19
Slate
I told Monroe what would happen.
It wasn’t my fault she didn’t believe me.
I didn’t want a relationship, and despite my fondness for her, that wouldn’t change. I paid her for a service, and once that service was fulfilled, I had no use for her. The transaction was complete—and so was our interaction.
Maybe that made me an asshole, but I had to make a clean break. I didn’t want her to think there was hope that I would come back to her. I had to be firm, so firm that I wouldn’t even take her calls. It would make this process easier for her.
I hadn’t been with anyone else. I didn’t rush to the next woman in line because I’d been busy with work and other things. And I found myself beating off to the memory of my night with Monroe, remembering every detail of her tight pussy. I’d never popped a better cherry, and I wanted to do it over and over again indefinitely.
Too bad that wasn’t possible.
Whoever came next would be a disappointment compared to Monroe. But after I had enough lovers, I would slowly forget about her.
I was home when my mother spoke through the intercom. “Honey, I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if I could stop by.”
I pulled on a shirt then hit the button, allowing her to rise to my floor and step inside my living room. “Hello, Mother.” I greeted her with a hug then immediately poured her a glass of wine. “What brings you by?”
She glanced around the apartment, like she was searching for someone besides me. “I was just in the neighborhood. Simone and I met for lunch to talk about the details for the wedding. The ceremony will be simple, but beautiful.”
I tried not to think about that manipulative bitch, but I couldn’t escape her. Soon, she would have my last name and a portion of my company. She would divorce Coen quickly and send our daily activities into a tailspin. “I warned Coen about her. He refuses to listen to me.”
“There’s nothing we can do. So just let it be.”
“Nothing we can do?” I asked incredulously. “Your son is marrying a gold digger. That doesn’t concern you?”
“It does concern me.” She stood in skintight jeans, colored pumps, and a teal blouse. Her hair was short and styled, and she looked like a woman who belonged in fashion. “But if I nag at him, you know what’s going to happen? He’ll cut me it out of his life altogether. While I don’t agree with this situation, there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s a grown man—and has to make his own mistakes.”
My head was about to explode. “She’s going to get her hands on our family money.”
She sighed slightly. “I realize that. But again, there’s nothing I can do. We should be grateful you and Coen own it equally, that way she can’t take more than twenty-five percent. And perhaps Coen will see reason before it’s too late.”
I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. I told him she threatened me, and he didn’t believe it.”
“Threatened you how?”
“She admitted she was only after his money, and if I got in the way, she would make my life hell. I told Coen anyway, but he doesn’t find me credible. He thinks this is all because I used to date her…even though that’s the last thing on my mind.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll try to talk to him one more time. There’s not much time before the wedding.”
Before he signed over his soul to the devil.
“Speaking of women…I heard you brought a date to the charity event.” Mother watched me with her brown eyes, seeing what I would say in response.
“Yes…people bring dates to those sorts of things.”
“Coen mentioned you were affectionate.” She pressured me with her eyes, wanting me to spill my private life to her.
“Instead of paying attention to me, he should pay attention to his own date.”
“I haven’t heard of you taking a date to anything in five years,” she said. “In fact, the media has never photographed you with anyone. Slate, are you gay? Because if you are, that’s fine. No necessity in hiding it.”
It was so ludicrous, I almost laughed. “No, Mother. I’m definitely not gay.” I was obsessed with a very specific kind of pussy.
“Then is this woman special to you?”
“No. She’s just a friend.” A friend I would never speak to again. The thought made me sad.
“One that you kiss and touch?” she asked incredulously.
“A bit nosy, aren’t we?” I countered.
“Well, I’ve never seen you with a woman besides Simone. I was excited to know you were on the mend.”
“I never needed to mend.” If she were anyone else, I would tell her to shut up and get out of my penthouse. “I’m just very picky. I don’t have relationships in the public spotlight. I’m private about my personal life.”