From: Lex Edward
To: Charlotte Mason
Subject: I’m Sorry
Charlotte,
Please just hear me out. All the stuff was fabricated. Victoria Preston is a colleague, and while she has made advances on more than one occasion, I have very firmly put my foot down. There is no other woman for me but you. Please don’t do this to us. We are trying to make this work, and both of us need to trust each other. I’d never do anything ever again to betray you. I lost you the first time and am not that stupid to make the same mistake twice.
Talk to me please, baby. Don’t do this. I know you read my texts. Just please email or call or text me. Tell me what you are thinking.
Lex Edwards
P.S. I love you Charlotte, my wife. That still hasn’t nor will it ever change
The screen flickers as I stare into space. If I stare long enough, the images morph into different shapes. This consumes me, and for the few minutes I’d spent lost in my computer screen, I forget the pain which pierces every part of my soul.
The pain is tugging on my heart, begging it to come out and play, go for a jolly stroll together.
The pain that ate me alive the moment she disappeared that morning in The Hamptons.
I beg her to speak to me. I send emails and texts relentlessly but nothing. I even put read receipts on my emails, but all I get in return is an ‘unread.’ Nikki warned me to stay away but, how can I? She’s my fucking wife. She said ‘I do.’ Is this my fault?
Confusion plagues me along with guilt and remorse. Maybe I could’ve done more. Should I have been firmer with Victoria? The team I had built around myself should’ve prevented this from happening. Why the fuck aren’t they doing their jobs correctly?
Yet, surely, she has to know how ridiculous this all is.
Why would I even look at another woman when Charlotte is mine? Was I not sincere enough that she couldn’t believe me after I said the words ‘I love you’ when I vowed to be her lawfully wedded husband?
Questions, more fucking questions with absolutely no answers.
I take a long drink of the flask tucked into the pocket of my jacket. It burns as it makes its way down my throat, but the numbness it brings me makes life more bearable until it wears off. I’m not one to drink at work, and this unprofessional behavior is out of character for me, but I have no other escape.
The trip back to London was the longest flight of my life, and even worse was having to deal with my sister who flew back with me to make sure I was okay. Yeah, I guess I’m okay for a man who lost the woman he has been waiting for his whole life.
The afternoon dragged until I hauled myself to Preston Enterprises. Inside the boardroom, people around me were chatting, others preparing for our board meeting. Victoria, of course, was avoiding me, and the New York Times refused to retract the article saying their sources were reliable.
What fucking sources was what I wanted to know.
The room falls silent as I sit on one end waiting for her arrival. The other sheep in the room continue to sit quietly, twiddling their thumbs pretending not to notice how my fists are clenched ready to pounce on Victoria the second she walks through that door. Five minutes later, the devil herself appears.
“Good afternoon, everyone, I apologize for my tardiness.” She places a pile of papers down, adjusting the screen ready for the presentation. Avoidance only works for a certain amount of time, and her time is running out.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards. Nice of you to attend our meeting here in London,” she says, not looking my way for even a second.
The projection screen slides down, and the lights turn off. The sheep turn around in unison to watch the screen. As the presentation begins, I can’t help but use this opportunity to castigate her for her childish behavior which fucked up my life more than she can ever imagine.
“You avoid all my calls and emails. Tell me, Victoria, did you achieve what you wanted by feeding bullshit to the press?” I whisper into her ear.
She remains still, her posture straight as she focuses on the presentation. “There’s a time and a place for this, Mr. Edwards, and now is not that time nor place.”
My anger spikes. The stupid whore. Who the fuck does she think she is?
“Don’t play games with me, Victoria. You and I both know nothing happened and nothing ever will. Find a way to fix this, or Daddy will see that lovely picture of his best friend with his cock in your loose pussy.”
She abruptly turns to face me. Even though the room is dark, I can see the shade of red forming on her face, her fury enough to satisfy me in this moment. I turn my chair to focus on the presentation, leaning back with a satisfied grin. Suddenly, profit and losses seem like the most entertaining topic in the world.
Sleep has become obsolete in the past few days. I gave up trying and instead focus on my counterattack while in the ring. My trainer, Hank, has never seen me so dedicated, even suggesting I play up against the big guns. Okay, I may have been angry, but being beaten up by professional boxers isn’t on my list of things to do.
After the initial anger wears off, I know I’ll have to fly back to New York to win Charlotte back, no more drowning my sorrows and wishing the problem away. I have to take action and prove to her once and for all this is one big lie. Even if it means I have to sit outside her apartment for days on end waiting for her to return home. I’m determined, and nothing is going to stop me now, not even Nikki’s warnings.
***
Thursday night, eleven o’clock. I sit in the car opposite her apartment block, the windows dark, not a hint of life. I’ve been here for three hours and nothing. As every minute passes by, my rage grows uglier, slowly spreading to every part of me. My mind conjures up every possible place she can be staying, and as the bitterness starts eating away at me, I know there will be nowhere else she’d be staying out this late on a Thursday night except for Julian’s.
The thought alone is like acid, burning my soul bit by bit. It isn’t just her trust in question, it’s mine as well. As long as he is living and breathing, she will run to him.
When the sun rises, I give up.
With my head spinning and mental fatigue plaguing me, I drive back to my hotel for some much-needed rest.
***
My eyes wander across the several invitations to bid scattered across my desk. After dropping the ball on many things, I have no choice this past week but to work nonstop to make up for lost time. I’ve fallen back into the trap, trying to control my emotions by throwing myself into work. I can’t control my personal life, but this business merger is something I have complete command over.
Everything is ready to go, and I’m confident we’re making the right decision by purchasing this company. I glance over the contracts but notice a section is missing. Huh, this is odd. I go over the paperwork again but still can’t locate it. Fuck! With frustration, and running on zero sleep and bourbon for a staple diet, I dial Kate immediately even though it’s after seven on a Friday night.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Kate, where are the margin tables report for the Berkshire contracts?”
“It should be with your copy.”
“Well, it isn’t, okay?”
“Then I have a copy with me. I can bring it to you tomorrow.”
“No, I need it now. I’ll be at your suite in ten minutes.”
I hang up, grabbing my wallet, taking the next available cab. Usually, Kate and I will stay in the same hotel. However, due to my last-minute decision to fly to New York, The Waldorf had no available suites for Kate. Instead, I put her up in the Four Seasons.
When I knock on her door, she opens it quickly.
“Good evening, sir.”
“What on earth are you wearing?”
She’s dressed in what could only be described as a fluorescent pink strapless dress. It’s very tight-fitting and short. Very short. I’m drawn to her legs, long and lean sitting in a pair of strappy silver heels. Her makeup is bright, and her hair is left loose in soft curls. The oddest thing is, she’s wearing a whistle around her neck.
“Oh, this?” she says while waving a hand over herself. “I’m going out with some friends tonight to some gay club. Apparently, there are certain dress codes one must wear to these clubs. I know, I know, I look daft, right?”
My attention focuses on a pair of black pumps sitting by the bed. My stomach weakens slightly as they look exactly like the ones Charlotte wore when I was fucking her on her desk.
No, this definitely isn’t the time to stir things up.
“Here are the papers you requested.”
Her eyes move to where mine are focused.
“Oh, sorry about the mess. I have a friend staying here for a few nights while she sorts some stuff out.”
“She’s here now?”
Kate laughs softly. “Yeah, showering in case she meets someone to hook up with at the gay club… like that’s even possible. She’s arse over tit in love with this jerk, but apparently, he’s cocked up big style. Hey, if you want to meet her, I can always lure her out.”
“I better head out and call it an early night. Say hi to your friend for me.” I chuckle lightly, amused by her visit to a gay club. I’ve never been, nor will I ever want to. Women often baffle me with their interests.
“Will do… and Mr. Edwards?”
“Yes?”
“I hope it works out for you… with her, I mean. I don’t know her, but I can see you love her, and that’s all anyone needs.”
I pause, thinking about her words. “See you tomorrow night.” With the small amount of fight I have left in me, it’s all I can manage to say.
It’s only eight, and I have already done everything possible. Everything is set for tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve been to the gym and showered, and now what? I hear a knock on the door. I open it to be greeted by Rocky and Elijah.
“Dude, you look like shit,” Rocky roars.
I caress my beard, wondering what these two fuckers are doing here.
“Get changed, we’re heading out,” Elijah tells me.
“Where to?”
“Porky’s! It’s all-you-can-eat night.” Rocky laughs.
Porky’s turns out to be a seedy strip joint in the meat-packing district. I don’t know why I honestly thought we were going to an actual all-you-can-eat restaurant. Rocky’s sitting front row center, wearing an I Eat Meat truckers’ cap. His eyes light up any time one of the girls does their show in front of him. I’m surprised he does this kind of thing. I’d have thought Nikki would’ve microchipped him or something.
The girls are nothing special, your typical fake tits, spray-on tan, fake eyelashes type of women, and all bleached blondes. They do nothing to ease my pain, not even when one tries to sit in my lap and rub her tits on my face. I can smell the alcohol on her breath, and her eyes are glassy. No doubt she did a line before she came on stage.
“Do you love this place or what?” Rocky cheers, waving a dollar bill in the air.
“Have you lost oxygen to your brain? Most likely from those extremely tight jeans you’re wearing,” Elijah points out.
I almost spit out my bourbon. They are fucking tight jeans.
“Hey! It’s like the newest trend or something. Nikki picked them out for me.”
“Did she make you wear them tonight so your dick couldn’t get hard?”
“No… it can get hard. It’s just really tight in there.” He squirms.
“And the color? What is that, iris-purple?” Elijah questions.
“The fact that you even know that’s pretty gay, dude. Besides, it’s violet-blue.”
I roar in hysterics as he mentions the color. Only a married guy like Rocky would wear violet-blue, most likely to scare off any pussy that comes near him tonight. As Rocky continues to justify his choice of tight, feminine-colored jeans, the topless waitresses continue to serve us drinks. By the tenth round, I am losing focus.
“I’m surprised Adriana let you out tonight. Wait… this better not be your bachelor party because this is way too tame.”
“Me, out? I’m surprised Nikki undid your chain from the street post.”
“At least I’m guaranteed great pussy every night. Elijah, it will happen to you when you get hitched.”
“Please stop talking about Elijah and pussy. He’s marrying my sister. C’mon, Rocky, this was supposed to be a pain-free night,” I complain, twisting my neck to call the waiter back over.
“Oh yeah, my bad. Anyway, so look, all I’m saying is that sometimes you need to spice things up a little, keep that fire going. For example, once Nikki actually did use the dog chain on me. Made me eat her out for like an hour.” He lifts his glass with a wide shit-eating grin on his face.
“I’m not a bondage type of guy. We’re more into kama sutra, exploring different positions.”
“Stop… Elijah. Just shut the fuck up right now,” I snap, annoyed.
Raising my glass, I accidentally tip some bourbon into the peanut bowl. No one ever eats that shit anyway, except for Rocky.
Elijah frowns. “Perhaps we should change subjects.”
“Oh, yes,” Rocky shouts, clapping his hands with delight as a new group of women dance on the stage.
The music starts, and Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ plays over the speakers. The strippers strut their stuff on the stage, all dressed in white virgin-looking bodices with their little white thongs. The older girl pulls Rocky up onto the stage due to his over-enthusiastic reaction to the song.
“Damn, those jeans look even tighter when the spotlight’s on.” Elijah winces.
I scowl. “Fuck, I think you can see the shape of his balls.”
Rocky moves on the stage, mimicking the strippers as they slide up and down the pole. The sight is good and bad at the same time. Moments later, he’s surrounded by the three girls, tits all bouncing in his face. He looks like he is in titty heaven, that’s until his face turns bright red, and his goofy grin is replaced by an embarrassed, forced smile.
“What’s up with him?”
“I don’t know.” Elijah shrugs his shoulders. “You reckon he blew in those pants?”
“Fuck, he couldn’t have. I don’t know how you could possibly get hard in those,” I wonder out loud.
“I don’t know, but he looks uncomfortable. Wait, he’s coming our way.”
“Dude, why the face? You blow in your pants?”
“N… No,” he stammers.
Rocky turns around, unsure of what I’m looking for until it stares me right in the face—a giant split in the seam of his pants right down the middle of his ass.
“Dude!” Elijah and I roar in unison.
“Fuck you, guys. It was fine until Destiny told me to crouch down so I could smell her pussy,” he complains.
“Why the hell would you crouch down to do that?” Elijah asks, appalled at the act.
“Because I wanted to smell it.”
“Dude, I don’t think that pussy smells any good. More like a sea bass that has been sitting out for days.”
“Oh shit, man.” I almost cry. “Sea bass is one of my mother’s famous recipes.”
“I know,” Elijah chuckles.
“I need more drinks.”
The rounds keep coming, and the three of us are way too intoxicated to understand each other’s conversation. I watch the strippers gyrate throughout the night. By then, my vision has blurred, and I know it’s coming to an end before I pass out.
The music changes once again, this time playing Usher’s ‘Make Love in the Club.’ It’s soothing compared to the rest of the shit they played. A young girl walks slowly onto the stage. She looks different—a brunette. My eyes fixate on her. She’s wearing a pale pink bra with a matching thong and long brown hair sitting above her waist.
She looks new, maybe a rookie.
Taking to the pole, she closes her eyes ignoring the men in the front who yell vulgar words at her. As she opens her eyes, they meet mine—big chocolate brown eyes fixate on me.
I feel a slight stir in my pants.
It’s time to leave.
