The Surrender of Nina Fontaine (Awakening Book 2)

by Michelle St. James

  “Oh no,” Karen said.

  “Yeah.”

  “How was that?” Karen asked.

  Nina reached past the blanket to pluck at the grass. “I think he’s met someone new. It looks like they’re in Africa or something. She’s blond. And young.”

  Karen laughed. “What do either of those things have to do with anything?”

  “Just painting a picture,” Nina said.

  “Consider it painted. Are you okay with it?”

  “I thought I was,” Nina said. “I mean, it’s not like I thought he was going to be celibate the rest of his life.”

  “But?”

  Nina looked at her. “Seeing it was different.”

  Karen lifted her glass. “It always is.”

  “I guess so.” Nina looked out over the expanding crowd.

  “Are you okay?” Karen asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize how much I miss him until I saw his face.”

  “What about Jack?” Karen asked.

  “Jack is… amazing.”

  Karen smiled. “I’m sensing something unsaid, although I can’t imagine what could be left unsaid about Jack Morgan.”

  Nina took a drink of her wine. “It’s just different.”

  “Different how?”

  Nina chose her words carefully. “Jack is… overwhelming. He’s everything anyone could want in someone.” She immediately recognized the lie and wondered why she’d told it. “He’s just not very emotional, that’s all.”

  “Some people aren’t,” Karen said. “Do you doubt the way he feels about you?”

  She thought about it. “I think he cares about me as much as he’s capable of caring about someone.”

  “Is he respectful?” Karen asked. “I know he’s got some weird sexual shit going on, but is he nice to you?”

  Nina nodded. “He is.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Karen asked.

  “Liam was so warm. So… accessible, you know?”

  Karen took a big gulp of her wine and looked away.

  “What?” Nina asked.

  “I just…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Now you have to say it.”

  “You didn’t want either of them a year ago,” Karen said. “And I understood that. It was too soon. You needed time to recover from the divorce. I respected that.”

  “But?” Nina asked.

  “But when you decided to date again, it wasn’t with someone new: it was back to Jack Morgan.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s fine. The timing was better, you were ready to explore something you weren’t ready to explore before. And by your own account, things are going great. I mean, maybe you’ve lost some weight and you’re tired from all the crazy sex you’re having, a little… caught up, but — ”

  “Caught up?”

  Karen held up a hand. “I’m not judging. I’ve been there. Being caught up with Jack isn’t the problem, not that I’m aware of anyway.”

  “Then what is the problem?” Nina asked.

  The park lights dimmed in preparation for the movie, the sky overhead nearly dark. Nina shivered, the early May evening chilly enough that she was glad she’d brought an extra blanket.

  “Now that you have Jack — and things are going well, according to you — you’re second-guessing your decision to break things off with Liam.”

  “I didn’t say I was second-guessing anything,” Nina said, trying to control the anger swelling in her chest.

  “But you are,” Karen said. “What else is this about?”

  “I don’t know,“ Nina said. “I just miss him a little, that’s all.”

  “You miss Liam while you’re hot and heavy with Jack,” Karen said. “And only now, after you saw Liam with someone else.”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Nina said.

  “You weren’t happy with them before because you weren’t ready. Now you’re not happy enough with Jack to not pine after Liam,” Karen said. “I’m just wondering at what point you begin to wonder if it’s you.”

  “If what’s me?” Nina didn’t realize how loudly she’d spoken until an older man on a nearby blanket turned to look at her.

  “I don’t know, Nina.” Karen’s face was pinched. “Maybe you just don’t know how to be happy.”

  Nina opened her mouth to reply, then shut it when the movie flickered to life, the crowd erupting into applause. She watched the lights play across the screen, but she wasn’t absorbing any of it. All she could hear was Karen’s voice.

  Maybe you just don’t know how to be happy.

  17

  Nina lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a long drink as she scanned the crowd. She’d attended the Tony Awards with Jack, the first public event they’d attended since resuming their relationship, and she had agreed to attend an afterparty at the Carlyle even though she had work the next day.

  The paparazzi had gone crazy on the red carpet, snapping pictures and shouting questions. Nina had no doubt she would be featured alongside Jack in tomorrow’s award show coverage, but she could muster only the vaguest interest in the whole spectacle.

  Maybe you just don’t know how to be happy.

  Karen’s words had been ever-present in the weeks since their conversation at Prospect Park. In the beginning, Nina had been deeply wounded by the implication, but as time had passed she’d started to wonder if Karen was right.

  She was here with Jack, at an event most women would give their right arm to attend, in a dress that cost six month’s rent, drinking expensive champagne. Later she would return to Jack’s penthouse where he would ravish her body as only he could, bringing her to orgasm again and again, making her feel beautiful and desired.

  She should have been happy. Instead she was bored. The only part of the night that was of interest was the promise of sex with Jack.

  A familiar spark of heat flared between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together to try and squash it. Her appetite for Jack had only grown with the escalation of their games. Sometimes it felt like she lived for the hours after the sun had set, the hours she spent in Jack’s bed, bound and now sometimes gagged, her body plundered not only with Jack’s cock but with an assortment of toys and implements designed to bring them both maximum pleasure.

  Nothing else seemed very interesting by comparison, and she’d begun to feel like she existed in a netherworld no one else could see, a world that sprang to life after dark, when she tucked her daytime self, the self she showed the world, away for the night.

  She watched Jack work the room, wondering if anyone else noticed his pained expression as he shook hands, if they realized Jack was putting on a show, that the real Jack was probably as desperate as she was to return to the bedroom.

  From their smiles, she doubted it, although it was possible everyone in the room was faking it. Possible all of them had subversive selves tucked away somewhere.

  It was a miserable way to live. She’d been cherry-picking which details to share with Karen, Moni, Robin, and Amy, hiding her shame like she’d hidden her fear when she’d been married to Peter.

  She watched as Jack came to a tiny, curvaceous brunette in a slinky red gown. He lingered in her embrace, her kiss landing closer to his neck than his cheek, her hand possessive on Jack’s shoulder.

  Nina immediately recognized Collette Rousseau, the young French actress reported to have been engaged to Jack.

  Jack hadn’t been immune to Nina’s online research. She’d looked him up shortly after they’d gotten back together, wanting to be sure there wasn’t anything obvious she was overlooking in her desire to trust him again.

  The supposed engagement to Collette had been brief, lasting only a couple of months three years ago according to the gossip magazines and websites that reported it. The articles had detailed a fevered and highly sexual relationship that had resulted in a violet sapphire engagement ring from Asprey valued at an estimated half
a million dollars.

  There had been nothing to indicate the gossip was true, and Jack had never mentioned Collette during their conversations about his past, but the proprietary way Collette looked at him, her unwillingness to let go of his arm, and the closeness with which he leaned down to speak in her ear all indicated some kind of relationship.

  Jealousy wound its way through Nina’s veins, and she had to force herself to remain in place, determined to wait at least a couple minutes before joining them. The last thing she wanted was to look like some kind of needy cougar worried about her boyfriend’s attention to a younger woman.

  Feeling that way was bad enough, no reason to give anyone else ammunition.

  She finished her champagne and drew in a deep breath.

  Maybe you just don’t know how to be happy.

  Maybe she didn’t.

  A waiter approached her with a tray of champagne flutes, the sparkling wine bubbling festively in the glasses. Nina set her empty glass on the tray and picked up two full ones, then started toward Jack and Collette.

  The room was full of A-listers: movie and stage actors and actresses, singers and musicians, and the ever-present throng of rich philanthropists and socialites who clung to the coattails of people in possession of celebrity money alone couldn’t buy.

  She’d felt incredibly sexy when she’d slipped into the drapey silk georgette gown by Michelle Mason. It was an extra-sensual take on a grecian goddess dress, the front semi-conservative, the fabric hanging in light, luscious folds and wrapping to a back that almost showed the top of her ass.

  Now she could only notice how striking Collette was in the red gown.

  How tight and gorgeous.

  How young.

  She stopped at Jack’s side and handed him one of the glasses before placing her hand gently on his arm. Collette’s hand immediately dropped to her side, although she made no move to put distance between them, she and Jack still only a foot apart.

  “Thank you, darling.” Jack bent to kiss Nina’s head, then turned to Collette. “Nina Fontaine, Collette Rousseau.”

  Collette held out her hand. “Charmed.”

  Nina smiled as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Is this your first Tony?” Collette asked in charmingly accented English.

  Nina heard an implication under the question: it must be exciting for you to be around such important people.

  She silently scolded herself. She was too old to be petty. Collette wasn’t the enemy.

  “It is,” Nina said.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “It was amazing,” Nina said, and then just to prove she wasn’t as petty as she was feeling, “I love your dress.”

  Collette’s smile was patient, as if she’d been given the same compliment so many times she was tired of hearing it. “Thank you. Yours is nice too. I adore Michelle.”

  Now Nina was sure she wasn’t imagining the condescension in Collette’s voice: I’m on a first name basis with the designer of your dress. Can you say the same?

  “I don’t know her,” Nina said, determined not to engage in one-upmanship. She couldn’t compete with someone like Collette Rousseau. Nina’s honesty — her “realness” as Jack had put it — was all she had. “But she’s obviously very talented.”

  Collette gave her a chilly smile. Was she annoyed that Nina wouldn’t even try to play her game? That Nina wouldn’t fawn over the fact that Collette was famous and well connected?

  “I should find Ben,” Collette said. Nina knew from the red carpet that “Ben” was the highest paid male actor in Hollywood. Collette leaned in, pressing her body to Jack’s. “See you soon, darling.” The kiss that seemed meant for his cheek landed instead on the corner of his mouth, something that Nina guessed was no accident.

  She swallowed her ire at Collette’s use of the word “darling.” It had always felt like a word Jack used just for her, but now she couldn’t help wondering if it was a generic term of endearment he’d employed on the army of women who’d come before her.

  Collette turned to Nina. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Nina. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party.”

  As if she were a guest with no guarantee of a repeat appearance, which Nina had to admit was true. It was a tough realization to swallow, and she watched Collette sashay through the crowd, her taut, curvaceous ass a beacon for the eyes of every man in the room.

  Every man but Jack, who was looking down at Nina with an all-too familiar smile.

  It was a smile that said he could read her mind. A smile that said her human frailties both amused and delighted him.

  He bent his head and kissed her just below her ear. A shiver ran up her spine.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Everything’s fine.” She was determined to act her age and not like a high school mean girl who was so insecure she couldn’t be friendly with an ex’s girlfriend. “Why do you ask?”

  He grinned down at her. “No reason.”

  “Good.” She took his arm. “Can we find food? I’m starving.”

  “Of course you are, darling.”

  She ignored her sudden annoyance at his use of the endearment and focused instead on the fact that he was leading her through the crowd toward a series of tables laden with everything from lobster to oysters to caviar to gourmet mac and cheese.

  She was just hangry. She’d had too much champagne on an empty stomach.

  Later, when they were finally seated and eating, making small talk with a producer and his writer wife, Nina spotted Collette on the dance floor. Even when she was being silly, she was the most beautiful and magnetic woman in the room, the ultimate cool girl.

  Nina had a sudden flash of Jack, his face a mask of barely restrained lust as he worked the scarlet rope. Except it wasn’t her own body she saw being tied, but the firm, young body of Collette Rousseau.

  Had Jack done all the same things to Collette that he did to Nina? Had Collette been more adventurous? Willing even to engage in play at Jack’s sex club in Paris? Willing to watch other women go down on him?

  She didn’t know, but she finally had the answers to questions she’d been asking herself.

  How far would she go with Jack?

  What would she let him do to her?

  Was there anything that would make her use her safe word?

  Watching Collette, now doing a version of the Macarena that somehow managed to be sultry instead of cheesy, Nina knew the answers.

  All the way.

  Everything.

  No.

  18

  Nina stacked plates from the coffee table and carried them into Moni’s kitchen.

  “You really don’t have to do that,” Moni said lifting a cheesecake from the fridge and setting it on the counter.

  “It’s no big deal. I needed to stretch anyway,” Nina said.

  It was Moni’s turn to host their group dinner, and she’d opted for takeout pizza rather than a potluck, owing to her small kitchen and the fact that Angela was home. Nina didn’t mind. She barely had time to clean her apartment these days, making something to bring to the potluck was beyond the scope of her available hours.

  “I hope you guys weren’t expecting something fancy for dessert.” Moni pulled a stack of dessert plates from the cupboard and looked at Nina. “Trader Joe’s makes a better cheesecake than me anyway.”

  “You had me at cheesecake,” Robin called from the living room.

  “You had me at more wine,” Karen said.

  Amy laughed. “You must be losing your hearing. No one said more wine.”

  “Well, why the hell not?” Karen asked, standing to open the second bottle.

  Moni set a knife on the counter. “Do you mind cutting the cheesecake while I see if Angela wants dessert?”

  “Of course.” Nina picked up the knife and cut the cheesecake in half, then started making smaller slices.

  Robin appeared at Nina’s side. “Need help?”

  “I thin
k I’m good,” Nina said. “Unless you want to get us some forks.”

  “Sure.” Robin started opening drawers, the beaded malas and bangles on her wrists knocking together with a quiet clink. “I can’t get over how much space you guys have in Brooklyn.”

  Nina put a slice of cheesecake on one of the plates and set it aside. “It’s all relative, I guess. When I first moved here after having a house, I had no idea how I was going to manage in my one bedroom.” She laughed. “I still feel that way every time I come home from Karen’s apartment.”

  “You and me both,” Robin said.

  “You could aways join us,” Nina said. “There are tons of nice apartments on this side of the river.”

  She leaned against the counter. “Maybe if I ever cut back on my travel. I don’t want to pay for a bigger place when I’m hardly ever home.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Hey… you should come with me sometime,” Robin said.

  Nina looked at her. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I think it would be really good for you.”

  Nina’s instinct was to lash out, ask what Robin meant. She was still feeling sensitive after her conversation with Karen in the park, but Robin was the most non-judgmental person Nina knew. She deserved the benefit of the doubt.

  “In what way?” Nina asked.

  Robin shrugged. “It’s so liberating, so freeing. Sometimes when I’m away I forget what it’s like to be home, dealing with crowds and traffic and bills and which outfit to wear and whether I should get my bikini line waxed.” Nina laughed. “It’s easy to get… tight here, you know?”

  Nina nodded. She was feeling a bit tight herself, trying to juggle her job at the gallery and the demands of being Jack Morgan’s girlfriend, a term that seemed too innocent to describe what she was to him. It was getting more difficult to maintain a calm demeanor while running from place to place with her underwear in her purse, trying to figure out if she would have to leave work early in order to change in time for whatever plans Jack had made for them.

  Still, she couldn’t leave. Not now. Not with everything that was going on with Jack and not the way Robin traveled, indefinitely, with no solid timeline for returning.