“Pivot! Pivot! PIVOT!” A girl with purple hair and tattoos down one arm is yelling over the top of a grass green couch when Quade and I exit the lift. Her attempt to rock the couch from its position, jammed against the door casing, is proving futile. It’s Thursday night, and since Samantha is irritatingly off tonight—despite my attempts to coerce her into trading—Quade and I moved our meeting to the apartment, so I can keep an eye on the girls.
Zinnie would have begrudgingly watched her for me, but each time I have to ask, which is often, I feel slightly evaluated by her. I can almost hear the words in her head, “Well, I never had to watch her before.”
I’ve been having this reoccurring nightmare that the girls and I are in a room that is filling with water. It reaches our ankles; the girls are watching me. It’s to our necks in no time at all, and their eyes beg me to save them. But I’m motionless. I can’t get my mind to search for a way out. So, I sit and pretend the water isn’t rising, pretend we aren’t about to drown. I convince myself that if I can get through one more day before the water is over our heads, I might find a way to safety.
There’s some fairly intense laughter veiled from the other end of the couch. One person cackles, the other wheezes like a person in an emphysema commercial.
“You have to stop. I’m going to pee myself,” gasps a familiar voice.
“Oh my God, stop before she pees on me!” says one less familiar.
“Pivot!” the purple girl yells with a bright smile on her face.
“I’m peeing!” The other end of the couch drops, and a blur runs into the other room.
“You have to stop,” the unidentified voice directs from the dropped end. “You know she pees every time we carry something heavy.”
“That’s because someone always ends up hurt and you know that makes me laugh!” Sam says, coming out of the bathroom, still tugging her shorts up.
“Please on all that is holy, do not urinate on my rug,” I say, unamused by the scene enfolding in front of me.
“Jesus Christ!” The purple haired girl drops her end. “Fuck!” she swears when it lands on her foot. She dramatically falls to the floor, pulling her toes as close to her body as she can get.
“See!” Sam giggles, laughing uncontrollably at her friend’s demise, running back to the bathroom.
“You must be Walt.” The tattooed arm shoots up from her prone position on the floor, offering me her hand. “I’m Zoe.”
“Nice to meet you, Zoe. I hope your foot isn’t injured.”
“She’s fine. I’m Grace.” A red-headed beauty leans over the couch to reach for my hand.
“Ladies, I’d ask you to mind your language while in front of the girls please.”
“The girls aren’t here,” Sam says as she reenters the room.
“What?” I ask with more agitation than is probably warranted. I’m certain I didn’t hear her correctly.
“Charlotte took them with her to pick up the pizza.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Charlotte took—”
“I understood that part. What I’m perplexed about is why you are feeding the girls. You are off tonight. Wouldn’t trade with me tonight because you are off tonight. I cancelled my plans because you were off tonight.”
“By chance are you off tonight?” Zoe asks Sam.
“Slow your roll. I am off tonight. I promised my girls pizza as payment for helping me move. Zinnie and Pops were just hanging out, so they asked if they could go. I didn’t think you would mind.”
“You didn’t think I would mind?”
“Is this a game you two play?” Zoe asks, her eyes darting between us.
“Move your sweet ass and let me in here,” Quade says stepping up to the end of the couch, moving Zoe out of the way. “While I appreciate your ‘Ross’ routine, it appears you girls could use some help.”
“Hey, Quade,” Sam sings.
“You’re Quade?” Zoe and Grace ask at the same time.
“Been telling the girls about me?” Quade’s teeth stretch the width of his face.
“You know it,” Sam winks. “Help me get this couch in here and I’ll share my slice with you.”
“How about a kiss instead?”
“Quade,” Finn growls, walking up behind us.
“No? A slap on the ass?”
“Just go to the other end, arsehat.” Finn shoves him out of the way and Quade crawls army style under the stuck sofa.
“Thanks, Finn.”
“You’re welcome, Grace. You guys are bringing it in at the wrong angle.”
“Why are you even bringing this—” I motion to what appears to be a couch from an old 70’s sitcom—“in here. There’s a perfectly fine ten-thousand-dollar couch already in here.”
“Not anymore. I had it moved to storage.”
“You had it moved to storage?” I immediately hold my palm up to Zoe, when I see her about to speak.
“I had it moved to storage. I wanted Bessie.”
“You named your couch Bessie?” Quade says as he and Finn slide it through the door.
“Bessie has seen a lot. I love Bessie.” Sam plops down on the couch and affectionately runs her hand along the back. She’s wearing jean cut-off shorts and a man’s white undershirt. Her hair is held back by a polka dot headscarf that covers her blond hair. Quade plops down next to her and rests his hand on her thigh.
“She has good bones,” he says as Finn slaps his hands away.
“Quade and I moved our meeting here, so I could look after the girls.” I attempt to bring us back to my point. My point is that I have been inconvenienced when in fact she planned to be here all along.
“Samantha?” Grace says nodding her head in my direction.
“Right,” Sam says looking up from two pictures she’s holding in her hands. “I know Zinnie will be happy she doesn’t have to look after Pops. There’s plenty of pizza coming if you guys haven’t eaten.”
“Sweet.” Quade stands and asks if there is anything else he can help move before the pizza gets here. Despite my protest for a delayed meeting, thirty minutes later he and Finn have moved a couple dozen boxes off the freight lift into the nanny’s quarters.
“Pizza’s here!” Poppy’s voice rings down the hallway.
“We’re coming,” Sam yells back, dusting a lamp before finding a place for it on the side table.
“Could we please refrain from shouting? We’re not barn animals.”
“You should let me give you a massage. I could work on your chakras. Relax you. Help you see through your third eye,” Zoe says, rubbing my shoulders.
“Samantha,” I implore through gritted teeth.
“Zoe, stop touching Walt,” she instructs, not even glancing this direction. “But you ought to let her. She’s an awesome masseuse.”
“Thank you, but I see just fine out of my regular two eyes.”
“I got pepperoni for you,” Poppy says, having materialized next to me and taking my hand. Her soft brown curls bounce as she pulls me to the kitchen, where there are five large pizzas spread out on the island.
“How many people are you expecting?” Finn asks, folding a slice of veggie in half and taking a bite.
“We’ll snack on them all night while we unpack,” a dark-haired girl answers. She’s striking. Her skin is pale, her eyes are slate gray, and her hair is black as coal. “I’m Charlotte.” She offers her hand before taking her place next to Zoe. The four girls are standing on the opposite side of the island next to each other, each as unique as the next.
“So, Zinnie,” Zoe says, taking her plate to the table. “Tell me about this girl Becky.”
“Ooh,” Charlotte says with a bite of pizza in her mouth. “Does she have good hair?”
All the girls stop and look at her.
“What? That was perfect timing and you know it,” she insists, popping open a Diet Coke.
Zinnie tells the story she told Finn the other night. Poppy sits in Grace’s lap and listens intently, pretending she understands what’s going on.
“So how did you handle it?” Grace asks.
“I told Becky we weren’t friends anymore.”
“What? Why?” Zoe asks.
“That’s what Finn said I should do.”
Four heads turn at once to Finn, who stops mid bite. “What?”
“Why would you tell her that?” Sam asks.
“Because she doesn’t need friends like Becky. And she needs to know she can stand up for herself.” He cautiously begins to chew, looking to the others for affirmation.
“Did you hear Becky say it?” Sam asks her.
“No, Jake told me.”
“The same Jake that Becky also said hit on her? The same Jake that hit on you?”
“The problem isn’t Becky. It’s Jake,” Zoe says.
“Finn’s right that you should always stick up for yourself, but I agree with Zoe. It sounds like Jake is spreading rumors to cover his tracks.”
“That little prick. If he spreads a rumor involving you, you come see me,” Finn says. Zinnie seems genuinely pleased by his protectiveness.
“Language,” Sam reminds Finn.
“Alright, chicas. We have a long night ahead of us.” Zoe stretches before standing and looking to Zinnie and Poppy. “I’ll see you cats in the morning. You can show me some ideas for your rooms, so I can draw up some plans.”
“That reminds me,” Sam says, grabbing a slice of all-meat to take with her. “Zoe is the designer I hired to help me with the girls’ rooms.”
“I beg your pardon?”
All the heads in the room turn to see Camilla standing at the entrance.
“Camilla.” I walk over to her, bending for a kiss. She tips her head slightly so that my lips fall to the side of hers.
“My lipstick hasn’t set yet,” she says quietly. She’s fresh from the runway shows in Paris and looks stunning.
“You remember Finn’s PA, Samantha. She was leaving him to go back to school, so I hired her to be the girls’ nanny.”
“Family Manager,” Quade quips, going quiet when I glare at him.
“What happened to the governess from Willingham?”
“She left.”
“I see,” Camilla says. “I can call them in the morning and attempt to convince them to send someone else. Zinnia, darling, you must give this next one a chance. I don’t know how many more opportunities they will afford us, but I have some connections I can work on.”
“Actually, Samantha is full-time. We’re going to try her for a while,” I say cautiously, trying to get a read on my fiancé. She doesn’t seem pleased.
“Lovely,” Camilla says.
“Alright ladies, let’s go,” Samantha says to her group.
“Can I help?” Poppy asks.
“Pops, it’s Samantha’s night off. Give me a few minutes to meet with Quade and then we can read a book, alright?”
“Alright,” she says, looking like someone stole her Edward.
“I thought we were having dinner tonight? The Steins are meeting us there,” Camilla reminds me.
“I can’t. I have the girls tonight. I rang you this morning and left you a message.”
“Go. The girls can hang with me and Quade,” Finn says, and there’s an unexpected oddness that settles in my chest. Disappointment.
“It’s settled then,” Camilla smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Cheers,” Finn answers the foyer phone. “Thank you,” he says before hanging up. I raise a brow in his direction.
“Oh, the front desk is sending—” The lift dings and a man I don’t recognize steps into the foyer, stopping in mid-stride when he notices a growing number of people are observing him.
“Hello?” he says with apprehension.
“Jake!” Sam’s face lights up as she bounces across the room, leaping onto the man. He catches her with ease, lifting her a few inches off the floor to plant a swift kiss firmly on her lips.
“Hey, baby.” He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose before setting her back on her feet.
“Hey, man.” Finn shakes his hand.
“Finn,” Jake says, then looks back to Sam. “I thought your last day was yesterday? I was surprised when you said to meet you here.”
“It was. I’m working for Walt now.” She makes the introductions, and when I shake his hand, I immediately know I don’t like this guy. Reading people is an integral tool to my success. Quade’s, too, and he’s clearly on the same page as I am.
“Working for Walt?” Jake asks.
“Come help us unpack and Sam can fill you in,” Grace says, breaking the uncomfortable tension billowing in the room.
“Let’s go, girls,” Finn says to Poppy and Zinnie. “There’s some gelato at Eatly calling our names.”
Quade, Finn, and the girls catch the lift down, while Samantha and her group move to the nanny’s quarters leaving Camilla and me alone.
“How do you expect the girls to get into the best schools if they don’t have the proper upbringing?” Camilla asks.
“They will have the proper upbringing.”
“With an American girl who hasn’t finished courses? I thought we agreed the goal was to prepare the girls for St. Mary’s?”
“Camilla, I don’t know that a boarding school is what’s best for them. They’ve already lost their parents. With their age difference, they will be on different campuses. I don’t think separating the girls is the wisest decision.”
“A few years apart is a small price to pay to ensure they are socialized in the best circles. Just think about it darling,” she says on our way down to the car. “Besides, they make it fine through the day currently and they are in different schools.”
I know this is going to be a fight, and I really don’t feel like fighting.
“What?” she asks, sensing there is more to be said.
“I’m allowing the girls to stay home the remainder of the summer.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Sam and Finn both felt like—”
“Samantha and Finn are not their guardians. You are. A good guardian can see what’s best for them, even when it’s difficult.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Camilla. I’m doing the best I can,” I say, hoping for a little encouragement. A little understanding.
“I’m not sure you are. If you were doing your best, the girls would be in boarding schools in London. Not in the states being looked after by a girl whose parents thought it was appropriate to give her a boy’s name. They must have been friends with Everett’s Jenny. Lord knows that woman had no upbringing. Who names their children after flowers?”
I sense this isn’t the time to point out Camellia is pretty fucking close to Camilla, so I don’t.
“Camilla, please tell me you never speak about their mother in that manner in front of the girls.”
“Of course not, dear. What’s done is done. We can’t change their names at this age.”
Her comment stops me dead in my tracks. She’s not suggesting…
“Oh, there they are.” She smiles for the Steins, and I pray to any god who will answer that dinner goes by quickly. But the gods are pissed at me and dinner is as boring as I anticipated. By the time we are back in the car, I couldn’t be more ready to be home.
“I have an appointment to get fitted for my dress in the morning,” she says when the car comes to a stop, “so I can’t stay, but I thought I would come up since I’ve been away a few weeks.”
“That sounds perfect.” I open the door and hold my hand out for her. She slides out of the car as if exiting a stage, and people near on the street take notice. She nods and smiles as if she is the most approachable person they might encounter. The porter greets her, and she gives a polite nod in his direction, calling him a name that isn’t his. I’m just pushing the button to the lift when the doors open and Quade and Sam’s friends step off.
“Leaving?” I ask with an arched brow. Leave it to Quade.
“We’re going to pick up a few supplies for Sam. We’ll be back in about thirty minutes,” he says happier than a lark. “Finn took the girls to his place to watch a movie. Pops fell asleep about an hour ago, so they are spending the night with him. Need anything?”
“No. Thank you,” I say from inside the car.
The lift doors close and I move to kiss Camilla.
“We’re almost home. Just wait, darling,” she says, scrolling through a society page on her mobile.
“His name is Vinnie,” I say with exhaustion in my voice.
“What?”
“The porter you greeted as Ralph, his name is Vinnie.”
“What does it matter? He’s the help.”
The lift opens, and the apartment is quiet. Quiet enough that I can hear music coming from Sam’s quarters.
“I trust you will let her know that is not acceptable?” Camilla says over her shoulder. I follow her down the hallway to my master wing.
“Certainly,” I placate. I really could give a rat’s arse about a little music.
“I need about twenty minutes,” she says, entering my room.
I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my tie and suitcoat. “I’ll just pop down to Finn’s and see about the girls.”
“Fine,” Camilla says from the closet.
I decide to stop into Sam’s room to ask her to lower the music and to remind her guests are allowed in her quarters, but not about the house as they please. Unbuttoning my shirt cuffs, I come to a stop just outside her door when I hear her. Jake is still here, and from this angle I can see his arms around Sam. She’s laughing as he kisses his way down her throat.
“They’ll be back in ten minutes,” she moans.
“Good. I only need three. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s only been four days.”
“Like I said, forever.”
“We have to be fast,” Sam says breathlessly as Jake turns her to the wall. He pins her wrists in his hand while his free hand pushes her shorts down her thighs.
“Fuck me, you’re ready,” he says when his hand finds its prize.
“God, yes.”
He lifts his shirt and his dick is already sheathed. Sam’s T-shirt hangs over her body, but he raises it slightly, so he can guide his way inside her. I’m out of their line of sight, but I can see the curve of her backside. Her moans confirm that he’s found what he was looking for. There’s no foreplay. No preparation. Just fucking against the wall, and even though it’s wrong, I can’t pull myself away from watching her face—cheek pressed against the plaster—as he pleasures himself by way of her body.
“You like this, don’t you?” His hand snakes under her hair wrap and pulls her head back, allowing him better access to her jaw. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” she answers breathlessly, her arms still pinned above her.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“I like it, too,” he says before running his tongue along her jaw.
His body slaps against hers, the sound echoing off the bare walls and his free hand moves from her hip to her wrists. He pounds hard into her several times before releasing one of her arms.
“Get there Sam, we’re on the clock. Touch yourself.”
She does as she’s told, her fingers moving down her body. I can’t see them, but I’m aware the minute she touches herself by the look of pleasure on her face.
“Fuck yes.” He releases her other arm, so he can grip her hips with both hands.
“Get there, dammit,” he says between clenched teeth.
“I’m almost, almost…” she cries out in pleasure, shuddering as her release flows through her. Jake picks up his pace and slams into her one last time before unleashing a string of expletives, his body falling against hers.
“Talk about wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am,” Sam giggles, and it pulls me out of my reverie. My hand is massaging my pants-covered cock. I back out of there as quietly as I came and close my bedroom door behind me.
“I was thinking,” Camilla says, removing an earring before I lift her against the wall, plunging my tongue into her mouth. She whimpers and when I let her up for air she demands to know what I’m doing.
“I missed you,” I answer, but even as I say it, I realize it’s not true, but she’s grinding her sex against mine, so I store that thought away for a later day when I have time to evaluate what that might mean.
Setting her on her feet I turn her to the wall and pull her nightgown up her body exposing her arse. Her body is tight and flawless with no curves to be found. I palm her breasts and she shimmies her slender backside against me.
“Bed,” she hums.
“Here,” I tell her, rolling a condom down my length.
“No.” She maneuvers to face me. “I’m not some whore you picked up on the street. We’re not fucking against a wall. Especially not when you’re still dressed.”
I bristle irrationally when she unknowingly refers to Sam as a whore. My breathing deflates, along with my dick, as my forehead thumps against the wall.
“Walt?” Camilla calls from the other room. I don’t answer but take the time to remove my clothes, willing my dick to harden again. I don’t want to have this conversation right now.
By the time I’m on the bed, my libido is napping like it just had a margarita under a palm tree. I kiss down her body hoping it will ignite the fire, but it’s no use. By the time my mouth closes over her pussy, I know. It’s not happening.
Another twenty minutes passes before Camilla finally comes on my tongue, and when I move up to kiss her, she wraps her hand around me. I know there is no chance she is going to blow me. Her lips haven’t touched around my cock since she had that extra glass of wine a week after we started dating.
“Come on, darling. You can do it.” Camilla’s inert tone threatens to keep my orgasm at bay. My displeasure at the inevitable conversation if I don’t come shamefully propels me to close my eyes and remember Samantha’s moans, the curve of her back, the way her body shook when she came. And just like that I’m hard. A minute later, I come.