Chapter Six
“I don’t know where she is, Mother. Asking me over and over isn’t going to change that.” Bret pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing over at the twenty-year-old’s naked body stretched across the bed.
“Have you heard anything at all from her?” His mother’s high-pitched voice grated on his nerves.
“No.” The young woman spread her legs wide showing off her young, pink pussy. “I have to go, Mother. I have a meeting I’m already late for.”
“Have you hired the investigation company your father told you about?”
“Yes.” He stood up from the chair and walked over to the delicious afternoon snack who was currently teasing the hell out of him.
“What have they found?”
Bret sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed one of the young woman’s pert, soft tits. The woman’s hazel eyes glazed over with desire. “Not much yet. I do have to go. I’ll let you know when I find something out.” He dipped his head down and flicked his tongue over the taut bud.
“Christmas is coming fast, and I want my grandson at our home.”
“Uh-huh.” Two of his fingers slipped into the young woman, and he groaned softly at how tight and firm she was.
“Are you listening to me?” His mother’s voice raised higher, if that was even possible.
Just shut the fuck up! “Yes. I’ve already told you I have to go.” He moved his fingers in and out of the luscious college student while his thumb circled her clit. As long as he lived, he’d never get tired of fucking a tight pussy or running his hands over a young woman’s smooth, firm body.
“All right. Call me later. I don’t want to let that bitch you married raise my grandson. And don’t sign the divorce papers. You’re a Carlton and we don’t divorce.”
“I have to run. Bye.” Bret threw the phone across the bed then covered the giggling twenty-year-old’s clit with his mouth.
An hour later, he stood by the window looking out at the Boston skyline wondering where the hell Savannah was. The young woman, fully dressed now, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek while squeezing his ass.
“I had a fun time. Call me if you’d like to hook up again.”
“Yeah,” he said, watching the snow flurries dance over the Charles River.
“Do you have the Coach bag you promised me?”
Bret grabbed his wallet off the table and handed her five one-hundred dollar bills. From the corner of his eye, he saw her frowning. “What the fuck’s the matter?”
“I sorta wanted a tote bag, so I don’t think this is enough.”
He looked at her. “That’s all I got on me.”
She bit the side of her lip for a few seconds then smiled seductively while she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Thank you.” She pressed her lips against his, then pulled back and stuffed the bills into her small handbag.
Bret heard the door close behind him, and he wondered what the hell her name was. She’d told him a few times when they’d met before, but her name escaped him at that moment. It didn’t matter because he knew she’d be more than willing to hook up with him again. Maybe the next time he’d take her out for an expensive dinner at No. 9 Park in Beacon Hill. He liked her eagerness to please and her unabashed enthusiasm, and her pussy tasted sweet like cotton candy. He presumed it was whatever douche she used to make sure her mound was sparkling clean and fresh.
For the umpteenth time, Bret called Savannah, but it just went to voicemail. “Fuck!” he yelled out, slamming his fist against the thick window. “You’re causing me a shitload of grief, bitch.” If it were up to him, he’d have signed the divorce papers the minute he received them and be done with it. Of course, he wouldn’t give her everything he had; however, he’d make sure she and the brat were comfortable, but it wasn’t up to him. His mother had made it her mission to keep butting into his damn life.
If only Savannah hadn’t lied to him about being on the pill. She had to have known that he wasn’t fond of children and didn’t really want any, even though he might have led her to believe they’d have a family when they were dating.
Bret closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the hotel window; the cool glass felt good against his warm skin. Images of Savannah waiting tables at Luna’s flooded his mind. She was damn beautiful. He’d been a senior at Harvard when he’d discovered Luna’s and had first seen her. She fucking knocked my socks off. All his efforts had been focused on winning her over. Savannah had been reluctant in the beginning because she came from “the other side of the tracks”—her words, not his. It was true that she was from a working-class family but Bret hadn’t given a damn about that. She was the most beautiful, funny, and genuine woman he’d ever known.
“We were happy, baby,” he whispered, “then you took an enviable sexual relationship and threw it in the fucking garbage by getting knocked up.” Once Savannah was pregnant, he couldn’t stand how her body had changed, and then after Timmy was born, Bret found the idea of a sexually active mother disturbing. He just hadn’t been able to connect with his wife again.
The buzzing of Bret’s phone brought him back to the moment, and he placed it against his ear.
“Bret,” Mary said. “I’ve left you several messages.”
He knitted his brows when he heard his mother-in-law’s voice. He wished everyone would leave him the fuck alone. “I’ve been real busy and haven’t had a chance to listen to my messages.”
“I heard from Savannah. I spoke with her a few days ago. She said they were both fine.”
“Where is she?”
“She didn’t tell me, and the phone number didn’t register, so I don’t have any way of getting a hold of her.”
“When’s she coming back?” The headlights from the traffic below looked like the glow worms he used to buy at concerts when he was a teenager.
“I don’t think she is.” Mary’s voice quivered.
“She can’t just disappear with my son.” Anger flared up inside him, not from any fatherly love, but from the fact that Savannah was throwing him the middle finger in a big way, and no one did that shit to him.
“I know why Savannah left you.”
“She told you about the affair?” The falling snow blurred the twinkling lights from the skyscrapers.
“Yes, she did. I haven’t told Frank,” she whispered.
Of course she hadn’t; Frank would never understand. He was loyal to a sickening fault, and if that’s what Savannah wanted, she should’ve married the plumber next door. Bret was a Carlton—the men cheated on their devoted spouses. His dad’s numerous mistresses never meant that he didn’t love his mother. Mother knew Dad would never leave her. Why the fuck would he do that for a stacked bimbo?
“Bret?”
“I lost you for a second. Savannah seemed to have forgotten about me once Timmy was born.”
“I can’t believe that. You two were so much in love. I know having a child is a lot of work, but she always wanted to be a mother and have a big family.”
“Yes … well … here we are. She’ll get tired of her little tantrum and come home, especially when the money runs out.” Bret had promptly cancelled all her cards when he found out she’d left him. No matter what you tell others, baby, we both know you love the lifestyle my money afforded you. You don’t fool me for a fucking minute.
“Savannah said she’d call me again real soon and that she won’t be home for Christmas.” Another quiver—it was getting annoying.
Mother’s going to be livid. Fuck you, Savannah. “Try and get her to tell you where she is. I want to bring them back home where they belong.”
“Are you finished with the woman you were carrying on with?” Mary’s hushed voice irked him.
“Yes. It was just a fling—it didn’t mean anything.” And it didn’t, but Savannah just didn’t understand that. You’re the one who changed the dynamics, baby, then you got mad when it backfired.
“I’ll try and find out. Timmy needs both his parents. I can’t believe they won’t be here for Christmas.” This time a small sob filtered through the phone.
Enough! “I have to go. We’ll keep in touch.” Bret slid the phone in his pocket then pulled on his overcoat. He was meeting some buddies for dinner before they headed over to one of the exclusive gentlemen’s clubs. One of his friends’ girlfriends was a stripper at the club. Declan was crazy mad for the stripper, and Bret and his pals thought Declan was acting the fool to jeopardize his marriage and reputation by falling in love with his plaything. That was something Bret had never done. At the end of the day, he still loved Savannah.
Bret wrapped the cashmere scarf around his neck and walked out of the Ritz Carlton Hotel into the cold night air.