Trent
IWASN’T EXPECTINGMartha to attend tonight’s ball but seeing her made her plight all that more real. That some people struggled to accept pain while others thought nothing of it. She’d been married to the same man for almost thirty years, and I could understand why it was hard for her to acknowledge Steven’s death. My marriage hadn’t even made the five-year mark and the loss was extremely painful to handle, Martha just needed time. I shifted my gaze to Ashrika and smiled watching her animated expressions as she chatted with Sianna and the older woman.
“So, what do you think, Trent?”
I returned Ashrika’s wave and turned my attention back to the man sitting next to me at the bar. Nathan had just asked me about the proposal for sponsorship to shelter women from abusive relationships. “You know me, Nathan, anything children related and I’m all ears. There are plenty of women’s shelters around New York, why would we consider taking it under our umbrella?”
“I think the idea is more single mothers with abusive boyfriends,” Nathan explained. “And yes, there are plenty of those around too but given our success rate at helping children, I think those kids would benefit from the Singleaders expertise.”
“Drop by the office on Monday and we can call the others in as well.” My phone buzzed. I glanced at the number and frowned, not expecting to see Zayne’s name flashing across the screen. “Excuse me, Nathan, I need to take this.” He nodded and with my drink in hand, I walked around to the quieter side of the bar. “She’s an adult, you don’t need to check up on her,” I answered, my tone brusque.
Zayne’s laugh was mirthless. “Says the man who’s gallivanting around town withmy wife.”
I frowned. Was he drunk? “What the fuck, Zayne. You were the one that offered up this deal.”
“She’s not a fucking deal, she’s a woman,myfucking woman.” Hewasdrunk.
I wondered if he was rethinking his offer. If that was the case, I wasn’t about to back down. “Would you prefer I tell her the truth?” I hissed. He cursed. “I thought so.” Even though my tone was aggressive, I rubbed my brow then sighed. “Look, Zayne, I know this can’t be easy for you. Fuck, it isn’t easy on any of us. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve been this accommodating if our roles were reversed.” I bit my lip. What the fuck was I doing? I exhaled on a frustrated breath. “If you want me to back down, say so now and I will.”
There was a long pause on the other side. “If I said yes, would you tell her the truth?”
I dragged a hand down my face, wondering the same thing. “No.” What the fuck? My frazzled brain screamed to shut the fuck up and tell him to fuck off.
“Take care of her, Trent. Don’t fuck up, or God help me...” He cut the call.
I stared at the blank screen wishing I had an easier answer to this mess that the three of us had landed—no, catapulted into with no clear fucking direction in mind. I had Ashrika exactly where I wanted her—wanting me, desperate for my touch. I’d noticed her walls the first time I saw her and put it down to wariness given her memory loss.
Suffice it to say, I was in no way prepared for her disclosure. I’d nearly choked on my saliva the second she started explaining. Listening to her talk about being turned on watching people fuck, of having men watch her strip was sexy as fuck, I guess my deviant mind worked in mysterious ways. But then she mentioned bringing herself to an orgasm in front of these men. My mind warred between giving in to my selfish needs to fuck her right there or listen.
It’d taken every bit of self-control I possessed. I’d always been open to anything that would bring a little spice to our bedroom, but only if my partner wanted it. There were limitations to what Krisha had enjoyed and I hadn’t pushed her. Knowing memory loss was responsible for her change in personality, I wasn’t sure if I felt bad for taking advantage of those circumstances. Maybe I was just a bigger asshole than she knew.
Yet just thinking about her, I was hard as fuck. I glanced in her direction. She’d moved away to stand with the group of ladies that worked for my organization. All I had to do was give her what she needed and desired most and hope like fucking hell it would bring relief to the three of us. I wanted my wife back and I was prepared to do whatever the fuck it took.
“Is this seat taken?”
I looked up to find a tall redhead obscuring my vision of Ashrika. The woman, although not exactly beautiful, made up for her lack thereof with an alluring figure adorned in crimson satin which I was amused to discover, didn’t go unnoticed by the other men around the bar.
Schooling my features into a polite mask, I gestured to the seat with a nod then signaled the bartender for another drink. After the call from Zayne, my head wasn’t in the right space to approach Ashrika, I needed a couple of minutes to calm the fuck down.
The woman next to me slid into the seat and crossed her legs, her short dress riding high enough to reveal far more legs than I deemed appropriate for this event. She pulled out a long cigarette from a silver case and slid it between fire-engine red lips. Her smile engaging, she arched a brow.
“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” I mumbled and picked up my glass.
“Aren’t you that wealthy restauranteur, what’s the name...” She seemed to contemplate her question for the moment then said, “...oh yes, Mr. Shaw I believe.”
I shrugged, said nothing, and made an active attempt to ignore her. I could spot easy pickings a mile away, but my heart was interested in only one woman, currently belonging to a man who seemed to be going off the rails. Could I blame him? How the fuck would I react if our roles were reversed? Still, I was concerned that he could nip his offer in the bud just as quickly as he’d made it. Then what? There was no guarantee Ashrika would believe me if I told her the truth, or worse, her reaction might not go accordingly to plan.
“I’m sure a gentleman like you wouldn’t mind buying a thirsty girl a drink?” the woman insisted on speaking. Not one for being rude, I nodded to the bartender. She pointed to my whiskey. “I’ll have the same, please. Not much of a talker, are you?” She touched my hand that rested on the counter.
Short of telling her to buzz off, I moved my hand and glanced at her wedding ring. “Are you here alone?” I asked, hoping her husband wasn’t some dipshit who pawned his wife off on rich guys, hoping to score. I’d seen a few of those at our previous events, given the majority of guests were affluent older men.
“Depends,” she replied.
