The glass door slides open and the plump Mrs. Morrison moves her eyes affright at the first glance she casts on me. "Mr. Kingston—"

"Where is she?" I shove her aside and skate through the door.

"Um...she is..."

"Elena?" I shout through the silence, leaving the maid behind me to think wherever the hell she feels like thinking. "Elena?" I repeat louder this time, for that scheming woman could be anywhere in the house pretending her ears are blocked just because she can.

Or, maybe, just because she's fucking drunk in the middle of the day!

"Oh, you're here, you bastard! What do you want now, huh?" she purrs like a starved cat, strutting from the kitchen dressed like a ghost from the 90s movies.

Jesus, she looks pathetic! My eyes squint with disgust as she bounces sideways with a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand, not to mention the white, floor-length nightdress and long back hair framing her face in a disturbing choreography of the unwashed strands.

"Have you unlocked my card? I told you to never show your face here until you let me use my money, you bastard!" she yells like the madwoman she is, and before I register her sleazy laments, the whisky bottle lands on the lamp right next to where I'm standing.

Reflexively, I bend down as though it just missed my head. "Are you insane? What the fuck are you doing?" I glower.

"What do you think? I want my money, you murderer?" she snarls at me.

"I swear I'm gonna lock you in an asylum if you open that big mouth of yours ever again!" The words emit through my gritted teeth and rage burns me from within.

I grip by the arms, sending a warning via my grave eyes, but she doesn't fret.

"Don't you dare threaten me, Patrick! Ever! Because I am the only one you can run to even when the whole world condemns you for being the bastard you are!" she seethes, and a smile breaks at the corner of her mouth as she knows I know what she means.

Of all the women I've had, she's the only one I haven't managed to get rid of, even though it's what I want to do even right now, because she's stuck to me like a leech, ready to put up with anything as long as I keep paying for her bills and all the luxury surrounding her, including this house.

And seasonal sex, of course.

Even right now as she looks at me as if she's ready to stab me, I know her horny body years to be ravaged by me. I can see the bounce of her small boobs propping on and off with her dry chest, her breath so shaky crawling with desire. Old bitch! She loves it rough, hair-pulled, choked, and it turns her on so fucking easily.

"Listen to me!" I lean into her ear, making her gasp in a whimper. "You're gonna stay right here in this house until I decide otherwise. Don't even think about attending the gala tonight. You fucked on your own so keep your little mouth shut until it's all over! And you want your money? You don't have anything to your penny, Elena! Be good and maybe I'll be generous!"

"No!" she protests only with words. "I'm coming to that party, Patrick. I do have my sons, in case you think you're the only one with the power."

I roar in laughter because she's becoming more unbearable than before.

"Your sons?" I taunt. "Okay, let's say your sons can take care of you now, so why are you still begging me to unfreeze your petty bank accounts, huh?" I breathe into her dry hair and kiss her neck so hard that I can taste her skin.

She moans; I smirk. Always easy.

"Patrick... it's...it's my money! I need it," she persists breathlessly.

"Oh, shut up, you don't have anything here!" I push her out of my grip, frustrated by her petulant song.

I need her away from the party tonight because I'm sure she'll make a scene as long as Mia will be there.

She pants heavily, a deep begrudging frown on her paled face. "It was you who killed that bitch, wasn't it?" she asks again.

I fix my tie, narrowing my eyes at her. Something is not right and I'm gonna get to the bottom of it. Elena is incapable of killing anyone just because I'm fucking them, or else she'd have done it ten years ago with Mia, not Anne who was inconsequential.

Derek is playing foolish with me, thinking I was born yesterday. He blindly believes I bought the crap that Mia is the killer even though Elena was there first and that everything he did was to protect his mom while helping me regain control of Mia.

"Answer me, Patrick! What games are you playing now? You and Derek!" she yells as I turn around to leave. "Are you both in this?" she adds.

My patience wilts so I grab her by the hair and make her listen to me attentively. "If you ever talk about Anne to me...or anyone at all, I'll make sure you either join her in the afterlife or find yourself spending the rest of your miserable life wearing the orange jumpsuit while eating crappy food! Just picture what everyone will say knowing you killed that young woman out of jealousy, huh? And picture your life in a cell since no one knows you were there up to this point thanks to me! I'm holding your fucking freedom now, Elena, so be very careful of what you say!"

"You're hurting me," she shrieks, but I don't stop, and I can smell her fear now. "Patrick...please..." she begs.

I pant heavily, suddenly thinning my little butterfly begging me like this. My fist tightens into Elena's hair, and the image of some random guy fucking my wife crosses my mind, turning my blood boil like a volcano, and my body begins to tremble.

"Patrick..." Elena cries.

I just want Mia back. She's the one I want to hold, kiss, and hear her voice say sorry for being so foolish by choosing to defy me. Oh, I fucking want her back and I'm gonna have her at any cost.

Before I know it, a fist lands on my jaw, breaking me into reality.

"Fuck!" I groan and free Elena at the same time.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her, you bastard!" I hear my little son playing tiger with me.

I pull myself together, padding a finger on my cheekbone to get rid of the metallic taste in my mouth.

"Alright, quit the drama!" I announce, turning toward the console mirror where the lamp is broken into shards while twisting my jaw.

In the reflection, Elliot tries to jump but Elena grabs and stops him.

"It's alright, baby," she says to her son, catching her breath. "We were just talking."

Hmm, smart one. I love that she always knows what's best for everyone in our family. She's a practical woman! I give her that.

"Talking? He was hurting you!" Eliot snaps.

Oh, king of hysterics! My eyes roll upward. That's all I needed right now!

Slowly I turn around to meet his rage as he takes his mom into his arms.

"I'm okay, El. Trust me." Elena rubs his face between her palms, a smile of deceit painted on her shabby face without makeup.

"You sure?" Eliot insists.

Such a mama boy.

"I'm off," I announce casually as a normal family man does before leaving. I stop next to Elena who's no longer wasted in alcohol as she appeared to be a while ago.

I guess she was faking it.

"You have to unlock my cards," she insists, desperation above her anger.

I smirk and reply, "I'll think about it."

"Patrick!" she barks as I leave, which makes me stop and stare back at her. "If you don't do as I say, I'll make you sorry."

I laugh rather loudly. What is this with everyone thinking they can threaten me just because they got mouths lately? It's starting to really piss me off.

First, it's Mia who's become a paradox in my head, then my own son who can barely throw a proper punch thinks he's a big man now, and now this Maria Antoinette of France who knows nothing but spending what she doesn't earn!

Do they think I'm easy?

To quell the drama, I simply tell her, "Go take a shower, Elena. You need it."

I head outside and sunlight knocks a breath out of me. What a petty afternoon! I glance at my watch before taking the staircase toward the pavements leading to the parking area.

"Unfreeze her bank accounts! She's not a baby!"

I stop. Eliot is not done, I see.

"Says who?" I glance at him as he clatters off the stairs, a deep frown on his face.

"Me!" he replies boldly. Interesting. I see he's grown some balls. He stands levelly with me, giving me a tough glare. "It was part of your divorce agreement so I have the power to make you do it, father! If not, the whole of Portland will find out what a fraud you are as a husband and a father!"

Very interesting indeed. I like this new version of my son who had begun to look like a queer to me.

But one little detail, a very important one just to be clear, is that I'm the king and he's only a prince.

Smiling, I tell him calmly, "No one tells, me what to do, son. If you care that much about your mother, I suggest you start taking care of her finances from now on—what do you think?"

Fury pours through him in rivulets, turning his eyes blood-shot red. But the only thing he can do is tighten his fists to his side, puffing like a hot balloon, with no means to back his threats.

That's it, son. I'm your fucking father! Not your business partner!

"And oh," I say before leaving, "do that with your own money."

Again I fix my tie and move. Tonight is a big night so no more drama.

________

A/N: Hey lovely people. Been a long while, huh? Worry not, we're back now. Ready for the party tonight?

Been caught up in my other book (Pain And Pleasure) that's complete now. I'd be delighted if you checked it when you can.

One word for Patrick Kingston please 😂. Just one word.