Hooked Up: Book 3 (36 page)

“What are you staring at?” I murmured softly, without looking at him.

I heard the smile in his voice when he answered, “How do you know what I’m doing?”

“Because that’s what happens with husbands and wives; they get to read each other, even with their eyes half closed.”

“What are you thinking about, Pearl, with that serene look on your face and that satisfied smile?”

I laughed.

“No really, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

A bird swooped above me and some leaves dropped to the ground like golden confetti. “I was wondering when you’d ask me what I was thinking,” I replied.

“Come on!”

“I’m not kidding.”

I heard him sigh with contentment and he linked his arm with mine. “You want to know what
I
was thinking?” he asked.

“Maybe about what we’re going to have for dinner, even though we’ve just had lunch,” I teased, knowing how he and his family were forever discussing
haute cuisine
recipes. He’d been cooking up a storm lately, impressing me with his gourmet meals. I cocked my head to see his reaction. His eyes glittered with amusement: a man who knew how to laugh at himself; one of the many reasons I fell in love with him.

He squeezed my arm. “Actually, no. Although I have to admit that did pass through my mind ten minutes ago. I was just going over the events in my head, you know, everything that led us here; all the trials we put each other through. I still wouldn’t have had it any other way, though.” He paused, then added. “Okay, perhaps a few less hours of labor pains for you would have been a bonus. But still, we’ve been rewarded nicely.”

“We really are lucky.” I stopped walking for a minute and looked at him. A little lurch caused my stomach to flip as if I’ve just set eyes on him for the first time. “Funny. I’d forgotten all about that, the labor pains. I think women are programmed to have a sort of amnesia after birth, because I was just remembering how smoothly it all went, how effortless.” I leaned down to check the babies and tucked the soft blankets around their tiny, alabaster necks. “Madeleine’s developing your dimple, Alexandre.”

My husband’s lips curved up, and the dimple in his cheek confirmed my observation. “I was just thinking how much like
you
she is, chérie.”

“Like me? But her hair’s dark. She even has your French pout. No, she’s you in a nutshell.”

“In character, I mean. She’s a little indecisive.”

“Give her a chance, she’s only a month old.” I frowned “Am I indecisive?”

He winked at me. “Hard to catch. You weren’t easy to convince.”

I loved the fact that he saw me as having been hard to catch, when I was so obviously
his
right from the second I set eyes on him in the coffee shop. I said nothing, although a tiny smirk sneaked its way onto my lips. I was unashamedly happy—the cat with all the cream. Double cream, no less.

Alexandre turned to face me and folded me in his arms. I leaned my head on his shoulder and felt the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Madeleine made a little murmur but then fell back into a deep sleep. I observed Rex, who looked at her and then at Louis. Finally, his wide, black head checked up with us for approval. This was my family, dog and all. We were a team.

Team Pearl.

As if reading my mind, Alexandre said, “We’re in this for the long haul. Are you ready for the ride, chérie?”

I hesitated for a minute and asked myself: was I really equipped for this, to be a good mother to my children, keep my autonomy as an independent career woman who could hold her own, and also be a loving wife to a man as headstrong as Alexandre? Yes, I thought. I
am
ready, and more than capable. I had come a long way in the last nine months. Life was not about me anymore. It was about
us
.

I replied, “Am I ready for the ride, chéri? You bet I am.”

P
EARL AND I settled beautifully into married life. After the twins were born, she became more of a woman and less of a girl; so much so that I would goad her sometimes to be more frivolous and less responsible. Perhaps I missed that foolish character that jumped out of the ladies’ room window and got me running round in circles—a little bit anyway. I understood that our wayward paths had been the right ones, and nothing we had ever done in our lives could—or should—have been different, including the “fuck-ups.” If they had been, we wouldn’t have felt so lucky to be together.

Pearl became quite a mover and shaker with HookedUp Enterprises and began to spread her wings. I was so proud. Those wings that had been damaged, when I first knew her, were now helping her soar to great heights. She had so much more confidence being married and being a mother.

One evening, as we sat by a roaring fire in our apartment, I came clean about the Bloody Mary incident with Laura—it had been eating at me. I didn’t want to hide anything. I went into detail about how I was trussed up like a Christmas turkey, hands bound with electric cable, “marinated” by the drug-spiked Bloody Mary, with Laura poised on top of me, my dick ready for lift-off. Pearl thought it hilarious—in retrospect—but admitted that I’d done the right thing not to tell her at the time. We had no secrets from each other now. I reveled in my newfound freedom of not carrying weights upon my shoulders; secrets so heavy they made you stumble through life—what a relief. Both Pearl and I were free, and it felt fucking great.

I had become a sort of househusband, being able to work from home, with the twins on my lap, or crawling about the floor while I “tested” the video games in my new company, or made calls—I’d also bought up a chain of boutique hotels to add to my portfolio, which I needed to manage. Sally had become nanny to the children as well as to Rex, so we were a busy, bustling household. We were making ridiculous money with our video games, my new partner and I, and it was more creative than HookedUp, which Sophie was now handling pretty much solo. I still owned shares but was out of the day-to-day grind of it. Sebastian’s and my new video game was a work of art, with high concept character building and role-play. Meanwhile, Pearl and Natalie went from strength to force with HookedUp Enterprises and had branched out into magazines as well.

THE EVENING OF the New York premiere of
Stone Trooper
had finally arrived. Originally, Pearl had said that I needn’t bother accompanying her, but then she changed her mind. She had assumed I agreed, but I was getting so into the househusband thing, I had other ideas. I lay on the sofa with my toddlers crawling all over me, their sticky fingers in my eyes and hair.

“Alexandre, you
have
to come,” Pearl pleaded, standing at the doorway. Her blonde hair was swept up in an elegant chignon—the hairdresser had been in our apartment all day. Her makeup was sultry and darkly seductive. She looked stunning.

“Sorry, babe, I really don’t like doing red carpet, you know that,” I mumbled, a set of baby fingers in my mouth.

“But this is different.”

“Still red carpet. I like to keep my anonymity. I already did the first premiere in LA. One’s enough. Sophie’ll be with you. Natalie, Alessandra, Elodie. You really don’t need me as well. Besides, someone has to stay home with Louis and Madeleine, and Sally’s busy tonight.”

“You told me Sally would be here,” Pearl grumbled. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? So
tetu
, it’s unbelievable!”

“I’ll stay home, order Chinese, and hang out with the twins.”

She walked toward me slowly, letting her ivory silk robe fall open. My eyes grew greedy observing her beautiful nude body—freshly moisturized—she smelled of peaches or something sweet and edible. Her tits were still big from breastfeeding. I felt myself go instantly hard. I’d fuck those tits later. Maybe now even, while she was all perfect—I’d ravage her—
women hate it when you mess with their hair and makeup.
I winked at her.

She raised her brow. “Alright, fine, don’t come. Don’t blame me if guys come on to me tonight. Don’t blame me if Mikhail what’s-his-face eyes me up and flirts his ass off.”

She had my attention. “That Russian arms dealer fuck? What’s he doing coming to our premiere?”

“Oh, it’s suddenly
our
premiere, is it? A moment ago I was on my own.”

“Seriously, who invited him?”

She exited the room with a
Wouldn’t-you-like-to-know
look on her face.

I got up from the sofa, Louis in one arm, Madeleine in the other. Their eyes followed Pearl too, and Louis gurgled, with a grin on his face as if he found the whole scenario hilarious. I called after her, “Who invited him?”

I took out my cell and arranged a babysitter, there and then. Jeanine, in fact, who worked at HookedUp Enterprises with Pearl. She was a big fan of Louis and Madeleine. She said “yes” immediately. I called Sally for backup and when she said no, I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

THE
STONE TROOPER
premiere was less of a flashy affair than LA, but still, everyone seemed to want to be there to be seen, rather than to see.

Not Pearl, though. She was in professional mode, politely chatting to everyone who was congratulating her as we made our torturously slow way up the red carpet, toward the open doors of the movie theatre. She had on a floor-length silk chiffon gown that trailed and shimmied behind her—a sort of pale gold that made her angelic, although she was unaware of how dazzling she looked. It was amazing how fast she’d lost the post-pregnancy weight. Swimming, I guessed. Except for her breasts—no weight lost there. It unnerved me to know that others might see that too. As we ambled on through to the screening—she glided, I ambled—Elodie came up behind me, her eyes flashing with anger.

She clutched my elbow. “What the fuck?” she seethed in a hoarse whisper.

I had the twins on my mind and was on autopilot, nodding politely at people but not paying attention to what anyone said. “What? Did someone tread on your gown?” I asked absentmindedly. But Elodie wasn’t wearing a gown. She was back to Goth mode. She wore spiked black heels that could poke out an eye, and skin-tight leggings with a see-through top. Luckily, she had on some sort of bra underneath.

“She’s gay, isn’t she? She’s fucking well gay!” She shot a look at her mother, who was walking by Alessandra’s side, her hips pressed close to her girlfriend. As was often the case, Elodie’s father was absent. Maybe he was having an affair too. He was rarely around for events, or if he was, he had an air of invisibility.

“Your mother?” I said. There was no point pretending otherwise. I was amazed it had taken Elodie so long to work it out.

She pinched my arm. “Thanks for warning me. Thanks for hiding it from me for all this time.”

“Elodie, this isn’t the moment. Come over tomorrow and we’ll talk about it.”

“Oh crap, that’s all I fucking need,” she sneered. I looked over to her line of vision and saw the Russian. He was making a beeline for us.

I turned to her. “You know him, Elodie?”

“You could say that.”

For a second the man looked as if he were about to slit my throat in front of the whole crowd, but then he suddenly smiled as if he recognized me.

“Alexandre Chevalier,” he said, his accent very pronounced. “What a pleasure.” He held out his right hand. I felt some cameras flash.

I didn’t reciprocate. I replied coldly, “I’m sorry but we don’t know each other.”

Elodie rolled her eyes. “Uncle Alexandre, this is Mikhail Prokovich, Mikhail, my uncle, Alexandre,” she said in a bored drawl.

His eyes were menacing as he raked his gaze over her. He said in French, “You can do better than that, Elodie, my darling. Especially considering I’m your date.”

“
Va te faire foutre
,” she retorted, storming off towards the doors to go inside.

That’s right, va te faire foutre—fuck you, asshole!
My heart sank into my stomach. My
darling?
Her
date?
What the hell?
My eyes locked with his. “You
know
my niece?”

He smirked at me and answered cockily, again in French, “I more than know her. I’m
fucking
her.”