I settle back in the seat, controlling my breathing to encourage my muscles to relax. He drives through suburb after suburb, each more expensive than the last, until he reaches the narrow road for the cliffside houses.
It’s another few minutes before Maddox enters a code to release the gate, then pulls into the driveway, coasting into the garage and shutting its roller door before he gets out of the car.
My curiosity mounts a war against my nerves as I get the first glimpse at the architectural marvel that is his house. My wonder grows as he leads me down a flight of stairs into a large dining room. I cross to the window, entranced by the magnificent view.
The main river system spreads below us, the house jutting out so I have to stand right by the window before I can see the ground still beneath us. It makes it feel like the house is floating right on the water, my land lubber legs wobbling like jelly, even though we’re not moving.
“Do you fancy something to eat?”
I want to nod, want to do anything if it postpones what comes next, but I doubt I could eat, instead blurting, “Can we just get on with it?”
The question is rude as hell, but there’s no change in expression. His gaze seems just as happy to rest on me as before.
“Sure. I’ll need to dissolve the pills into something. Are you happy with water or would you like juice?” When I don’t immediately answer, he adds, “What about something harder?”
A real drink sounds incredible about now. “What do you have?”
He smiles, taking my hand and tugging me after him, leading me through to a larger room with a slightly less spectacular view, though splitting hairs at this level seems pointless. There’s a full bar in the corner and he slips behind the counter, drumming his hands on the bench. “What’ll it be?”
I slide onto a barstool, chewing on my lip as I stare at the bottles. “Are those the most expensive?” I ask, pointing to the top row.
“Yep.” He selects a bottle with gold leaf covering half the glass, tipping it towards me so I can see the gigantic crystal stopper. “This is a Remy Martin Cognac, limited edition.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Fifty grand for the bottle.” He pours a generous serve into a bulbous glass, well over an inch, swirling it around so the liquid clings to the bowl, then holding it out for me to sniff. “But for you, madam? Only a thousand per serve.”
“Ooh, what a steal.” I slide the stem between my middle and forefinger, doing another swirl of the alcohol, not nearly as suave as his. “But I’ve left my purse in my other Mercedes.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to find another way to settle up.” He pours himself a glass, the level far lower than mine, then replaces the bottle. “Aren’t you going to drink it?”
I had been waiting for him to dissolve the pills, but take a sip, letting it sit on my tongue until it burns, then tipping my head back to let it slowly glide down my throat.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Feels like I could breathe fire.” He chuckles, taking a gulp from his own glass and wincing until I laugh. “Looks like you’re appreciating every drop.”
Maddox wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like spirits, much. A nice IPA is more my style.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
He tips the last of his glass into mine, and opens a fridge under the bar, withdrawing a cold bottle and screwing off the top, clinking it against my glass. “Cheers.”
I take another sip, spinning the stool around to gawk at the rest of the room. There’s a large, ominous painting mounted along the far wall; all browns and blacks and glinting crimson edges. The furniture is cold aluminium and warmly smoked glass. A large maroon rug on the tastefully taupe carpet looks like a pool of blood.
The room is large enough to hold fifty people. I close my eyes and imagine them standing around, canapes being carried aloft by otherwise invisible servers; rich men chatting aboutvery important things.
My nose goes back into the glass, taking a long sniff. Enough to make my eyes water.
It would be so nice to be invited here just to hang out. To go from room to room, finding all the treasures so familiar to Maddox and his family, they don’t see them any longer.
But I put the glass back on the counter. “Aren’t you going to dissolve the pills in this?”
He nods, pulling it closer and reaching into his pocket. Of course, he has them on him. He takes a minute to break the capsules apart, stirring in the white powder with a glass swizzle stick. A minute filled with my regrets.
Even if he lied, even if it’s sex, you’ve swapped sex for rent before, sex for electricity.
True. On one memorable occasion I even swapped sex for the vague hope of affection, a very short-lived aspiration. Sadly, the thought of my past transgressions does nothing to fill the deepening hollow inside my chest.
