loving the power I had right then. If I let go, she’d fall the seven stories below onto the ground. The amount of trust she had in me right now was a huge turn-on.
Her hands gripped the wall so harshly her knuckles were turning white. She was now nearly vertical, leaning over into thin air. As I thrust my load into her, my thoughts alternated between Belle and how tight and wet her cunt had been for me, and how insanely furious thinking about her made me.
“Oh god, Jack,” she cried, panicked as her grip on the edge of the railing began to loosen. I blocked out her voice and closed my eyes. She had nothing to worry about, I had hold of her and I wasn’t about to let go. I was so close to coming, so fucking close. All I needed was one more second with the image of Belle in my mind. “Please, Jack, I can’t… Let me up.”
The alarm in her voice had heightened. With one last thrust I exploded inside of her. Sighing, I lifted her up off the wall. She had tears in her eyes and it hit me that she had really been scared. What’s more, her fear had turned me on. What kind of kind of freak was I?
Shoving past her, I went back inside and sat down on the couch. With my elbows on my knees, I rested my face in my hands. There was so much anger inside my head right now that it scared me. I could have seriously hurt her. No matter how I’ve treated women in the past, it was always in good fun. Usually mine. Little Red stormed up to me, her face red with anger. She wiped her tear-stained cheeks.
“What the fuck was that?” she demanded angrily. “You almost dropped me. I could’ve been killed.”
I snorted at her dramatics, which fuelled her anger. “I had hold of you, there was no fucking way you were going to fall,” I said quietly.
“Yeah? And what if your hand had slipped? Then what?”
“Did it slip? Did I drop you, or did I fuck you like you came here wanting me to?” I challenged, jumping to my feet, my eyes meeting hers.
She laughed, fear in her eyes. “You’re fucking insane!” she cried as she grabbed handfuls of her clothes and stormed off around the corner, out of my view. She re-emerged as she pulled her shirt back on and began to button it up. I could see she was shaking as she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table. Just before she walked out, she turned back to face me.