by Naomi Niles
Halle leaped out of bed and ran to him, crying out happily, "Daddy!"
"Am I too late for story time?" he asked, and I handed him the book I had selected off the shelf.
"You're just in time," I said with a smile, and we exchanged a chaste kiss that quickly deepened into a passionate one. I could feel his arousal growing against my thigh as he held me close, and my eyes widened. Caressing his firm jaw, I said, "You must have had a good day."
"A very good day. Why don't you take some time for yourself to relax? Maybe take a nice bath; I'll handle putting Halle to bed. Then I'll put you to bed, too, if you want me to." He winked at me, and I felt my cheeks blush. It had been too long since he'd made me feel desirable in that way, and I'd been beginning to doubt my own sensuality. Now, suddenly, it was back.
"Sound's good." I grinned and left him with his daughter.
Alone in our bedroom, I felt truly happy for the first time since that dreadful morning when I'd found Missy. I walked to the master bathroom, sat on the edge of the massive spa tub, and turned on the hot water. I added some bubbles and scented oils, breathing in the soothing aroma.
As the tub filled, I used my cell phone to give my mother a quick phone call. Her nurse, Julie Rodriguez, answered the line.
"I'm sorry, Miss Clare, but Patricia has already gone to bed for the night," she said apologetically. "Is everything alright? Do you want me to wake her?"
"No, it's nothing important. I was thinking of her a little while ago, and I just wanted to check and see how she's doing."
"She's extremely weak and tired. It might be wise to spend as much time with her as you can, in case she doesn't get better," Julie broke the news, and it felt like a stab to my heart.
"What happened? I thought the treatments were going well?"
"The infection she had recently took a heavy toll on her, and while the antibiotics the doctor prescribed are working, her body was weakened by the cancer treatments, so she's suffering from a lot of side-effects, especially fatigue and weakness."
"Is this going to set back her cancer treatments?"
"Her doctor had to cancel them. He said her body's too weak to handle the strain."
"Does that mean she may not have much longer to live?" I asked the one question I was afraid to hear the answer to.
"You'll have to discuss that with her doctor," Julie said, which I knew was code for yes. If everything was going well, she always just told me so, but if there was a problem, she feigned ignorance and told me I would have to talk with her doctor. I knew it had to do with the privacy laws, but still, it frustrated me.
My mother was the only family I had left. Her health meant everything to me, and I was paying Julie to look after her. It was ludicrous that she would keep matters of my mother's health hidden from me, but I knew better than to push her for the answers. I would simply have to take some time to visit Mama and go with her to her doctor's appointments myself.
Julie was quick to reassure me, "Your mother would love to spend more time with you, but don't give up hope. She is a strong-willed woman, filled with hope and faith. That's a combination that can create miracles, and having you come spend time with her will only make her stronger."
"Thanks, Julie. Tell Mama I'll be coming soon for a long visit," I promised.
I hung up the line feeling emotionally exhausted. What I needed now was to de-stress, and as luck would have it, the tub was reaching its full capacity. I turned off the flow of water, stripped naked, and climbed into the wonderfully fragrant, steaming hot water.
A sigh of contentment exhaled from my lips as I sunk down into the tub all the way up to my neck, and let the therapeutic bath sooth away my worries. My muscles relaxed into jelly, and soon, I was humming a little song as I leaned back against the edge of the marble tub with my eyes closed, using a folded towel for a pillow, with my feet sticking out the opposite side.
"Now that's a beautiful sight," I heard Tate's deep voice whisper as he entered the bathroom quietly, trying not to disturb me.
"Want to join me?" I beckoned him with my finger. He grinned in reply and stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a trail on the floor as he approached me.
"You look tense. Let me help you relax." He knelt by the tub, naked, and grabbed a thick sponge. He dipped it in the hot water and rubbed it soothingly over my naked flesh.
A gentle sigh slipped from my lips as he washed away my worries. He put his hands on my shoulders and began to massage me with his powerful hands. His fingers worked their way under the surface of the water to rub my most intimate folds, and my sighs turned to quiet moans of pleasure as he fingered me.
I grabbed his head with my hands, guiding his mouth to my breasts. The contrast of the cold air hitting them as they emerged from the hot water made my nipples pucker. When Tate brought his hot mouth to them and suckled the taut nubs, I moaned aloud with bliss. Then, I gasped as he nipped at them painfully with his teeth.
I climbed out of the tub, and he wrapped me in a fluffy towel. Once I was dry, he carried me to our king-sized bed and laid me in the center of it.
"How may I pleasure you, Mistress?" he asked with a submissive bow, and I guided him how to lick me with his tongue until I was coming on the bed.
"Good boy,” I praised. “Now for your reward, I want you to fuck me hard until you come all over me," I said with a naughty glint in my blue eyes.
"As you wish, Mistress." Tate grinned sexily and opened the door leading to his secret sex dungeon. He selected an array of toys from his shelves and brought them back into our bedroom: a flogger, a vibrating dildo, and nipple clamps.
He used them on me, one by one at first, alternating between them. Then he found new and interesting ways of combing them as I came again and again, but all the while he withheld from me the one thing I wanted: his magnificent dick.
"Fuck me with your cock. Please. I want to feel you come all over me," I begged as he brought me to the brink of orgasm once more. My entire body was quivering with lust, and my pussy was slick with my own hot juices.
I knelt on the bed on my hands and knees, desperate for him. Finally, he gave himself to me, fucking me from behind with powerful strokes of his long, hard dick.
"Harder, faster, let me feel you come." I was no longer sure if I was begging him or commanding him. Perhaps it was both. Suddenly, I was plunged into another orgasm, and my body writhed with uncontrollable spasms of pleasure as it overtook me. That's when I felt it: Tate's hot, salty essence spewing onto my flesh as we climaxed together, and he shot his load of come on my naked flesh just like I wanted.
Afterward, we showered together, and then finally, we lay in the sheets, cuddled together, warm, clean, and fully satisfied.
Chapter Seventy-Six: Tate
"Everything looks beautiful. Thank you for doing this,” I was greeted by guests inside the church where the service was being held for the funeral and memorial service of Missy Stevens.
A white coffin with brass handles occupied a place of honor at the front of the church, surrounded by bouquets of lilies, her favorite flower. The lid was open, with Missy lying inside wearing a plain black dress with a high collar to hide the bullet wounds that had pierced her chest. Her blue/black hair was slicked back, and the heavy make-up she usually wore was gone, replaced by mortician’s make-up to give her a false peachy glow. She looked oddly peaceful lying so still, as if she could be sleeping – but we all knew she wasn't.
Missy had been such a passionate and lively woman, even though she wasn't a good person and we had been enemies much of the time. She could be angry, greedy, vindictive, and selfish when times were bad; and alternately, when times were good, she was manically happy, laughing obnoxiously from being high, and overtly sexual. There was never any middle ground for Missy, everything in her life was too hot or too cold, too high or too low.
Now, finally, she appeared to be at peace, and it was an eerie sight. The woman lying in the coffin had none of the vivaciousness of Missy Stevens, and y
et there was no doubt it was indeed her.
"Thank you for coming," I said to everyone as they entered, while Blake practically frisked them for weapons. It was a humiliating precaution, but both he and I agreed it was necessary as long as Stuart was still out loose. There was no guessing what he was capable of. He could send in a bomb or disguise himself and come here with a gun. Whatever he was up to, I was determined to keep him away from Missy's funeral.
Trying to ease the awkwardness, I shook hands with each guest said with a smile, "Please, take any seat you like."
Although I'd reserved a rather large church, it was mostly empty. Rachelle was minding Halle in the front row, alongside my staff, Emma and Scott. Missy's parents had died years ago, and she only had one sister, who I didn't expect to see since she had cut Missy out of her life years ago for crashing her car one night while high.
Detective Mitch Miller had come, as had my attorney Thomas Tandy and some of my associates from work. Slowly, a few other attendees drifted in, but it seemed there were more police officers and guards around than guests. Barnes had brought every available man from his company, leaving only a skeleton crew at the mansion, and Miller had been kind enough to send extra officers to make a visible display of police protection around the church just in case Stuart Haynes tried to make an appearance.
"I doubt he's stupid enough to try anything today. Haynes just murdered Missy Stevens only a week ago, so logic says he should lie low somewhere, until the investigation dies down," Miller had tried to assure me.
"Yeah, but he's not logical. He's fucking crazy," I said, and Miller had to agree.
"I'll send as many officers to the service as I can. That should help scare him off, but my gut says he won't be there. He might try to use the opportunity to break into your mansion again since he knows it will be empty."
"Barnes will have several men assigned to watch the house, but we both agree that since I'm his target, he's far more likely to try and attack me coming or going from the church than to break into the mansion when he knows I'm not there."
"Then, God willing, everything should be okay," Miller said, and I didn't have to tell him that I was being as vigilant as possible. Ever since that day Rachelle found Missy dead, I'd been on high alert. I hated being here in such a public setting surrounded by strangers I didn't know. It made me jumpy, and I kept feeling like someone was watching me. Luckily, there were very few people in attendance whom I didn't know.
Missy's friends weren't the kind of people who would come to an event held in a church, especially one surrounded by cops. They preferred the shadows of dark alleyways, and it was fine with me if they stayed there. This funeral was for Halle so she could have closure and any rare family members or friends who knew Missy that might actually dare to show up.
I narrowed my eyes as a couple with a baby came striding through the door, but it was the woman who caught my eye. She took a seat in the second row, and I had to clench my jaw shut to keep from gasping.
She was a perfect copy of Missy, only younger and far healthier. Her skin lacked the sickly yellow pallor Missy so often had, but her eyes were just as sharp. Her hair was long, down to her shoulders, and the same blonde color that Missy's would have been naturally if she hadn't dyed hers dark to match her edgy stage-persona as a stripper. It was uncanny how much they looked like each other. Her face reminded me of how beautiful and carefree Missy had been when I first met her all those years ago when her face was still unlined and she hadn't yet become bitter and jaded.
"You must be Missy's sister." I extended my hand in greeting to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Yes. I'm Kathleen, and this is my husband John and our daughter Melissa, named after her. Mom and Dad always called her Missy for short, but I prefer her full name," the woman introduced herself, and the baby she was holding giggled with recognition at the sound of her name.
"Please, sit in the front row with me and my daughter. Halle and Melissa are cousins after all," I insisted, and Rachelle slid over a space to make room for them.
"Thank you so much for everything you did for my sister," Kathleen said to me in a voice strangled by emotion. "After Mom and Dad died, I was just under so much emotional stress, I couldn't deal with her. I knew that if I gave her half the inheritance they left us, she'd just use it all to buy too many drugs until she overdosed, and I couldn't let her do that to herself. She accused me of cheating her out her inheritance, and things got really ugly between us. Then she stole my car and nearly died anyway, and I couldn't even stand to look at her. It just hurt too much to watch her destroying herself. I thank God that a good man like you looked after her and is raising her daughter."
"Well, I'm no saint, but I did what I could." I felt uncomfortable being praised in such a way, especially in light of my relationship with Missy.
How many nights had I asked her to dance for me? How many times had I made her put on a blonde wig and play the part of my childhood nanny so I could fuck her? The amount of money I'd spent enabling her to continue her drug habit could have paid for an entire hospital to make her well. In fact, it was I who had introduced her to the man who shot and murdered her.
Kathleen was praising me like I was her sister's savior when really I was just as guilty of killing her as Stuart was. I was a selfish prick, and I had to use this heart-wrenching lesson of Missy's death to learn to be a better man.
I was used to buying people off to get my own way, like hiring sexy blonde nannies to fuck me. I should have been hiring nannies simply to care for my child, and having sex with women only when we're in a mutually respectful relationship that benefited the woman as much as it did me. I couldn't steamroll over their wants and needs just to fulfill my own.
That's what I did with Rose and Missy, and now they were both dead. That's what I was still doing to Rachelle, by making the decision to move her away from California without even talking to her about it. I'd given her no say in the matter and just expected her to follow along because it was what was best for me and Halle, but was it best for Rachelle?
I'd told myself that taking her out of the slummy apartment where she lived with her mother and forcing her to move into the mansion had been good for her, but that was bullshit. I had done it because it was what was good and convenient for me, not for her.
Sure, my mansion was more luxurious, but the little apartment downtown was where she'd grown up. It was filled with love and the memories of her father. Plus, two women hadn't been murdered there. The same couldn't be said of my cold, heartless mansion.
I'd told myself I was a generous man, giving her huge bonuses and continuing to deposit large sums of money into her account every month even after she became my girlfriend; but that was bullshit, too. I wasn't being philanthropic. I expected something in return for all that money. Rachelle was supposed to submit to my will, let me fuck her whenever I wanted, however I wanted, and follow along with me, even if I decided to move far away without even discussing it with her.
I was buying her, like a common prostitute, only worse. I wasn't just paying her to fuck me. I was paying her to love me, as my girlfriend, instead of treating her like an equal life-partner and earning that love through respect and selfless acts of caring.
Everything I did for Rachelle, I was really doing for me. Looking at Missy laying cold and dead in that coffin and hearing her sister lavishing me with praise for taking care of her made me realize just how big an asshole I really was. As a single tear escaped the corner of my eyes and ran down my gruff cheek, I vowed that I would become the man I should have been for Rose and Missy. I would change into someone deserving of Rachelle, one who let her be free in ways I hadn't let Rose or Missy be. Stuart was right. I did use and abuse women – but no more.
When we got home after the service, I would tell Rachelle about the move and let her make her own decision. I wouldn't pressure her with ultimatums. I would respect her choice, and if she chose to stay, I would simply have to find the time to come out and vi
sit her.
After all, I was a billionaire. I could buy my own jet plane if I wanted to, and for Rachelle, I would do anything – even change from a selfish man into someone better, so that one day I could ask her to marry me.
Chapter Seventy-Seven: Rachelle
It was so strange sitting there, watching everyone mourn the death and celebrate the life of Missy Stevens. It was sad just how few people bothered to come to her funeral. She had no friends and hardly any family, except for her sister, brother-in-law, and niece. It was touching that Kathleen had named her daughter after Missy, so in a small way, the brightness of her life could continue on in something sweet and pure.
Halle was fascinated by the baby, and she provided a good distraction for the little girl. After the funeral, when all the adults were socializing over plates of hors d' oeuvres, the two little girls played together, giggling in the way cousins should.
"You should come out to the house for dinner," I said to Kathleen as she and John prepared the baby to leave. They were the last guests at the memorial service, and everyone else had gone. "The girls can play in the nursery, and you and your husband can stay in one of the guest rooms."
"Thank you, but John has to work in the morning. We live upstate, and we've got a long drive ahead of us. We'd better get going," she said, and Tate looked visibly relieved.
"That's a shame, but the next time you come down to Beverly Hills, you must stay. Halle should get to spend time with her cousin, and Tate and I would love to have you," I said, embarrassed that the offer didn't come from Tate and he was suddenly shifting uncomfortably from foot to the other.