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She presses her lips together in a mute white line as the waiter approaches and takes our order. He promises to have the food out quickly. I ask for a bread basket to help soak up some of the alcohol in Corinne’s stomach. Thankfully, he hustles back with it, then I butter a piece of steaming sourdough and set it on her plate. “Eat.”
She shakes her head. “I’m trying to give up bread.”
“It’s not Lent, you’re already drinking pure sugar, and you’re on vacation. Eat the carbs. It’s better than puking.”
With an irritated side-eye, she bites into the warm, yeasty slice and moans again, this time in a low, melting tone. “Oh, my gosh, that’s good.”
I shift uncomfortably to get my zipper off my turgid cock. If she knew the filthy thoughts that little whine of hers is making me think, she’d cross herself and hiss at me like I’m the spawn of Satan. “So…if I’m only willing to invest, not loan you funds, how do you see this partnership working?”
“I don’t.” She finishes the last bite of sourdough, her eyes closing like it’s a sexual experience. “I might hire help for some clerical tasks, but I prefer to work alone. And I don’t want anyone else responsible for the nuts and bolts of my operation.”
“Since you’re not willing to negotiate, it sounds like we don’t have much to talk about. We should just enjoy the rest of our dinner and go our separate ways.”
She slams down the drink she picked up moments ago. “Listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you didn’t come to my hotel and suggest dinner just so you could turn me down.”
“And you didn’t come all the way to Hawaii to play hardball, especially since your options are limited. Me giving you a loan for three years simply so you can succeed, while nice, isn’t a satisfying revenge. You’ll have to sweeten the pot.”
Corinne hesitates. “What do you want?”
“We’ll get to that.” Once I find the best strategy. But the more I turn this situation over in my head, the more I realize I’m not ready to put all my cards on the table. Still, letting her peek at my hand—while watching her reaction—might tell me how to proceed. “But I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Me?”
“It’s not personal. You knew I wouldn’t give you my blind trust. After all, there’s a reason you made an appointment to see me under a fake name.”
“C. Rose is my name, first initial and middle.”
“Not your whole name and not the name you go by. You knew if you made the appointment as Corinne Emerson that I wouldn’t see you.”
“Maybe so, but I hoped that once you’d talked to me, and I told you what was going on—”
“That I’d magically believe you after you’d just lied to me?” I level a skeptical stare her way. “With very few exceptions, I don’t believe anyone or anything. And before you call me a cynical bastard, you might ask me why.”
She stares down into her melting drink. “You think Parker is to blame.”
“You think he isn’t?” I lean closer; I want her to hear every word of this. “When we started our senior year of college, I’d moved into an apartment with my girlfriend, Hadley. Well, my fiancée by then. I’d scraped together every dime I made for over a year to buy her the prettiest ring I could afford. We got engaged the weekend before school started. Like me, she was there on scholarship, having clawed her way into our esteemed academic institution with nothing but her wits and determination. Parker told me repeatedly that she wasn’t good enough for me. He called her a climber and a gold digger. I wasn’t rich, so his accusation didn’t add up for me. I told myself that he didn’t know her like I did. I even wondered if he just wanted her for himself. He definitely didn’t understand my feelings for her. So I told him to back off and shut up.”
“That’s not how my brother operates. When he’s convinced you’re wrong, he’s relentless and all too happy to show you…” She pales as her eyes go wide. “Oh, my gosh.”
“You’re getting the picture now, aren’t you? I came home early on a Friday night from one of the two jobs I kept to pay for my love nest with Hadley, all while taking a full class load. I found her—”
“Stop. I know what you’re going to say.”
I keep talking. “In our bedroom, on her knees, sucking your brother off. She was still wearing her engagement ring. But Parker left all that shit out of his fucked-up, pity-party book.”
Corinne looks somewhere between shocked and sickened. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology stuns me. “Why? None of that is your fault.”
“I know my brother. If he didn’t like your fiancée and didn’t think you should marry her, he would have felt totally justified in proving it so he could ‘save’ you.”
