Page 88 of The Payback

“Fine.” Oksana looks down at the swatches on the table and waves a hand over them. “Which one would you prefer for the tablecloths?”

“Oh, um... This one.” I pick one at random, a steel grey that reminds me of the rings around Dimitri’s eyes. Okay, so not so random after all.

“A good choice.” Oksana carefully chooses a few other colours and fans them beneath the grey. “And the accent hue?”

I can’t help myself as I take the satin black, the colour and shine reminding me of the flogger in Nik’s room, and hold it out to her. “This one.”

She nods, pulling a second accent colour of stark white, also with a sheen, and the three colours reflect the light above us, bright and shiny with a bit of drama. Quite perfect for the three of us, if I say so myself.

Oksana points at the white, explaining her choice. “We can’t have this looking like a funeral, dear. For most attendees, this will be a wedding reception for you.”

“What else needs deciding?” I ask. Now that I’m here, the daunting nature of planning a gala doesn’t seem so bad. I can look at colour swatches and make simple choices.

“The music? Any preference? Usually, it would be a live band, but you have some say in the music if you have any inclinations.”

“Strings, I think. Nothing with vocals, as that can distract. But maybe instead of the classics, we can see if they can do more modern music. Just instrumental?” My favourite Spotify playlist is Pop Goes Classical, which I can easily tune out to focus on work. This gala is not just a party; I want to be focused, not distracted by the band in the corner.

“That sounds doable. I’ll check with our contacts for a suitable quartet.”

She crosses something off her paper list and pulls a tablet out of her purse. I peek at the screen and find another much longer list waiting for us.

We spend the next hour and a half going over every detail she’s already amassed, including potential guests, food, invitations, flowers, whether to have a red carpet and invite the press, suggested gowns I wear, and centrepieces.

When my eyes have glazed over and my brain has turned to mush, I desperately and discreetly type a text under the table.

I thought this would be simple, like the colour swatches at the start of our luncheon, but as time passes, I realise she was just warming me up with the elementary questions. I feel like a discombobulated mess, like a cartoon character who got knocked out. But instead of birds floating above my head in a halo, it’s napkins, invitations, and stemware.

My phone rings ten seconds later, startling me so badly I nearly fumble it. I excuse myself with an apologetic gesture and answer the phone.

“You need a rescue?” his deep voice asks, chuckling at the end. “Oksana got her claws in you, and you’re desperate for a release?”

“Good afternoon, darling. I’m just out with—” I pretend as if he’s cut me off. “Oh? Right now?” I widen my eyes and grimace at Oksana, mouthing a contritesorry.

“Oh, you little minx. You’re quite the actress. I wonder if you can control that adorable little blush when I tell you how badly I want to fuck you. I woke up in our bed alone, hard and aching for you, Eleanor. Your scent still lingered on the sheets and the pillow, and do you know what I did, dear wife?”

I absentmindedly nod, like Dimitri is telling me important things and not how he wants to fuck me, while Oksana stares at me.

“Tell me, please,” I say, keeping my voice demure and polite as Oksana would expect as she listens to my half of the conversation.

“I fisted my cock with your half of the sheet, rolled my face onto your pillow to inhale your scent as I fucked my fist, all the while imagining it was your sweet, dripping cunt.”

I choke on air and reach for my water glass to clear my throat. I take a quick sip as he chuckles down the line.

“Well, that sounds like a serious issue indeed. I’ll be home straight away.”

“Tick tock, dear wife. Hurry home, or I’ll be forced to think of more creative endeavours for us to get up to.”

A shiver works its way down my spine. We’ve not been intimate in ages, but we’ve been working up to that again. And I can’t deny how much my body wants him. Even if we don’t have sex, just hearing how much he wants me makes me go gooey. The shiver turns to goosebumps with anticipation.

Couple that with the confessions from the kitchen and the little bits of himself he’s shown over the past few weeks, and I know it’s only a matter of time before we reconcile completely. And the weirdest thing is, it doesn’t feel weird. It feels right.

“On my way.”

I hang up and smile regretfully at Oksana, who waves me off. “I can keep going without you. We’ll catch up later in the week for more details.”

More?Good God, how could there be more?

“That sounds lovely. Thank you so much for organising this, Oksana. I truly appreciate it and would be lost without you.”

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