Duke of Manhattan

I exhaled and leaned back in my chair. I needed a break from my day. I’d had meetings one after another. I should be staying later in the office. But I’d been wanting to get my fill of Scarlett. I’d had little chance to think about my wife’s mood this morning, but every time someone had left my office or there was a pause in the conversation, that was where my mind wandered. I smiled as her beautiful face drifted into my thoughts, but my good mood didn’t last long as I remembered our interaction this morning—it had been short and cold. I’d been disappointed not to have found her in my bed last night when I’d returned from dinner.

Worse, the client I’d taken out had been a waste of time. There to stroke his ego more than to entertain my offer. So all in all, the evening had been dull, but then most things were when compared with a night in bed with my Scarlett. I’d been looking forward to seeing her when I got home. We hadn’t spent much time apart other than during working hours, and I felt her absence more than I’d expected to. I wanted to know how her day had been, and I wanted to see what she looked like wearing that purple and gold necklace and nothing else. Except maybe heels. I’d planned to have her pose for me, to snap a picture of the vision she’d make. In the snatches of time I’d had during the course of the day, I’d set up the shots in my imagination. One of her facing away from me, coyly looking over her shoulder. One sitting on the chair in my bedroom, one leg draped over the arm, revealing her mesmerizing pussy.

But I’d raced back from midtown to find the apartment quiet and Scarlett’s bedroom door closed. I figured she’d taken the chance to catch up on her sleep; I just didn’t get why she’d used the guest room.

It didn’t make sense. We’d slept in the same bed for weeks. Why would anything change now? I picked up my cell and dialed her number, smiling as I realized she was at the top of my recently called list.

No answer.

She’d been cold at breakfast. It had been the first time since she and I had flown to England that we hadn’t fucked in the morning. I’d half expected to take her on the kitchen counter, but had to settle for jacking off in the shower.

Had she received some bad news I didn’t know about?

I tried her number again. Voicemail. I stared at the phone, trying to figure out what to do. If she was really planning on staying over in her apartment, that would be another night I wouldn’t see her. Perhaps I should surprise her and turn up with takeout. But when I’d offered to help her with her things, she’d seemed pretty adamant she didn’t want me there.

My mobile began to vibrate in my hand and my stomach dropped with relief, but as I looked at the screen, it was the very last person I wanted to hear from.

Frederick.

“Hi, Fred. How are you?” I sounded bored even to myself. Why was he calling me? I’d only seen him a couple of days ago.

“Ryder. I tried your office line but they told me you were in a meeting.”

It was as if he were constantly trying to catch me out in a lie. “Just finished. What can I help you with?” For a split second I thought he might be going to tell me he was going to challenge my marriage, but he’d never do that over the phone. He’d dispatch his lawyer for that sort of thing.

“You can buy your cousin a drink. I’m in town and thought we could catch up for dinner.”

In town? He hadn’t mentioned being in New York when I’d seen him in England. And as far as I knew, he’d only ever come to the US once, back when he was at university.

“You’re in Manhattan?” I asked. He was also arrogant enough to assume I’d just drop whatever plans I had for the evening.

“That’s right,” he replied, as if it wasn’t odd at all. “Just in a cab from JFK. Staying at the Mandarin Oriental, but I’m not in the mood for anything too much. I thought maybe Scarlett could whip us up a stew or something.”

I laughed out loud. His assumption that Scarlett would cook spoke volumes about what he thought of women. “I’m not sure Scarlett is a stew kind of woman, but I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”

His response wasn’t immediate. “Well, whatever you were planning to have for dinner, will it stretch to three?”

“Scarlett and I haven’t made any plans.”

“No plans for dinner?” he asked. He seemed surprised. Like it was a big deal. Maybe he was here just to see if things between Scarlett and me on home territory seemed suspicious.

“I told her to have a big lunch so we didn’t have to waste time eating when we could be in bed.” That would shut the little prick up.

“I’ll be at yours at eight. Grilled cheese, whatever that is, is fine,” he replied and hung up the phone.

Shit. This was the last thing I needed. Uncomfortable, I stood and began to pace as I dialed Scarlett.

Still voicemail. After the beep, I left a message, telling her that Frederick had arrived unexpectedly and asking if she could go to her apartment another night. I had no idea whether she’d call me back, check her messages, or change her plans. I needed a backup plan—a story to tell Frederick in case she just didn’t show.



I glanced at my watch. It was five minutes to eight and I’d still not heard a word from Scarlett. Perhaps she’d just been stuck in meetings all day. I tried to remember if she’d said anything about a big project at work that would mean she was out of contact, but she hadn’t said anything at lunch yesterday and I’d barely seen her since.

I dialled her phone one last time. Voicemail. Shit. I would just have to tell Frederick she’d been caught up at work and hope he’d buy it.

I glanced around the apartment, trying to see it through my cousin’s eyes. Would he see anything out of the ordinary? Could anyone tell that we weren’t a real couple from just being in this place?

Right on time, the buzzer went. If I found Scarlett on the other side of that door, I’d happily give up my day job and go volunteer at a homeless shelter. I glanced up at the ceiling in a final plea to whoever was up there as I pressed the intercom.

“Mr. Westbury, your guest Mr. Westbury has arrived.”

Looked like I was keeping that day job.

“Send him up,” I replied.

I headed to the door, ready to show him in. Fuck. Scarlett’s room. What if he went in there and realized she’d slept in there last night? I turned right down the hallway and opened the door to Scarlett’s room. The bed was made and there were toiletries on the dressing table. Quickly, I scooped up the jars and bottles and put them into a suitcase that was lying next to the bed. I didn’t have time to ask myself what it was doing there. As I zipped it shut, there was a knock at the door. I swung open a closet, slid the case inside and slammed the door shut.

I quickly scanned the room. It was almost as if Scarlett had disappeared. There was nothing of her left in this room. I felt a pinch in my gut. Where is she?

As Frederick knocked a third time, I opened the door. “Hey,” I said, smiling as if I were pleased to see him.

“I finally made it to the Big Apple. Cabbie was bloody rude, I have to say.”

I swept my arm toward the living space. “That’s New York for you. You get used to it. Can I get you a drink?”

He took in the apartment as if he were shopping for real estate, scanning every wall and ceiling. “I’ll have a gin and tonic. Nice place, Ryder. Where’s the lovely Scarlett?”

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