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Her lips curl into an ironic smile. "Trust me, he knows exactly when the Great Wall was finished. I've played this game with him a lot."
I lean back against the wall as I wait for her to hand me the next plate, letting her words sink in.
"You know how Dom and I ended up together? Trust me, it wasn't easy. We had a lot of problems. Lots of missteps, lots of hurt feelings. And we're both competitive, we make Ronaldo and Messi's rivalry look like a fight for a toy on the playground. But at some point, we both said,'hey, what are we doing here? Are we just wasting time together or apart? Because I love you and I want to be with you.'And we have to stop letting our own shit get in the way of us being together. And here we are. But it takes a lot of compromise and a lot of forgiving and forgetting about the past." She takes a breath, leaning on the sink, looking at me thoughtfully. "We chose to trust."
I listen to every word and it makes me adore her even more. The way she speaks, clearly and concisely, simply, real. But what I'm supposed to do with it in my own situation? I don't know. There's a lot going on that I'm not sure we can overcome. Not the least of which, the things I've done in the past.
She grabs the wine glass and carefully rinses them. "Yes, he trusts you."
"How do you know?"
"Because he's never brought anyone here before. When he called and said to Dom, 'I'm bringing a friend,'I knew. You were going to be special. And I wasn't wrong."
I want to believe her. "What's so special about bringing me here."
"He's getting our approval. He has it, Clarissa."
We clean the rest of the plates in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. When we're done, she takes the tea towel from me to hang up on the rack, and hugs me again. "You can trust him, too."
They send us home with bottles of homemade limoncello and a promise that they'll be in New York soon. And many, many things for me to think about.
***
He slides into me slowly, deliberately, torturously.
Wrapped around his waist, my legs pull him in, urging him deeper. "Please..."
He's been teasing like this for an hour.
My pussy hums with the need for release.
"They liked you; my friends liked you," he whispers as he pulls out again, making me whimper at the emptiness. "Should we invite them to the wedding?"
"Whose?"
He bores into me with his darkened eyes. "Ours, Clarissa."
"Our real one or our fake one?"
It has to be asked.
But he doesn't argue, just sucks on my neck for a moment as he presses into me. Inch by inch by inch, thrusting in the very last moment, pushing himself to the hilt before pulling out again.
"When are you going to realize there's nothing fake about this?
He finally lets me come, my entire body splitting apart from the pleasure, the sensations long overdue, and I burst out crying at the release.
Once he catches his breath, he pulls me to his chest.
"It's all real, darling. Did that feel fake to you?"
***
We both spend the plane ride back catching up on work. He isn't flying this time, hiring a pilot to take us and the company plane back to New York. He sits in the chair opposite mine, our legs tangled together as we reply to emails and phone calls.
Half way through the flight, I get an alert on my phone.
"Playboy billionaire Matthias Baxter set to marry Baxter Enterprises Board Chairman's daughter Clarissa Masters."
