32

AIDEN

 

We land in New York. And I should be glad I’m home. But, I’m all sorts of uneasy instead.

I’ve been running on next to no sleep, other than a nap during the third Spiderman movie and a bit of napping on the flight here.

Adele was only just eight months pregnant, so my niece, Lilly, scared us to death. It was a rough night, but thankfully she arrived healthy and strong.  Audra was passed out drunk when the news came and when my father tried to wake her to get her to go with him to the hospital, she wouldn’t get out of bed. The whole family is absolutely pissed with her. Adele told me she shouted at her and Austin was there and backed her up, which Audra is having a conniption about. 

She was never there much for any of us growing up, but here was her daughter in labor a month early after a complicated pregnancy and her mother could neither be at the hospital nor look after her grandson. Dirk’s parents were out of town. I’d have had to stay home with Braeden or bring him to the hospital if Carly hadn’t been there.

And all the way to the hospital after the birth, my two-and-a-half-year-old nephew schooled me that I should marry Carly because she’s pretty and nice and covered him with a big comfy blanket when I’d forgotten to bring him a big blanket and he only had his Pooh blankie with him. “If I have a forgetful unco, at least maybe my auntie will remember blankets for sleepovers.” He’d rolled his eyes from his car seat. Bossy little kid. Still carried around a security blanket. Is only just outta diapers and he’s giving me relationship advice.

But the kid has a point.

I took him in my SUV, which I rarely use and was thinking of selling. I’d told Carly my Crossfire was a two-seater, but I omitted that I also have an Audi Q7. I wanted the feel of her wrapped around me on my bike last week. I fuckin’ loved it.

I didn’t love what went down over the weekend. She thinks I’m a piece of shit.

And on one hand I’ve got news that my Dad is my father, but yet he could be taken from us. And it turns my stomach.

And yet that wicked witch that is my mother is picking fights with cops and meddling in my life and cheating on my father. He gets the news he’s got prostate cancer and is she stepping up as his wife? No. She’s upping the life insurance payout and driving drunk after liquid lunches while plotting with my ex, getting arrested and giving my father more stress. Not to mention my sister, who was on the phone with me Sunday morning, asking if I could babysit so Dirk could go play golf.

Adele grumbled about Audra being arrested and told me that our father had told her about his medical status. She was pragmatic about it, as Adele always is. I guess that’s why my father told her all about it, because she seems so strong. Dad said he wasn’t gonna say anything, but she’s like a hound when she catches a whiff of something so she obviously interrogated Dad.

Only, she obviously isn’t as strong as she pretends, because she winds up in early labor, likely due to all the bullshit Carmichael stress.

And then Monday morning, trying to work on zero sleep, I hear from my mother who phones me to tell me my presence is requested at Sunday dinner. And she says all this like nothing has happened.

And I pretty much fucking lost it on her.

All this shit while wondering who fucked with my phone. Not to mention that when I got a chance to think about some sick fuck having Carly’s underwear, I got this anger, this possessive rage at some guy getting his filthy mitts on something so intimate.

I spent the limo ride to the airport answering the dozens of emails that have been piling up all day.

Carly was quiet, beside me in the limo, as far away as she could physically be, scrolling on her phone and trying to avoid eye contact.

I drifted off during the flight while she read on an e-reader.

I woke up abruptly and her head was on my shoulder.

No way to be comfortable sleeping sitting up on a plane, even in business class, but her beside me like this, head on my shoulder, arm flopped on my leg. I needed to take a piss, but was not about to move just then.

I ran my index finger along her palm. Her hand twitched and she nuzzled into my shoulder a little. I smirked and tried it again. More nuzzling.

The pilot broke the spell, though, as he started talking over the loudspeaker, making her jolt, looking disoriented and then remorseful.

“Oh, sorry,” she said.

I gave her a wink and got up to go use the john.

 

***

We’re heading toward my driver who’s waiting. Joshua gives me a polite nod and then takes Carly’s bag from me and leads us to the car. She acted all weird about me pulling her suitcase, but I’ve only got my laptop bag since I live here. We’re only here a couple days but I brought a good amount of clothes two weeks ago when George first went on leave, so have got enough clothing between San Diego and New York to not have to lug stuff back and forth.

She’s looking around in wonder as we travel the streets to my address.

“You not spend much time here?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I’ve been here, but not much. I may be from New York, but my old place is a nearly seven-hour drive from here. I’ve only been here twice. It’s really cool.”

She turns her phone on and it makes all kinds of noise.

She’s got her thumbs on it, replying to a text. “My Mom sent pictures of the jewelry. Should I forward it to you? The pictures aren’t terrible, considering she took the pictures of pictures with her phone and her phone is probably ten years old.”

“Yeah, send them over. I’ll send them to Jude.”

We stop at my building and Joshua gets her stuff out. I grab the bag and send him off, telling him to meet us at eight in the morning here.

She looks up at my building. “What’s going on?”

“Hm?” I ask, fiddling for my keys and leading her to the entrance.

She looks red-faced. “This isn’t a hotel?”

“It’s my condo.”

I wave at the doorman.

“Mr. Carmichael. Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Buster.”

The concierge greets us. “Mr. Carmichael. Lovely to see you. How long are you home?”

“Till Thursday, Shep. This is Carly Adler. She works for CC. She’ll be here to Thursday so if you see her coming and going, she’s got full access.”

“Miss Adler,” he greets. “And so noted, Mr. Carmichael.”

She mumbles a hello and tries to smile but it looks like her face is about to crack.

We get into the elevator and I press 75.  The doors shut.

“This isn’t a hotel,” she says. Again.

“I live here.”

“Why aren’t I going to a hotel?”

“I have a spare room,” I say. “Logistically it makes sense. Fiscally, it also makes sense.”

She shakes her head and folds her arms across her chest.

“My father’s admin arranged this. Alice probably figured we share an apartment in San Diego, it wouldn’t be a big deal. She’d have told me if he wanted you to have a hotel room.  It would’ve been in the itinerary.”

I fight a smirk. I fail. The elevator doors open a few seconds later and I lead her into my condo.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” she mumbles.

I smile. “Have I given you any reason to distrust me?”

She doesn’t answer me.

I fight to hide a grin.

Once we’re in my apartment, she looks around.

“Wow, it’s clean,” she says, with surprise, not answering the trust question.

“I have a housekeeper here. She cleans it and stocks the fridge.  We’ll be here till Thursday morning, so if you want anything specific, I’ll ask Jada to have it delivered. Bananas. Eggs. Hot sauce. Bottle of twist-off $3 wine?” I smirk at her.

She looks me in the eye. “I prefer the fancy box of wine with the little plastic pour spout, if you must know.”

God, if I don’t fuck her soon, my balls are gonna explode.

Wait, asshole. She doesn’t wanna fuck you. She thinks you’re a piece of shit.

But would she change her mind after I bent her over the table by the window with my view of the Hudson River and jammed three fingers up her pussy?

Or maybe if I took her to my bedroom and threw her legs over my shoulders, letting her head dangle off the bed so I can ram my thick cock into her while she looks backwards out at the view of Central Park? She’s not gonna be impressed by my 2 bedroom $7M New York City condo in Central Park West. But maybe she’ll be impressed by my ability to hit her G-spot while also making her clit sing.

I rented this place when I moved here two years ago. Last year, I bought it without touching a dime of my trust fund.

But that wouldn’t impress her much. What does impress a girl like Carly Adler? She looked at me like I was a superhero when she left the apartment and saw my two-and-a-half-year-old nephew sleeping on me on the couch. Yeah, my eyes were only half closed as I’d heard her leave.

My father reacted to my buying this condo by buying me the condo in San Diego. It was a lot like when I was sixteen and bought my first car, my Crossfire, with my own money and he reacted by buying me a BMW a year later. I sold the BMW. I still have the Crossfire.

“There’s your room.” I gesture to the hallway. The second bedroom has a double bed and an ensuite. She doesn’t have an ensuite bathroom in San Diego. It’s a smaller bedroom, no balcony, but it’s got a great view.

“I’m across the hall. You hungry?”

She nods.  “I could eat.”

“Go ahead and get settled.  Meet me in the kitchen and we’ll see what’s here.”

My apartment here is smaller than the San Diego one, it’s modern, open, mostly windows. You don’t live up here and pay this price without taking every opportunity to admire the view.

She’s in the kitchen with me a minute later. My head is in the fridge.

“Deli sandwich stuff, a sushi boat, grapes, a cheese tray, potato salad, tuna macaroni salad with deviled eggs, roasted red pepper hummus, stuffed olives…”

“How old is that sushi boat?” she looks concerned.

“It’s from today. Jada stocked the fridge today.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, any of that sound good?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, definitively.

“Which---” I start.

“All of it. I’m starving.”

“You gonna eat all my food, peaches?”

“Damn straight, Hot Sauce,” she answers with a devious smirk on her face.

Fuck, she’s cute.

I grab a baguette Jada put on top of the microwave and pass it to her and then pull everything out of the fridge. Jada knows what I like and when I’m here, she’s in every day cleaning up my mess after me and stocking more stuff that she knows I like unless I leave her a note with something specific I want.

I open a bottle of red and pour two glasses.

Carly has pulled the bread out of the paper bag, grabbed a bread knife from the block, and she’s slicing the baguette while I lay everything out.

I sit down at the breakfast bar. She does, too, and she immediately digs in to the sushi. She makes an orgasmic sound as she chews, with her eyes closed.  My dick twitches.

We pig out in silence for a couple minutes and then I notice she’s looking out at the city. “Quite a view.”

I smile. “Yep.” But, I’m looking at her.

She flushes red and pops another piece of green dragon roll into the soy sauce and puts a big sliver of ginger on top.

“Oh. More photos like in San Diego.” She gestures to a wall.

“Yeah, it’s a hobby,” I shrug.

Her eyes go wide. “You took those? And the ones back in San Diego?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re great. You’ve got a good eye. I mean, I don’t know anything about photography, but… they’re good, Aiden.”

I dip my chopstick into the glob of wasabi and shrug. “Thanks.”

She looks at the food with horror. “That stuff is way too hot.”

“It’s hot. But I just take a bit. Try it.”

“I only tried it once and it burned my face off. But, I smeared it like it was peanut butter.”

I touch it with the chopstick and dot a tiny speck onto a piece of butterfish sushi. “Try that one.”

She looks at it with hesitation and then picks it up with her chopsticks and takes a bite. She chews slowly, bracing, but the horror doesn’t come.

“Not so bad?” I ask.

She nods and sips her wine. “Not so bad.”

She dots a speck of wasabi onto another roll, bathes it in soy sauce, and lifts it.

I smirk and eat another stuffed olive and then stretch. “I’m wiped. Seein’ double. Gotta crash.”

“I’ll help you put all this away. I’m tired, too.” She pops the piece in her mouth and gets to her feet.

We work in silence, wrapping all the food up and she passes it to me as I put it in the fridge. She handwashes the two plates I’d put out as well as the bread knife and then she wipes the counter. It’s odd to see a woman that’s not an employee cleaning my kitchen. Any woman I’d had here for any limited amount of time wasn’t here long enough to need to clean, but I highly doubt any of them would have.

“Goodnight,” she says hesitantly.

“Night, Carly,” I say.

And then I hit my bed and lie there for two hours thinking about her.  I fall asleep with my hand on my spent cock, sated after a fast fap session, imagining her here, in this bed with me.

What the fuck is goin’ on with me? I didn’t even try to blank out her face this time. Wouldn’t matter, though. I haven’t been able to blank her out for a week.

***

I hear crying. I sit up. What is that? A woman crying? No, not crying, whimpering, like she’s getting fucked. I strain to listen. Is that Carly? Is she touching herself across the hall from me?

I step into the hall and there’s more noise. A cry that sounds panicked.

“Aiden! No!”

I open the door and rush in. She’s in the bed, thrashing. She’s having a nightmare.

“Carly?”

She’s still thrashing.

“Carly?” I repeat, louder. It does nothing. I move closer. She’s got a face of agony and she’s whipping her head from side to side.

“No!”

I grab her by the shoulders. “Carly, baby, wake up.”

She gasps and bolts upright. Our foreheads crack together. I hiss.

She cries out and grabs her forehead. “Ow.”

“Fuck.” I’m rubbing my head. “You had a bad dream. You were havin’ a freak-out. You okay?”

The light in the ensuite bathroom is on, the door open a crack, so I can make out her face well enough, and she’s looking at me with her chest rising and falling. “Sorry. S-sorry.” She rubs her forehead some more.

“You were calling for me. What was the dream?” I reach out and rub my thumb along her forehead.  She flinches so I let go and get off the bed, standing over it. I’m putting distance between us, because it’s obvious that’s what she wants.

“I… I don’t know.”

I stand there and stare at her for a minute. She’s bullshitting me.

“You freaked out about the stuff going missing?”

She nods, not looking at me.

“I’ll get to the bottom of it. Do my best to get your grandmother’s jewelry back.”

She nods. “I know. Thank you.”

“Okay, well, it’s four a.m., so … you okay?”

She nods yet again, still not making eye contact. “Sorry I woke you.”

She readjusts the blankets to cover up. I hesitate a second, thinking about apologizing for the bullshit I’ve put her through.  Thinking maybe of telling her she makes me feel guilty after I act like a dick and I’m not used to that. I don’t know what the fuck I wanna say. I need to fuckin’ sleep some more. So, I go back to my room, leaving her door open, thinking it might make her feel less afraid. I leave my bedroom door open, too, and then I crawl back into bed.