Covet

by Alison Ryan

  She could never be happy without him. It was something she’d tried to make peace with years ago. Plenty of people lived their entire lives knowing the love of their life got away. But they usually didn’t see them again and have the kind of weekend she’d just experienced.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, leaning towards the driver, “But what’s taking so long? Is traffic usually this backed up?”

  “They’ve been doing some construction at night,” he said, no other explanation offered. She sighed and sat back, her hands still trembling.

  Barrett had heard Scarlet leave. He was a light sleeper these days, one of the many things that changed since Scarlet had been with him last. Once he’d experienced the destruction of his heart, he’d never been able to sleep deeply and blissfully again. So when he heard the front door close behind her, he’d immediately run to the window just in time to see the town car pull away.

  Fortunately his own driver, Mark, was also one of his many bodyguards. He’d advised Mark to keep an eye out for just this sort of thing. Barrett was disappointed she was doing this again but he also wasn’t going to make it easy for her this time. No way.

  “Mark, tail her,” he said, pulling on his pants. “I’ll follow you. Is my Audi in the garage?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mark said. “I’m on it.”

  Barrett was dressed in less than a minute, and pulling out of his driveway in less than two.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, Scarlet,” he said to himself as he glided down the silent roads of Rancho Santa Fe, “But it’s time to find out.”

  “Eight-hundred dollars?! For coach? To Atlanta?” Scarlet exclaimed. “Okay. How much to Las Vegas?”

  She was at the Delta counter, attempting to buy her ticket out of this mess. Her preference was Atlanta, although it would put her parents in a bind. They’d have to return her rental for her and ship her stuff; not that she’d brought much. They’d be confused and hurt but Scarlet had a gift for that anyway.

  “Our Las Vegas flight leaves at nine this morning. It’ll be-“ the pretty Delta clerk paused, waiting for her computer to reply to the clicking and clacking of the keys under her manicured nails, “-two hundred and sixty-two dollars for roundtrip. Two hundred one-way.”

  “Okay,” Scarlet sighed. “I’ll take it.”

  “Which one? The roundtrip or the one-way?” The woman gave Scarlet a large toothy smile and for some reason it made Scarlet want to punch her.

  “One-way. Thanks.” Scarlet handed over her dilapidated Visa card and waited for her ticket. Her head was throbbing and her heart was beating fast. All she wanted to do was hide under the large comforter on the bed at her parents’ house and not come out for at least a decade.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Bloom,” the woman said, embarrassment-by-proxy in her tone, “Your card has been declined. Do you have another one?”

  Scarlet wanted to throw up. She did not have another card.

  “Seriously?” she said out loud, tears stinging her eyes. “It didn’t go through?”

  “Miss Bloom won’t be needing it anyway.”

  Scarlet turned to see who had the nerve to comment on her current situation and there was Barrett.

  His face was a cross between angry and concerned. He was already showing a 5 o’clock shadow (he’d always been the guy who needed to shave daily) and he still smelled like the sex they’d just been having hours before.

  As much as she wanted to scream at him to leave her alone and as much as she needed him to, she didn’t have the strength any longer. It had been the longest five years and she was tired of trying to forget him.

  So instead, Scarlet Bloom collapsed against his chest and cried.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Patricia Evers was halfway across the world from her family, spending yet another perfect day of an incredible month in Paris. It was the only city that could hold her attention for any length of time these days. She’d been investing a lot of her money in art, and some of the best pieces were in the City of Light. Her husband liked to sink their fortune into real estate. She liked to invest in something she could look at on the walls of her many homes. It made her feel powerful.

  Patricia despised the term “privileged.” As if her life was something that just happened. The term made her feel like she hadn’t done anything to deserve her great fortune in life, when if anyone bothered to do their research, they would find Patricia had worked incredibly hard to forge this life that others coveted so much. She would not apologize for it. She would certainly not be made to feel guilty for being able to attain what everyone else wanted. She would not suffer fools.

  Patricia Evers didn’t have a lot of respect for most people.

  After all, it needed to be earned, right? And no one wanted to earn anything anymore. People thought because a woman was incredibly wealthy that she should give all of herself away. They always felt entitled to a piece of her, as if just because she had more than they did that she owed them something, be that her time or her charity. As if she should feel embarrassed by her walk-in closets that were the size of the average American’s home. Or ashamed of her private island she escaped to in order to avoid dreadfully wet Manhattan winters. Patricia felt no guilt that she and her husband had bled money into all the best colleges to ensure her children’s entry. (Even with her daughter Clementine’s abysmal high school record, she still got into Yale. Thankfully.) She was proud of the yearly “wife bonus” her insufferable husband Rhett awarded her on their wedding anniversary each year. She’d earned every damn penny of it making sure their family had stayed out of the public eye for anything that wasn’t completely positive and above reproach. She’d tolerated his affairs, his drinking, and his impotence in the bedroom.

  So no, Patricia Evers wasn’t privileged. She was just extremely great at being rich.

  She’d been born to old southern money in Atlanta. Gone to cotillion, had a coming out party, the whole nine yards. She’d been sent to boarding school at Miss Porter’s when she was fourteen- her own mother had gone there with Jackie Kennedy, years before. Despite the wishes of her parents to marry a rich man straight after graduation, she’d defied them by going to not only college but a Yankee school at that- Smith College in Massachusetts.

  Her parents didn’t understand the modern rich man. He didn’t want some pretty, doe-eyed, dumbass. They might fuck girls like that, but they’d never marry them. Those girls were a dollar a dozen. Powerful men wanted cultured, sophisticated women. The kind that can host a gala and give a proper tour of a historically registered mansion. The rich became bored easily, as did Patricia, and the worst thing she could ever do was be boring. So she attained her degree and shortly after, her man- Rhett Evers. He was also a southerner and a Duke graduate. They were married the summer after she received her bachelors in art history. Two former presidents attended their reception at the Biltmore, where their wedding was held.

  She was pregnant with Barrett by the fall.

  Out of her three children, Barrett was the one all of her ambitions were pinned on. If she’d ever come close to loving anyone, it was Barrett. He reminded her so much of her own father, with his commanding presence and handsome features. Barrett was square- jawed and dense with charisma. Like Patricia, he never had to try very hard at anything and was a naturally gifted person, even without the money. The one thing she and her husband agreed on was that Barrett was the future of the Evers family. The Kennedys had their time, then the Bush family. Barrett had the potential to gain them the sort of influence and power that even money couldn’t (always) buy. Barrett could give the Evers a place in the history books.

  Which is why Patricia kept such a close eye on him. Throughout his life, Barrett had been watched. He’d probably be horrified to know how closely. Nancy Sanderson had been forced to write up weekly reports of even the most mundane events in order for Patricia and Rhett to know how he was progressing in his studies and social life. All friends were vetted, all people who came into conta
ct with any of the children went through extensive background checks. Patricia had almost fired Nancy when she’d found out she was taking Barrett over to her sister’s house to socialize with the Bloom children. Rhett had to convince her not to, something she still saw as a huge mistake.

  Especially once Barrett fell in love with Scarlet Bloom.

  But Patricia had handled that whole thing. Why, she hadn’t thought of any of the Blooms in years! They had melted into the other faceless people who kept Evers Holdings running. They didn’t matter on any sort of personal level.

  That is, until her phone rang later that afternoon.

  “Madame,” Pierre, her assistant spoke on the other end of the line, his voice tense.

  “What is it, Pierre? If it’s Rhett, tell him I don’t give a hoot where we spend the holidays this year, as long as it’s not north of the damn equator.” Patricia glanced at herself in the mirror of her powder room. She noticed lines in her forehead and made a mental note to make an appointment with Dr. Lurme. Thank God for fillers and Botox.

  “It’s not that, Madame,” he said slowly. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Just tell me. Get on with it.” Was it Clementine again? Ugh.

  “It’s Barrett,” he said. “He’s with Scarlet Bloom. In San Diego.”

  Suddenly Patricia Evers’ perfect day wasn’t so perfect anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Barrett and Scarlet sat on stiff chairs in the Delta lounge for a good thirty minutes before she was able to speak. He held her as she cried, not knowing how to react. Part of him was furious with her and another part of him just wanted to take away all the pain she was clearly in.

  Scarlet had no idea what to say to him. She was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically while also tired of running from the past and fooling herself into thinking she could possibly ever move on from that summer. It was clear she couldn’t.

  Yet she didn’t know where to start or what was okay to tell him.

  “Scarlet,” he finally said quietly. His square jaw rested lightly on her head, his arms around her. “We should go back to the house. You need to sleep.”

  She sat up and looked at him. Tears had smeared the makeup she had carefully applied for their date hours before, leaving rivers of black on her flushed cheeks.

  “Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s go.”

  He took her by the hand and they walked through the lines of people hustling around for early morning flights to distant places. Scarlet tried to keep her head down, after all, she must have looked insane. She wasn’t someone who made a public spectacle of herself and she was deeply embarrassed that her card had been declined at the counter. The pretty Delta clerk probably assumed that’s why she’d started crying.

  How wrong she would be.

  The car ride home was mostly silent other than the sound of Barrett shifting gears. She glanced over at his forearm, his rough knuckles white against the stick. She could tell he was upset with her but didn’t want to make things worse. Scarlet looked back out the window, the trees blurring by as they entered Rancho Santa Fe. All she wanted was a shower. And Barrett wrapped around her.

  As they entered his house she glanced over at his office, where the weekend began. Papers were strewn all over the floor, nothing had been picked up yet. The clock said it was 7 AM and just seeing it made her sleepy. Yet she was scared to close her eyes, scared of what she might wake up to.

  “I’ll show you where the guest room is,” he said, plodding up the stairs. She shook her head.

  “No,” she spoke for the first time since they’d left the airport. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  He looked at her surprised, “I just figured-“

  Before he could finish she jumped into his arms, smashing her mouth against his, her arms around his neck. She could feel his hesitation underneath her, but the intensity of her kiss somehow convinced his worn out body to return her affections.

  He carried her to his room, the sheets still crumbled from their earlier tryst.

  “Scarlet, we don’t have to…” he started.

  “I need it,” she replied. “Please.”

  She slipped out of her clothes, pulling on his belt as he held her head in his hands, kissing her down her neck.

  “I need you so bad, Barrett,” she cried against him. “Feeling you inside me will make everything okay.”

  It didn’t take much to convince him. Her body was a drug, something he could never bear to withdraw from, and as soon as they were both completely naked, he was on top of her.

  “Scarlet,” he said, warning in his tone. “With how I feel, I don’t know how gentle this is going to be.”

  She smirked, “Fuck me hard. Hate fuck me if you have to. Just don’t stop.”

  He entered her forcefully, there was no reluctance, and she moaned at the fullness. He was large and throbbing, and her nipples expressed their approval. She liked the aggression.

  He pounded her relentlessly, the headboard smacking the wall, her cries only spurring him on as he took what he craved. All of his anger and frustration spilled out of him and his growls made it clear that this was what fucking was. It was nothing like the slow love he had made to her last night. This was all heat and anger. This was all about his pleasure, at her expense.

  And she loved every second of it.

  He flipped her over without withdrawing from her soaking wet sex, making her yelp as he demanded she get on all fours.

  “I need to watch your ass while I fuck you, Scarlet,” he said. “I won’t stop until you scream and beg me to. And maybe not even then.”

  That was the last thing she wanted was for him to ever stop. He was harder than ever and his thrusts were like being rammed by a steel pole. She turned her head to watch him plow her from behind. His abs were contracting, sweat dripping down each ripple of his body, veins popping out of his biceps and forearms. She’d never been more turned on in her life.

  Barrett had never fucked her like this.

  And he was lasting forever. They swapped positions numerous times, but they were always positions where he was in control of her body. She was merely at his mercy.

  After an hour she finally relented, her climaxes almost painful from the soreness in her thighs and her cervix. He’d reached places most men could only dream of.

  “Please, baby,” she begged as he had her up against the wall of his closet. “I can’t take much more.”

  Her begging made him thrust harder, “You’ll take it until I finish. Inside you.”

  Which only caused her to want more.

  Finally he carried her to the bed, her body limp against his chest, both of them panting from the exertion. He’d come inside her, finally, and they were both laying on his sheets now, catching their breaths.

  Neither knew what to say. He’d punished her in the sense that he’d let out his steam on the curves of her body, but his heart still felt empty. Why did she leave him again? Even the intense orgasm he’d just experienced couldn’t relieve him of that anguish.

  She curled up against him, kissing his taut stomach and up to his pectoral muscles that were still rising and falling from exertion.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Nothing else.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  While Scarlet slept, Barrett watched her. She’d taken a quick shower (it had been hard not to join her) and now slept serenely on clean sheets in the guest room. He had promised not to leave her to sleep alone, but as soon as it was clear she had dozed off, he’d quietly gotten up to make a phone call.

  “Nance,” he said. “I’m in a bind. I can’t come back to Vegas this week.”

  Nancy sighed on the other end, “What’s wrong? Is Scarlet okay?”

  He glanced back at her through the open doorway of the bedroom.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I think I need this week with her to find out what the hell’s going on.”

  “She’s an adult, Barrett,” Nanc
y lectured from the other end. “She doesn’t need you to save her.”

  “Well, if not me, who?” he replied, frustrated that Nancy wasn’t understanding.

  Nancy didn’t know what to say to that.

  Scarlet woke up hours later in the mid-afternoon of a perfectly sunny San Diego day. Barrett was next to her, sitting up against the upholstered headboard, reading a book.

  “Hey, sleepy,” he said, a sweet smile on his face. The rough Barrett from earlier was gone.

  “Hey,” she said back, stretching her arms. “Sorry I slept so long.”

  Barrett shook his head, “No worries. I got some work done, took a little snooze myself. Watched you for a while.”

  “Oh yeah?” she said, sliding her body towards him. “That’s kind of sweet.”

  He shook his head, “You snore.”

  She grimaced and then glared at him, “I do not!”

  He laughed, pulling her on top of him, “You do. But it’s cute. It’s a sweet sounding snore. Not too loud either. I’ve always liked it.”

  “But it’s so… not sexy. Embarrassing. I used to have to wear a nose strip in college because my roommate said my snoring kept her up!”

  Barrett laughed, “Wow, that’s pretty bad, Scarlet.”

  She went to playfully hit him but he caught her slender arm before it could make contact. They held eyes for a moment and her body became rigid, waiting for him to take her again. She was still sore from earlier and she was eager for him to have her again in just the same way. The thought of it made her wet underneath the comforter.

  His thoughts were drifting to similar desires but he knew if they had sex all week he’d never get to the bottom of what was happening with her. And whether that led to her being back in his life or drifting away again, at least he would know all the facts.

  “I was thinking we could talk a little,” he said, letting go of her arm. “Go take a walk on the beach. You know?”