“It has to be Theo. I mean, who else could it be?” Emmie hissed.
But it wasn’t the other lawyer who stepped out of the cabin.
It was Abbott.
“Oakley and Abbott? What the fuck is going on?”
21
EMMIE
Isat in the front seat, shocked, as Marius drove us down the forested country road.
“Abbott?” I asked. “But Oakley doesn’t even know him. Like, Oakley was part of Brooks and Theo’s little friends group. It was always Oakley and Beatrice and Theo over for parties, and I was the fifth wheel. Now we know they had some sort of weird circle-jerk swinger-sex thing going on. But Abbott?” I turned to Marius. “Weren’t you friends with him in high school?”
Marius made a noncommittal noise. “We had some classes together.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.” I stared out the window, willing the snowy forest to give me some sort of sign.
“Maybe…” Marius worked his jaw.
“What?”
“Never mind. The baby can’t be Abbott’s, can it?”
“No way,” I said firmly. “I know Oakley. Theo is one thing, but Abbott… I mean, he’s weird and a little nerdy—not that there’s anything wrong with that. Nerds rule the world,” I added when Marius stiffened. “But like, he is not Oakley’s type at all. Unless…” I tapped my chin. “Is Abbott rich, do you know?”
“No. Whenever I was at his house, his mom didn’t have much. Aunt Frances would always send me over with food. Abbott couldn’t really spring for birthday presents or anything like that—not that we were invited to parties. He doesn’t have money.”
“So you guys were friends?” I asked.
There was that noncommittal noise again. “All I’m saying is he doesn’t have money. Or a lot of sense.”
“She’s using him, then.” I slapped the armrest.
Marius scowled.
“Hey! Barbie can be a doctor or an astronaut or a manipulative sociopath! Women can be whatever they set their mind to! We just need to figure out what Oakley wants from Abbott. Do you think you can talk to him? Please?” I begged, sliding my hand over his lap.
He white knuckled the steering wheel then made a hard right onto a snowy drive.
“How about,” I said against his mouth, gripping his jaw as the car slowed, “if you interrogate Abbott, I’ll let you act out your favorite porno with me?”
His eyelashes fluttered against my nose.
The car screeched to a halt.
“I think,” he growled, grabbing my chin to kiss me roughly, “that you want me to act out your favorite unhinged romance porn scene with me.”
He wrenched the door open, grabbing me before I could face-plant in the snow, then he easily flipped me over his shoulder. His gloved fingers were insistent under my skirt.
“Wait,” I said to the back of his soft wool overcoat. “Where are we going?”
He just stroked me harder, the leather gloves rough in my pussy. Panting, I scrabbled at his back.
I heart a digital beep, then the snowy ground changed to stained wood. I was unceremoniously dumped over the back of an oversize leather couch.
“I got us another cabin.” His fingers were still between my legs. “Take your clothes off. I want to see your tits,” he ordered, still stroking me,
