“It’s just this game we play. The sons, we steal our mother’s shit and re-gift it. They never know, of course, because they’re spoiled wives with their hoards of diamonds.”
His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me into him and smothering me with his scent. My body stiffens; his usual charming ways aren’t working like they usually do. Perhaps, subconsciously, my view of him is tarnished at this moment. His mother, despite her greedy ways—is still his mother. I’m sure, beneath the plastic, she had feelings and a heart.
“That’s awful,” I tell him. “And not remotely amusing.”
“Oh stop, don’t fucking ruin my night, okay?”
Wesley removes his hands from my waist, playing with his collar that seemed to be irritating him. I’m surprised he wore a suit, though he drew the line at wearing a tie—his chest exposed slightly beneath his navy jacket.
He sorts his itch out, grabbing my hand again—twitchy and unsettled.
Carson enters the living room, making a grand entrance. Shaking the hands of the men, and kissing the cheeks of the wives. The creep made my skin crawl. Moments later, he is beside us, giving Wesley a strong man-shake and forcing me into a hug, lingering way too long.
“Milana, I’m glad you could join us tonight. We didn’t get much of an opportunity to chat last time, but I’m hoping tonight is the night we can get to know each other.”
I loathed him. Slicked-back hair and a sleazy grin. I prayed that Wesley noticed, but he seemed preoccupied with his cell, much to my annoyance.
“Thank you for having us, Carson. Once again, your home is lovely.”
I ignore his lingering gaze on my breasts, wishing I hadn’t worn such a provocative dress and forgetting about the last time I was here. He made me uncomfortable, and I contemplated telling Wesley but feared his reaction.
We make our way to the dining room and sit at the table. I was squashed between a man that had awful breath and a woman whose perfume smelled like toilet freshener. Wesley—is sitting across me, though barely making any eye contact. Again, on his cell, rudely typing and ignoring everyone at the table.
Gina, however—loved attention. That much was evident. She told stories, supposedly humorous, but firing a maid because she wore the wrong color didn’t seem funny to me.
She talked about her charities and random stories of women at her tennis club. Carson often interjected, laughed and kept the conversation flowing. Gina loved to talk about herself, rarely asking questions about anyone else, so I just sat and ate quietly—smiling often to show I cared. It was nothing like dinner with my family. The way they spoke to each other was cold and informal.
Somewhere in between the main course and dessert, Wesley lifts his head away from his cell and shifts his gaze onto mine. Something didn’t seem right. Aside from his fidgeting, rolling up his sleeves, only to roll them down again moments later. He’s clearing his throat often, wanting my attention yet when I turn his way—he quickly focuses back onto his cell.
Narrowing my eyes and tightening my grip on my fork, I divert my attention back to the conversation, until I realize it was about diamonds and of no interest to me.
Before dessert is served, I excuse myself to the restroom, needing a moment alone to curb my anger towards Wesley and to text Mom. Tonight reiterated how much I loved my family, and was grateful for how she raised us in a house full of love.
Mom, I love you, and everything you’ve done for our family. I promise I will come home and visit, just like you said. Call you tomorrow xxx
I waited a few minutes for a response but nothing, giving up and exiting the bathroom after washing my hands. I walk down the corridor, running into a maid and almost knocking over a pile of towels. Apologizing for my clumsy behavior, I take a sharp left, staring at the wrong door. Far out—this house was massive.
“Um, excuse me, Maid,” I yell out, pathetically.
“Lost, are we?”
Carson is standing behind me, too close for my comfort. My muscles begin to tense, the paranoia of his presence making me jumpy. Aside from his obvious age—a man that could be my father—he had that seedy look. He wore a kravat like they did in black and white movies, and he stunk of old-man cologne.
“Yes, I was. If you could lead me in the right direction because I’m sure Wesley will come looking for me.”
“I don’t think he will, see he’s busy…with Gina. Outside by the pool. So I guess it’s just you and me.” He grins, licking his bottom lip.
Slowly, he runs his hand along my arm—my heart spiking from fear and disgust.
“Stop touching me,” I seethe, pulling my arm away as he latches on tighter. “I said NO!”
He ignores my pleas, pulling me into him and tightening his grip around my waist. I struggle to ease my way out, the panic hitting hard and fast. The room spins, the sounds amplified, and somewhere during his forbidden act, he slides his hands up the side of my thighs and towards my ass, moaning into my face.
“I love fucking Wesley’s little sluts…you think you’re the first? No, sweetheart, but definitely the most innocent.”
My screams are trapped, my tears falling as I begin the same disillusioned blackout as the plane. But something, unknown, kicks in and when I pretend to grab his crotch for pleasure, I squeeze it tight and punch it, causing him to wince in pain.
When he topples over cursing at me, I run, out of the room and panicked. There’s several doors but I find my way outside the front, out of breath, face drenched in tears.