39. Alyssa

"I'm rich. I'm fucking rich. Not upper-middle-class rich, but fuck stupid wealthy out the ass rich."

"Yes, you are."

"How did this happen?" We were standing in front of the Hermes store on Faubourg Saint Honore, and it hit me.

I've shopped in high-end stores before; granted, I never paid over one hundred thousand dollars for a purse before and never planned to. I've been given immaculate treatment in said stores over the years, but what I just experienced is nowhere near the same.

I think if I had asked one of those women in there to wipe my nose, she would've done it with a gilded tissue. I didn't even see the inside of the store. Who knew there was a whole other private room separate from the store?

I was placed in that room with curtains blocking me off from what I thought were other rich bitches, but no, there was no one else there but us. No one else was allowed. Those curtains were to give Garrett and me privacy.

Forget a glass of mid-range champagne; we were offered a whole damn bottle of some three-hundred-year shit that I'd never heard of. And then the bags. They didn't bring out the regular leather bags, which I always thought you had to order and were always on an extremely long waiting list.

They brought all the exotic leather bags, all of which were above one-hundred-thousand dollars, and I almost swallowed my damn esophagus. Apparently, Garrett had called his Mom, who had called the store ahead of time.

Those bags had been held there for her and her daughter's perusal, and she'd given me first dibs. By the time we left there, I didn't want even one, but my husband bought three. I'll have to have a talk with him about finances and throwing away money. Though those bags are kickass.

I was done shopping, or at least I wanted to be done, but he had other ideas. Tiffanys, Cartier, and the list goes on. Meanwhile, Paris still smells like ass and three-hundred-year-old piss.

It reminded me of the senior year trip that I almost didn't get to go on because Mitzie pitched a fit. Because she didn't do as well and had to take summer classes, I guess she thought I shouldn't get to go either. But there were two things wrong with that.

One, I was eighteen, so Dad had no more say in my life, and two, my Mom could more than afford it. In the end, he had paid for it after a visit from my brothers, which I now suspect was probably just for show. They had to pretend to strong-arm him in front of her and her mother in order to give in without having to hear their shit.

"Oh, this just pisses me off."

"What's that love?" We were in the back of the car heading to dinner after marathon shopping. "I was just thinking about my senior trip," I told him about it, as well as some other delightful stories from my past.

Like when Mitzie and Helen didn't want Dad to pay for college, I went to school on a full ride, but my brothers had lived off campus, and I wanted to do the same. That had always been the plan, but when it came to my turn, Helen made a stink.

There were so many other stories like those, and I filled him in on all of them. "You remember it so clearly. Did you keep these things in a journal?"

"I used to write everything down when I was little. Then, one day, Mitzie found one of my earlier diaries and tried to show it to her mother."

"I realized after knocking the hell out of her to get it back that I could use it as a weapon. So, I started writing shit that was nowhere near the truth and leaving it for them to find."

"I learned very early on that people react to emotion. If someone read your diary and it is filled with hateful words about them, they'd hate you. If they read heartfelt words of praise, even the coldest heart will be touched."

"They'd still kill you, but they'd be touched. This is why I got rid of my earlier journals. Because I knew if anyone read those thoughts from back then, they would never understand the pain and anger written on those pages, and they would take offense."

"So, when I wanted to make Helen pissed, which u knew she would take out on Dad, I'd write shit about her. All the things she'd done to me that day, which was only good when Dad or my brothers were around. Once they were gone, she'd show her ass."

"But then I'd write shit like how sad I am, and why does no one like me? That was usually for my Dad to see. When I became a teenager, I got a lotta shit out of him with that tactic."

"And you feel no shame, I gather."

"Shame? What the hell is that? I treat everyone according to how they treat me, and I'll be the first to admit that my first inclination is murder. Most people have to talk themselves into killing someone; I have to talk myself out of it. The thing is, they never know."

"Totally understandable. So, maybe you can start keeping a journal and leaving it around for me to find; that way, I'd know what to expect from one day to the next."

"No thanks! I do not need my feelings about you written into posterity."

"What are you trying to say?" He sounded salty.

"You know exactly what I'm saying. But don't worry, you'll know if I plan to kill you."

"Oh? How so?"

"I'll drop little hints here and there, and I'm sure you'll be able to see it in my face since you know me so well and all."

I smirked at him and looked out the window. He grabbed me and tried to smother me with his tongue. "Don't start anything back here that you can't finish." He acted as if he'd just remembered the driver.

"Shit! How hungry are you?"

He has a quaint and absolutely gorgeous pied a terre in the seventh arrondissement with a full staff that could whip up a sandwich or some crepes with no problem. "Let's go home."

"We're back!" Goodness, it was good to be home. I left Garrett at the door of our new home and went inside. I used to visit these walls every summer at least once a week from the age of nine until I left for college.

This old antebellum mansion that had been once owned by a very prestigious railroad magnet and had been in his family for generations had been left pretty much the way it was back in the nineteenth century.

They don't build houses like this these days, that's for sure. The walls had been done while we were away and Garrett had had the furnishing reupholstered with the same fabric and print. I'm sure it had cost him a mint.

I didn't even know that he had done all this until we were on the plane on our way here. His valet, yes, he has one, brought in our bags, but then I heard more than one voice in the corridor, and I turned to see a line of people standing there in uniform.

"Oh, hello!" I held out my hand to shake the hand of the man standing closest to me. I went down the line greeting the men and women, who, I would soon find out, were the household staff.

There was a butler, a chief housekeeper, a couple maids, no joke, a couple drivers, groundskeepers, head gardener… My head started pounding by the sixth or seventh person in line. I kept looking over at him with a ‘Are you fucking serious' look on my face.

By the time we made it upstairs to the master suite, which has always been my favorite room in the house, with its silk walls, literally, walls covered in damask silk, high ceilings, and a large trundle canopy bed, I was in total awe.

Garrett had had the furniture cleaned and shined to within an inch of its life and the walls here had been reupholstered as well. I kept turning around in circles with a cheesy grin on my face. "I can't believe you bought it. Thank you."

"It's yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's in your name. There are some things we have to keep up with since it's a historical site, but it's yours."

"Well, I know you bought it back."

"No, Alyssa, that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying that the deed is in your name."

My mouth dropped to my chest. "No way." My heart was beating like crazy in my chest. I'm not sure what it was about this purchase after all the others, but the fact that he had acquired something I had been in love with since my childhood, something that, by all rights, should not have been for sale, says so much about what he feels for me.

I ran and threw my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. I find myself being slutty these days so that something as simple as a kiss can get me going. Like now. You'd think the hours we spent wrapped around each other on the plane didn't happen because I wanted him again.

I feel like I always want him, not because of anything he'd bought or given but because of the way his caring for me makes me feel. I don't want to be selfish with him, to just take without giving. And at moments like this, when I'm getting wet between the thighs and my heart is knocking against my chest, when the feel of his arms as they come around me makes me think of forever with him.

My once practical mind turns into mush, and all I want is him. It's nauseating. "Let's try out our new bed." He whispered against my lips and then nipped me. That sent shivers through my core.

"Good idea!" We were like two animals tearing at each other's clothes as our mouths fed off each other.

And in the end, we didn't even make it to the bed. He took me down right there, as soon as my panties were down around my thighs, not even completely off, and pushed me to my hands and knees before driving into me from behind.

My screams were hoarse and loud as I came, with the first stroke of his cock thrusting into me deep. "Welcome home." Oh, he thinks he's the shit. But I was too happy to take him to task. I had a lot of catching up to do, and I was so excited to finally be home, even though I had a blast.

My phone was already going crazy because I'd sent Corbin the letter just before we landed, knowing he would be at work and wouldn't see it until we reached the house, at least since it was around lunchtime. I had no doubt it was him and that he'd call the others.

The good thing about my new home is that it had a large ass gate and high walls, not to mention that if they should get past all of that plus the security at the gate, they'd still have to deal with the other security team that's staked out around the place. I feel like I'm living in an Al Pacino movie.

We'd spent the last few days of our honeymoon doing what honeymooners do, but I had been keeping up with things all the same. Last I heard, Mitzie was staying with friends and was still a bit traumatized by her time in jail, and Helen was sleeping on her stepmother's couch.

But that is not the best part. On the day Mitzie was bailed out and Helen was released from the hospital, I had them reunited for the first time in more than a week. They were trying to figure out who had paid her bail with no success.

Helen was hit with a hefty hospital bill, which she has no way of paying, to my knowledge because she had already been removed from my Dad's health insurance at about the same time I canceled the insurance on his house.

Anyway, the car they took from the hospital, which they thought for some reason was a courtesy ride, dropped them off at the country club where their past friends were bound to be at that time of day, either for lunch, golf, or tennis lessons. It was always Helen's favorite time to go, so she should be thanking me, especially since she had a lot of friends there according to her.

Instead, from the video I received, she was treated a little worse than a pariah and ran after the car that drove off, leaving them there. She was in the same filthy clothes she'd been taken to the hospital in, and her daughter was wearing the clothes she'd worn to the airport weeks ago.

Their hair was a mess, and the fact that they had no makeup and no money to buy any left their true faces on display. Some of the people who saw them didn't even recognize them and acted like they were two homeless beggars looking for a handout; it was hilarious.

Now, I'm not sure if Helen was stupid, deranged, or both, or maybe she'd forgotten the online forum, but in that situation, I would've pretended to be anyone else, but she decided to tell them who she was, which only made things worse.

They cussed her out and called her every name in the book, only the way conservative Christian women high on their husband's money and every recreational drug known to man can do. That, too, was appreciated.

No one offered to help, and they were left standing there yelling at each other. Jackie was parked off to the side, filming all this for my pleasure from the comfort of her car. She followed them as they walked for miles in the hot sun, yelling and bitching all the way.

The first place they stopped was my Dad's old home, which was already demolished, which I hadn't known until I saw it on the video. I thought it was going to take a while for that to happen, but I guess Money Bags used his magic to get me what I wanted again.

I have to watch myself and make sure I don't turn into one of those insufferable socialites, but this money shit can easily warp one's concept of reality. I can just imagine myself becoming petty and vindictive and using his money to destroy everyone who crossed me. The shit is addictive.

Anyway, they had no choice but to leave there, and then the two of them seemed to put the one brain cell they shared together and call someone with the last little bit of battery life they had left on their phones.

Once again, Jackie followed them when someone picked them up from there and first dropped Helen off at her Dad's and stepmom's while Mitzie went home with the guy who I had never seen but was maybe her boyfriend. He looks like the type she would usually hide and date since her mother was always pushing her to marry someone in a higher financial bracket.

I sent my brothers and their wives a group text letting them know that we were coming home and that I would organize a family dinner soon. That was my way of letting them know that I had forgiven them because, after much thinking and my husband's nagging, I came to the conclusion that they, too, were victims.

I read up some more about my Mom's illness, and all it did was make me angrier at Dad. Granted, I don't think he had the first clue what was going on with her, but it just made me think of how sad and alone she must've felt while her mind was turning against her, only to have to endure the horrors of a cheating asshole and divorce.

Garrett has been trying to get me to give him another chance which he soon gave up when I told him I'd do the same shit to him and see how he likes it. I'm pretty sure he believed me because I got the fucking of my life, which is what he threatened. As if that was going to stop me if I set my mind to it.

I am not one for living by other people's opinions because people are entirely full of shit. They're always quick to tell you what you should or should not do when they themselves have never faced the same situations.

When I told him this, he claimed I was holding his healthy upbringing against him, and I told him to fuck right off, which he did. Of course, he called me pigheaded, stubborn, and stuck in my ways, and when I told him ‘your mother,' he learned to leave me the fuck alone.

Denny and Lacey are fighting it out online, and I can only get the play-by-play through screenshots from friends since my husband threw me off social media and did something that won't allow me to get back on, not even with an assumed name. Wealthy people are pains in the ass because they have power that I am not yet familiar with, but once I get the hang of this shit, I am going to make his ass pay.

It's still taking me a minute to get the hang of everything, like not having to go through customs like everyone else. They basically send someone to the plane, and someone else takes care of it, and that's it.

I didn't even know there were so many people on the damn plane until we got off. And then the fucking cars that followed us everywhere, which my husband warned, were not going anywhere no matter how much I bitched and moaned about my privacy.

Anyway, Denny and Lacey are battling each other online with name-calling and accusations. He claims she's a dirty bitch that ruined his life, and she claims she couldn't even find his dick the times they fucked, and now she's pregnant.

It looks like his family is pushing for marriage, and he's saying no until they get a paternity test, which will be months away because she's afraid to do the early one in case it hurts the baby. His family agrees and is pushing for an early wedding so the baby won't be born a bastard.

I say she's not pregnant, and if she is, the kid might not be his because she's been run through more than an oscillating sprinkler in high summer. But it's none of my business. My fervent wish is that they do get married, and if she is indeed pregnant the child turns out not to be his.

Hubby was walking around the house since he'd never been here before and I was letting him do his thing before I lay down the law. "You like it?"

"It's a beautiful place. Kinda big, which works well since we'll be having so many kids to fill all those rooms upstairs."

This place has eight bedrooms; I don't know who in the fuck… I lost my train of thought. Whatever.

"Now that we're here, let's get some things straight; well, there's only one thing really. You and I are a team. The first time you side with someone else against me that will be strike one. We're playing by the three-strikes rule. Maybe you should write this down."

"What's this? Didn't you give me a whole set of rules already?"

"Those rules pertained to our kids and us as parents; this is about us as a couple."

"What if you're wrong?"

"Then you tell me that shit while we're alone, and I will do the same. Which will happen a lot because you're wrong like ninety-five percent of the time when you start your shit with me."

He didn't have a comeback, so I figured I won that round. "By the way, Mom and Dad are throwing us a welcome home slash engagement party next month."

"I know, she told me." Yes, and I will spend the time in between getting ready to deal with Natalie.

I've been digging up as much information as I can on her using my sister-in-law and Garrett's people because I knew she had to be losing her shit right about now. Because of the things she'd said, I knew she still had the hots for my husband, even if he was too male to realize.

His phone went off, and he looked at me after looking at the screen. "That's your Dad; it's the third call in as many minutes. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"You can do as you like." Now, after I just told this man that we are a team let me see how dumb he is. He put that shit away really fast.

"Are you ever going to forgive him?"

"I'm not sure, but it won't be anytime soon." His damn bleeding heart looked like he was about to pout. "Look, forgiveness isn't about saying a few words, and everything is all honky-dory. It's about me taking the time to deal with the issue in my own way and coming to terms with it. Right now, I don't even like him, so forgiveness is a long way off."

"Okay, should I tell him that at some point, or do you want him to guess?"

"Did he tell me what he and the rest of my family were doing for the last fifteen years or so?"

"I get it; no talking to Dad."

"You think I'm wrong, don't you."

"Not necessarily; I just don't want you to do anything that will hurt you."

"I won't be hurt because I love myself too much to let someone else's actions dictate my life. His actions destroyed my life at a time when I had no choice in the matter. Now, I make my own choices and move at my own pace. You got a problem with that?"

"No, ma'am, no problem, what you say is absolutely correct. How did you learn to think like this when you refused to go to therapy?"

"I was my own therapist. I just got to a point where I stopped giving a shit and focused inward."

"We spend way too much time trying to please everyone else, but once I stopped, I realized that I needed to love myself first. In order to love myself, I had to figure out what makes a human being lovable. According to the world, that means bending over backward to please everyone else at the expense of my own peace."

"At some point, I just said fuck it, and started doing what I like when I like, and it was amazing. I learned what true love really was since then. To me, it's the ability to freely give to those I find worthy; you should be grateful that I now count you among that number. So, tell me, what has Corbin done to make me see him as worthy?"

"Once again, I am astounded by your logic." I think he is trying to call me crazy, or difficult, or any of the million other criticisms I've faced but whatever. I didn't go looking for him, and I certainly didn't call his ass to come to me.

"Now I have to go take a nap, you coming?" I ran back for the stairs and laughed my ass off as he tried to catch me. I turned off my phone and dove into the soft, fluffy bed that felt like clouds and smelled like lavender.