Now, when he described our evening together, I didn’t feel the same trepidation I once did. My thighs tightened under the table, and I remembered the way my palms felt against his hard chest. I couldn’t forget the orgasm he gave me without even being inside me. When I pictured our naked bodies moving together, it turned me on. It didn’t scare me, not the way it used to. I’d always felt a connection to him, that he wasn’t just some stranger I hardly knew. I’d started to see him as something more, as someone who actually meant something to me. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”
13
Slate
To celebrate Coen’s engagement, we had dinner at my mother’s place.
My mother wasn’t stupid. She was aware of the rift between us, the obvious tension that emerged any time we were breathing the same air. But she had no idea how bad our relationship really was, that we despised each other to our very cores. My mother’s funeral would be the last time we got together for a family event. After that, we would live our lives separately—with the exception of work.
My mother had a beautiful penthouse with an enormous living room, a perfect location for her Christmas parties and charity events. She had two butlers, one for cleaning and one for cooking. Since she was unemployed, she probably didn’t need the help, but she wanted the company.
We sat at the table together, the three of us along with Simone—the enormous ring on her finger.
Sometimes it bothered me that my mother never reprimanded Coen for how he betrayed me. I didn’t need my mother to defend me, but I thought she would at least voice her disappointment. Like everything was perfectly fine, she pretended Simone and I had never been together.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Mother cut into her pot roast, sitting gracefully like a queen with diamonds in her ears. She wore a white blouse with a string of pearls around her neck. She’d had plastic surgery, so her appearance was unnaturally youthful. But the doctor did great work because it wasn’t obvious she’d had anything done to begin with.
“We haven’t decided,” Coen said, hardly looking at me across the table. “But something sooner rather than later.”
“We want to start a family right away,” Simone said, smiling at my mother and kissing her ass. “I’m not getting any younger.”
“A family is the greatest thing you can have,” my mother said before she sipped her wine. “It’s the one thing I’m most grateful for.”
I wasn’t grateful for it, not when I had a shitty brother.
“We were considering doing something small,” Simone said. “On the beach out in the Hamptons. Something before the summer is over.”
I was about to drink from my glass, but I had to stop myself. “That’s in a month.”
“Yes.” Simone looked at me, a smile plastered on her face but evil in her eyes. “Fall is beautiful but unpredictable. And I already have my dress, so that’s been taken care.”
“Who gets a wedding dress before they’re engaged?” I countered, knowing this was all just a ploy. She wanted to get married as soon as possible. The quicker she tied the knot, the less time my brother had to figure out he was making the biggest mistake of his life. “That seems desperate.”
Coen glared at me. “Slate, come on. Can’t you not be an asshole for one dinner?”
“You think I’m being an asshole?” My eyes moved to my brother, a man who didn’t feel like family at all. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” I turned to my mother. “Coen doesn’t want to sign a prenup. He wants Simone to share his half of the company. On top of that, Simone has already started barging into meetings like she has any right to be there.”
Coen threw down his napkin. “Slate, what the fuck?” He was pissed I’d told our mother the truth—that he was being an idiot.
I held his gaze with no remorse. “Now I’m being an asshole.” I turned back to our mother. “You need to talk some sense into your son. If Simone gets power over the company, it could jeopardize everything I’ve built—and it could affect your monthly allowance. You really want this gold digger to have access to something that doesn’t belong to her?”
Simone looked like she wanted to scratch my eyes out, but she was powerless while my mother was there.
“She’s not a gold digger,” Coen snapped. “Stop calling her that—”
“Then sign the fucking prenup.” I turned back to him. “You already backstabbed me once, and now you’re going to do it again? This is our family’s legacy. You’re going to gamble it on pussy? Pussy I’ve already fucked—”
“Slate.” My mom silenced me just by saying my name. “Enough.”
The only reason I shut up was because she was my mother. If it were anyone else, I’d flipped the table by now.