Page 59 of The Master
Nate was a good cook, but there was something special about Mom’s home cooking. Especially when it came to that meal. When Mom was sick, we ate a lot of prepared meals, but the times she felt up to it, we would make roast chicken and vegetables together.
“Let me text Nate and let him know I’m going to stay for a while. I don’t want him worrying.” I had a feeling he’d worry until all of this was behind us, but at least he’d know I was safe and staying put for a while.
Mona’s coming over for dinner, so I’m going to stay here and get this over with. You’re welcome to come too if you want.
His response came back rather quickly.
That sounds like a good idea. I don’t know when I’ll be done with what I’m doing. Call Owen when you’re done. DON’T leave alone.
I frowned. It wasn’t rude, exactly, but something still felt…off.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked. Then she shook her head. “That’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.”
“Nate’s got some things he’s doing right now. I’m guessing whatever it is, it has to do with putting this mess to bed.”
Mom came around the table and put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you have him and Finley. They have the resources that can make those women pay for what they’ve done to you.”
I stared at her. Mom had never been a vindictive person. Then again, with the exception of Mona, there’d never been anyone who’d hurt me like this.
“I mean it, Ash.” Her expression was hard. “They can’t get away with this.”
“They won’t.” I didn’t think I could actually promise that, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss the fact that the world was unjust.
Mom and I had a dinner to prepare, and I still wasn’t ready to face Mona. Then again, I doubted I’d ever actually bereadyfor what was coming in just a few hours.
Thirty-Nine
Nate
I’d promisedmyself I’d never come back here, and I hadn’t broken that promise…until today. I’d do more than that to protect Ashlee. I’d do whatever it took.
Even if it meant coming face-to-face with the last person in the world I wanted to see.
I walked up the slate walkway and onto the porch, knowing she was probably already watching me. She’d always known who was coming and going. She liked the idea of appearing all-knowing. Everything was a power trip for her.
Even though I knew she was most likely right next to the door, she made me wait after I rang the doorbell. Twice. I didn’t bother to smile when she finally opened the door. We both knew that we weren’t here for anything remotely cordial.
She was pushing sixty now, but still looked years younger. No gray in her light brown hair and only the faintest lines at the corners of her eyes. She was petite and didn’t look like she’d gained an ounce since she’d kicked me out. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I might not have noticed the little things that told me it wasn’t good genes but rather a skilled surgeon that was responsible.
“Nate. I’m surprised to see you.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door jam, managing to look wealthy and elegant all at once.
“No, you’re not.” I wasn’t going to play this game with her. Especially not after what she’d done. “Are you going to invite me in or are we going to have this talk out here?”
“I don’t have anything to hide,” she said, examining nails that had never seen a day of work, honest or otherwise.
“There’s no one out here to see this little act, Isti. We can talk out here if you really want to, though.” Choosing which battle to fight was always the best way with Isti, especially when I was no longer willing to distract her with sex.
She scowled and stepped back from the doorway. She didn’t invite me in, but she didn’t close the door either. I followed her inside, memories flooding in from every side, some from places I could see as I followed her down the hall, some that were unseen.
Isti had me take her from behind while she knelt on those stairs.
We’d fucked on the couch in the front room more than once.
I’d bent her over every marble counter in her kitchen.
The screened-in porch out back had been useful when Isti wanted to have sex outside but didn’t want to risk anyone getting a picture of the two of us. She’d wanted everyone to know that she’d been fucking a man twenty-four years younger than her. Having indiscreet pictures, however, would have been embarrassing.
Through the dining room doorway, I could see the antique chair that she’d once tied me to, naked. She’d ridden me over and over, stroking me back to an erection until it’d hurt too much for me to get hard again. I’d consented to all of it, but I hadn’t really liked it. Even back then, being submissive wasn’t in my nature.
