Mind F*ck (20 page)

And believe me, they are worth the second mention.

I glance at the clock and see it’s two minutes to eight.

“I will, Momma. I promise.” I sigh before smiling and snatching up two different colors of lip shades. “Nude, or red?” I ask my mother.

Her eyes follow the path to where mine just looked at the clock. “So it’s eight o’clock now, not midnight?” When I shrug she finally answers me, “Red, sweetheart. Definitely red.”

And I do go with the red shade. But not because of any reason other than it looks good with the rest of what I’m wearing.

It looks good with my dress.

I have to close my eyes and catch my breath before I’m able to walk out onto the terrace and see Rhett at eight pm.

I know he’s there already—I feel it in my bones.

And more than anything else, what I want out of tonight is a fresh start.

That and the chance to be out from beneath the control of my ex-husband.

When my eyes settle on Rhett’s profile, I feel a warm calmness settle over me. I take him in from top to bottom. His suit is so perfectly tailored to his frame, long and lean. Still the only two descriptive words I possess when it comes to him.

Again, and just because I have a moment to spare, I let my eyes scan across the back his broad shoulders.

And because I can’t bring myself to look too closely at what just transpired between my ex-husband and I while he was gone,  I spit out the first thing that comes to my mind.

“I didn’t know they allowed convicts to grow out their hair.”

Shit! What?

“I-I’m sorry—“ My eyes are the size of golf balls, I’m sure, as I clamp my hands over my mouth.

After a few seconds passes and his chuckling turns into full-fledged laughter, I place my hands on my hip.

But not before thanking my lucky stars for him being here tonight to distract me through what’s really going on.

Sanity has always been a fickle thing for me. Even my mother mentioned this little fact about myself to me just before passing away
.

I, quite frankly, find it hilarious that we suppress little memories like this from ourselves until it’s too late
.

And I also think thatfate, like sanity, can go fuck herself
.

I’m not certain exactly how much scotch I drank to chase away the bitter taste the coke left on my tongue before I finished getting dressed and made my way from the guest bedroom in the penthouse to my rooms where I left Summer shoving rails of coke up her nose and getting ready for her long lost friend, Rhett Bennett’s birthday party
.

Once Drake has us both in the back of the Rolls Royce, I only allow her thirty minutes of silence before slicing straight to the point
.

“What do you know about him?” I ask, accusingly
.

When I look over to where she sits next to me and find
her
looking at
me
expectantly, I envision shoving my hand against her face until the right side of it connects with the backseat window. Much like I did Lexy’s earlier tonight in the bathroom while sinking into her
.

I shudder visibly, then narrow my eyes back on Summer’s
.

Control. Focus
.

It takes so much strength for me to stay rooted where I sit across from her when she still doesn’t reply
.

“Summer—I asked you a fucking question. Now answer me! What do you know about Rhett fucking Bennett?
”



Control the chaos. Breathe.

I need control. I know I do, and I’m struggling for it
.

The piano chords catch my attention tothe fact that music is playing in the background of the car
.

And then the first few lyrics spill from the speakers, and I recognize the song.

Say something, I'm giving up on you...

And just like that, my run along thoughts—fueled mainly by the coke and scotch—focus on the lyrics
.

Say Something.

What have I done to Lexy? What am I doing?

Say Something.

I think back to the phone conversation I had with Drake on my way home from Lexy’s. The conversation where he let me know about Summer and Rhett and their little rendezvous in the past. That and the poor schmuck also has Diabetes
.

And I can guarantee it’ll be his first problem on that list that’ll take him out before the obvious last one does.

Lexy..
.

What have I done to Lexy
?

My eyes narrow on Summer’s and for a split second, all I see is Lexy
.

Lexy laughing. Lexy crying
.

Lexy looking up from me on the floor as I hovered over her in our room in our house. The car pulling up to the curb derails my thoughts
.

Control
.

I refocus my thoughts, and when I remember the point I was just trying to make, and the answers I was just demanding, I zero in
.

“Summer, just tell me what you know about Rhett. Tell me why you haven’t mentioned the relationship between the two of you. Or hell, the one between you and Adam Brighton, at least.
”

She looks stunning tonight. Although, I wish she hadn’t worn red..
.

My eyes scan over her as she speaks.

“Rhett is a family friend. And we dated. That’s it. As for Adam? Same thing.” She shrugs. “My father has a lot of idea’s for my personal life...and if you haven’t figured it out yet, so does my brother. Liam, you have to get over that. Now. Or this won’t last.” After she fidgets with her necklace and earrings, she runs her hands down the front of her dress
.

Once Drake has her door open, she smiles before taking his hand and climbs from the car. Just as she exits, she slightly turns and says over her shoulder, “Sweetie, tonight will go off without incident. Don’t fuck this up. You can’t afford Father’s sentence for it.” After I nod, she smiles once again, then she’s out of the car and I’m exiting it behind her
.

“You look handsome,” she whispers as she loops her arm in mine. “You ready?” she asks, and her every syllable is drenched in saccharine flavored sarcasm
.



“I’m ready.” I slide my hand over hers on my arm and we move toward the mirrored doors of the building. And just as we step inside, and all of her colleagues and friends are surrounding her to welcome her, I bend at the waist just enough to lean in and whisper against her ear, “But this conversation is nowhere near over. Is that understood?
”

Then I turn on my heel and stalk towards the open bar and after I have a scotch in hand Ibegin making my social circles
.

Smiling on cue and shaking hand after hand while conversing all things stock and economy. At times I was regaling groups of ten or more men and women—I liked it. This is where I’m myself. This is where everything makes since
.

I think I’ve been in a conversation with one kid about politics for over ten minutes when Travis and Mr. Brighton walk up.

After introductions, and while I’m taking a sip of my scotch, I see Rhett and Lexy walk in when the name of the kid I’ve been discussing politics with registers. Adam
.

Adam. Fucking. Brighton.
My eyes flicker to him in my right peripheral. But not for long. A piece of ice from my glass slides down my throat with my sip of scotch and for a second gets lodged, but thankfully I’m able to quickly swallow it down
.

Glancing to my right, I look at the kid. “Adam?” I ask, clarifying.

And when he nods, I chuckle. “That’s about right. Excuse me, please.” I slap Travis on the shoulder. “Seems my wife’s just arrived.
”

And as I stalk towards her, I barely heed his warning.

“Dean, don’t do it.
”



“Don’t do what?” I chuckle, but mostly to myself.

When I’m less than fifteen feet from where they stand, I realize Rhett has his arm around her—as if to shelter her
.

I scoff internally
.

While asking myself for the hundredth time, where this guy thinks he’s from. Who is this guy?

No one. Soon enough—absolutely no one.

Control
.



I breathe in through my nose as I allow my eyes to scan over Lexy’s back from where I stand behind her. Aside from Rhett Bennett’s offending hand caressing her vastly exposed back in some black ensemble she obviously chose over the red one after I left, she looks breathtaking
.



Control.

I breath and attempt to maintain my control as my eyes follow Rhett’s fingers skimming across my wife’s naked back when Travis walks up behind me and I have to ground my molars not to make a fucking scene at his timing. Especially as he says under his breath, “I said,
‘Don’t’
, Liam. I meant it— Don’t.
”

Then he speaks louder and slaps Rhett on the shoulder with his other hand. “Brother. How goes it? The house?” He turns towards Lexy. “The little lady?
”

When he glances at me and winks, I almost split right there.

From the inside out. Allowing the beast from where he hides inside me
.



Control
.



And thankfully, when Lexy turns and I see her smile, I remember taking her from behind. And oddly,
that
gives me the modicum of control I seek
.



Hands are shook, and pleasantries are exchanged, andas Mr. Jackson watches from the sidelines, Summer walks up, also shaking hands and greeting the new arrivals
.

I’m a little surprised at Lexy making it out of the awkward encounter so seemingly unscathed. She’s not showing an ounce of being flustered.

My eyes move back to Rhett with his arm around her, tucking her into his left side. And I don’t like the sight of it. Not one bit
.

I hear Summer laugh at something Travis and Rhett are talking about, but I pay no attention. I pin my eyes back on Lexy and stare at her.

Willing her to look at me. Willing her to take her eyes off fucking Rhett Bennett and
look at me
.

I feel my control snapping, bit by bit
.



Look at me.

Look at me, Lexy.

I feel a hand on my arm and realize Summer’s talking to me. “Honey, do you mind grabbing me a sparkling water. Oh look, there’s Father.” I make eye contact with the man in control of my career and nod at the same time Summer waves
.



“Of course.” I brush my lips across her forehead and glare over the top of it at Lexy once more before making my way towards the bar. However, when I see a bathroom next to the bar, I slide off down the hall in its direction instead. Hand already clasping around the silver vial in the breast pocket of my gray suit. I’ve hit it three times when the bathroom door behind me opens and Rhett walks in.

Instantly, I know he’s pissed. But I couldn’tcare less
.

I wink at him in the reflection of the mirror before splashing my face with some cool water from the sink. Once my face has been pat dry, I toss the linen towel in a bin and re-button my sleeves at the cufflinks. Never breaking eye contact with the bastard in the mirror. “What’s up, Bennett?” I ask
.



“You come by the house while I was out?” That’s all he says. He leaves no clues with his words
.



“My house. I did. Why? What’s it matter to you?”I counter
.



“As long as I’m the one residing in the pool house instead of the Penthouse, it’s Lexy’s. Learn that shit, quick. Also, know this...I have my own way of knowing who comes and goes from my personal space.” Before my mind can process he’s even moved, his finger is in my face. “And I may not know what the fuck happened behind her closed doors, but listen to me, motherfucker, it won’t happen again. Ever. She may not be mine, not yet...But she for damn sure, isn’t yours. Not anymore. Stay the fuck away from her. And stay the fuck out of my background. I got techie with my time behind bars, IP addresses and such. That’s fucking child’s play for me, buddy. I know your every move. You’d do best to remember that.
”



I open my mouth to speak. But I’m so pissed that nothing comes out. Well, nothing except, “Fuck you!
”

After he smirks at me, I’m still without words, and then he’s leaving the bathroom
.



Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Me?
!



The thought jars me. And I move, heading towards the exit. I’m heading towards where Lexy is talking still with Travis. She needs to know about this guy. I suddenly don’t trust him. At all
.



Shit
.

I see the bar and it reminds me
.

Summer’s damn water
.



As I slide in line at the bar, I think back on the time I’ve spent listening in on conversations between Lexy and Rhett, and he doesn’t seem to mean her any harm. But what if it’s not her he’s after...because if it’s me and mine he’s after, he sure is well on his way to conquering it. With Travis headlining the way
.

Mr. Jackson steps up from behind me. “Hello, I hear a congratulations is also in order for another one of my son’s tonight. Not just my boy, Bennett.” He beams
.

Mr. Jackson is far from what you’d expect of a seventy-five-year-old man. At six-two, he’s not an inch shorter in height, mind, and ego than he was the day he was my age. Or so I’ve heard the older stock player’s rumor. His hand shake is as firm as his keen eye
.



“Yes, sir. It does seem. Thank you.”We shake hands and the lines around his eyes soften when he smiles
.