Losing Control(65)
Ian is seething. “He’s going to be peeing from his asshole when I’m done with him.”
“No.” I lay a hand on his arm. “This is Malcolm’s way.” I pick up my fork again. Malcolm has his own problems. Big ones.
Ian’s face is still rock hard, and I can tell he’s having difficulty reining himself in. I ask him another pressing question. “So why the hard play in front of Richard? That didn’t seem like part of the plan.”
The topic of the project shakes Ian loose from his fantasy of beating Malcolm bloody.
“I didn’t realize how angry and jealous it would make me to see you being held by another man, and when he dropped his hands to your ass and thrust his leg between yours I wanted to rip his fucking head off and then spin around the room holding it up like a warning sign.” He drew a hand over his face. “Kaga has always been one possessive motherfucker. He doesn’t like sharing anything. Not a room, not a cab, nothing. He’s got this thing for the younger sister of a friend of his. We all see it but the friend. And he doesn’t like any male to be within about five feet of her even though he won’t make his own feelings known. I used to harass him all the time. And now, look at me . . .” He spreads his hands wide inviting an inspection.
“Now what?”
“Just hearing his name come out of your mouth makes me want to end his time here on earth.” He glares at me. “Eat your breakfast. Rich’s a work project and we’re not on the clock.”
Chapter 24
WE PART WAYS SOON AFTER, AS I have to get to work. Ian explains he has a home office that he’s going to work in today, and I leave him to reviewing financial analyst reports or whatever it is that venture capitalists do.
Around noon my phone dings. It’s a text message from an unknown number. I hit the speech recognition button and the little phone spits out a garbled message.
Victoria it was so nice to meet you last night sorry we didn't get to finish our dad like to take you to the high top Brooklyn next weekend give me a ring.
Dictation software sucks. I figure out that Howe is telling me that he is sorry we didn’t get to finish our dance. I forward the message to Ian.
When I’m finished with that task, the phone rings again. This time it’s my mother.
“Victoria,” she chides.
Oh no, the full name. I’m in trouble. I brace myself. “Yes?”
“You didn’t come home last night, and if it weren’t for Ian calling me I would have been so worried.”
I smack my forehead. Ian has overtaken my mind. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think I know what you were thinking,” my mom murmurs, humor palpable in her voice.
“Mom!”
“Don’t sound shocked, dear. How do you think you came to be?”
I mumble something like “virginal conception,” which elicits a full-throated laugh.
“I hope you’re practicing safe sex.”
“God, Mom, yes.” My womb might be baby safe, but my heart is hanging out there.
“Good.” Her voice softens. “I’m so glad, Tiny, that you’ve found someone. It’s been so long for you.”
“I’ve had you,” I answer.
“You need more in your life. I love you,” she concludes. “Stay safe.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
A beep sounds, and by the image I see it’s Ian calling. “It’s Ian,” I tell her. “Can I call you back?”
“No need. I’ll see you tonight.”
I flip over to Ian’s call. I’ve never been such a popular girl.
“Did you respond to Howe’s text?” he asks abruptly.
“Um, no. I don’t text. Besides, I didn’t know what to say.”
“He invited you to a nightclub in Brooklyn. ‘Victoria it was so nice to meet you last night. Sorry we didn’t get to finish our dance. I’d like to take you to Hightop in Brooklyn next weekend. Give me a call.’”
I hear something crack. “I hope you aren’t ruining anything of value.”
He expels a heavy breath. “I rarely miscalculate, but I’ve really fucked things up. Don’t text him back.”
“I won’t.”
“Bunny,” he pauses, “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this mess. I don’t want you dealing with him.”
“But I want to help you,” I protest. “And if I don’t help you, then I can’t stay in the apartment or anything. It wouldn’t feel right.”
“Jesus, after last night, you still can’t accept a goddamned gift?” He snarls.
“Especially after last night,” I reply firmly. “I’ve got to get going.”