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I make it just in time to pet my little dog, and watch my children sleep. I have to be a better mom. Everyone is safe and in bed and I take a few moments to glance over the newspapers. I want to read them, but I’m afraid of what I might find. Turning away, I discover my curiosity and concern for Jonas is getting the best of me. Therefore, I find myself trudging back to the papers lying on the coffee table.
Giving up, and giving in I pick up the nearest one.
I’m drawn in to the headlines. I gaze at one. I try to take in the news like nauseating medicine, a few doses at a time. First the front page. Nothing interesting in this paper. I close it and look over to another one. Closing my eyes for a minute, I mumble, “Why am I torturing myself? I should tell Max what we’ve done, but where do I begin?”
“Oh by the way Max, while you were busy working, and the world was going to shit, a man shot and killed his wife’s lover, a woman poisoned her husband because he complained about her spending too much money, and Jonas and I got rid of a body today.”
Max could solve this quite easily if we just tell him. The problem is how do I do this? I panic and try to blame Max. Where is he when I need him? He’s never around when I want him the most. He said he was coming home tonight. Why isn’t he home?
When I was pregnant with Maxim, I screamed for him, but I never revealed to Max that I was pregnant. Then how was he going to be there, and hold my hand as he had done for our second son? I questioned. That’s what I get for keeping secrets from him.
I’m afraid. I never should have tried to shield Jonas. Isn’t that Max’s job? Now Jonas in his own way has made me his protector and coconspirator. I can’t protect him. I need a protector.
Hiding the death of Miranda could end our lives as we know it if Jonas and I don’t reveal this to Max and let him help us. My thoughts are jumbled up, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion.
I wrack my brain and look at the newspapers. We could get time just for moving a corpse. Tampering with evidence I think it’s called. I can’t leave my children not for one second. What was I thinking? “I wasn’t,” I murmur.
Maybe I should be locked up along with Jonas.
Placing my hands to my mouth, another sigh. I come to the conclusion, “I can’t think about this now. I have too much to consider and too much to lose if I reveal this to Max,” I murmur as I pick up another newspaper.
Opening the paper with caution as if it’s a bomb, I’m searching for something I don’t want to find. But I open the papers nevertheless and read it. One paper after another. Flipping one page after another, searching through it like I’m mining for gold, and toss it to the side, until I come to the last one.
It’s there in front of me on the front page. What I have been looking for, and what I have been trying to avoid, and what I have been afraid to find. I steeple my hands over my mouth.
If you look you will find. Be careful what you search for, or sooner or later, you will find it.
MIRANDA CROSSMORE MISSING. LAST SEEN IN THE COMPANY OF MR. MAXIMILLIAN BLACKSTONE of BLACKSTONE HOTELS AND CASINOS.
I sit for what appears like an hour just gazing at that paper. Not breathing, not talking, but my eyes blinking nervously. Not moving, my hands glued over my mouth. Reading what followed has taken my breath away. My heart is racing. “It couldn’t be Max,” I murmur.
My legs are weak. If I stand, I will fall on my face.
The reporters, or whoever wrote this story, must have gotten him mixed up with Jonas, but then I look further down the page, and there is a picture of the two of them. There is my husband wearing his Italian black suit, white shirt, and dark tie with gray specks. My eyes travel to his shoes, and he’s wearing those black bespoke shoes he left by the bed the night before, and in his hand, a black brief case. Miranda and Max are standing in the front of the Four Seasons Hotel in Manhattan.
They just exited his limo, because there’s his driver Mr. Shu holding his door open. Max loves caviar. Maybe he selected that hotel for the Caviar Lounge? Maybe he selected that hotel for the private suites with the wonderful view of Central Park?
Why am I doing this to myself? There’s no way I can tell when this picture was taken. It could be this week, a year, or two days ago. I don’t want to know. I can’t keep all this in me. Too much pain.
Jumping up, I dash and rummage through a few drawers and find a magnifying glass. He’s carrying a black leather satchel I don’t recognize, but his hands are visible. I’m not yet convinced that it’s Max. Does he have a small tattoo between his thumb and finger? Does he have on his wedding ring?
Placing the glass over the paper I look for his wedding band, and then I check to see if he has a tattoo. I place the glass closer to the picture and my heart takes a dive off a cliff. A high cliff and there’s no water to break my fall.
The man in that picture is Max. Jonas has a small tattoo on his hand. That hand doesn’t have one. I slump over and try to bite my nails. I’m having no success with these false nails. A nasty habit, biting my nails, but that was the only thing that used to give me relief and get me through the nights when I was a teenager and homeless. I’m now resorting to those bad habits again. The way I’m going, I won’t have a nail on my fingers.
Where is Jonas? I’m frantic looking around. I know he isn’t here. He’s never around when I need him, and I need some reassurance, too, if just for moral support. What do I do now? I exhale slowly and bite my nails again. Then I remember that Robert wanted to see me and it had something to do with the girl in the picture.
Jonas said that he had dated her, and he turned her over to Robert. Did they all date her? Did all of them fuck her? Did they pass her around and Max ended up with her in the end. Was he the one who killed her?
When I first met Max, he and Jonas were embroiled in something like this. A woman Max and Jonas had dated died of autoerotic asphyxiation. Everyone thought Jonas had killed her and he was held for months before Max was able to get him released and the killer was caught. But was her lover at the time the real killer? I’m beginning to question that premise. I could go insane with my thoughts. I need to know if Max is involved in this.
Why is this happening again and to one family? What are the probabilities of the same thing happening to another woman unless one of them actually did kill that woman? These occurrences have had one common denominator, and that is Jonas and Max.
What the fuck is going on? I decide the best thing to do is to go talk to Robert. Maybe he has some answers for me. It may not be the smartest thing to do, but I need to do something because I’m thinking I could go out of my mind. How could I be so wrong about Max?
I don’t take time to comb my hair, put on lip gloss, or makeup, or do anything that has to do with impressing a man. It’s not that kind of visit.
Wandering into the elevator with my thoughts all over the place, and my mind cloudy, I get off at the next floor below mine. Max has given Robert a generous package when he hired him. There are only two apartments on that floor beneath my larger penthouse.
The door is to the right. Off the elevator, I make a hard right and stand at Robert’s door for a moment, trying to decide if this is the smartest thing to do. Then I throw caution to the wind without a plan and place my finger on the bell.
Waiting for him to answer, I wonder what kind of man Robert is aside from a stalker and womanizer. He opens the door immediately. He appears surprised and shocked even.
Standing before me in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, with his chest bare, my legs go weak from the sight of his upper body. Rock hard pecs and muscles in his arms, and that small waist. He has never struck me as a man who would wear clothes around his house. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe for him to answer the door stark-naked. The coolness of the evening may have caused him to wear the bottom half of his pajamas.
I stand still eyeing his muscular chest and powerful shoulders. His bare firm arms with fine dark hair give me a longing for his arms to be wrapped around me. He’s arrogant enough to be proud of his good looks and well-built body. My eyes rake slowly over him down to his pajamas hugging his small waist.
Taking in all his tempting attractive physique, as if I haven’t seen a man like him before, but I have, and I immediately catch myself and come back to earth.
“You came,” Robert says surprised. “I didn’t think you would.” He has a spark in his steely blue eyes.
“I’m a woman of my word.” I want to say I have been forced to make this concession, but there is no need to get him upset, because I need something from him.
“Please, come in.” He steps aside and I walk into a beautiful, decorated apartment. The floor has Italian marble as far as I can tell. He’s surrounded by Chinese antiques, Chinese silk rugs and thick silk curtains. His staircase is ornate of Chinese and Japanese influence. I’m gazing around at the dark silk curtains and beige marble flooring.
Remembering what Melody has said about Robert being rich, reminds me, when I spot his antique chairs, that he had paid over one hundred thousand dollars for an antique horseshoe chair with huanghuali wood, and he owns two of them.
When I mention to Max about bringing me a pair from Hong Kong, Max thinks it impractical to pay that much for one chair, even though he can afford it. He says, “Think about the children and the dog. It would be doing the chair a disservice, and the collector who could take better care of it.”
Max makes me a promise that with our next home, I can decorate it any way I want, without any interference from him.
“I see you admire my chairs. I’ll give you one. They’re from the Qing dynasty.” Robert smiled making a generous offer, as if he thought I would take a present from him.
“No. I don’t think Max would want me to take a present from anyone, he can buy me whatever I want, and I didn’t come here for that,” I say as a disappointed look crosses Robert’s face. He stops smiling and his eyes close for a second, as if he is thinking, and then he smiles with those straight white teeth.
“Did you come here for me?” Yes and no, I want to tell him.
“I came because you mentioned a young woman that I wanted to find out about.”
“And just when I thought you were here to agree to be my Dom.” He shoots me a charming small smile. I don’t know if he is teasing, or he is dead serious.
“You and I both know that’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible if we want the same things from each other. I need you for obvious reasons, and you need a man that’s going to be around to satisfy you the way I know how.”
“I can’t listen to this anymore. Never mind about the girl, I have to go.” I turn to leave, and Robert stops me with a touch of his hand. It’s not forceful, it’s gentle and soothing.
I’m aroused by his touch, and I don’t want to be. “He has a way with women, and he gets his way,” Melody had said. I can attest to that. Melody added, “But when he doesn’t want or need a woman any more, they are devastated and soon come to bad ends. Some drink and become drunks, some commit suicide, and then some wait for him to come back to them.” She has warned me, and yet I stand here, hoping for what I don’t know.
Which one will I become if I surrender to his charms?
I’ve surrendered to Maximillian Blackstone. He’s a man that women find seductive and try to get him to marry them, but I won. I’ve watched as women threw themselves at Max. After knowing all of that, I became his wife. What I got from my marriage are two wonderful sons and a crazy brother-in-law, and Max never around to be a father, husband, brother, or lover.
Now I’m infatuated with almost the same kind of man, but I have to be on guard not to succumb to his appeal. But my body is telling me what I need, and my mind is agreeing.
“Please, sit,” Robert says, his voice soft and engaging. I walk to the skyline and gaze out over Manhattan and then I sit on a sofa facing the skyline. He sits beside me.
I’m thinking about why I’m really in his apartment. I hold my hands in my lap to keep from biting my nails, because I’m nervous around this man, and I don’t want him to know just how vulnerable I am. But he knows women, and no doubt, he has seen this reaction to him before. He knows what he does to young women.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he says, walking over to a cabinet and raising a bottle.
“No. I’m not a drinker.”
“Why don’t you try a small glass of Grand Marnier Quintessence. It’s a cognac?” Robert takes a step over to me and hands me a small glass, and before I can say no, he’s pouring a small amount in. Because it appears to be such a tiny drink, I take a sip. It’s sweet and warm. He stands there smiling looking down at me. “Do you like it?”
“Yes. It makes me feel warm inside.” He pours more, and then pours himself a glass of Scotch as he glances at me.
“This is a man’s drink.” He has a relaxed smile on his face.
“Robert. I didn’t come here to socialize. I’m here about a young woman I saw with Max. It was a picture in one of the local newspapers. I want to know if you know her and the relationship between them.” I probably should have known better than to ask him, but I am curious if he will lie to me. I need answers.
“Does she make you jealous? I want you to be jealous about me that way.” His tone is seductive as his voice stokes a growing fire in me.
“Is that why you had your hands between your date’s legs when you knew I was standing at the table watching you?” I don’t know why I say that to him. I guess I am jealous, but then I don’t think I am a jealous person. Even now I’m more jealous of the relationship he has with his date than the relationship Miranda may have had with Max.
Could it be that Miranda is no longer around to bring out the jealousy in me? She’s somewhere in a suitcase in New Jersey.
“See you did notice, and looking at your face, I’d say you’re jealous because I’m dating. I would have given anything to have been able to place my hands, no let me correct that... my face between your beautiful legs. I will end my relationship with all those women. Just be mine. My woman.”
I’m sitting there breathless, not knowing what to say. What is there to say anyway after he breaks the barrier, and everything is on the table? I don’t know if it’s that sweet liqueur that’s making me hot, or his soft erotic tone, or his smoldering blue eyes.
Maybe it’s because it’s only the two of us sitting looking into each other’s eyes, with no one to stop us from fucking each other on his Chinese rug if I want.
I watch him looking at his rug. I think he has that in his mind, and I know I have to get some answers quick and get out. His touch alone sends chills up and down my spine with me calling for more of his touch.
“If I’m wrong and out of order I apologize.” Why is he apologizing, that’s totally not his thing? He’s brash and says what he feels. Is there another side to him?
“You haven’t said whether you know the woman or not.” I got that out quick so I could get out of there. “She appeared in today’s paper with Max. I don’t know if you’ve read the paper. She’s tall maybe five nine with dark straight black hair.”
“I think I know who you’re talking about. She works with Blackstone in his Hong Kong office.” I felt relieved. Max would never date someone who works with him.
Then it occurs to me that this is how I met him. That’s how he found the women who satisfy his extreme desires. I gestured for Robert to give me another drink, which he is more than willing to do.
When I planned my revenge against Max, he hired me in his office to train me to become his submissive.
The thought of Max’s past actions has made me sick, but not angry. I feel that I may have driven Max to Miranda because I haven’t been providing for his needs. I promised him that I could adjust to his sexual desires. Not everyone enjoys sex the way we were with each other. I promised Max that I would take care of all his needs, and here I am, with another man.
I spring from the sofa. “I have to go.” I need to find Max and we have to talk. He needs to come home. The last time we spoke he asked me about trying something new with him. I want to now. Anything.
Robert follows me to the door. “Why are you leaving me so soon? I thought you came here because you wanted to see me?”
“I came here because you mentioned something about a woman. I needed to know more about.”
“You wanted to know if your husband is sleeping with her. I wouldn’t say he was sleeping with her. She was necessary to his business.”
“As a business partner?” He smiles at me when I ask that question.
“You see Miranda Crossmore is Eurasian, who traveled in both worlds. She spoke several languages, and she provided a service for Blackstone to his super rich partners. She worked for Blackstone in several capacities. Now the service she provided, you don’t need to know about that.”
“But I do need to know.” I look at him and he’s standing with his arms propped against the wall above me in his foyer. I’m nervous. I have to get out. Robert has a scandalous smile covering his face.
“What will you do for me if I tell you everything?” His eyes are gleaming. I’m weak from the glare of his bright blues.
“Why can’t you just tell me without a stipulation?” I say, gazing down and then catching myself. I don’t want to telegraph weakness, so I stare up into his eyes.
“What other leverage do I have to get you to let me make love to you?” he says with a smirk. I try to say something, but he puts his finger across my lips.
“I don’t want you to have sex with me. I can get sex anywhere.” His voice is hoarse and low. “I want you to command me to have oral sex with you, and spend one night letting me show you how I can satisfy you to the fullest. I want you to punish me for my bad deeds. You know what I need.” A hiss of air escapes from my open mouth, and my eyes blink from surprise at his words.
“What will you get out of performing cunnilingus on me?” I question. He glances at me, tilts his head, as if he doesn’t understand the question.
“You have no idea what I will get from kissing your tempting bud, Alex.” He slides his tongue across my lips, and I half-heartedly pull away. This situation is getting problematic. I can’t complicate my life more than it is. I gaze at Robert and he’s ready to tell me.
“Miranda had a relationship with all of us. With Jonas, Maximillian, and me. If you want to know the exact kind of relationship, then you have to agree to let me make love to you.”
“I can’t. I can’t do that.” I jerk away and try to open his door. After becoming frustrated, I step back, and he opens it.
Now I have most of the information I need. The rest I can twist out of Jonas, and sooner or later Max will confide in me, but can I afford to wait that long? Now I have some idea why Miranda was with Jonas, and maybe why Robert was with her as well. But I don’t know why she’s dead, and how she died. All I can do is spend my time speculating about this and still I will know less than I know now. Robert feels sure that his charms will win me over, and maybe in time they will, but with all that’s going on now, neither Robert nor I have that kind of frivolous time in our future.