“Bribes do work,” Joey says.
“It’s a gift,” I say.
Joey waves us away. Since I don’t want to deal with him any more than I have to, I link my arm with Emmett’s and move toward the party.
The inside of the home is cool, with lots of black and white tiles that make the floor look like a chessboard. Suits of armor and alabaster horse heads sit in the corners like chess pieces. There are murals on the ceiling, but I can’t make out exactly what they are because the ceiling is too high, and the light from the windows up there make everything appear hazy. All I know for sure is there are lots of flesh tones.
Emmett takes me upstairs to a huge bedroom. “This is my room. We can change here,” he says.
While he starts taking off his shirt, I look around for any hint of what his childhood was like. But the room is sterile. A bed, a landscape painting that looks like an original, an empty closet. The room doesn’t even smell like him. It’s nothing like mine in Vegas, which still has posters of hot actors and bands from my teen years taped to the walls, the pink sheets I loved when I was growing up, my old clothes in the closet and the trophies I won sparkling next to stacks of worn paperbacks of my favorite YA romance novels.
“Did your dad redo the room after you moved out?” I ask, disappointed.
“No. I never really lived here.” There’s a strange sense of relief in his tone. “It’s ‘my room’ as in, Dad told me I could use it when I visit.”
Well… That’s an odd arrangement when Emmett has his own place in the city, but then, maybe it’s for those rare occasions he can drag himself away from the office and spend time bonding with his dad. The house in Switzerland where Emmett grew up probably has a room that could shed more light on Emmett’s past. I wish I could see it one day, assuming his parents kept the place.
Emmett has stripped down to black trunks, and I’m in my bikini, whi
ch I will put with an almost-sheer wrap.
“Do you need some sunscreen?” I ask, smearing some on my arms, legs and belly.
“Sure.” He helps himself to the bottle, then rubs it all over my back, lingering and massaging.
I sigh, loving the way he finds small ways to pamper me. “You’re so good at this.”
“Applying sunscreen isn’t really that difficult.”
“You know what I mean.” I turn around when he’s covered every inch of my back. “Let me return the favor.”
I squirt a dollop of sunscreen and spread it all over the lean expanse of his back. The repetitive motion is soothing and helps me calm my mind before meeting his dad.
“Okay, so we’re going to go out to the pool now.”
“Okay.” I laugh. “Is that some kind of warning?”
“Just try not to be shocked, no matter what you see,” Emmett says.
“It’s just a birthday party by a pool, not an orgy. Why are you being so serious?” It’s like he’s a Catholic priest about to perform last rites.
He opens his mouth, then shrugs. “Okay. Hopefully it won’t be that bad.”
I pat his shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Emmett and I go downstairs and walk through the house to reach the pool that’s on the other side. Apparently, the place is built in a U around the pool for maximum privacy.
Arches and more arches. Ted Lasker’s residence is almost like a castle, just slicker and more contemporary. Finally we reach the pool.
Holy mother of God…
Chapter Forty-Two
Amy
Balloons in deep red, purple, silver and gold float everywhere. Every single one is shaped like an open mouth with a tongue hanging out, a penis or a vagina—although maybe those last ones are supposed to be orchids. A gentle breeze stirs the balloons, and the X-rated decorations bob cheerily as music vibrates in the air, the bass booming.
Ted Lasker must film porn on the side. Or maybe his party planner didn’t get the memo that it was a birthday party.