Explore Her, More of Her (9 page)

Anton and I talk about his work over chicken thighs sautéed in onions, garlic, mushrooms, balsamic vinegar, and white wine. We’re on our second bottle of Mes Fleurs red wine, and I’m on my second helping of the mouth-watering dish Inés made.
 

“It’s a… a… fucking lose-lose situation, love is. I eat what he wants me to eat. I live the way he wants me to live. I fly on his jet. I haven’t published an article in a year. Nobody takes me seriously anymore. I’m the chick who gave up her
vivre
for a boy—no, a man. He’s a man. I’m…” I gulp down the wine that’s left in my glass.
 

Anton pours me another. I’ve already decided to drink until I can’t.

“No, Daisy, you cannot disappoint me, your cousin. A long time ago, you had courage. You were a superhero, able to leap over a swimming pool on a skateboard—or die trying.”
 

We giggle. I feel extra silly and uninhibited.
 

Anton simmers down. “But your husband, he believes what men have taught him, and you feel what God has made you. How do you resolve the difference?” He shrugs.
 

My head is spinning, but I want it to go faster, so I take another healthy swig. “You’re asking me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jacques says that you and I are alike. That means you understand perfectly. Try.”

I slump deeper in my seat, close my eyes, and give it the old college try. “You’re talking about people, right?”

He chuckles. “Look at me.”

I open one eye. He’s blurry until I manage to focus.

“I am one human. I am what’s wrong and right in the world. Evil and good are human. They are people who make choices. They use their hands, their mouths, and their minds. Look at me, Daisy.” Anton holds up his hands and spreads his fingers. “I am human only. I am what’s wrong and right in the world.”

Like me, Anton has had too much to drink, which in his case seems to make him philosophical Anton. His bedroom eyes are more hooded as he engages in passionate sex with his intellect.
 

I raise a finger. “I like that. Repeat it tomorrow when I’m sober. I want to remember it.”

“I want to show you something. Can you walk?”

“Could you help me if I can’t?”

“I can. Come,” he says.

I polish off most of the wine in my glass. Anton grabs the bottle. I stand too fast and tumble over. Anton catches me, and I wrap my arm around his neck.
 

“You are steady?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah… let’s go.”

Anton guides me out of the kitchen and down the dusky hallway.

“Four glasses of wine is all it takes?” he asks.

“Actually, it only takes one.”

We make it to the patio, and shortly after, the cool night air collapses around my face. I take a deep breath.

“That is good. Breathe deep. It will help,” Anton says.

I take more deep breaths, and the oxygen settles me. Anton sings in French about a woman who adorns herself for a man who’s in love with another woman. Then he sings in a dialect I scarcely understand.

“What’s that language?” I ask as we sweep past the swimming pool and around the hedges.

“It’s Basque.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it before. Did you sleep with a Basque woman for seven years?”

“I fucked her for seven days.”

“And that’s all it took?”

“I’m a smart man.”

I snicker as we walk up the steps to the middle cottage. “You’re such an amusing bullshitter. I got it,” I assure Anton.

“You can stand on your own?”

“Yes.”

He carefully lets go of me, and I steady myself. At least for now, I’m in control. Anton opens the door, but he still helps me inside, which is a good call.

The living room has no furniture in it, only paintings on easels.
 

Anton walks me to one particular piece. “This is it…”

I open my eyes extra wide to focus on the design. It’s a silhouette of a woman and man emerging from a grain of wheat.
 

“It’s…” I whisper. I don’t know why this one painting is arousing tear-provoking emotions within me, but it is. “What does it mean?”

“The man and woman are brand new. They have not heard humans tell them who they should become; only God has spoken to them. They are Adam, Daisy, and so are you.”

Suddenly I understand, and I don’t know why, but tears roll down my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say. And I do apologize for my reaction to his work.

“Your tears are one result I seek.”

Anton and I stare into each other’s eyes. My tears just keep rolling. He’s showing me that I should never lose my independence, that Belmont and I are identical. We have to find a way to make his independence and my independence our independence.

“Now what am I to do?” I ask Anton.

“Do what is natural,” he says.

I wipe my eyes. “Right.”

“Or wrong.”

I sniff back the rest of my tears and point at the bottle in his hand. “Let’s just finish that.”

He lifts the bottle. “Do you mean this one or those?” He points toward the table, where there are more bottles and an untouched cheese platter.

“As much of it as we can.”

Anton tilts his head toward the table. “Okay, we drink!”

***

Belmont Lord

After the helicopter carried Daisy away, Belmont felt the impact of her absence. When she actually had an answer for how her life would be without him, he knew they would be in trouble. Even though she’d said that she would be in Bordeaux, he pictured her at a nightclub called Divin in Paris. It was a place where the wealthy, and the women and men who were drawn to affluence, mingled. He imagined Daisy in a red dress made of a soft, slinky material. It was short and tight around her velvety thighs. Her hair was wild, just the way he liked it. She had split the aisle, strolling toward him. All the men desired her, but Daisy had chosen him to give her the world. He was willing to offer her the universe and so much more.
 

But then he realized something—he would’ve never run into Daisy in a place like Divin, or anywhere else he used to frequent to meet women. So he changed the scenario in his head to Daisy with a pack on her back, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt dress and worn ankle boots. Her wild hair was tied in a bun on top of her head, but loose strands had broken free. She was walking through a vineyard, snapping shots with her camera phone as she usually did. She didn’t have stimulating a man’s sex drive on her brain, but the way her dress rested against her firm nipples and the crease of her ass made him want to take her down in the grape fields and sink his dick into the tightest, warmest, wettest place on earth. He couldn’t suppress his lust for her. He had hoped it would subside to a normal level after being married for nearly two year, but it hadn’t, and he didn’t think it ever would. If only sex was all they needed.

There was a part of Daisy that he couldn’t understand, or perhaps find credible. Didn’t all women want his wealth? As far as looks went, he was tops. He wasn’t a jerk—he gave her what she wanted. Yeah, his favorite place for his dick to be was inside her, but he made sure it was pleasurable for her. So what the hell was he doing so wrong? He had to find out. He’d told her to go to Bordeaux because he planned to arrive shortly thereafter, but he did not lie to her. First, he had business to take care of.
 

The helicopter disappeared from sight, and Belmont hurried into the house. He headed back to the control room to contact Dr. Calvet. A few seconds after Belmont pinged him, Dr. Calvet answered.
 

“Belmont,” Dr. Calvet said.

“You said we should have a session before I leave. Well, I’m here.”
 

“It is good you decided to take my offer.”

“Yes, well, you went overboard with the ankle monitors. I considered reporting you for that alone.”

“I understand. I do apologize. When I was told that the sexual aspect of your relationship was excessive, I thought I might use sex as an unconditional stimulus,” Dr. Calvet said.

“Excessive?”

“A lot of sex is good for your marriage. As it is said, the more the merrier. The question I want to ask you is the same one I asked you to think about. What do you, Belmont, want from Daisy?”
 

“I don’t want a damn thing from her. I give her everything she wants.”

Dr. Calvet raised a finger. “No. That is an answer from a man who has not given thought to the question. Take your time. So I ask again. Belmont, what do you want from Daisy?”

Belmont took a moment to consider his physical and mental state. His body was tense, so he relaxed. He was standing, so he sat. He pressed his temples to clear the anger and frustration from his head.
 

“I will rephrase the question,” Dr. Calvet said when Belmont still didn’t answer. “A husband and wife require parts of each other. What parts have you required from Daisy?”

Belmont didn’t speak the answer that came to him, but he knew he had been requiring Daisy’s soul. He wanted her near him. He wanted to smell her and taste her. He had found
the
one,
and he wanted to possess her.

“I require her love,” Belmont said.

“I see…” Dr. Calvet looked down as though he was writing something. “You grew up in Denver, Colorado?”

The tension rushed back into Belmont’s shoulders. He rounded them to take out the tightness. “Yes.”

“Tell me about your father.”

Belmont snorted. The doctor had been talking to Charlie. “What about him?”

“When I ask this question of people who had a positive experience with a parent, they do not ask what you just asked me.”

“He was a bastard. It sounds like Charlie filled you in on him.”

“He was rich?”

“Very.”

“You are a very rich man, no?” Dr. Calvet asked.

Belmont grimaced. “Your point?”

Dr. Calvet sighed wearily. “Belmont, you must make this easier. I am here to help you, not hurt you.”

Belmont nodded. The man had a point. Belmont was a guarded son of a gun, and when he thought about it, Daisy had tried to make him realize that. “Okay, I’m wealthy. My father’s rich too, but I never used a penny of that bastard’s money to build my wealth. I used his name though. I earned it by putting up with the shit that comes with being his son. But his money? Never a penny of it.”

“I see…” Dr. Calvet nodded. “We do not have the time we would have had if you and Daisy had chosen to stay, so I go straight to the matter. Use adjectives to describe your father, like nice, good, bad, etcetera.”

“Bitter, cold, ornery, mean, controlling, bastard, hypocritical, weak.”

“I see. What about your mother?”

Belmont started to speak but stopped. “Are you trying to draw correlations here? Because I’m nothing like my father.”

“I asked about your mother, and you refer to your father?”

“Daisy’s nothing like my mother.”

Dr. Calvet looked at Belmont with a look that encouraged him to say more. “There is no need to anticipate my motives. My purpose is not to trick you.”

Belmont sighed. He’d agreed to the session, so he figured he might as well be compliant. “Adjectives. Right. She was meek but flashy. I think she worked at it. She was sad.” Belmont looked off. “Very sad. It was as though she wanted something that was too far to reach. She was oblivious, studied…” Belmont nodded. “She was kind. She felt sorry for us—it was as if she was trying to apologize for bringing us into this world and under that bastard’s roof. He controlled her and tried to control us with his money.”

Dr. Calvet waited until Belmont looked him in the eyes. “I have done my homework. I do believe you have acquired more wealth than your father, no?”

Belmont shrugged. “I don’t know. I never counted.”

“No?”

“No.”

Dr. Calvet grunted thoughtfully. “Have you ever heard of post-traumatic stress syndrome?”

“Of course,” Belmont said.

“Some children live in a home where their parents put a lock on the refrigerator. When those children become adults and can buy their own food, they gorge themselves. They become obese, and still, they cannot stop eating.”

Belmont instantly made the correlation. His pulse raced, and his head felt as if it was floating while his soul took a nosedive. He had a lot to think about. “You’re saying I have post-traumatic stress disorder?”

“All people who were raised by humans are afflicted with this disorder—some are more severe than others. Some people let becoming a reasonable, studied adult heal them, but many people merge the symptoms of their disorder into their personality and never become healthy, so they develop personality disorders. You are one of the lucky ones, Belmont.”

“I am? Why is that?”

“You are working to heal your condition.”

Belmont nodded thoughtfully.
 

“Unfortunately, we learn from our parents even the things we don’t like. So I ask you, what do you want from Daisy?”

“I want her partnership.”

Dr. Calvet smiled victoriously. “Good! That is good. So—you have given Daisy all that she wants. What has Daisy given you?”

Belmont beat back the thought of being inside her. He would have to think beyond sex. “If it weren’t for Daisy, I don’t think Charlie and I would be in the good place we’re in now.” Belmont frowned so hard that his head felt tight. “But the truth is…” He scratched the back of his neck.

“What is the truth?” Dr. Calvet said.

“Now I understand why she sees me as a controlling motherfucker.”

“You are not a controlling ‘motherfucker.’ As it is said, know better, do better.”

Belmont nodded. “Right…” It clicked. Belmont knew what he had to do.

After finishing his session with Dr. Calvet, Belmont touched bases with Harold Doe. Belmont knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to return to Chicago to deal with Reece Development latest scheme to shame him. Plus, he had given up his plans to develop in Chicago. The headache was greater than the reward. Why the hell had he locked horns with the likes of Reece Development in the first place? They were small potatoes, and the stupid stunt they had pulled was proof. Belmont had plans to dismantle them, and when they were down to their last morsel of bread, he would force them to sell to him at base price. Then he would sell off their assets until the Reese name became nothing more than ashes in the desert. But did that make him the same vengeful prick his father was? If only Matt hadn’t threatened Daisy. Belmont would live and let live, but to keep his wife safe, retaliation was required.