Ineffable (15 page)

Nori, who found himself the subject of quite a few pictures too, one or two in which he was kissing or holding Margot, tried manfully to curb his smugness. But he did have the manager text his father the final tally for the day’s earnings. An increase of 230 percent over the same day last week.

Margot and Nori were inseparable after that. They weathered the storm of Plate-gate, as Tommy insisted on calling the LA restaurant debacle, and Margot managed to avoid legal sanctions. Irv went to court on her behalf and the judge said, “I’ve seen the video. She was provoked. If the fool hadn’t been drunk he wouldn’t have fallen. Case dismissed.”

When the chief legal officer tried to talk to him about the risks of dating one of the company’s artisans, Nori laughed in his face, but the look on his face shut the man’s mouth instantly. As did his, “I don’t want to discuss this again.” He mentioned it to Margot, who just raised a brow.

“You think I’ma sue you if we don’t work out?”

“No.”

“You want me to sign something absolving you from any scorned lover Margot Temper tantrums?”

“You’d do that?”

Margot laughed. “Sure. I ain’t the type-a bitch to chase a man don’t wanna be caught, so I think you’re safe. But I will if you want me to.”

He didn’t want her to. He had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that Margot refused to stay overnight in his apartment. She liked it, she told him, but it was more convenient for him to come to her, so she could have all of her tools at hand to work. “You can bring your papers and computer anywhere.”

So slowly his things began to migrate into her home. He watched to see how she would react when he commandeered drawers in her bathroom and bedroom, and moved in a small organizer to hold his project files.

But Margot never said a word. She just smirked at him, and he came in one night to find she’d pushed her things aside to make room for his clothes in the closet, and bought him a fabulous office desk set from Ineffable. Happiness rose inside him like champagne bubbles, and he squeezed her until she pretended to go upside his head with her fist.

He insisted on helping with the household expenses, and she let him, since “I don’t wanna feel like your rich ass is taking advantage.”

He answered her sass with a wink and a smack on the ass.

They continued to work side by side in the evenings, and when he had to travel, if she could, she went with him, shipping her tools ahead so she could work if she wasn’t sightseeing while he was tied up in meetings.

They went to parties together in whatever city they happened to be in, and Tommy eyed the photos she and others snapped with satisfaction and ruthlessly exploited the pairing via social media.

“It’s perfect,” she told Lani when she didn’t think Margot was listening. “They mirror each other’s actions, they’re glowing they’re so healthy, hands clasped tight more often than not. They’re like this little island. Remember how they were at Yardy’s do last week? She sat on his lap most of the night, the two of them staring at everyone like they were crazy – which half those motherfuckers are – or whispering together nose to nose.”

Lani sighed. “I know. It’s terribly romantic. Reminds me of me and Jeremy, and they look wonderful together. Who buys Nori’s clothes, you know?”

“Bitch, focus! We gotta get these fools married so we can move on to the next trick.” She paused for dramatic effect. “The wedding.”

From her hiding place in the bathroom hallway, Margot heard Lani suck in an excited breath and just rolled her eyes.

Not that she hadn’t been thinking about it. She and Nori had only been together a few months, but she could see them making things permanent. She suspected he wanted to have that conversation too – hell, he’d already asked her, even if he had been joking at the time – but was hesitant because he was unsure how she’d react. That was a problem. So she’d been doing what she could to make him feel secure.

It wasn’t easy. She wasn’t secure herself. She was actually nervous as hell. Opening her heart hadn’t been easy since that psycho loser George. And though the two men couldn’t be more different, and it had been a lifetime ago, a big part of her was still scared. At one time she never could have conceived George would behave the way he had. What if Nori changed too?

Nori made it easier though. He enjoyed her so much, relished every moment they spent together in this very child with favorite candy kind of way. He was so proud, so pleased, recognizing the significance of each shared secret, every move they made to build their life together. He understood the power of what they were doing. That it was rare, important, that it could change them both for good or ill. So few men did. So few women did. It made every scrap of progress toward an open heart seem weighty, major.

And they needed to be a unit; Aro still did not approve of her. For the most part Margot could give a shit, but if they were to marry, he would have to be dealt with. Nori had been making noise about going out on his own. He thought they could make her idea for an online boutique of curated artisans work. Of course, he wanted it to be global and to have brick and mortar stores, but he also had a ton of ideas to grow her own business, some of which she had already implemented to great success.

But while the ambitious part of her wanted that expansion rather more than she wanted to breathe – she’d been tantalized by the picture Nori drew of different product lines, Margot-approved artisans, curated collections and exceedingly high profit margins – she didn’t want it to happen because Nori had to stop being CEO of Ineffable.

He was flip about the company and claimed he had no attachment to it. But Margot didn’t believe that. He couldn’t see and hear himself conducting business. He loved the business, and not as a challenge or as a business in general, which a man like him needed, but that business in particular.

It was his heritage, a piece of who he was. It was there in his walk, the way he groomed himself, his style and flair, the passion with which he made every decision, no matter how small. It was his legacy. She would never stand in the way of that. Pride and love were important, but legacy meant history, and that was worth fighting for.

Margot freely admitted she knew nothing about love. She recognized it in her friends and their spouses or lovers. She saw it on the street between strangers. She felt it for her work, her art, had felt it for her family before their deaths. But personally? No. Not until Nori. He was real. Scary.

He surprised her often. Something no man had done since she was young and naïve. She was completely unused to the depth of care and feeling he showed. Nori cared for her openly. He never asked if he could do something, if she needed anything. He’d just provide. Step up. Assume he had the right to make a difference in her life, to make a decision on her behalf. If he assumed incorrectly he didn’t get upset when she corrected him. He’d just nod and store the information away for next time.

It was one of his finer qualities, that memory for details. It came in handy because sometimes hers was like a sieve. He’d remind her to put things in her computer calendar, call to wake her if she was up all night working and had an early appointment.

“Between you and Tommy, it’s like I still have a mother,” she grumbled, not meaning a word.

A novice in the love department she might be, but she wasn’t so fucked up she’d object to being cared for. He wasn’t pushy or bossy, which she’d have balked at immediately. He was considerate, thoughtful, clever, funny. And the sex. They hadn’t invented a word for how good he was. Sometimes just being on the other end of one of his hot ass looks got her ready faster than hands on foreplay from past lovers.

And his body was amazing, God bless his type A little heart. He got crabby if he didn’t work out for at least an hour every single week day, and he liked to do something physical on weekends too. They often took long walks to have brunch or to shop.

Tommy said their love affair had even improved his looks. He was already beautiful. Tall, with thick black hair with just a hint of wave, those piercing blue eyes and plush, cotton candy pink lips. But she claimed regular infusions of Margot had cranked up his masculinity even more.

“You bring out the beast in him,” she said, pointing out photos taken by the paparazzi where he was holding her by the neck, the upper arm, pulling her along behind him by the hand. Then there were the shots of him glaring at other men while sheltering Margot protectively in his arms. He had a way of looking at people, like he was trying to look through them, and he never, ever let her get more than a hands span away.

Candy seconded her theory and had used the couple’s notoriety to elevate sales in the Chicago boutique to ridiculous levels.

“There’s nothing like a little discount and some love to boost profits,” she grinned to Nori when he complimented her on the store’s turnaround once the old manager was gone and the assistant manager had been promoted and his replacement found.

Now they were considering expanding their stock, reorganizing the store, remodeling. Business, in other words, was great. And Nori made sure his father knew it.

Besides, his looks were just packaging anyway. He was also, gasp, sensitive.

Not crying at commercials, bitching over the break in his pants sensitive, but sensitive in that he listened. Nori was as generous with praise as he was critical of flaws. Margot had seen his employees bloom like flowers in the sun under his compliments. As bossy as he could be, he knew when to push and when not to. It was a skill that came in quite useful when they were fucking.

She’d never spent so much time on her back. Or her side, or her knees as she rode Nori like a thoroughbred pony or blew him like a hard, fleshy balloon. The other day she’d spent at least five minutes eyeballing the back of her head, convinced her hair was getting thin from constant wear against the sheets. It turned out to be the lighting, thank God.

There was no two, three, or even four times a week with him. He wanted it every single day. Sometimes twice a day. It was a miracle she hadn’t had complications her poor pussy was so overworked. But her girl loved him. She got wet on cue for Nori – cue being he was anywhere within touching distance – and she stayed that way.

For the first time in Margot’s life an orgasm wasn’t her ultimate goal with a man. It was a goal – she wasn’t a fucking idiot – but the way his body moved, the look on his face when he touched her, by turns smug, curious or completely undone, she loved it all.

The sounds he made when it was feeling really good made the eventual orgasm a disappointment in a way. She never wanted it to be over. Nori wasn’t afraid to let himself go. The way he thrashed, gripped, stared at her with that soft mouth gaping, she shivered just thinking about it.

And he was a talker, in English, French, sometimes both. He spun tales with his mouth like a web, and like a hypnotized fly she didn’t mind one bit being caught. But as completely mind blowing as it was, it wasn’t just the sex that kept him in her thoughts. His body atop hers, slick with sweat, thrusting inside her until she came apart like wet Kleenex, undeniable though it was, that wasn’t what had her staring off into space when she should have been working.

The orgasms had their place, as did his undeniable beauty – he inspired her just sitting there on her couch tapping away on his laptop – but it was his laugh, his intellect and conversation, his clear and honest desire for her that really revved her up. It was just him.

The way he’d talk on his cell while he was working. Perhaps talking to the Paris branch of Ineffable, speaking softly in seductive French. The first time he did it she asked was he talking to a woman. He just laughed and said yes, he was – about a missing shipment of inventory.

It was the way he’d bring her a drink if she coughed. The culprit might be a joint dangling from her lips, but he still cared about her comfort and health. He’d croon that she was a bad girl in French, then pluck it away and take a hit before he stubbed it out and walked out of the room with the ashtray.

He was teaching her his language. Sometimes, when she’d repeat words back to him, his blue eyes would gleam, that full, mobile mouth turned up so happily, she wanted to inhale him.

Sometimes things seemed so good between them she got scared and she’d have to retreat. She’d go into her office/studio, and after a while he’d follow. He’d come and stand behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, his chin on top of her head.

Had anyone else done it she’d have blasted their ass, kicked them out of the room, maybe even out of her house for interfering with her work. Not Nori. When he followed she instantly felt better, even though he was the reason she left the room in the first place. When he whispered that he missed her, and was there anything he could carry into the other room for her – he wanted her with him, and there was no place in the studio for him to sit with his laptop – she’d say, no. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

And he’d give her a minute. Maybe 10, 15 at the outside before he appeared again, looking sad as he leaned against the doorjamb, waiting. She marveled at his behavior, shades of which she’d experienced before with other men and which had driven her to drink. Now she found it, soothing.

Sometimes she’d try to tell somebody how she felt. She’d open and close her mouth so many times Tommy would roll her eyes, and ask, “Are you sure you’re a woman? I never met a bitch had as hard a time as you talking.”