Hide & Seek - James Patterson [22]
She tried on Karl Lagerfeld evening dresses, a black dress by Jil Sander, sandals by Chloé. Will sat on the bed, gloriously naked, playing with himself, and watching her every move.
She already knew that he could keep himself hard for hours. If he had a problem in the sack, it was climaxing. So far, he hadn't with her. It was something to look forward to, no?
She was wearing a red gown and a lustrous pearl choker when she found that she couldn't stand it any longer. She scampered across the floor toward Will and his beautiful arrow.
“Please, please, please me!” she laughed and swooned in a theatrical fashion. “Let me fall on your sword.”
Will didn't let her take off the Carolina Herrera, worth thousands of dollars. Not even her Ernesto Esposito pumps. He used the Hermés scarfs and nylons to tie Melanie to the bedposts. Then he made love to her for several hours. He helped her come so many times that he finally lost count. He didn't climax himself.
Sir Charles Wellsfleet arrived at the estate in Somerset around eleven that evening. He'd had a frightfully long day of meetings in London, and expected to find Melanie asleep in the bedroom, as usual.
His wife was wide-awake, however. Her eyes were like huge blue marbles, and she looked as though she had been sobbing for days. She was still tied to the bedposts with the scarfs and nylons, wearing nothing but the choker. Her face was puffy, but as pale as the pearls. The expensive Italian lingerie was strewn about the bed along with the shoes and the torn Herrera gown.
That summer, Will was transferred from Sir Charles's team. The press suspected everything except the truth: Will had tired of Melanie. The Blond Arrow needed to move on to a much larger stage.
CHAPTER 21
WILL INVITED HIS brother, Palmer, to his Chelsea apartment one afternoon before the new season began. Though it was expensively furnished, the living space seemed sterile, almost as if no one lived there. A Maggie Bradford record played softly, soothingly, in the background.
“I need your help,” Will said, sipping the expensive brandy he had poured for them. Actually, it was his fourth or fifth brandy, and the third time he'd played the same record.
Palmer looked at his brother, surprised. Will never seemed to need anything, from anyone. “How could I possibly help you, Will?”
“I need a manager. I think you'd be perfect. I've thought about it a lot, actually.”
“A manager! I thought Jacob Golding did that.”
“He handles my business affairs. I mean a personal manager. Someone to look after me. Keep me out of trouble.” I'm starting to scare myself, brother. If you won't help me, then who will?
“A bloody nursemaid, Will?” Palmer shook his head and laughed.
Will shrugged. “If that's what you want to call it. Will you do it? The pay is awfully good.”
Palmer swallowed his brandy and stood up. “Not a chance, big brother.”
“Why? What are you doing now that's so important?”
“As a matter of fact, I've got a good job in the marketing department of Cadbury's. But even if I were out of work, I wouldn't do it.”
Will smiled. “Because you hate me?”
Palmer shook his head. His hair was blond, like his brother's, but cut, short. “No. Because I hate living in your shadow. I don't hate you, Will. No one can hate you.”
“You won't help then? Even if I told you that I'm desperately unhappy? That I'm running on empty? That night after night I think of killing myself?”
Palmer couldn't take his eyes off his fabulously handsome and successful brother. He sat down again. “Are you bloody serious, Will? Or are you play-acting again? Is this another of your mind games?”
“Completely fucking serious. I want to kill myself right now. Even as we speak. Do I sound like I'm playing a mind game?”
“My God,” Palmer said. “I think you are serious. Or mad. Or quite possibly, both.”
“I'm no good,” Will said. “No damn good. Never have been. You're the only one who can help me, Palmer. We have to stick together.”
Palmer stood, a strange, sad half smile on his face. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I can't help you, Will.