Duplicity (Seraph)

by Elodie Hart

I’m half listening. I think she just said something that, by her standards, could be construed as almost touching. But, honestly, my chimp brain is racing away with me, because fuuuuuuuuuuck. Marlowe in my office every day, where Plain Elaine currently sits? Marlowe sucking my dick under my desk and bending over my desk whenever the fuck I like? Jesus Christ.

My stupid dog does no such thing, and instead rubs his head against Marlowe’s thigh, something that should be my move. The little traitor has completely abandoned our 'bros before hoes' pact. We're going to have a serious talk about loyalty later,

The concept of folks working all day only to want to go out and socialise even more, to drink and dance and network like they don’t have a care or an expense in the world, is categorically beyond my frame of reference. For God’s sake, do none of these people have a Netflix show to get home to?

when she begs me, in that panicked, breathy little voice, not to stop, I mentally punch the air so hard that I mentally dislocate my shoulder. Fucking yesssss. I knew it. Marlowe, Marlowe, Marlowe. You were already perfect—and then you went and begged.

‘People have underestimated me my entire life, love. Luckily for you, my absolute favourite thing is proving them wrong.’

‘Nice to see you again,’ he whispers. He brushes his fingertips lightly down my upper arms, and I shiver. ‘Welcome to Sullivan Construction, Ms Winters.’

I may not want anything serious here—after all, this pay-for-play relationship suits me down to the ground—but I really, really want to believe that she’s kissing me on a Friday morning on the stool of my grand piano because she’s digging it, not because I’m paying her to.

‘Brendan Sullivan’s bedroom,’ she murmurs as I lead her upstairs by the hand. ‘I’m almost scared. Do women come here on pilgrimages and scatter flowers at your bedroom door?’ Cheeky little minx. ‘Mostly they just bring empty bottles so they can collect holy water from my bathroom taps,’ I bat back. ‘Kind of like Lourdes?’ ‘Exactly like Lourdes. The healing power of a few hours with me and my dick is miraculous.’

‘Look at me,’ I order her. ‘Look at me and I’ll give you everything you need.’

She opens her eyes. They’re magnificent. I could lose myself in them. Their huge pupils, their frantic movements, tell me everything I’ve wanted to know. She’s not faking this. She needs it. Right now, she needs me.

‘I’ve never been so blown away by a woman’s beauty as much as I was that time I first saw you. Never.’ And every time I’ve seen you since.

‘Look at me,’ he orders, and I open them. ‘If I’m giving this to you, I get to see it break you. Understand?’

‘Fuck. Does your cunt go to a special cunt gym? Because it’s fucking ripped. Does it lift weights? Do squats?’ ’No, but it has an excellent personal trainer,’ I quip. He stills beneath me. ‘I know I don’t have the right to ask you this, but… just the one trainer?’ ‘Just the one,’ I whisper, and he squeezes me tighter. ‘Good.’ There’s a pause, then he clears his throat. ‘My dick only has one PT too, and she’s bloody gorgeous.’

Athena?’ ‘Yes?’ I can barely get out the words. ‘How old is—how old is her—Tabby?’ ‘She’s eight. Nearly nine.’ Athena’s voice is soft when she says it in a way I haven’t heard before, except when she’s mooning over my brother. My beautiful Marlowe is mother to a gravely ill eight-year-old little girl, and I didn’t know a damn thing about it.

‘Jesus, Marls, I can’t bear this,’ he says finally. ‘Come here. Let me give you a hug, for fuck’s sake.’

I wish I could run my fingers through her still-damp hair and tell her what I’ve grown to accept over the past twenty-four hours—that she is my whole world, and it terrifies me. That I will move heaven and earth to make her happy and to keep her daughter safe. That she holds all the power, every last drop of it, and I never stood a chance with her, only I was too scaredy-cat to admit it to myself.

I wish I could tell her that keeping her on as my regular EA-with-no-benefits isn’t an altruistic or financially reckless move on my end but a desperate ploy to keep her close, to buy myself time while I embark on several monumental tasks. To regain her trust. To build a relationship with the most important person in her life. To prove myself worthy of playing the part I know I want to play in both their lives.

I’m a grand gesture kind of guy, which is probably a nice way of saying I tend to throw money at problems in the hope that they’ll go away.

What she needs is support and companionship and commitment, not a bunch of fucking roses.

‘You sound like a daddy.’ I go completely still. Tears well in my eyes instantly. Like, immediately. I brush my thumb over her knuckles. ‘Do I?’ I manage. Her smile is shy. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Do you think I’d make a good daddy?’ I press. This might just be the highest-stakes conversation I’ve ever had in my life. She cocks her head. ‘Yes. A lovely daddy.’ Okay, this next question is seriously fucking out of order, but there’s no sign of Marlowe, and I may as well ask it. ‘Do you think one day you could imagine me being your daddy?’ I ask, my voice thick with emotion. Her pale little face lights up, and it’s all the answer I need.

My girl knows exactly what she wants. That it’s me she wants is the greatest privilege of my life.

I stare into her huge brown eyes, so close to mine, so full of love and desire. In their depths, I see my entire future. My happiness. My life’s meaning. My children.