Satya put a hand to her throat, turned, and fled.
Chapter Seventeen: Enough
What a fucking disaster. Kai had been to boring scatter parties and weird scatter parties and awkward scatter parties, but he’d never been to an Oh-my-God-what-the-fuck-just-happened scatter party. That was a first.
He felt terrible for everyone involved, including Satya, who wasn’t answering her phone. Kai went over to see if Mason and Jessamine were all right only to find Mason had already moved out and left no forwarding address. No contact number. Jessamine had flown back to Toronto after filing divorce papers. It hit the tabloids the next day.
While Kai processed all these events, his odalisque moped around, obviously feeling unsettled and guilty. It had been Constance’s notebook pages, after all, that brought down the Jackson-Cooke Hollywood dynasty. To Kai’s chagrin, Constance held up the whole debacle as proof that intimate emotional relationships really were something to be avoided. Whenever she started harping on this assertion--which she did frequently--Kai went a little more insane.
Less than two months left.
Kai didn’t know if he could make it. The tension between them was almost as unhealthy as Mason and Jessamine’s fucked up shit. Of course, Constance didn’t perceive things the way Kai did. All she saw was the damn Code d’Odalisque, with its rituals and duties. Oh, she was a hell of an odalisque. He still fucked her and played with her, sometimes two or three times a day, and she still excited him. His body anyway. He still loved her--yes, loved her--but the distance she insisted on was starting to drive him mad. His nightmares came fast and furious, perhaps spurred on by the scatter party encounter with his ex-wife. Overall, Kai was pretty damn miserable, and the only person who had the power to soothe him was the same person who agitated him the most. Constance Flynn.
It was late January when Bastien finally contacted him. Kai had gone into work early, meaning to knock out some overdue tasks. Just before lunch, his secretary patched through an overseas call from a Mr. Gaudet. Kai was tempted to put him off. Bastien would want to know about Kai’s future with Constance, about what he intended to do. And Kai had no idea what he intended to do.
“Hello, Bastien,” he answered warily.
“Mr. Chandler. How are you?”
I’ve been better. “I’m fine, and yourself?” Kai stood to shut the door. “How are things at the Maison?”
“Ah, it’s colder by the day. Winter comes on strong. As you know…” The agent paused for a moment on the end of the line. “It is nearly time to decide if you will renew your contract with Constance for another year.”
“Yes…I know. I’m not sure yet. We haven’t talked about it.”
“But you are still enjoying her services?”
“Yes, very much. But…” But I’m in love with her, and she won’t love me back. It’s a nice little code-inflicted version of hell.
“I had hoped to have a definite decision from you soon, Kai. If possible.”
Kai frowned. “Well…why? Why do you need to know now? Is there someone else who wants her?”
Bastien paused. “I normally wouldn’t divulge that kind of information, but in this case… I was going to contact you anyway for a personal reference. There has been an inquiry regarding Constance’s availability. The interest comes from a gentleman of your acquaintance named Mason Cooke.”
Kai almost dropped the phone. He fumbled with shaking fingers to put it back to his ear.
“Mason Cooke? Mason Cooke?” Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “Here’s a character reference for you. He’s an asshole, a douchebag, and a selfish fucking prick.”
Kai could have said more, but he was too livid. With the last shred of his control, he replaced the phone in the receiver. As soon as he found Mason, he would kill him. Wanted Constance for his odalisque, did he?
Ungrateful piece of shit excuse for a friend.
*** *** ***
Constance woke at her usual late hour and stretched. Winter wasn’t as fun as summer. In the summer she could have gone and jumped in the pool, or lay on Kai’s deck under the crisp white awnings. In the winter all she could really do was some yoga. She could get dressed and go for a walk around Kai’s property, down the trail he ran on sometimes.
But she didn’t really feel like doing anything.
Instead she stared at the canopy fluttering over her head and worried about Kai. Since New Years, he was working longer hours than ever. He’d come home and go on lengthy runs, returning sweaty and taciturn. After he showered, he’d spend an hour at the piano, playing aggressively, and then he’d fuck her like he was trying to lose himself.
She knew Kai was worried about Mason, and Satya…they hadn’t heard from her in two weeks. Constance knew she should use her talents to comfort him. That was her duty, according to the code. But so much of her energy was going to maintaining the required façade of detachment and serenity.
It has to be this way. Constance would always treasure her time with Kai. She would always love him and wonder what might have been, but she couldn’t allow herself to daydream about happily-ever-after anymore. Kai needed a wife who could be a social butterfly, who could shoulder all his work-entertaining duties and pop him out a bunch of darling half-Indian kids to show off on his holiday photo cards.
It was ridiculous to think of herself as a wife…as anyone’s wife, much less the wife of a gazillionaire. With her past--not just as a runaway, but as a sex worker--she wasn’t society-wife material. Kai deserved better. He deserved a wife without a bunch of skeletons in her closet. He deserved a wife with a classy education and aching ovaries, and a respectable family and money of her own.
But you’ll have money of your own…in a few years… Maybe they could meet again when Constance’s years as an odalisque were over. When she could meet him as an independent woman. They could be friends, if nothing else. It would probably be better that way. The truth was… The truth was…
The truth was she was a fucking coward, and Kai Chandler scared her to death. Sure, he could make all her dreams happen with his money, but then her dreams would be his…and she would be his. Just like her mother, cowering under the protection of a man like there was no other way to live, no other way to be happy. And Constance would give him children, because she’d be afraid to do otherwise. Her whole life would be pleasing him, living up to his standards, while her own goals evaporated into distant echoes of intent...
A light in her bedroom flashed--the doorbell light. Satya. Constance threw on her robe, grabbed the notebook reserved for Kai’s sister, and ran downstairs to answer the door.
But it wasn’t Satya standing on the doorstep. It was Mason Cooke, looking like absolute hell. He clearly hadn’t shaved in days. God, had he been living on the street or something?
“Constance,” he said, his expression weary. “Can I come in?”
She drew him inside and led him to the kitchen. They sat at Kai’s small table. Constance opened the notebook.
I was just going to have breakfast. Any chance of some omelets and burnt toast?
Mason smiled slightly, but he didn’t seem himself at all. Maybe he was drunk. He was just….staring at her.
Kai’s not here, she wrote. But he’s been worried about you. Are you okay?
Mason looked down at her words and laughed.
“Well, not particularly okay, seeing as how my marriage disintegrated at a fucking scatter party. But I’m hanging in there.”
I’m sorry it had to go down that way. I’m really sorry for my part in it. But at least now she knows how unhappy you were.
“Oh, yeah, everyone in the godforsaken universe knows now. The paparazzi are following me around, every guy I used to call a friend is making passes at Jessamine, and I’m living out of a fucking hotel.”
Constance bit her lip, not used to seeing Mason in this kind of black mood. You could
stay here instead, she wrote. I don’t think Kai would mind.
“Oh, he would mind. In fact…” Mason paused and looked down. She had to shift to see his lips. “I think I did something that’s going to make him really mad at me.” He looked up at her with a strangely vulnerable gaze. “I contacted that guy, Gaudet, about getting an odalisque.”
Constance smiled. Oh, Mason. That won’t make Kai mad. I think that’s actually a wonderful idea. That’s probably just what you need right now.
His hand came down to stop her pen, and she looked up at him.
“I contacted him about you. About you becoming my odalisque.”
Oh, Constance wrote after a moment. Yeah, I’m not sure how he’ll feel about that. Probably not great.
“How would you feel about it? About being mine?”
Constance hesitated, trying to think of what to say. She knew Mason was feeling fragile. She didn’t want to trample his ego when he was already down.
“I can learn to sign,” Mason said. “If that’s the issue. I can-- Well. I’m not as brainy as Kai but I can do what I have to do. I’ll try hard.”
Constance rubbed her forehead. You shouldn’t have to do anything, she wrote. That’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to try hard.
“But I would.”
Constance looked away from him, down at her lap. She had to think.
Mason… she wrote. Don’t you think it would be too awkward? I mean, you’re Kai’s best friend. And me and him will have this history, and then I’ll be out and about with you. And we’ll run into him… It will be like Veronica showing up at the scatter party.
“But…Veronica was his wife. You’re just his odalisque. We can even keep sharing you, if he feels like it. But this time I’ll pay, and you can stay with me.”
Do you really think it would be that simple?
Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t see why Kai gets to have a say anyway. Your contract is up with him soon. And you make the choice of what to do next, don’t you?”
She reached up to stroke the stubble on his face, then hunched over to write. Forgive me, Mason, but I think you’re not in the best state of mind right now. Maybe this isn’t the best time to be making a big decision like taking on an odalisque.