“I owe Mishi a lot of money. She was mad, she wanted to get back at you both. She told me she would waive what I owe her if I helped her get back at you.”
“How much money?” Christina asks.
“Sixty thousand pounds.”
Christina gasps, it doesn’t surprise me. I am done with being surprised.
“I was in the market, I started out making a lot of money. In only three weeks I was at twenty grand, but then it went against me. I kept doubling down and it just spiraled out of control. I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt either one of you. You were supposed to get drunk.” Hannah lashes out at Christina, and if Christina weren’t in my arms I fear I would do bodily harm to my sister. “Why didn’t you just drink the damn drink I gave you? We’d have done it while you were asleep. You wouldn’t even have known.”
Standing with Christina in my arms, I can’t look at Hannah. “In a few hours, we’re leaving for the week. I want you gone before we get back. For Gemma, she won’t know until after the wedding is over. Once it is, it’s over, it’s all over. No allowance, the house will be sold and I don’t want to see you again.”
I keep walking even though Hannah calls my name. Christina wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
It kills me that she is apologizing, for anyone, to anyone. “You are the last one who should be saying sorry.”
“It’s okay to be sad.”
***
Christina
The next week flies by, I’m practically giddy from all the time I get to spend with Ivan. We drive through England, stopping in places I’ve heard of, a night in Birmingham, a night in Bath, then Brighton before going to London for a few days.
Ivan is patient and spoils the hell out of me to the point I’m feeling guilty. He never says no, he never gets annoyed or loses his temper with me. There isn’t a single complaint about me dragging him all over the city from the Tower of London, to Buckingham Palace, the Tate, then hours in Camden Square.
It wasn’t until we were in London when I understood exactly what he meant with the whole accent thing he’d tried to explain. Seeing it in action was eye-opening. A simple glance at Ivan and anyone could figure out he had money, from his hundred-dollar haircut to his handmade shoes. The moment he opened his mouth, those who were already deferential stood a little straighter, their eyes widened a little. When I mentioned it to Gemma, they were trying to figure out if he had a title.
What happened with Hannah lingers, and I feel the pain in Ivan. I hate it. I want to talk about it but he refuses to discuss it. I do my best to honor his request. Even after I overhear him speaking with Mishka’s parents, he wanted Mishka cut off financially. Either the parents did it themselves or Ivan would ensure they had no money to give her.
Her parents agreed and Mishka was forced out of their home with nothing more than the clothes on her back. Aari had attempted to intervene until Ivan told him what happened. Aari agreed wholeheartedly with Ivan and promised he wouldn’t tell Gemma the truth until after they were away for their honeymoon. Gemma had called me asking what was going on, I played dumb and she sighed and said she would figure it out later.
I like London but I’m relieved when we leave Saturday morning to go back to Manchester for Gemma’s second and last wedding tonight. It reminded me of New York with all the name dropping, and labels flashing. They also hate fat people, almost everyone who wore a designer label looked down on me, and it was clear they were wondering what I was doing with Ivan. It wasn’t as bad among the people who weren’t trying so hard, but they weren’t as comfortable with Ivan.
“What is the matter, poppet?” Ivan takes my hand in his. We’re only an hour away from Manchester now. I shrug, not wanting to sound whiney. A gentle squeeze. “I cannot fix it if I do not know what is broken.”
How completely Ivan. “Nothing is broken. I’m just sad this is coming to an end. Tomorrow we go back to Chicago. Back to work, back to Abuelo and that mess and...” I look out the window, blinking fast to hold in the tears. No tears, those weren’t a part of the deal. This was the deal, three weeks. “Thank you for this, all of it, even the not so great parts. This has been the best three weeks I’ve ever had.”
I pull my hand from his and he lets me go. And just like that, silence reigns between us.
***
Christina
When we get home, for the first time Ivan doesn’t follow me upstairs. He doesn’t say where he is going, I don’t ask. I shouldn’t have said anything, just kept it up until tom
orrow. God, I hope I didn’t ruin our last night together.
There are two more hours still until we leave for the wedding. For this wedding, they will have the ceremony in one ballroom, then the guests will move into another ballroom for the reception. At the thought of all those people, I’m in need of a nice long soak.
In the bath I can’t stop thinking about how I messed up and wondering how I can fix it. It comes to me as I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The sexy-as-sin underwear the kind older woman with a twinkle in her eyes pressed to me. The black silk stockings and garter belt to match. So far, I hadn’t needed it. Tonight, it feels like I do.
I’m doing my hair in the massive dressing room closet, taming it into soft wavy curls, when Ivan comes into the bedroom. I hear the shower go on and grab my red silk robe to cover the black lace bra and panties I’m wearing. Satisfied with my hair, I focus on my makeup.
To please him I’m only using mascara, filling in my eyebrows and lining my lips with a dark red color. Checking the time, I’m surprised to find we need to leave within twenty minutes.
Ivan walks into the room with a towel around his waist. I can’t take my eyes off him, the way his skin glistens, the way his muscle and sinew move. Heat hits me; his eyes running over me send fire through my veins. He drops the towel, his cock is mouthwateringly hard, he walks toward me.