AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ugh, I didn’t ask if you got laid, Des!” She pretended she
was plugging her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “I could care less about your sexual exploits. Don’t want to see them, hear about them, just...no. I mean, do you want to hear about my sex life?”
I took a shuddering bite of my croissant, swallowing before I answered. “Considering I nearly murdered the best boy for looking at your ass, I think you know the answer to that question.” I looked into green eyes that were identical to my own and smiled. No smirk, no half smile, a full on grin. “And not that it’s any of your business, but we haven’t-” I slammed to a stop mid sentence, my smile faltering. The word ‘sex’ suddenly felt vulgar. And more than that, I felt this need to defend Sophia. To defend what we had, which was utterly ridiculous. If I hadn’t been reeling from my attraction to her, I would have had sex with her. Hell, sex was probably exactly what we needed to do so I could get her out of my system before either one of us did something crazy like fall in you-know-what.
“Her name is Sin. And you met her at a sex club.” Mallory was speaking slowly, like she was waiting for some vital, missing piece of information.
“Her real name is Sophia.” I scooted the knot of my tie up a few inches. Tightening the lid on my emotions. They would do me no good here. Or anywhere. “And yes, we met at Hush, which is a sex club, but...” I trailed off, not finishing my sentence again. I knew I was blushing before Mallory unhelpfully pointed it out.
“Oh my gosh! You like her!” Mallory’s high pitched excitement carried, drawing a handful of unamused eyes in our direction.
I dabbed my mouth with my napkin, aiming at invisible crumbs. Mostly, I was trying to pretend she didn’t catch me redhanded. Or, just red in general if the heat that was invading my face was any indication. I was guilty of doing the very thing I’d turned to the world of kink to avoid.
“Don’t be juvenile, Mal. I said I met someone, not that we’re dating.”
“Well, you’re not fucking-”
“Language!” I admonished her.
“Oh God, you sound just like-”
The word 'Mom' died on her tongue and the sparkle faded to sparks of glitter, like some great wind had gusted through and upended everything. Our eyes locked and I knew that whether or not I was ready to discuss that night, ready to face the past, was irrelevant. Caity wasn't the only thing we lost that night. We lost the comfort of denial; the naive belief that it was normal that our mother downed a bottle of sangria with dinner. That she wasn't an alcoholic because those people couldn't function and she was active in church and always smiling, laughing, the life of the party.
She was still here, a shadow of her former self...but we lost her too.
Mallory combed her fingers through her live wire strands, tugging the red locks over her shoulder. I think both of us were glad that we could hide behind our shades.
“So, if she's not one of your, what do you call them?”
“Submissive,” I answered, trying to not sound annoyed that she was pretending she didn't know that word. Or what I did. She was my assistant, my sister, and to be honest, my best friend. There was nothing secret between us—including her disdain for my choices in the bedroom.
“Right.” She skated her fingertips along the stem of her wineglass. “If she's not that, and you're not dating, what is she?”
A few seconds ago, I relished the opportunity to talk about something, anything, other than the past. To be honest, I thought the mention of Sophia would be met with the usual eye roll and 'Des will be Des' ambivalence. But when I looked at my sister, I could see that her question was a genuine one, and she was searching for a genuine answer.
And the truth wasn't something I was ready to admit to her...or myself.
I heard Kara's high pitched voice before I saw her and felt a measure of relief. Mallory smirked when she saw what made me relax. Kara should have had the opposite effect. My nerves should have been on edge, battening down the hatches for the invasion. If I was trying to downplay the gravity of this mystery woman, turning towards a woman I saw as my arch enemy like she was my savior wasn't the way to do it.
Kara's eyes were on her phone, completely oblivious to everything, but she somehow navigated to our table without running into any tables or unsuspecting waitstaff.
While she was oblivious to the rest of us, not noticing her wasn’t an option. She towered over most at 6’1. She kept her hair dyed cobalt blue and favored rainbow colored sundresses and combat boots, though she could hold her own in a boardroom against any opponent in a suit. Her voice was as loud as her personality, and right now, all conversation on the patio stalled as she breezed in like a tornado, uprooting everything in her path.
“Actually, I don’t care that she’s missing her kids,” Kara growled. “You should remind her that she signed a contract, and the fact we allow her to call them every night and sing them lullabies at all is a gift, not a right.”
Our waiter was on the ball, leaping to action now that the third in our party had finally arrived, but his smile stalled when Kara held out her hand, literally inches from his face, silencing him before he could get a sound out.
“I swear to God, if you tell me that Nita told that woman flying her kids in was an option-” She pulled the phone away from her ear with a scowl, then snapped it back into its permanent position: attached to the side of her head. “I’m sorry, I had to make sure you were still there because you’re silent, and you know I hate it when you go silent.”
I grit my teeth as Kara drilled the point home, repeating ‘Hello?’ with ever increasing volume, though I knew her poor assistant was still on the line. He wouldn’t dare cross Kara; she ruled the production staff with an iron fist.
“Oh, there you are. Stop apologizing. Do not say sorry one more time or you can pack up your shit and go back to Tacoma.” She finally turned her coal gray eyes on our waiter. His face was officially the same color as Mallory’s hair. “A vodka cranberry.” When the waiter didn’t heed her wishes without hesitation, she whipped her head to the left, asking my sister a rhetorical question. “Did I stutter?” She turned her ire back on our waiter. “Maybe English is your second language.”
“The full bar isn’t open yet,” he stammered, but I could tell his embarrassment was quickly becoming justified anger.
Kara’s hand made a reappearance. “If you can make a mimosa, you can crack open a bottle of vodka.” She pulled out the chair between me and Mallory, but she wasn’t done yelling into her phone. “No, I’m not talking to you. Just handle it. I’m busy.” She dropped her phone on the table with a clang. “Sometimes I wish I could set this thing on fire.”
“Well, if you did that, who would you yell at?” It should have been a joke, but there wasn’t an iota of humor in my voice.
