Athousand-page thesis could be written on the marvels of discovering sex for the first time.
Every time I exited Farrow’s tight pussy, the thirty-three years I’d spent outside of it felt like a total waste.
Unfortunately, she had things to do. Vera to ruin. A medal to earn. Romeo’s needy wife to shave. (Ollie walked in on them and managed to send pics before Rom tossed his phone down the garbage disposal.)
So, I found myself at the country club, working out my frustrations on the tennis court. Solo, as always. Whacking every ball the machine launched my way.
When I stopped to rehydrate, I spotted Mom at the edge of the court. She wore a full-blown business suit, confirming my suspicion that we hadn’t bumped into each other by chance.
“Zachary.” She squeezed my cheeks, pushing her Hermès up her arm. “My one and only son.”
I dislodged my face from her paws. “Mom.”
Oh, Constance.
Never one to take a hint, even if it was thicker than a tree trunk.
I’d made myself scarce at the estate the past week, opting instead to whisk Farrow away to The Grand Regent and getaway spots that reminded her of Korea.
“You’re harder to find than a matte alligator Birkin.” She fussed over my sweat, producing an XL sunblock stick from her bag. “Where have you been?”
Inside Farrow Ballantine’s dripping pussy.
“Hell and back.” I slung the tennis racket over my shoulder, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “Why? What do you need?”
I was in no mood to entertain her wants and needs.
In fact, all I wanted was to get back home in hopes of burying myself inside Farrow.
No wonder the system stressed abstinence. One taste, and I couldn’t think of anything else.
Mom huffed. “This is no way to talk to your mother.”
“But it is a way to talk to a woman who is forcing me to marry someone against my will.”
We both froze in the middle of the parking lot. Her, stunned. Me, relieved.
This marked the first time I’d flat-out told her I did not want to marry Eileen. Didn’t want to marry at all.
With the truth in the open, I couldn’t suppress the urge to push back.
“What are you talking about? She’s perfect for you.” Mom began ticking off Eileen’s achievements with her fingers. “Beautiful. Kind. Smart. A doctor. To top all that, she comes from a great family. The Yangs are protective, charitable, and obscenely rich—”
“I don’t care.” I slammed the racket on the concrete road. “I’m obscenely rich, and you know what? My fat bank account and even fatter portfolio hasn’t made me happy. Far from it. I’ve wasted my life trying to achieve more, earn more, own more. I chase safe thrills to fill the void inside me. I don’t need another prize to show the world I’ve made it.”
Mom’s whole body trembled inside that wrinkle-less suit. “What are you saying?”
I knew I’d treaded deep into troubled water. Yet, I took a leap, ready to drown. It was now or never. Forever was a long time to spend with someone you didn’t love.
“I don’t want to marry Eileen.”
“Zachary. You cannot say that.” Mom clutched the Buccellati necklace Dad gifted her on their wedding night. “We already announced it. There was an engagement party.”
“People call off engagements all the time. Oliver and Romeo have a running bet on how long mine will last.”
“What about poor Eileen? You made a promise to her. She’ll become a laughingstock. No one will take her seriously. Or you, for that matter.”
This hit a nerve.
She wasn’t wrong. Both Eileen and I would take huge blows to our reputations if we canned this engagement.
Me, I didn’t care about so much. The only person whose opinion mattered to me never succumbed to societal pressure.
But it wouldn’t be fair to Eileen. Not after I’d committed to our arrangement.
Still, what would hurt more? Entering a marriage where neither of us could stand one another or a temporary blow to the ego?
“For the longest time, I let you and Celeste Ayi manage my personal life by proxy—simply because I never cared to develop one. I know better now than to let this snowball into a situation that will be disastrous for both me and Eileen. I’ll speak to her and let her know my decision.”
“Shh.” Mom peered around at the club members roaming the grounds in their cushioned golf carts. “They’ll hear us.”
She grabbed my arm, leading me to the back of a private cabin. Her touch seared through my skin but didn’t make me want to spew vomit.
Laughter tickled my throat. If I weren’t so furious, I’d be elated. Farrow was fixing me. One touch at a time, she made other people’s touches less revolting.
Mom crowded me against a wall, flipping her Birkin open. She snatched an inhaler, wedged it between her lips, and took three hits.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m having…” Her lower lip curled in disgust. “…anxiety. Dr. Shahi also gave me pills, which of course I won’t take.” She shoved the inhaler back into her bag, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s fine. Don’t look at me like that, Zachary. We both know my life hasn’t been worth much since your father passed away.”
Cheap psychological warfare, but it worked like a charm. Guilt slithered into my gut, spilling over like lava.
Mom meant it, though.
I knew it.
She had one purpose in life. Me.
Whenever I forgot that, it took all of two seconds to conjure the words Ayi once shouted that jerked Mom out of her zombie state.
What if your son dies, too? Are you going to let that happen as you wallow in grief? I can’t protect Zach by myself.
“Do you think I don’t know that you don’t love Eileen?” Mom’s eyes filled with tears. She yanked a handkerchief from her bag, patting her eyes dry. “I know that, Son. Believe me.”
Forcing myself to endure the touch, I guided her to a nearby bench by the crook of her elbow. Her shoulders shook so hard, she didn’t even notice that I’d touched her for the first time in over twenty years.
I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. So smart. So cold. So incapable of filling the cracks in her soul.
I couldn’t even tell her the last words her husband ever said.
In the end, for every fact I knew, the one thing I didn’t know mattered most.
Mom sniffled, caving my heart inward. “But Dad and I always wanted you to experience the things that made our lives worth living. A beautiful house. Children. Someone to come home to. The emptiness you’ve been feeling? A family will fill it with so much joy. How do you think I survived after your father died?”
Mom blinked, her eyes red. “You and your auntie are my lifelines. Some days, you’re the only things that get me up in the morning. I want you to have that with someone responsible. Someone dependable. Someone safe.”
She sighed, toying with her handkerchief. “Eileen is capable of weathering every storm life throws your way. She’s resilient and considerate. She’ll never go against her morals. Never cheat or steal. I handpicked her for you. She’s similar to you in every way.”
Mom was right.
But the truth of the matter was—Eileen wasn’t the one I wanted.
“And that girl… Farrow.” Mom’s mouth twisted downward. “The one you brought to live with you…” She raised a finger, stopping me preemptively. “I refuse to pretend she’s your housekeeper. We both know what she is.”
I worked my thumb down my tense jaw. “She’s off-topic.”
“But she isn’t.” Mom patted her nose with the handkerchief. “I know she’s your mistress. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with fulfilling your urges. We all have needs.”
If I could cringe myself into oblivion, I would.
She continued, “But she’s not wife material. You know this, too. You’ve seen the news. She cheated for financial gain. How do you know she isn’t with you for your money and power?”
I didn’t respond, mostly because Farrow had agreed to our arrangement for legal fees (money) and revenge (power).
Mom shook her head. “You’re a trophy to her. If you were poor, would you have met? Would you have begun a relationship together?”
I remained silent, knowing this to be the truth. Not because I found Farrow to be a gold digger—if anything, she treated people with money worse—but because I understood the circumstances of how we met.
What it looked like to the outside world and why a parent would be concerned.
Mom continued, sensing a crack in my shield. “I’m not telling you to cut her loose. You can keep her for vacations and the occasional treat.” Her throat rolled with a swallow. “I’ve spoken to Eileen. She’s happy to accommodate you. She mentioned neither of you intend to pursue a physical relationship.”
“What’s the point of being together if neither of us want to actually be together?”
“Oh, Zach. Relationships aren’t about sex. Relationships are about mutual values, goals, and friendship.” Mom quaked beside me, frail and small, spewing out her argument like she was on death row. “Your relationship with this Farrow girl is a hoax. You built it on an unstable foundation. Attraction fades. Desire evaporates. Cravings come and go. But friendships? They stay.”
Against all will and odds, I tried to see her perspective.
Her logic hinged on the mutual exclusivity of friendship and attraction. Had it occurred to her that I could consider Farrow my friend while also wanting to fuck her?
Has it even occurred to you? If it had, you wouldn’t have thrown the agreement in her face every time things got uncomfortable.
Mom smoothed my shirt, testing the waters. I tried not to flinch. “Eileen will be good for you. You’re not a means to an end for her. You’re a long-term investment.”
Perhaps she was right. Not about falling in love with Eileen—that could never happen. But maybe I’d let my time with Farrow cloud my judgment.
Eileen offered me everything I needed to tick off on my list. Farrow offered me a countdown, and even that came with a hefty price tag.
“Mom.” I placed my hands on her arms, guiding her away, marveling at the fact that I could touch anyone without my knife as a barrier. “I’m sorry, but it would be unfair of me to give Eileen any hope that we can be anything more than acquaintances.”
“Please.” She pressed her hands together. Her bag flew to the floor, its contents spilling onto the ground like guts. She didn’t even notice. “Please, Zachary. Just give it one more chance. For your mom. For your auntie. For your father. He would have told you to at least try. You know he would.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. She seemed fragile in that moment—the same woman who’d bawled over my hospital bed before time mended my physical wounds and she’d slowly slipped away.
Mom hovered a palm over my cheek.
I closed my eyes, fighting the disgust it ignited in me. The intense nausea was now a dull discomfort, thanks to Farrow.
“Please, give Eileen a chance.” Mom squeezed my shoulder through my shirt, too focused on her goal to realize what she’d done. “I’ve booked you a weekend in the Hamptons. The house is ready. She’ll be there, waiting for you. Just try for me.”
I closed my eyes, realizing I needed Eileen to break this off for my mother to digest it.
Fine. I’d do the Hamptons.
But it wouldn’t end in wedding bells.
“If I do this,” I growled, “will you set me free?”
“Yes.” Mom clutched her handkerchief. “Yes, I promise.”
“Very well. The Hamptons it is.”
