The Cinderella Arrangement (23 page)

“Yes, Will!”

He lunged forward, his thickness spearing me open, ramming deep inside and setting off every pleasurable nerve that existed. The pain at being swiftly penetrated was punctuated by a rush of pleasure that made me moan and buck my hips against him. Suddenly, I yelped in pain. William spanked my ass hard, the imprint of his hand burning against my cheek.

No one had ever taken me like this. It felt so good. I fell against the wall and used my hands to brace Will’s hard thrusts, groaning when his hips slapped against my ass, his cock buried as deep as he could go.

And his hands were anchored on my hips, holding me against him so that he could pull backward hard when he hammered forward, intensifying that amazing feeling driving me high, turning me mad with desire. He had the stamina of a bull, and even though I felt his hands slipping with sweat, he drilled me nonstop. The force of his thrusts never let up, all of his crazed energy was focused into fucking me as hard as possible.

He wrenched me backward and spun me around so I was straddling his waist. His black hair stuck to the back of his neck and his face was rosy with color. He gripped my hair and forced my head forward, plunging his tongue down my mouth as I tried to kiss him.

William was in complete control. He lifted my waist and set me down over his lap. I grabbed his cock and sighed as I sank down, feeling my walls expand as he filled me up.

“Up and down,” he said, breathing deeply.

I grabbed his shoulders and lifted my hips, my thighs slapping his flesh as I sank down. My nipples brushed his lips as I bounced up and plummeted down; he gathered them in his mouth, moaning as he felt me squeeze him with my powerful walls.

“Jesus, Natalie.”

He took my hips and thrust upwards, impatient with my slow rhythm. I held his face against my breasts and moved up and down, grinding hard when I felt him impale me. Will kissed me as we joined our bodies over and over. Then he fell forward, and I fell on my back with my legs still wrapped around him. I groaned as he dug into me, wrapping my legs tighter around his ass.

The smell of sticky, warm sex engulfed my senses. William’s damp body hovered over mine and then lowered, sending a swift feeling up my body. I was crying out his name as he plowed into me. Our foreheads touched and his hot breath billowed over my face, his groans like music to my ears, the sound of his damp flesh smacking against my wet core, and the feeling of him thrusting inside me—all of it combined into an epic, shuddering orgasm.

I clutched Will’s damp back for dear life as he released a huge groan and hammered forward. My contractions clenched around him and the wave slowly rolled up my body, making my stomach shudder. Will pulsed in and out a few more times and then he rolled off me.

His face was smooth; I never saw him so exhausted. His arm slid under my back and pulled me against him. My head lay over his shoulder and I listened to his deep breaths, his chest rising and falling like the ocean.

“Natalie, that was—”

“—Amazing.”

It was the best sex I ever had. How many times had I laid under Ben, bored as he pumped for a few minutes then collapsed to the side, without a thought of my pleasure? My body ached from being pounded so hard, but I felt myself twitch in anticipation of going again.

I kissed his neck. “When can we go again?”

His chest shook with laughter. “Might be a little bit.”

And my heart fluttered as he gathered me in his arms and kissed me.

“A little bit” turned out to be fifteen minutes of foreplay and fondling, then William took me again—almost as roughly as he had the first time, and at last we collapsed in each other’s arms and resigned ourselves to sleep. During the night I heard a jump and then a small, warm lump settled behind my legs. The lump began to purr. I smiled.

Screaming. I jerked awake, naked and confused. It was still dark and I couldn’t see anything. Tom’s nails raked me as he sped from the bed, startled by the noise. A dark shape thrashed beside me—Will—in the throes of another nightmare. I groped for the switch on the lamp and it flared on.

“Will, wake up!”

I ripped the covers off him and he seemed to shudder awake. He turned away from me and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking.

I rejoined him in the bed as a low moan shook from his throat. I curled up behind him, watched him bury his face in hands, and did not know what to do.

He flinched when I touched his back. “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

I tried to ignore the horror rising up my throat. “Maybe you should tell me what happened.”

He lifted his head and turned around, his eyes bloodshot. “You don’t want to hear about it. Believe me.”

“I can handle it,” I said in a firm voice.

Will’s black eyes hardened. They were reflective, like a dark mirror. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, but I deserve to know. If this will go anywhere, I need to know.” I grabbed his wrist when his eyes unfocused, staring into some point beyond my shoulder. “Either you tell me or I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again. I mean it, Will.”

His arm slipped out of my grasp. “Then go.”

I wasn’t prepared for the chill in his voice, the dead eyes, closing in front of me like shutters on windows. I dove off the bed and picked up my clothes, pulling them on.

He'll be like that? Fine.

“Natalie.” Will’s voice cracked.

“I can let a lot of things slide, but not this.”

Will half-rose from the bed. “I’m not ready to share every dark secret of mine with you.”

“What do you expect me to do? You scream and have panic attacks, and I don’t have a right to know what’s causing them? You must be joking.”

I seized my tank top and pulled it on. He sat on the bed, glowering at me under a curtain of dark hair.

“Where the hell are you going to go? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care,” I muttered, heading toward the bathroom to stuff everything into my suitcase. A part of me hoped like hell he would change his mind.

“Stop,” he said in a tremulous voice, which was suddenly a lot closer. His hand fell on my shoulder and I looked up into the bathroom mirror. His eyes were wide and terrified and I felt myself weaken.

I revolved slowly on the spot and William held me against him, refusing to let me go. My eyes stung, and I blinked furiously.

“Please, don’t go. I’ll tell you what happened.”

“
I
t happened
a few years ago when I was still in college at Stanford. My friends and I partied a lot. Typical dumb jocks. None of us took school seriously. My best friend Dan and I were at a party away from campus. We got shit-faced and then Dan wanted to go to another party, but I was too drunk. So he drove instead. I thought he was okay to get behind the wheel.

“Everything was fine until we got off the highway and—and sped down the ramp. There was a sharp turn and it happened so quickly. We plowed into a group of people standing around a car.

“I remember coming to and smelling the burnt rubber, smoke, and something metallic saturating the air. Dan was hunched over in his seat, but outside there was screaming—just the worst sound I’d ever heard. I climbed out of the window and saw we’d crashed into a parked car. The ground was slippery. There was so much blood. A woman lay on the street with this gaping wound; her chest was torn open—I could see everything: her organs, her ribs. And then I tried to close her up—these huge flaps of her flesh I pinned together, but she was already—she was already dead.

“There was screaming and I looked behind me. A little girl pinned under our car, as white as a sheet of paper. Her mother was crouching underneath—trying to lift it. Another person was smashed against the fence—he was gone. I tried to save her. I lifted the car and her mother dragged her out, but she was so pale and there was so much blood. Her lips kept moving and I held her hand. I still remember how tiny it was in mine. Her eyes never closed. She kept looking from her mom and back to me and then they froze inside her head and what little warmth was in her hand faded away.

“My father hired the best defense lawyers money could buy and paid off a ton of news outlets so that his name—our name, would never get dragged through the mud. Dan got court-ordered rehab and didn't spend a day in prison. We settled with the families, but I never got past it. I—I couldn’t save them.”

Will finished speaking, his deadened voice echoing in my head.

I felt ill from all the graphic descriptions of the bodies he and his drunken friend had mangled. It was much worse than I thought. I imagined what the scene must have looked like—limbs everywhere, chunks of flesh and blood painting the concrete, the girl trapped beneath the car.

William survived unscathed. It wasn’t fair. His face was twisted and red. His eyes burned holes in my head.

“You can loathe me if you want. I’ll understand. You can’t hate me more than I hate myself.”

I was confused, stunned, and sickened by the whole thing. I felt a flash of anger for how irresponsible they were—like Gatsby and Daisy, rich, reckless people destroying lives and retreating into their wealth without a backward glance.

But Will isn’t like that.

“I think the choices you made that night were awful. It was a terrible, terrible thing, but I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for the families. And you.”

He made no move to defend himself. If I stabbed him in the chest, he wouldn’t have stopped me.

“You’re not a bad person.”

“I am.”

“You weren’t the one driving,” I whispered.

“It was my car,” he said in a sharp voice. “It was my responsibility. If I hadn’t been such a stupid, selfish moron, those people would still be alive.”

“What about the ones at the party who watched two drunk kids leave and drive away? They’re responsible, too. It’s not
all
on you.”

The darkness in Will’s face lightened. 

“It all makes sense now,” I sighed. “You won’t drink a drop of alcohol because you’re terrified that something bad might happen.”

“I could never apologize to them.”

He was like a hollow shell—he always looked so empty when he talked about the accident. The light behind his eyes died.

“Then visit the families. Apologize. Allow yourself to feel better.”

“They don’t want to see me.”

“You have to try.”

Visiting them wouldn’t be easy. He would have to be prepared for the hatred that would be flung in his face.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I sat behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. It took a lot out of him to tell me what happened that night, and I would not forget that. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ll understand if you want to bolt. This is an out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He covered my hands with his and sighed in relief. “I have to leave this place,” he blurted. “I need to see my dad in Chicago. Will you come with me?”

My face burned. I wasn’t sure how I felt about meeting Will’s dad. “What about the campaign?”

“Luke will be upset, but I’m only going to Chicago to help him.” He disengaged from my arms and dressed himself. “I think I need to do something.”

I picked at a spot in the bed sheets with my nail and glanced at him, only to look away when he met my eyes.

“Spit it out.”

“Why—why do you want me to go with you?”

He thought about it for a moment and gave me a weak smile. “I paid you for three weeks work and we’ve only had sex once.”

“You’re lucky that I have a sense of humor,” I groaned in frustration. “Be serious for once.”

“I like having you around.”

I stood up and took his body in my arms, nestling my head under his chin. His warmth was so comforting; I leaned into him and felt my lungs expanding, like a balloon inflating inside my chest.

I like being with you, too
.

“What will you tell your dad about me? Christ, I'm working for you.”

“Technically, you’re not working
directly
under me. Natalie, what are you really trying to ask me?”

My face burned. The lilt in his voice suggested that he already knew what I wanted, but he would force it out of me anyways. I wasn’t interested in a fling.

"Where the hell is this headed?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm enjoying the ride."

"But you're my boss! Isn't this a--a conflict of interest?"

His hands tightened around my arms. "If I'm your boss, then you have to do what I say."

"Will!"

“I want to be with you. That's all I got for now."

I'm fine with that.

I stood on my toes and kissed his mouth, feeling giddy when he responded, his arms circling my waist and tightening.

“Okay,” he said when we broke apart. “Let’s get ready. I need to charter a flight out of here.”

I was already packed, so I walked to the bright lobby and checked my email. It was the crack of dawn. I ascended the stairs to the terrace with a plate of lemon cakes and coffee and sighed at the magnificent sunrise. The dark sky was giving way to the stretch of orange on the horizon. Puffy, pink clouds hung in the lightening blue. The colors were coming to life; the sun illuminated the brightly painted homes and the swirls of turquoise in the ocean. Such beauty just wasn’t possible. I took several pictures and attempted to sketch it, but stopped myself. It was more important to watch it. I felt an incredible sadness at the realization I would soon leave this place. It was like going to paradise and being expected to return home to a world of concrete and somehow be happy about that.

I wiped away the tears on my face and checked my email. There were several from Jessica and a couple from Ben. I drew a sharp, painful breath and clicked on his message.

Natalie,

I was really upset to find out you were seeing someone else on a tabloid website and I apologize if I came off angry. I know that I did the same thing to you after we broke up, but I was just trying to move on. I really don’t think it’s fair you’re doing this. We should have a discussion before you make a rash decision. We’ve been together for six years. Why can’t I have any say in what happens to our relationship? I am really depressed without you and I’ve been in therapy these past few weeks. I can’t move on. I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of you being with another man. Please call me when you get the chance.

Love,

Ben

My heart hammered behind my chest. I didn’t like the guilty feelings swirling inside me.

“It’s a load of crap.”

I slammed down the cup of coffee and hissed as it spilled over the sides. Will stood close, as silent as a shadow, reading the email over my shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

He ignored me. “Click on the next one.”

Will looked at me, refusing to move from his spot.
Whatever, fine.
I clicked it. The tone of this one was a lot angrier.

Natalie, what the fuck?

I feel like absolute shit and you probably have no idea. It really hurts you would ignore me after everything we’ve been through. I keep seeing photos of you with that asshole. I don’t understand why you like him. He sounds like a complete jerk.

Can you please tell me what I could have done differently? I tried to be a good boyfriend to you and I was always there when you needed me. I really don’t deserve to be treated this way. When you met me in the city, you made me believe that there was still hope for us. Now, I feel like you’re rubbing this in my face to hurt me. Maybe you’re only with this guy to piss me off. I really don’t appreciate being ignored and I expect a response from you.

-Ben

“He expects a response? What are you, his property?” He let out a bellyful of laughter. “This guy is such an entitled ass. Coming from me that says a lot.”

The email made me cold all over.

“He's trying to manipulate you. You’re out in the world, living your life, and he thinks that it’s all about
him
. You must be doing this to hurt
him
, not because you’ve moved on. He’s a narcissist, and he wants you to feel guilty.”

I rubbed my arm. “I need to tell him it’s over. That we’re done.”

“You are over. You broke up almost a year ago. Don’t contact him; he’ll only send you more messages. If you ignore them, he’ll stop caring about it.”

I feel like absolute shit and you probably have no idea.

I could hear the despair in that line of text and couldn’t stand I was making him feel bad about himself. We may have broken up, but I still cared about him.

He sank down to my level and held my arms. “Baby, listen. His problems are no longer yours. You care too much about what people think of you. He will be pissed for a while. So what?”

“Let's just change the subject.”

“I got a flight out of Genoa for this evening.”

I turned my face back toward the ocean and felt a tug on my heart. “Do we have to leave?”

He stroked me. “Yeah, but Cinque Terre will always be here. You can come back.”

* * *

I
t was
another exhausting night of travel for all three of us. When Will’s town car arrived to pick us up from O’Hare, I collapsed into the car and almost fell asleep. When I woke up, I felt a heavy, warm weight on my lap and realized that the cat had crawled onto my lap.

“We’re here.”

The car pulled into a driveway and stopped in front of a mansion that rivaled Luke’s in San Francisco. The red brick home was surrounded by color; plants and bushes of all types thrived around the house. The road circled a round pool where a large, golden fountain played. When the door opened, Tom dashed from the car to lie on the steps on the house, flailing his body in apparent ecstasy.

The light brown wooden doors opened and a woman in her fifties emerged, dressed in white capris and a sky-blue blouse. She beamed when William swept out of the car.

Here we go
, I told myself, watching his mother hurry down the steps to greet her son.

“My baby!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Hi, Mom,” he said without the same enthusiasm. Will hugged her, his face going pink.

His mother tossed back her dyed blonde hair and looked over his shoulder at me, a question forming on her lips. Will glanced at me. “Mom, this is Natalie.”

I slid out of the car and took her proffered hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Her dark eyes scanned mine as if she could detect any misgivings stirring inside them and I was reminded of William. His eyes had the same shape and color, and he inherited her unnerving stare. Her lips lifted into a slight smile to soften the message that was:
Hurt my son in any way and I will destroy you.

“It’s lovely to meet you. You two must be starving. Come in, I’ll fix something.”

I cast a terrified glance at William, who smiled encouragingly and wrapped his arm around my waist as his mother led the way. “Relax, my mom is nice.”

The door opened to a magnificent foyer laid with cream-colored marble. Two sweeping wooden staircases with black railings led upstairs on either side of the circular room. The archways had beautiful, intricate crown molding. Ahead was the living room and to the left was a modern kitchen with granite counters. Inwardly, I laughed at the idea of his mother visiting my apartment. 

“This is where you grew up?”

“Yeap. It’s been remodeled several times over the years.”