Page 86 of Lust and Honor

I smile and press a kiss to her head. I start reading her favorite, Little Red Riding Hood, but before Red even meets the big bad wolf, Aurora’s already lost in dreamland.

After tucking my girl in, I step into the hallway, ready to head back to the party. But loud, boisterous male laughter drifting up from downstairs catches my attention. Curious about what a men-only gathering looks like, I follow the noise down the staircase until I reach a door guarded by two men. They glance at me with indifferent eyes.

“You want to go in?” one of them asks.

I feel the need to explain. “I need to see Maxim.”

He opens the door. “He’s in there.”

I step into a small space, and the sharp smell of chlorine tells me I’ve walked into the pool area. Laughter echoes, tangled with music. Suddenly, a roar breaks out, voices chanting in unison:

“Maxim, Maxim!”

I peek around the wall, and what I see stops my heart cold. Maxim’s in nothing but his briefs, one hand holding a completely naked woman against his cock. We only had two strippers, but the number of naked women at this bachelor party matches the men. A sharp ache cuts through my chest, and I tear my eyes away. What the hell did I expect? That a player like Maxim would turn into a saint overnight?

I feel like an idiot. Shame burns through me, raw and humiliating. I quicken my pace, desperate to escape. I rush up the stairs, heading back to the girls’ party. But when I reach the terrace where I left Emily, faint moans drift through the darkness. I already know where they’re coming from, but some curious force pushes me to peek over the edge.

Emily’s wrapped in a thick blanket, leaning against the wall, while Carlo’s massive frame looms over her, kissing her with raw hunger. He lifts her leg, hooking it around his thigh, his mouth trailing down toward her breasts.

“Only God knows how much I fucking love you, Emily,” he growls in a low, primal voice.

My eyes well up with tears, and the jealous beast that reared its head back at the pool now claws at my throat, squeezing tight. I spin on my toes and slip away from them silently. I know Carlo already doesn’t like me as it is, catching him in the middle of making out with his wife sure as hell won’t help.

The women’s party has hit its wildest point. The two cops are down to their briefs now, grinding on the stage. I down a few shots of vodka and move closer. One of them spots me, extends his hand, and without thinking, I grab it and climb up. I don’t even know what I’m doing. It’s like I just need to let the rage out.

I dance against their bodies, pressing myself into them, and it’s not until I’m yanked back by my wrist that I snap out of it. Emily’s wide-eyed stare hits me, and I realize I was kissing one of the strippers while everyone watched in shock. To diffuse the awkwardness, Emily lets out a loud whoop, and as the others start dancing again, she grabs my hand and pulls me off the stage.

“I feel sick,” I mutter.

She wraps her arm around my waist and murmurs, “You’ll be fine. Party’s over. You need to get some sleep.”

***

I don’t know what wakes me, maybe the pounding headache throbbing in my skull, or maybe the sound of Carlo and Emily arguing.

“You can’t just let that bitch get away with something like this. She needs to be punished,” Emily says, trying to keep her voice down.

“For what crime?” Carlo snaps. “Recording at that party was allowed. Both the bride and groom gave permission. If Ava made a whore of herself and showed it to everyone on stage, how is the person who filmed it at fault?”

“Don’t be so harsh, Carlo. She was drunk. She didn’t even know what she was doing.”

“Let me tell you something, Emily,” Carlo fires back. “That woman’s a walking disaster. The biggest favor I ever did her was not punishing her for the lie she told me, the one that put you and the kids in danger. And that was only for Maxim’s sake. There’s no way in hell I’m cleaning up the mess she’s made of Maxim’s reputation. Whatever punishment he decides for her, she’d better take it quietly and not make a sound.”

A few seconds pass, and the voices fall silent. I crack my eyes open. The light makes my headache worse, forcing an involuntary groan out of me. Through the hazy fog clouding my vision, I see Emily approaching.

“Here, take this pill, sweetheart.”

She hands me the pill and helps me sit up on the bed. A minute later, the rich aroma of coffee from a breakfast tray fills my nose. She sets the tray in front of me and settles on the edge of the bed.

“Drink the coffee. It’ll help clear your head.”

After a few sips, the memories start falling into place, piecing together the fragments of last night, the image of Maxim, my spiraling rage, the stupidity of what I did. Only now does Carlo and Emily’s argument make sense.

I look at Emily in panic. “Someone recorded what happened last night?”

Her hair’s tied up in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a green T-shirt with blue jeans. She bites the corner of her lip, hesitating before she nods slowly.

“Someone didn’t just record it, they sent it to all the guests.”