Page 57 of Mangled Memory
Christian goes rigid beside me. “Excuse me for a moment.” He slides from the room, spine straight and chin up, in the direction Fitz went with my father.
And I’m left with a room full of Denver’s movers and shakers who avoid looking at me like I have leprosy.
“Eat please and have another drink.” I smooth my voice out to a confident, warm tone that I do not feel in any way. “I suppose my teenage self is owed something like that for the stunts I pulled. One time, I snuck out and ‘borrowed’”—I make air quotes with my left hand—“their car. Responsibly, of course.” I wait for a chuckle that’s slow to come. “But got it stuck in the backyard of my Aunt Gemma’s house when she was out of town. I’d gone to raid her liquor cabinet before a bonfire. Heavy late snowfall meant the tires dug into the earth, and I had to be towed out.” I look to the sky. “Sorry Aunt Gemma for those ruts that ruined your yard,” I add, to make the story more palatable. “I washed their car and had it back in the driveway and they never knew. Well, they won’t if you don’t tell.” I lift my wine glass to them and take a big sip. “I’m sure we all have a story or two like that where we didn’t exactly get what we deserve. Thank goodness, right?” I grab my fork and scoop up a bite of the prime rib.
The man, two to my left, whose name escapes me but who’s a tech entrepreneur, if I remember correctly, begins telling a similar story, just as Ren slides into the room in the far corner. He gives me a quick nod acknowledging me, and I return my attention to the mogul. He shaved his head bald and referred to himself as a monk for a full month when his parents grounded him from his computer for hacking into a government web site. It was the same time his mother retired from the Air Force, so every picture of the special event has his tan face, a very white scalp and a mustard-colored robe. “It’s atrocious. I bought them a vacation home in Cabo and I still feel like a pain in the ass. Teenagers are punks.”
On and on it goes, people laughing and divulging their misdeeds. It has its intended effect—deflection. It has one Icouldn’t foresee as well. The room is full of people connecting in a way that supersedes business deal-making. It’s not positioning and profitability. It’s relational.
It certainly wasn’t any expectation I had for tonight. By the time Christian returns, our guests are one-upping each other with stories of their teenage misdeeds.
He leans in and whispers, “What did I miss?”
“We’re telling our deepest, darkest secrets so everyone has blackmail material that’s pointless. It’s like camp, only with caviar.”
He kisses my neck under my ear and continues his low murmur. “How you manage to make everything perfect is beyond me. But I’m so grateful. Love you, Princess.”
I turn, dipping my chin, and kiss his jaw. My eyes hold his in unspoken words, before we turn back to the laughter erupting at the other side of the table.
“You did not!” a man chortles. “Me too.” He lifts his chin to my husband and points his butter knife at his chest. “This is the most fun I’ve had in… I can’t remember when.”
Christian nods and lifts his wine glass.
What can he say? But he manages to smooth out the rough edges. “I’m glad, Stephen. I hear I’ve got catching up to do on the embarrassing teenage stories.” And he launches into a tale of adolescent rebellion that would horrify us if we were parents.
18
always the top
Ayla
We’ve ushered the last guest out, promising dinner and drinks sooner rather than later. The cleaning crew has come, bussed the china and crystal, and are gone. Demo crews removed the tables and chairs and returned our furniture to where it belongs.
Fitz never returned, and Ren is still standing sentinel as if protecting our house from a crew of stealthy trained operatives.
I’m in the bedroom removing the studs from my ears when Christian slides in behind me, wrapping an arm around me to rest on my stomach. His pinky plays lazily as his lips hit the back of my neck.
“You never cease to amaze me, wife. From the first day I met you, that wild avenging angel—to today, smoothing over a situation that was disastrous to make it… Hell, you made it fun.”
He places another warm kiss to my neck before moving toward my ear. “Want to get in the hot tub with me?”
I nod, my breath catching in my lungs by the hunger pooling in my belly. “Is anyone still here?”
“Just Ren.”
“Disable the cameras?” I mean for it to be a statement but it comes out as a request.
His chin brushes against me in a nod. “Sure, Princess.”
Cool air meets my heated skin as Christian grabs his phone, fiddling with it until he tosses it onto our bed. His suit jacketcomes next before his hands return to my upper back tracing the outline of my dress.
“All night. All damn night I’ve had to avert my eyes from you.” He places a kiss on my spine. “So fucking beautiful.” Another kiss. “So God damned tempting.”
He slides a hand to my breast and pinches a nipple.
I gasp and reach a hand over my chest to the opposite shoulder to peel the dress off that side. His hand settles over mine firmly as hetsks.
“My present. I want to unwrap it.”
