Wine, Tarts & Sex

Twenty-four

“Leo, darling, I hate to see you so upset.” Hannah Reiss glanced at herself in the mirrored wall opposite her. Thank God she looked good, even in this terrible light in this horrid dive that Leo insisted had the best steaks in town. “Not that you don’t have every right,” she added, taking pains to make her voice softly sincere. “For that woman to take your son from you is… really… criminal. ”

“Damn right it is. But she’ll get hers,” Leo grunted, flicking a glance upward from his twenty-two-ounce steak. “You’re not eating. Don’t you like your steak?”

Good God, would the man not talk with his mouth full? She forced a smile. “I love my steak, darling, but we had cake and ice cream for Chelsea’s birthday just before I left work. Do you remember Chelsea? She’s in accounting.”

“The fat broad with no tits?”

“She’s not exactly what you’d call fat, dear.”

“Fuck if she isn’t. But Jeff tells me she’s practically a human calculator. So she stays, fat or not.”

Now, Hannah Reiss had spent her entire life doing her own kind of calculating. In her case, it had entailed selecting the right friends in high school, the right extracurricular community activities, such as reading to the blind, volunteering at the local hospital, driving elderly people to church on Sunday. (It wasn’t her fault the nursing home van had stopped running and some of her passengers had passed out in the hundred-degree heat; the girl at Baskin-Robbins should have made her banana split faster. But her father had taken care of that little imbroglio, and really, what was all the fuss about? No one had actually died.) So with her high school record pristine thanks to her daddy’s intervention, college admission officials were duly impressed, and she was accepted at the right college where she took the right classes (preferably where professors gave grades for sex), and graduated magna cum laude. After graduation, she applied at companies with the best potential for advancement. That Leo Rolf was known for his roving eye figured, if not exclusively, pertinently in her decision to take an entry-level job at Rolf Enterprises for a lesser salary than she would have liked.

Now, if she could continue to stomach Leo’s numerous vulgarities, her life would proceed very much as she’d planned. She would become wife number five… and if Leo happened to keel over during sex in the not too distant future, she would gladly become a rich young widow. “You know, I think I’ll take this delicious steak home and enjoy it later,” she said sweetly. Or flush it down the garbage disposal.

“Want another martini?” Rolf snapped his fingers at the waiter. “They make the best martinis here. Just a smell of vermouth-that’s the secret. We’ll take two more,” he brusquely said at the young waiter’s approach. “And bring the bread pudding while you’re at it-lots of whipped cream. I don’t want a couple little dabs. Okay?”

With barely concealed loathing, the waiter said, “Yes, sir. Lots of whipped cream it is.” The waitstaff always drew straws for Leo Rolf. No one wanted to serve him.

“And coffee,” Leo barked. “A big cup. None of that sissy demitasse shit. Lots of sugar, too!”

The clientele in the hundred-year-old steakhouse was, like Leo, not here for ambience or a fusion menu. Only a few patrons even glanced up at Leo’s shouted orders. They were here for meat and martinis, and Murphy’s Steakhouse delivered. Everything else was an afterthought.

“I never get tired of Murphy’s,” Leo murmured, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “A steak and a martini.” He winked at Hannah. “And a piece of ass afterward. Hell, life doesn’t get much better.”

Maybe she could slowly poison his martinis, Hannah thought, not sure she could manage a lengthy sojourn as wife to this boorish lout. “I enjoy your company, too, Leo. You’re just as charming as everyone always says.”

“They say that?” he grunted, picking his teeth with a toothpick.

“Of course, darling. You’re universally known for your charming manner,” she went on, doing her best to overlook the dribble of spit sliding down his chin. “You put people at ease,” she went on gamely. “You can talk to anyone on any subject” (as long as it’s about him-or him-or, for a change, him). “Dex said the other day that you’re the smartest man he’s ever met.”

“I’ve done okay for myself, I guess,” Leo said smugly, setting the toothpick on his plate and wiping his mouth with his napkin.

Thank God for small favors. He’d used his napkin instead of the back of his hand. “You’ve done more than okay, darling,” Hannah said, feeling as though she would be pushing a huge rock uphill until this evening ended. “You’re at the absolute top of your game. No one knows how to make things happen when it comes to deal-making better than you.”

“Speaking of making things happen. You look sexy as hell in that hot-pink suit. You’re gonna have to take that off for me real soon.”

She always cringed at the thought of having sex with him. When he took off his clothes, he was hideously wrinkled and flabby, despite his personal trainer. And if he lasted thirty seconds before he came, it was practically a record. The flip side and the only side that mattered, however, was that he was fabulously wealthy. “I’m tingly just thinking about it,” she murmured, offering him the tantalizing smile she’d been practicing before the mirror since high school. “And for your information,” she purred, “my lingerie is hot-pink, too.”

“To go with your hot cunt,” he said with a leer just as the waiter returned with their martinis.

Having seen his share of rich old men with beautiful young women, the waiter didn’t so much as blink as he set the glasses on the table. “Coffee and dessert will be up shortly, sir.”

“Here’s to us, babe,” Leo cheerfully said, ignoring the waiter and lifting his martini glass to Hannah. “And to the rest of the evening.”

Hannah smiled and raised her glass. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to it, darling.”

And to the day that lovely pink diamond engagement ring she’d seen at Tiffany’s was slipped on her finger.

As for her sex life, those bodyguards Leo had just hired might be willing to do a few things for her as well. A little extra overtime on the side, as it were. Leo always immediately fell asleep after he climaxed, leaving her totally unsatisfied.

And dying to get off.

She stole a glance at the next table, where the two buff young bodyguards were seated, all stern-faced and alert, scanning the room just like those CIA men did in movies. Really, the one closest to them could have been a model, he was so handsome. He reminded her a little of those Abercrombie & Fitch boys, only he was clearly a man.

What would he do if she brushed up against him in the elevator?

Better yet, why didn’t she invite them both into her bed some night when Leo was dead to the world?

That delicious thought kept a smile on her face for the remainder of the meal, and when she accidently tripped getting into the car outside the restaurant, she made sure Mr. Abercrombie was standing close enough to catch her.

She smiled as he helped her into the car a moment later. “Thank you. I must have drunk more than I thought,” she said, squeezing his hand in what could have been simple gratitude.

“Not a problem, miss. Anytime.”

His middle finger slid over her palm. There was no doubt. “How polite you are,” she murmured, taking her seat, a little jolt of lust warming her senses.

“Yes, miss.” He released her hand and stepped back.

Had she been mistaken? Was it simply a meaningless stroke of his hand?

“If you ever need anything, miss, Bo and I are here to serve you.”

“Thank you. Leo, your bodyguards are the most polite young men,” she said, turning her smile on Leo as the two men moved to take their seats in the front of the limo. “What agency sent them?”

“Fuck if I know. Ask Ben. He takes care of that shit.” Leo rubbed his stomach and grimaced. “I shouldn’t have had that third martini. I’m going to call it a night, babe. Sorry, but you’re going to have to wait to get laid.” Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass behind his driver’s head. “Take me home, Tommie, and then take the lady home.” Falling back against the seat, he muttered, “Maybe it’s all the stress with my bitch wife. Chriiist. As if I don’t have enough on my plate without having to chase her down.”

“Poor dear,” Hannah murmured, stroking Leo’s arm. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. I feel just terrible for you.”

“Thanks, babe. It’s all in the bag though. Soon the problem will be solved.”

“To your satisfaction, I hope.” Janie’s rather sordid background had always made her a complete unknown to Hannah. Unpredictable. Impossible to read. Even harder to understand.

“Of course to my satisfaction,” Leo said with a snort. “Is there any other way?”