The Perfect Ruin

It was dark inside the room, minus one floor-to-ceiling window that allowed the moon to shine inside, creating a cool, white glow. I focused on the dark silhouette in front of me, locking what I could make out of his eyes.

“Why the hell are you following me?” Corey asked gruffly.

“I’m not,” I said.

“You were waiting for me to get home,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong. I’d been waiting for him all day.

“So what?”

“I’m married, Ivy.” He sounded exasperated. But I wasn’t the one who’d brought someone into a dark room on the opposite side of the house.

“And yet you’re sneaking around with me right now.”

“This isn’t sneaking around. I need to talk to you. I haven’t seen you in weeks. It’s like you’re trying to avoid me now after what happened by the pool that night.”

I lifted my chin defiantly. “Nothing happened.”

“I wasn’t that drunk and neither were you. You remember what happened.”

“Yeah, well, I regret it. Lola is my friend. I shouldn’t have done it. I was stupid and drunk and she’s not worth losing for that mistake.”

Corey pushed in, and I felt something hard dig into my lower belly. “Mistake?” he mumbled on my mouth. “What happened to doing whatever I want? Giving me whatever I want?”

“That’s off the table. Like I said, I was drunk and stupid.”

His eye twitched.

He continued staring at me, and then he gripped my face between his fingers and dropped his head to kiss me. The kiss was rough and damp and possessive, and I wanted to smile behind it because I did it. My plan to avoid him and fake my regret worked. I won. As our lips parted and he panted raggedly, he said, “You may have been drunk, but I know you meant every word you said.”

“Lola is upstairs,” I told him.

“This house is too big.” He kissed me again, then sucked on my bottom lip, coaxing a moan from me. I could taste the scotch on his breath. He was drunk. “She won’t hear a thing.”

He unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, lowering them to his ankles. As he pressed a hand to my shoulder, forcing me lower, to my knees, he said, “This stays between us.” His voice was raspy. “If Lola gets suspicious, we take a break.”

Which led me to ask, “Have you ever had an affair before?”

“No. Never.”

I lowered my chin, facing his erection. “Good. Then I’ll be your first,” I said, and then I took him into my mouth.

* * *

We didn’t have sex, but I did give him the best head of his life. He’d said it to me as I let him release down my throat, so no, I wasn’t exaggerating, Marriott.

I couldn’t take the affair too far with him yet. We still had plenty of time to be together later on. Lola was around, and I wasn’t in the mood to risk so much just yet. I still had the gala to think about, an event I was actually looking forward to.

I left Corey in the room I figured out was his man cave as he flipped on a light switch. There were signed jerseys hanging on the wall in expensive-looking frames and a basketball in a glass case, signed by Dwyane Wade.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I walked through the house, smiling like a dazed idiot. But just before I reached the staircase, my fingers wrapping around the cool wrought-iron rail, a voice rose behind me.

“Can’t sleep, Miss Elliot?”

I gasped and twisted around, noticing Georgia standing at the opening of one of the sitting rooms. She had a cup of tea on a saucer in hand and was wearing a silver nightgown.

I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she watching me? Did she see me leave Corey’s man cave?

“I was going for some water but couldn’t figure out where the bottles were.” The lie slipped right off my tongue.

Georgia sipped her tea and then took a step forward. “I can show you where they are.”

I swallowed thickly. “Sure.”

She walked off, toward the kitchen, and I followed her. The kitchen remained dark as she placed her teacup and saucer on the counter to open the fridge.

I stood by the entrance, watching as she opened one of the drawers inside the fridge and took out a water bottle. It was easy to find. A toddler could have found it. She knew I was lying.

She walked my way and placed the bottle in my hand. I tried taking it, but she held on to the end of it a little tighter.

“What are you—”

“Careful in this house, Miss Elliot,” she said in a hushed tone. “The last thing you want is to get caught between the Maxwells.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I asked, looking her in the eye.