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“Of course,” she replies with a smile, turning toward me and Sophie. “Always happy to help a good cause, especially local ones. And please, call me Julia.”
Rather than reminisce about the bombing, I tell her, “Speaking of noble local causes, I would like you to meet my wife, Sophie, another tennis enthusiast.”
“Is that right?” Julia beams. “Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie.”
“You too,” she says softly.
“Julia is a prolific philanthropist, contributing to a long list of charities across the state, including her own, the Townsend Tennis Center.”
“I just try to help where I can, do what my husband would’ve wanted to do himself if he were still here with us.”
“You run a tennis charity?” Sophie asks when she catches on.
“Julia’s foundation provides youth tennis programs to the community for free, and low-cost private lessons for adults. She even has indoor courts.”
“Really?” Sophie’s definitely more interested in the woman now. “Indoor tennis courts?”
“Since we primarily teach kids ages six to sixteen, the Vegas heat can become a bit extreme.”
“No kidding,” she agrees. “I love playing outside, but sometimes…”
“A little air conditioning while you play would be divine?” Julia finishes with a broad smile.
“Exactly.”
“We’re always looking for volunteers if you have any free time.”
“All I have is free time,” Sophie mutters.
“Then you should join us. If you’re interested in making a career out of it, you can even earn your USPTA teaching certification after six-months full time or twelve months part-time.”
“Oh, no. I’m not good enough to be professional tennis association certified.”
“My wife is being modest,” I interject. “She spends most days on the court, regardless of the heat, all for her simple joy of the sport.”
Sophie’s head tilts toward me. “How do you know that?”
“Because you aren’t aggressive enough to become a hardcore competitor.”
Now she frowns at me. “Is that another way of saying I’ll never be a great player?”
“It wasn’t a criticism,” I assure her, and give Julia a smile of apology for having this argument in front of her. “I just meant that for you, there’s more to tennis than winning. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Sophie replies softly, her glare saying she’s still cross with me for some damn reason. I’m not the one who was practically moaning someone else’s name over and over again.
“Winning is great, but the kids and adults we teach just want to have a little fun and get some exercise,” Julia tells us. “How about I give you my business card and you can reach out if you’re interested?”
“Yes, please. Thank you,” Sophie says as she accepts the card and stares down at it long after Julia hurries away as if to avoid getting caught in another one of our marital arguments.
The excitement in Sophie’s blue eyes as she tucks the card away carefully in her purse makes me think she’ll call first thing tomorrow morning.
While I want her to be happy, and to find fulfillment in her days while I’m busy, that doesn’t mean I’m not still furious with her for making plans with another man.
In fact, I spend the rest of the night of idle chit-chat with donors thinking about when and where I’m going to punish my wife.
It’s definitely going to be tonight. The parking lot here is out of the question since I have no doubt Salvato has every inch covered in security cameras. I guess that means I can either punish her in the SUV on the way home or wait until we’re back at the estate. Either way we’ll have an audience since I know Sophie won’t step foot into my bedroom. With witnesses, at least I’ll be less likely to snap and fuck her brains out afterward.
When I’m finished, she’ll probably beg to go back home, but that’s not going to happen. Guess I’ll have to figure out a way to console her.
