Work Text:
They let a wedding planner choose everything.
The colors, the menu, the dresses—all of it. Her fiancée hardly cares for the details, not the ceremony nor the reception, so long as it was all tasteful, and Victoria? She cares far too much. It felt better to leave the finer details to someone else for once, to let it all happen. That's all the Qi Group wants of her, in the end, to let it happen, and Victoria has already chosen to obey. Chooses to every time she exits Selene's hotel room early in the morning to check herself out of her own, on shared business trips, even when the company has booked them the same flight back to Ocean City. Every time the back of her mistress' hand brushes against hers on a walk in the too-public park and Victoria just pretends it isn't there. Even though she's not good at pretending, because if she were, she'd remember to take the ring off more often.
The planner is a nice woman, with a joy at getting to plan a lesbian wedding that animates every meeting, one seemingly unbothered or uneclipsed by the happy couple's obvious lack of excitement. Victoria always fidgets with her hands in her chair, like a new intern at a department meeting, saying nothing as everything finalizes. Because the only way Victoria could possibly make it through what will be called the best day of her life is if she'd chosen none of it, wanted none of it, from the wedding bands all the way down to the font on their invitations.
Victoria is alone at the meetings. "My fiancée has no time to fly out," she explains. "The time zone difference makes calling in impractical." Victoria is thankful for it—it's easier, alone, to pretend she isn't cold.
"You're both quite busy women," the planner says, seemingly impressed. "All the more reason to make this memorable for you!"
"You're quite kind," Victoria offers, smiling politely. "We seem to be in good hands."
She texts Selene as the woman offers her menu updates, confirming new dietary restrictions on an updated guestlist. She can't see her tonight, Selene informs her: dinner with Megan and Cassidy, a couple of movies at the apartment afterward. She tries not to picture a double-date.
Victoria gets home late at night and the light's still on. It's not intimate; she forgot to shut them off when she left that morning for work. She sighs, disappointed in herself. It's not the power bill, of course, but the principle of it. She's getting tired, slipping up. A month ago, she'd imagine one of her dates with Selene as she waited for the elevator. Now, her mind races, unchecked. She didn't think she'd ever let herself feel this tired of being alone. She never had, all these years without real memory of the only person that ever loved her. But now there's two. There's Selene, and her absence is vivid.
"You can bring her," Rosalie says one night, over dinner, in their customary arrangement—part business meeting, part family affair. "Provided she doesn't make a scene. If that's something you want."
"I thought we had to be discreet." She sips lightly at her wine. She doesn't let herself get drunk these days, not anymore; that fuzzy headspace reminds her of a different night, a better one.
"The family knows what you've given up." Rosalie speaks her judgment with calm certainty of the de-facto head; she feels like she hates her then, proper hate and not distaste, everything she'd ever felt toward her family name concentrating in the woman before her, the cousin she'd stolen glances at from behind her mother's legs all those years ago. She hates how she remembers that and not her mother's face. "No one in attendance would bat an eye at an ex-girlfriend showing up to wish you well."
Victoria laughs, hollow. "You think she'd wish us well?"
"Does it matter? You're not looking for a happy marriage in the first place."
I wasn't looking to get married, either, Victoria thinks.
"I don't want her there." Victoria says, finally. "It wouldn't do us any good. It'd only hurt her."
Rosalie shrugs. "It's your choice."
"It's not." Rosalie's smile doesn't falter for a second. "You know that."
"You look good in those colors, by the way."
There's a part of her that didn't expect Selene to wear it—a sleek dress, halter-neck, blue-grey. A slit up the side. She'd picked it for her, gone to all the trouble of getting her measurements. Sent her the time and address and instructions.
She knows what Selene is after, here, of course. She'll probably see an Inztagram post later, Selene in the dress, in front of a mirror: a gift from a friend 💜, or something along those lines. A message to Victoria, even if she won't admit it. A taunt—see? Someone out there understands what I like.
She'd expected Selene to ask about it. But they'd gone the whole dinner without broaching the subject. They're in a taxi, now; Selene wants to go home, and Rosalie tells her she has business in the area. That there's no point in paying for a second car.
"What is this, exactly?" Selene wonders. "Foreplay?"
Rosalie laughs. "Do you like that sort of thing? Letting someone choose the outfit they'll be taking off of you?"
Selene ignores her.
"No, unfortunately. I was just curious."
"Curious," Selene echoes. "About what?"
"About how you'd look," she answers, casually. "In Victoria's wedding colors." Selene's expression freezes.
"We talk about the wedding planning," Rosalie adds. "Fairly often? I'm financing the whole thing, you know. I like to get an idea of what exactly I'm paying for."
"I'm not going." Selene's voice is firm. "You're wasting your time."
"Other engagements?"
"No invite." Selene says. "I know Victoria. She won't be sending me one." Cute, Rosalie thinks. They can read each other so well.
"I can make you my plus one," Rosalie offers. "You'd have to match my outfit. I could buy you something."
"I thought I was too low class for a Qi." Selene sounds bitter. "I'm sure you have your reputation to think of."
"It's one date. Hardly an engagement, don't you think?"
"I'm not playing your games, Rosalie. Especially not there."
It's a shame, Rosalie thinks. She'd certainly have made the family occasion more bearable.
"You're wearing it, aren't you? Don't pretend you aren't interested."
"I'm not going. Find yourself a real date and leave me out of it." The car slows to a stop. Selene opens the door without another word.
Rosalie shrugs. "Suit yourself."
"Thank you," Selene says, to the driver. Ignoring her.
"I've changed my mind. Take me to my apartment," Rosalie says, when the door closes. Gives him the address.
She'd be lying if she said it didn't turn her on, seeing Selene like this. Something desperate in her eyes, so desperate it looks painful. More pained than she feels beneath her, Selene groping at her roughly, doing as she likes.
It is pain, on Selene's face, she reminds herself. She put it there. She gets like this, when the date on Victoria's plane tickets draws closer—possessive, vindictive. It's better than the coldness, but Victoria hates that she's the reason for it.
It's confusing. It's messy. She can barely catch her breath enough to think. They're in a hotel not far from Shenzhen Bao'an International; Victoria's flying to the states directly from their business trip. That's probably what set Selene off, this time. Getting this weekend together, only for it to be torn away. Having to fly back to Ocean City alone, while Victoria goes to her fiancée's side.
She means nothing to Victoria, her betrothed. She means nothing to her, and Selene knows that, but Victoria can't make her feel it. She can't make her feel better. She settles for making her feel good.
But Selene doesn't let her. She guides Victoria onto her belly, slips two fingers in her mouth. Murmurs praise in her ear, pet names that make Victoria shiver. Presses wet kisses against the shell, and then lower—her jaw, her pulse point. Starts to suck.
"Don't," Victoria protests, weakly. Her head spinning. Selene backs off instantly. "Don't stop—just—not there."
Selene rolls her over; Victoria catches a glimpse of her expression before it's buried between Victoria's breasts, her mistress sucking a mark onto into the side of her breast, then another, then another. Following Victoria's instructions to the letter.
"Selene," she whines, tears beading in the corner of her eyes. Selene takes her hand, squeezes gently. Makes sure to take her right. The one without a claim on it.
If she closes her eyes, she can picture how Selene looked in that brief moment. What was on her face, and why. Play it over and over again as Selene trails kisses down her sternum. Victoria's stomach twists; she's shamefully wet.
"These won't fade," Victoria says, after, running a hand along her inner thigh. Feeling her teeth marks. There's a part of her that likes it, likes the thrill of it, circumstances and all. It disgusts her.
"I guess you'll have to be careful around her." Selene says. We don't sleep in the same bed, Victoria thinks, but says nothing. Just nods.
They sleep pressed together, Selene in her arms, her head cradled in the space between her shoulder and her breast. She feels fragile like this. As if she'd break, once Victoria disentangles herself in the morning, when it's time for her to go.
She pretends to be her own secretary, shoots Selene a text, asking her to pick her up from the restaurant. That she's too drunk to see herself home.
Selene Yan: Can't she call herself a cab?
Rosalie laughs, delighted. She didn't think Selene would be so bold with someone from the company. She must've realized she won't get fired for anything.
Rosalie Qi: She's asking for you, Ms. Yan. Sorry to bother you on a night off.
She puts her phone face-down on the table, without even waiting for a reply. It buzzes, and Rosalie doesn't check it.
In the end, it takes Selene 40 minutes to show up. She must not care about me very much, Rosalie thinks, amused.
"You're here!" Rosalie calls, leaning back in her seat. "Are you going to see me home?"
Selene narrows her eyes. "Why am I here? You're clearly fine."
It's New Year's, again, and Victoria is spending it with her soon-to-be in-laws; with the only fun relative gone, Rosalie is even less inclined to show up to the conference. She'd planned it as a lunch this time, showed up early, left earlier. Selene doesn't need to know that, though.
"So I'm the only one of us who's allowed to get sad while Victoria's away?"
"Don't compare us." Selene looks more annoyed than Rosalie was picturing. Maybe she'd pulled her away from something important, Rosalie wonders. Dinner with friends? A call with Victoria?
She shrugs. "If the shoe fits, right?"
Selene looks tired. She schools her expression, before meeting Rosalie's eyes. "If there's nothing else, Chairwoman Qi. It's getting late."
Rosalie can't have that. "It's New Year's," she admits, simply. "I didn't want to spend it with family."
Selene just laughs. It's not a vulnerability, so Rosalie doesn't feel hurt. "But you're so likeable. I'm sure plenty of people would love if you treated them to a meal."
"Didn't we have fun, last year?" Rosalie asks. "We could even call Victoria in. For old time's sake." When you think about it, Rosalie was their matchmaker. She doesn't say that, of course. She knows how to get what she wants.
Still though, she's a little surprised when Selene places her bag down on an empty seat and sits down next to it. A gift from Victoria. Rosalie smiles at her own joke.
"I'm paying for your meal, you know. You could look a little happier."
"You pay me enough," Selene says, matter-of-factly. "And present company isn't really helping."
"You say that," Rosalie says, "But I know you get lonely when she leaves. You're probably dying to talk about her with someone, right? Now that you have to be hush-hush about things."
"Why would I want to talk about it with you? You did this to us. Don't act like you're here to hear out my love troubles."
"I made it so you couldn't marry her," Rosalie says, with condescension. "I hardly see what that has to do with love."
"You—you 'hardly see what that has to do with love?'" She's lucky I rented out the whole restaurant, Rosalie thinks. She'd be causing quite the scene. She sips from her glass, waits for Selene to finish. "We can never settle down. We can't even hold hands in public. And yes, we can't get married. That matters to me, you know."
"Ask Victoria what she thinks of marriage, sometime." Rosalie points her fork at her. "Ask any Qi. No one born into this family ever expected a ring to make them happy. Especially not her. I thought she told you about her mother."
"She would have married me," Selene whispers. On the verge of tears.
"Well," Rosalie replies. "You wouldn't have had a wedding, or even matching rings. I can tell you that much. Reputation matters too much to this family. We wouldn't allow a scandal."
"Of course," Selene says, bitterly. "None of you could ever find it in yourselves to let us be happy."
"You think you're the first person to love someone in secret?" Rosalie asks. "You think a lady-in-waiting never had a private method for staving off her mistress's nightmares? You think brothers-in-arms always let their sweethearts back home stop them, with death staring them in the face? Keeping them honest?"
"You don't get to lecture me." It's a quiet anger that Selene wears on her face, now, the kind that has her staring at her food. "Not when you're the reason for secrecy."
Rosalie shrugs. "Suit yourself."
They don't talk much, for a while. Selene flags a waiter, orders another bottle of wine.
"That's a perk of being a mistress, you know," Rosalie jokes, but Selene ignores her.
Her food is fine enough; it's a classy restaurant. She's not really here for the meal, though, and she's had her fill. She's content to sip at her drink and watch Selene fume.
"Rosalie?" Selene asks, finally, breaking the silence. She seems calmer. Rosalie looks at her. "Why Victoria?"
"Most of our uncles married late." Married someone young. "So not many of our cousins are adults. You might think of me as heartless, but I'm not marrying off a teenager."
"I wasn't talking about the—the engagement." Selene looks nauseated. "I mean, why do you spend so much time with her? For the longest time, I thought you were."
"Close?"
"Like siblings, maybe. Like you hated each other, the way sisters who care about each other do. Or rivals. Distaste, sure, but respect."
"Rivals?" Rosalie huffs out a laugh. "I beat that woman a long time ago."
"So that's all it is then?" Selene's glass is empty. Rosalie pours her some more. "Every time you drag her away from a family gathering to come and find you. A victory lap?"
Rosalie has never understood the way people talk about being drunk. Like they're not themselves, like their words choose themselves. She drains her glass; feels, after a while, like the world seems a little simpler, maybe. Like she's wiped away the complications like rain on a window. But her choice is the same. She's still making it.
So if she runs her mouth tonight, she won't blame it on the drink.
"Even if you married her," she begins. Selene's expression turns heavy.
Rosalie thinks of Victoria's mother. No net worth of her own, really, besides her father's and now her husband's, just a household and a daughter to dress and feed and the family name she came with. The way she'd always look over, at family dinners, to smile at Rosalie, ignoring her father, like she wasn't a set piece to the game all the branch families around her were playing. Like Rosalie was something other than her mother's anchor. Like she hadn't already lived out her usefulness to everyone present, besides her daughter.
"Even if you married her, there'd be a part of her life no one in the world will get but me. You understand that, right? That sad little honors student in an international school. Flying home every school break just to sit in her assigned seat and watch her aunties and uncles treat New Year's like a board meeting. Like an inheritance fight."
Selene looks like she wants to say something. Rosalie gives her a moment, then continues.
"That's the difference between you and her, really. Between Victoria's mom and dad. I grew up with this. But people like you? They marry in." She snorts. "If they're lucky."
"You think I want—you think I wanted to marry her for her lifestyle?" Selene demands.
"I doubt you'd remind her of her mother so much if you did."
"Then what are you trying to say?"
"Like I said earlier—the two of us were by far the oldest. For the longest time, it was just me and her and a bunch of suits. And then me and her and a handful of infant cousins. So we stuck together, every time there was a family function. We got used to it."
"And now?" Selene presses. "Surely the next head of the family doesn't yearn for the kids table at her relatives' weddings."
"I respect her," Rosalie admits. "I might not act like it, but I do. She's the only Qi in years to make something of herself, instead of making a living playing family politics. I respect that. It makes her tolerable. I guess you could call that special to me, where family's concerned."
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"Her position is weak. She's the easiest Qi to marry off. It's hardly personal."
"Hardly personal? You can admit it, you know." Selene's voice fills with contempt. "You want to take things from her that badly?"
"I own her company," Rosalie points out. "What could she possibly have that I need?"
Selene looks straight at her. Like she thinks she has Rosalie's number. "Love?"
And Rosalie laughs then, loud and delighted, setting down her cup to rest her hand against her cheek.
"Love, huh? And how's that working out for her?"
"No thanks to you."
"No," Rosalie admits. "But are you much better, anymore? You make her miserable, Selene. I can tell at our meetings when she's arrived from a date with you, because she looks like a kicked puppy."
"I wonder what could have happened between us," Selene says, sarcastically.
"You can take some responsibility, you know." Rosalie's voice is harder than she's expecting. She's not exactly sure why.Her attitude must piss me off, she thinks, distantly. That woe-is-me attitude. "You could try to make her happy, instead of searching for ways to make her hurt.
"So I put you two in a hard position. So what? No one's stopping you from comforting her. From comforting each other." Selene looks upset again. More upset than she's ever seen her. Too bad, Rosalie thinks.
"Do you have any idea how hard her life has been? You have to, right? She can't have kept you completely in the dark. You were so fixated on a solution," Rosalie accuses, "when she would have been happy with a comfort."
"Don't talk about what makes her happy." Selene's expression slams shut.
"Fair enough." Rosalie responds. "I know that's not the advice you want, anyway."
She waves her hand, signaling the waiter. "Why are you asking me this, anyway? I thought you'd wait for Victoria to open up."
"She's not here," Selene says, simply. "And you are."
Rosalie grins. "Getting lonely? I'm here for you, you know." She leans forward. "I can take care of it. If you want a distraction. Or if you really want her to hurt."
Selene gives her a long, searching look. Like she doesn't believe she's serious. "You're awfully full of yourself."
Rosalie's buzz is pleasant. She doesn't think anything could bring her mood down. "I've already called you a ride. You can choose whether or not I'm getting in."
Her gaze rakes over all over the gifts. The plushies, little trinkets here and there. Still sitting in Selene's room, seemingly untouched.
Did she think they'd make Selene happy, Rosalie wonders. It's sort of funny to her.
"I thought you had a family meeting." Rosalie has Selene pinned to her own sheets, discovering ways to make her writhe, every weakness. Taking mental notes.
"I thought you wanted someone who'd prioritize you," Rosalie replies coolly. "Aren't I giving you what you're asking her for?"
"Is this what you wanted?" Selene asks. Her breathing's heavy, Rosalie's teeth grazing her collarbones, the suggestion of bites without the force. "The entire time you kept offering to 'keep me company.' Paying for my meals on your personal card. You like feeling like a homewrecker?" She doesn't even bother taking Selene's bra off, just slips a hand underneath and gropes her, squeezing harder until she gasps. Pressing down on a nipple with her thumb. "Is—ah!—is it that good for your ego?"
"You seem to have a good time with it." Rosalie mocks. "Maybe I saw you and wanted to see what all the fuss was about."
She unbuttons Selene's slacks with one hand, cups her core through her panties. She gives her a little friction, experimentally, looking for what kind of reaction the barest touch can get her.
"You don't seem to have any complaints." She finds Selene's clit through the fabric, pins it lightly with two fingers. Not rubbing, just holding it there, teasing her. "How long have you been this wet, exactly? Since the car? The restaurant?"
"Hurry up," Selene pants. Not even bothering to bite back. "I have work in the morning."
"I'm your boss, you know." Rosalie says, evenly. Shifting Selene's panties to the side and pressing in. Selene moans, shamelessly. As if she doesn't have neighbors. "I could get you a day off."
"It's that good for you, huh?" Selene taunts her, but she looks away. Buries her face in her arm, which is sprawled slightly above her head, clutching at her pillow. "Already planning on coming back for more?"
Rosalie doesn't bother trying to make Selene look at her, just takes the opportunity to murmur her words in her ear. "Like you wouldn't let me. Like you wouldn't beg for it, if I made you."
"You're—you're all talk," Selene manages, before Rosalie shuts her up.
"Happy now?" she asks, later. Rosalie had tried to put an arm around her, in the aftermath; she'd shoved it off her. "Got what you came for?"
"I don't have any complaints," Rosalie says, easily. "You're not bad."
"That's it, then? Just a hookup? No other reason. No reason it had to be me." Selene looks frustrated. Clearly, Rosalie needs to do a better job of wearing her out.
"Do you want me to be sorry I don't homewreck for love?"
Selene doesn't even dignify her with a response.
"That's why you're doing all this, right? Love?" She thinks of the two of them at that coffeeshop, days after Rosalie had broken the news. Their fingers entwined on the table, their faces.
Victoria's a better liar than she'd ever given her credit for, Rosalie thinks. She'll give her that. "That's why you check into all those hotel rooms on her personal card. Why you talk to her like that on the phone."
"Why you're here," Rosalie adds, gesturing to the sheets.
Selene frowns, more repulsed than Rosalie's ever seen her. She makes a note of it. "I'm not in love with you."
Rosalie sighs, disappointed. "You're smart enough to understand that's not what I meant."
"So why are you here," Selene asks again. "What do you want out of this? Tell me the truth."
Rosalie looks her up and down, makes sure to make a show of it. "What do you think?"
"You disgust me."
"What?" Rosalie asks. "You really thought I was here because I liked you?"
"That's not what I'm talking about. I know all that already. You're just—you're disgusting." Selene looks at her then, with something she doesn't recognize. Not anger, or revulsion, really. Victoria's mother, meeting her eyes across the dinner table, back when the tips of Rosalie's toes could barely even reach the restaurant floor.
Rosalie wants to push her face into the pillow, fuck her again like that. She wants to call herself a cab.
She makes her choice and doesn't think about it again.
She wakes to hands in her hair. Nails scratching at her scalp, so light she can barely even hear it.
Laying like that, just for a second—her mind still sleep-emptied, save for that touch—she thinks she's in Selene's bed. But she can feel the wood of her desk against her cheek, and she knows there are things she can't close her eyes to, no matter how badly she wants to shut them out.
She stirs, and the hand stills. "I was told to bring you a report," Selene says, her voice mercifully quiet. Gentle. She'd missed that. "But you seemed occupied."
Victoria blinks, disoriented her mouth as dry as her brain feels. Paperwork strewn across her desk, right where she'd left it; the front pages of a stapled packet creased where she'd passed out on it. "What time is it?"
"Around 9:30." Selene doesn't look at her watch; another gift from Victoria, on one of many returns from overseas. One of the only ones she's seen her use. "I haven't been here long."
She's put herself two and a half hours behind. Victoria sighs, inwardly, makes to get up, reaching for a pen, when Selene's hand on her shoulder stalls her.
"I can take care of some of this," she explains. "And organize it for you. Rest a little longer."
Victoria hesitates, considering.
"Please? For me?"
She puts her head back down, acquiescing. Doesn't shut her eyes, just watches Selene as she pulls away, leafing through documents, skimming first, then sorting. It feels intimate, somehow, as intimate as they can be in Huanyu's headquarters, the two of them shut into Victoria's office with a secret, their secret: just how often Selene's boss finds herself staring, in a room where she's free to do more than simply steal glances; Selene's smiles when she catches her, bright and indiscreet. The way they'd been in that first month of love, before the engagement, that second, heavier reason they had to hide.
"I don't think I can sleep again," Victoria admits.
"Then just rest." Her mistress reaches out again, smooths a hand in circles on Victoria's back. "I know what your schedule looks like, but you need to be doing that more."
"It's not that," she explains. Even though it is, too. "It's just jetlag." Selene's hand freezes, pulls away. Rebusies itself in Victoria's paperwork. Instantly, Victoria turns her head to face her, searching Selene's expression, that familiar feeling rising, immediate, with the loss. Like she'd dropped something delicate, again, in record time.
("You stay right there!" Selene had scolded, levity plain in her voice. Sinking down into a squat, dustpan in hand, brushing the ruins of a drinking glass onto the pastel plastic.
"I'm the one who broke it," Victoria protested.
"And you're my guest," she replied, firmly, no room for argument. "Just shine your phone flashlight for me, please?"
Victoria sighed, fondly, a little embarrassed, flicking through her phone's drop-down menu to obey. "Whatever happened to that intern of mine? She was so earnest. A little nervous."
"She's your girlfriend now, I think."
"Ah," Victoria said, shyly. "That explains it."
The thought had risen in her, then, far too soon, waiting for Selene to fetch her vacuum cleaner, clean up the last bits of jagged dust—that she didn't want to be a guest here, someday.)
"I see." Selene says, not looking up from her work, her voice brittle. She's made quick progress, tidying things up. Victoria can see the wood of her desk again. "And how is she?"
"It was a business trip, Selene." Victoria hates her tone of voice as soon as it leaves her—sharp, defensive. This is your fault, she reminds herself, sounding, in her head, like her father's daughter. So act like it. "I didn't see her." She doesn't want to. She never has.
Selene sucks in a shaky breath. Stares at the neat stack of reports in front of her. "I'm sorry," she says, finally.
No, Victoria wants to say, you have nothing to be sorry for. Biting back the old instinct to tell Selene she's sorry, too. What good would it do to say it? She already has, countless times, whispered against Selene's bare back, spilling out in a panic, like she's a child with a mother in the hospital. Selene deserves better; something tangible. As if it'd leave a mark on Victoria's finger, if she ever thinks to take it off.
"Selene," she calls, instead. Reaches out to take her wrist.
Her heartbeat under Victoria's fingers, before she starts to pull away. "Executive Qi."
"Selene," she says again. Opens a desk drawer; starts to work the ring off her finger. Stay.
"I should get back to work." Selene opens her office door. Pauses, for a minute. "I can—do you want me to pick up lunch?"
Victoria works hard not to look surprised. Like it's a normal thing again, suddenly, to sit at opposite sides of one desk, their takeout at one end, their documents at the other. When had she started thinking so much about the optics of innocuous things? Giving up so much? No wonder Selene has been so cold. Victoria's always been one to lead by example.
"Victoria?"
"I—I'd like that."
"I'll have someone bring it to you later."
"Your numbers are exemplary, as always, Selene." She clicks her pen idly, turning a page in the folder. The other woman is silent; she's practically talking to herself. She presses on. "You're an excellent employee.
"I can see why your superior thinks so highly of you—a raise would be more than deserved. A promotion, even.
"But your talents are wasted in project management, aren't they?" Rosalie's fingers tighten in Selene's hair, just enough to draw her attention up to her face from under the desk. "If you transferred to my office, I'm sure I could put you to, ah, better use."
She glares, of course.
"That's a no then? Shame. I could get used to this. You've got a way of making paperwork more. Stimulating." She punctuates the word with a look that Selene returns with interest, sucking just enough to make Rosalie sigh happily. "That's it."
Her attention drifts from the employee on her knees, to Victoria's desk. There's a photo of Victoria and her fiancée at the beach. It's obviously staged, to anyone who really knows her. It's Victoria's family photo smile. Like mother, like daughter.
She makes a show of ignoring Selene, just for the pleasure of it. Committing to the scene. She checks her watch; they're going to be late. Even if they left now, which they won't.
So she dials the restaurant's number, with Selene's head still between her thighs. Selene freezes, then keeps going.
"Hi," she says. "I'm calling about a reservation for Yan?" She's genuinely surprised when Selene slips a finger in her, searches for the spot that makes Rosalie's toes curl. Rosalie hadn't thought she'd play along.
"Yes," she continues, sounding perfectly unbothered. Her orgasm building, steadily. "for 6:00. I'm calling to cancel. Yes, I understand there'll be a fee for that. Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience. Yes, you too. Goodbye."
She tosses her phone onto the desk. When she comes, it's relatively quiet, barely a sigh as her eyes roll back.
"I should have expected you'd be good at that." Rosalie grins. "Victoria doesn't strike me as much of a top."
"Don't bring her up right now." Selene says, her nose wrinkling.
"What's the big deal? She's why you're doing this, right? You want to hit her where it hurts."
"That doesn't mean I want you commenting on our sex life."
"Noted," Rosalie says.
"I didn't think you'd let me do this to you." Selene admits. "Didn't think you'd want to look that vulnerable."
"It's just sex," Rosalie says, dismissively. "I'm not baring my heart to you."
"It's not too passive for you? Sitting there and taking it?"
"It's the power I like." Rosalie grins down at her. "Not the position."
"That's the Chairwoman I know." Selene slides out of her with a wet sound.
"Clean them off," Rosalie orders. "With your mouth."
She wipes them on Rosalie's slacks, instead, leaving an obvious wet spot.
Rosalie slaps her, hard, across the face.
"You're getting a little too comfortable for my tastes." Her voice is cold. "All that mouthing off getting to your head?"
"What're you going to do," Selene challenges. "Put my mouth to 'better use?' You're getting boring, Chairwoman."
Rosalie yanks her upward by her hair. Forces Selene up onto her lap, bending down to take a nipple between her teeth. Selene gasps. She should take her on the desk, Rosalie thinks, viciously. Make her stare at Victoria's desk photos while she comes.
She spanks her instead, choosing to just imagine it. Relishing the sound.
"You know what I think?" Rosalie asks, releasing her with a pop. Reaching up with one hand to pinch at her own teeth marks, twisting hard.
"Enlighten me." Selene gasps. Bites the side of Rosalie's neck in return, whose breath hitches. No doubt leaving a mark. She pulls Selene away roughly by her hair, looking her right in the eye. Holding her gaze while she shoves her thigh between Selene's leg, tensing it. Holding her gaze, as Selene starts to move.
"I think you're just an attention whore. Victoria spends too much time away, so you come running to me. I ignore you for just a minute, and you try to get a rise out of me.
"Just ask for rougher, if that's what you want." She spanks Selene again, harder, making her yelp. "Beg me for it."
"You keep bringing that up," Selene fires back. "Must be a fantasy of yours. But you haven't gotten it yet, have you?"
"Like it'd be hard." Rosalie spits. "Look at you. Fully naked at the office. Fucking rutting on me. You give me attitude every time, but your body gives you away." Her pant leg is drenched, now; in for a penny, in for a pound.
She brings her hand down against Selene's ass again, cupping it slightly, making the impact that much louder.
"Go on," she growls. "I know you're close. It doesn't take much, for you, does it?" She grabs Selene's hips, guiding her movements, deepening them. "Fucking slut. I don't have all night."
Selene doesn't have a response. She leans in instead, slipping a tongue in Rosalie's mouth. Rosalie bites down, and Selene comes, just like that, Rosalie swallowing her moans. Holding her in place as she spasms in Rosalie's lap. There's custodial staff in this building still, somewhere; does Selene know? Care? She tries to roll her hips, chasing friction, but Rosalie holds her there, even as Selene whines, bites Rosalie lips, tries in vain to provoke her. It must be unsatisfying. Rosalie will make it up to her.
When it's over, she lifts Selene easily, dumping her onto her boss's desk, grabbing her phone from where she left it.
"It's your choice," Rosalie says, unlocking it. Opening her camera. "If you don't want this, I can just send you home. You can take care of it yourself. Picture her, picture me, I don't care."
Selene glares, her legs spread. Anticipating something; punishment, maybe. Her ass and thighs bright red from Rosalie's hands. Rosalie hasn't left anything that'll last, that Victoria will get to see, by the time she flies back to Ocean City. She doesn't know what she's missing, Rosalie thinks. She lifts her phone, maneuvering all of it into the frame—Selene's face, her marks, her cunt, all of it.
"What'll it be?"
"Do it," she says, finally. "I don't care." Rosalie presses down with her thumb.
"Spread. Let me see you." Selene rolls her eyes and obeys, parting herself with her fingers. Glistening.
"Are you done?"
Rosalie smiles sweetly. "It's a video."
"You think you'd have the decency to try to hide them." Victoria says with distaste, eyeing the bruises Rosalie's loose tie doesn't even begin to cover up.
She shrugs. "There's not really a reason for me to sneak around." She glances at Victoria, meaningfully.
Victoria doesn't take the bait, just waits for her cousin to get bored of waiting.
"I quite like this one, actually. We're more similar than I realize." Nothing at all like your mother. "I think you'd like her, too. It's nothing serious, naturally, but it doesn't need to be."
Rosalie sighs. "You're not much fun today. Trouble in paradise?" It's Victoria's turn to respond with her eyes.
They're at the same restaurant Victoria took Selene on their first date. Selene hadn't told Rosalie, of course, but Victoria had paid for the meal with her company card. She'd already been keeping tabs on them, at the time.
Rosalie orders what Selene ordered. She'd been curious about it.
"Silence is an answer too, I guess. Sorry to hear it."
"You're not," Victoria says, curtly.
"Don't be so dramatic, Victoria," Rosalie chides. "It's not like I want you to be unhappy. I want the best for the two of you! Within reason, of course. Don't do anything rash." She checks her watch. It's almost time for her to go, already. Time flies, she thinks. On a Chairwoman's schedule.
"I don't want to hear it from the woman parading around her lovebites."
"Like I said," Rosalie reminds her. "I don't have a reason not to." The food arrives; it looks good. Rosalie tastes it. Nothing special.
"It's a lot of fun, you know. Getting marked up. Feeling claimed. I think that must be why ordinary people get married, these days. It's sort of crass, when you think about it. Like a kink thing gone mainstream.
"Appealing though, in a certain sense. It's sort of a shame the Qi family is so... Aristocratic, about these things."
"It's a good thing you're the Chairwoman, then." Victoria challenges. "You could bring some fresh perspective."
"I plan to." Rosalie smiles. "And, between you and me? I hope our cousins turn out more like you."
"I hope they end up happier than us," Victoria says quietly.
"Speak for yourself." Rosalie flags down their server. "I enjoying myself just fine."
"Let me handle the bill," Victoria says.
"Thank you." Rosalie's car is already waiting outside; she has a board meeting in half an hour.
"Oh," she adds, an afterthought as she pulls on her coat. "Give Selene my best for me, will you? When you see her. It's been a while."
"I love you," she whispers. Mouths a kiss against her thigh.
Selene shivers, lost in Victoria's movements, which are loving, deliberate. Just firm enough. Like she's cold.
"Fuck," Selene whispers, just shy of incoherent. Her eyes screwed shut, teeth gritted. Like she's bracing herself against something. "Don't—don't stop, Victoria—"
It's trite, probably, but Selene looks so beautiful, to Victoria, when she comes. It feels special, even if she doesn't stay the only person who gets to see it. It's special to her, simply because it's the two of them in the moment.
But her favorite part has always been the after; the way they'd hold each other, loose-limbed and lazy, enjoying the post-orgasm head rush in solitude together. They don't get to very often, these days.
"Selene?" she murmurs into the dark.
"What is it?"
"I love you."
"Save it for the woman you come home to," Selene says, rolling over, but she doesn't protest when Victoria drapes an arm over her waist. She doesn't even react.
"Does she ever fuck you in her office?" Rosalie asks, her voice a show of idle curiosity, her eyes giving her away. "No cameras in here. Less of a paper trail than a hotel."
"Aren't you bored of asking things like that?" Selene's voice is cold; she unbuttons her blouse while Rosalie watches from behind the desk.
Rosalie laughs. "I thought that's why you're here. To let it all out."
"You know why I'm here."
"I do," Rosalie smirks, but she's already half-listening, her mind wandering to Selene's body, figuring out where she wants to leave her mark. It's hard to choose—somewhere high on Selene's collar, where the office rumors will greet Victoria's return to Huanyu's headquarters; somewhere high on Selene's thigh, the kind of spot that'll only get discovered when she and Victoria are in the thick of it.
Rosalie wishes she could see the look on Victoria's face when it happens. But she takes the prize she's offered, steers it roughly by the hips to turn around and bend over the desk.
"I know all about why you're here," she continues, bringing a hand up Selene's thigh unceremoniously, running a finger through her folds. "Executive Qi goes away for a week, and you can barely make it a couple of days before you're looking for another way to feel used." On a different day, she'd tease a little longer, make Selene watch her own wetness string between her fingers in the light, taunt her with it. But they don't have very long.
"You think I'm the one getting used?" Selene says. "You don't understand anything."
Rosalie palms her breast, squeezing self-indulgently. Selene arches into her as she pinches a nipple and twists, biting back a moan, her ass pressing back into Rosalie's fly. "Not very convincing," she laughs. Selene doesn't even respond.
"You're so full of yourself," Selene hisses, her venom undercut by her little gasps as Rosalie presses herself in. "You—ah!—you think I'm one of your women, don't you? You think I'm playing your game."
"And what's yours, exactly?" Rosalie scoffs. "You're doing a pretty bad job of making her jealous, you know. Only answering my texts when she's an ocean away. Spreading your legs for me in her office and pretending that you're hurting her back. From behind her back." She curls her fingers just enough, in the way Rosalie knows makes her feel full. She wants to see Selene's expression, in this position; she thinks about taking her somewhere with a mirror.
"If you were serious about this," she continues, "You'd parade me around. Show up to dates in clothes I bought you. Answer her calls in my bed."
"Is this what you think about all day?" Selene shoots back. "Acting out your little porn fantasies?"
"You didn't seem to mind my porn fantasies under her desk last month. Or when I dressed you up like my secretary."
"You're so full of yourself. All I do is play along, and you convince yourself you're corrupting me."
"Play along?" Rosalie knows she's close, indulges the urge to slow down just to see if Selene will work for it. She does, of course. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am in the driver's seat, at this point. Does she even know you're fucking me yet? Or are you just here because you like it."
"I hate you," Selene responds, tightening around her.
She knows that already. It's written all over her, even as she rocks back into Rosalie, knuckle deep, clenching down. Dripping onto Victoria's floor. It's exactly why Rosalie bothers having her secretary block this time out of her schedule in the first place. She couldn't get this feeling anywhere else, not if she bagged someone prettier, higher class, a better trophy—the kind of woman fit to be framed in an executive's desk photo, not kept on payroll with stock options and generous benefits.
None of them would make her feel the way she does right now, with Victoria's side piece wrapped around her fingers. She's at the helm of the Qi Group, the next family head in all but name, but all that's just ambition and this is victory, the mistress Rosalie created shuddering as she holds her down by her hair and fucks her. It's been weeks of this, and she still isn't bored. Not when she still hasn't found out just how far she can take it.
"You want it to hurt, don't you?" Rosalie's hand tightens in Selene's hair, pulling at the roots. "You want to hurt her. I can show you how."
"Mmh—ah—" Selene has the flesh of her thumb between her teeth, biting down. Rosalie yanks it away by her wrist.
"Hands on the desk." she commands, releasing Selene, letting her choose to obey. "Or you're taking care of it yourself."
Most of the time, Selene tends to look her in the eye when Rosalie takes her. She always savors Selene's expression when she does, less for what it is than what it means. Rosalie is everything Victoria isn't, everything she doesn't think Victoria could ever be—crude and rough and casual, without even a hint of a blush on her face—and yet, Selene just can't help herself. It's as if she can't help but search for something of her lover on Rosalie's face, and it just so happens that she and Rosalie have the same blue-greys.
So this Selene, the Selene in front of her, is a novelty: bent over Executive Qi's desk, skirt hiked up around her hips, panties pushed haphazardly to the side. She should pick those next, Rosalie thinks. See if she can convince Selene to wear them on one of her little not-dates, text Rosalie a photo from the restaurant bathroom. See how wet she can get her, before Victoria takes her to a hotel room somewhere and undresses her.
"You can say her name," Rosalie breathes, bending down to speak directly into Selene's ear, her breasts pressing into the woman's back through her shirt. "I won't take it personally."
"Shut up." Selene's voice is a strangled whisper, a chant that Rosalie tries her best to cut off, snaking an arm around a thigh to rub hard at Selene's clit, curling the fingers inside her. "Shut up, just shut the fuck up, just—fuck—"
Rosalie bites down, right where Selene's neck meets her shoulder, and Selene lets her, spasming violently against the desk as she pulls away, just to suck a different mark beneath Selene's jaw. Moans for it, her attitude disintegrating in her mouth as Rosalie continues. She's sobbing now, as she comes again, and Rosalie lets her. Doesn't say a word.
"You expect me to work like this?" Selene demands, later. They're in the employee restroom on the executive floor—the only mirror in the building private enough for Selene to inspect the damage. "I can't come off of my lunch break with your teeth marks in me."
Rosalie watches her do it, admiring her handiwork. "I'll tell your manager I'm sending you home early. Just take the elevator down after I call you a cab."
She'll clock into work tomorrow pretending she got these last night. What will people think, Rosalie wonders. Will anyone realize what floor Selene had gone to for her lunch today? Connect the dots to the gifts Rosalie took credit for? She hopes so.
"What are you getting out of this, anyway?" Selene asks. Will she ever get tired of those questions? Rosalie's starting to think she won't.
She raises an eyebrow. "I think I answered that one just earlier, don't you think?"
Selene rolls her eyes in the mirror, not even bothering to turn.
"I've known for a while." Victoria admits. "Suspected, anyway."
She thought she'd wanted to see it happen, the realization. That particular kind of pain, immediate, blindsided. Hadn't she wanted to see her face?
"Rosalie isn't subtle, when we talk." She laughs, more of a sharp exhale than anything. "She can never resist an opportunity to lord something over me."
She even thought she might the one to say it outright. Some future day waiting for Victoria at the airport, maybe, feeling sicker of things than usual. Ram in the knife, without any premeditation or guilt. She supposes she could have expected this.
"Your coworkers talk about you, Selene." Victoria looks calm. A little sad, but calm. The executive and not the woman.
When did I start separating them, Selene thinks, dully. I thought I was better than that. They're standing in Victoria's hotel room. Dinner had ended quickly, after it was out in the open, and they'd needed someplace they wouldn't cause a scene. Somewhere an argument wouldn't put a face to a voice.
"They quiet down when their boss is in the room, but rumors are rumors. I know they talk." Why is she starting with this? Reputation? Is that still what worries her?
Selene tries indifference. "At least they're not talking about us, right? Isn't that what you were afraid of?"
"That doesn't mean I feel good about you coming to work like that. With people thinking you're—you're—"
"Why do you care?" Selene demands. "I'm not your partner anymore. So my coworkers know what I do with my days off. Some of them, anyway." Not the ones with you. "So what?"
"Don't say that." Victoria pleads. There are tears coming, and she doesn't wipe them away. Selene doesn't, either. The first time Victoria had really cried in front of her, they'd been in her apartment. For the very first time. She remembers drinking in the sight of how the woman she was in love with lived—
"Say what? The truth?"
"I don't care if you—you can sleep with her. If that's what you want. If that's what gets you through the day when you're lonely and I'm overseas." Selene's expression twists, like something sharp in her gut, but Victoria doesn't stop. What was it all for, then? If she doesn't care.
"But don't say that we're nothing. I'm still your girlfriend. Don't tell me I'm not."
Selene can't remember what she wanted, anymore, but it wasn't this. Not this Victoria, the one who takes everything lying down. There was a time when it felt significant, getting to chip away at the façade; these days, it's like she's only doing it to check if she still can. Will she get tired of it, some day?
Selene shakes her head. "You're hers now."
How many times have they fought over this? Without really fighting. Every time Selene sleeps with her back to her. Finds herself lashing out, desperate, petulant.
"Not in the way that matters." Victoria's sitting on the bed now, her palms rubbing at her eyes, her ring in full view.
Maybe never, Selene thinks. Maybe they never do, in a way that matters. It's always been Selene, ready for a fight. And Victoria, too afraid of losing to do much of anything.
"Then prove it." she demands. "Prove I'm your girlfriend. Get mad. Rosalie is fucking me, and I went back for seconds. Don't you care?"
"Of course I do." Victoria sounds so resigned, her voice thin, barely louder than the sound of passing cars, stories below. "But I can't tell you to stop. I don't have that right anymore."
And isn't that the problem? Victoria can't make any of this stop. Would never even try. Just holds on, as best she can.
There was a time she'd been afraid of her, Selene remembers. During her interview, her internship. When did she start seeing her like Rosalie does?
"So that's it then." She wants Victoria to look at her. She doesn't want to keep standing in front of her, watching her cry. "I could walk out right now, ask her to call me a cab, and you'd just let it happen."
"Is that what you want to do?" Victoria reaches for her, then hesitates. Her hands fist in the comforter.
"Do you love her?" Victoria's voice is barely more of a question than a whisper.
"No," Selene says. How could she think that? It feels wrong, even picturing it.
"Are you leaving me? I wouldn't blame you." She's sniffling now; her words come out wobbly, childish. "I know this is hard for you."
"Just say what you mean," Selene whispers. Sitting down next to her. "Please."
"Don't leave me." As soon as they touch, Victoria's clinging to her.
"I won't." Snot on Selene's blouse. Her hand at the back of Victoria's head.
That's all she wants, Selene thinks, as Victoria tilts her face up to press her lips against hers. That's all she'll ever ask for. No matter what I do.
Victoria still flies out. Selene still accompanies her to the airport. She spends a couple of days by herself until Rosalie invites her out, a restaurant full of sparkling glass and the sound of live music. Somewhere she couldn't afford go without Rosalie's card.
"A toast, maybe?" Rosalie asks, making to raise her glass. "To a job well done?" Selene picks at her food, doesn't even look up.
"You got what you wanted, you know." Rosalie takes a sip by herself, sets the glass down, unbothered. "You'd think you'd look a little happier."
"Will you ever get tired of treating us like this?" Selene wonders. "Haven't you done enough?"
"Grow up." Rosalie's voice is sharper than Selene's expecting. "You're talking like I tricked you into bed with me."
"Like that's not exactly the thought that gets you off in the first place." Selene shoots back. There she is, Rosalie thinks. There's that fire.
"Kind of rich from the girl that's taking it all the time, don't you think?"
"You think any of that would have happened, if it weren't for that ring?" Selene demands. "You think I ever would have stopped standing you up?"
"You ever notice you only bring this up when things are going badly for you?" Rosalie asks. "When you have a nice weekend together, whatever that looks like—maybe when Victoria remembers to leave her ring in her hotel room when she knocks on your door. You never come whining like this. Asking me what I'm getting out of it.
"It's just when you decide you're upset at Victoria for being married again."
"They're not married yet."
Rosalie rolls her eyes. "This is what I mean. You hide from the things you don't want to think about until you can't, and then you're back again, across the table, telling me it's all my fault. That I started it. If you really believed that, you wouldn't—lets see, how did you put it? 'Act out my little porn fantasies?' You'd spend your time running around figuring out ways to try and hurt the woman who 'did this to the two of you,' if you meant anything you say long enough to do anything about it."
"I'm not doing this because she deserves it," Selene admits. "Of course I know that." Her wineglass is just shy of empty; Rosalie doesn't refill it. "I know the engagement already hurts her, whether I hurt her too or not. I just—wanted to see her mad about something. Enough to try and make it stop."
"You must not know her very well," Rosalie says, cruelly. "She's her mother's daughter, you know."
"And you? Who do you take after?"
Rosalie doesn't answer. "Have you even asked her to run away with you?" She wonders. "Or do you just want to resent her for not suggesting it herself."
"What's the point of asking?" Like Victoria would ever leave Huanyu behind. She'd give all her shares to her fiancée before she'd ever even consider giving up that office. "I know what she'd say."
"Okay," Rosalie says. "So she won't do it, and you won't ask. You're more similar than you think."
"And you're above us how?" Selene asks, white-knuckling her fork. I wonder if she'd ever stab me, Rosalie thinks idly. Is she the kind of woman to snap? Rosalie doesn't think so, which makes it somehow funnier to consider.
"I read the contracts I sign. I don't complain about my cards when I buy into the table. You're a mistress, Selene, not a callgirl. You're here because you want to be. Victoria has obligations, you know. A family to repay. What's your excuse? For not 'making it stop?'
"People like you convince themselves they can do it all for love. And then they complain when they get what they wanted. If you're miserable, just be honest with yourself and walk away, like you said you would. Or be honest with yourself and admit you can't."
"You think you're honest with yourself?" Selene demands. "You can't even tell, can you? All this time you spend hanging around her, making her chase you. Taunting us. Taking me out to dinner. You just can't stand that she cares about something. Something you can't own. You want me to think it's just sex, so that I won't realize you were hoping you could tear it apart.
"You liked Victoria better after her mother died, because it made you feel more like kindred spirits. Even though she's nothing like you. 'There's a part of her life no one in the world gets but me?' Do you even realize you're projecting? Is it really that hard to see her happy?"
"And when was the last time you saw her happy?" Rosalie asks. "Do you even try, these days? Or are you too busy picking what to wear to dinner with me."
Her voice is colder than she realized it'd be, like she's going in for the kill. You're in a restaurant, she reminds herself. There are customers. You didn't reserve every table tonight.
"You pick what I wear to dinner with you." Selene says. Arguing with what she can, Rosalie thinks. Ignoring what she can't. But she looks brittle, sitting there, properly fragile, and Rosalie's not looking to push her like that tonight.
"You make me seem so complicated." Rosalie is inspecting her nails, making herself seem bored; they're close-cropped, perfect. Old habits from piano lessons, with new purposes. "You want to think I'm jealous, because it'll make you feel in control of her engagement. You don't want it to just be sex, because then we're just sleeping together. No revenge plot—just a woman who isn't satisfied."
"You can satisfy yourself with anyone else." Selene crosses her arms.
"Don't sell yourself short," Rosalie winks. Selene doesn't move.
"You never get a little bored of your day job?" Rosalie asks. "Go home, watch something lurid, get off on it, fall asleep?"
"That's us, then?" Her voice feels more like an echo. "Something lurid?"
"You two are a lot of fun." Rosalie smirks. "You know, I don't usually make it past a fourth date."
"They're not dates." Selene's nose wrinkles.
"No," Rosalie laughs. "I guess not. But I do take you out. Dress up for it. Unless you'd prefer skipping the formalities?"
"I'm not here because you're a good conversationalist."
Rosalie's eyes gleam. "I'll ask for the check."
She makes her choose everything, tonight. Which address the car takes them to. Selene hasn't ever seen her apartment before, Rosalie thinks, idly, pressing the other woman into her door and kissing her.
"I like this on you." She's looking at Selene's necklace, her eyes dragging down to her breasts. Victoria sure picked well, she thinks, not for the first time.
"Shut up," Selene growls. Rosalie pulls her back in by the necklace; Selene moans into the kiss.
She makes her choose everything. Which toy she fucks her with, and in which position. Selene's on her knees in Rosalie's bedroom, buckling and tightening the harness while Rosalie watches her work, playing with her own chest. She likes Selene's choices. Maybe tonight, that'll make two of them.
"I thought you got what you came for," Rosalie mocks. "She gets it now, right? You made sure of that."
She has Selene practically folded over, her long legs hooked over Rosalie's shoulders. She bends down to speak, their foreheads almost touching, looking Selene right in the eye. Pressing in.
"And you're still back for more. You like this that much? You ready to stop pretending?"
Does she have the right read? It doesn't really matter, as far as Rosalie's concerned. It gets a reaction; it gets them off.
She holds Selene expertly on the edge until she begs to come, and only then does Rosalie indulge her. again and again. Readjusts, makes Selene hold her legs open while Rosalie really gives it to her, stopping only when Selene decides it finally hurts more than she wants it to.
"You can't tell me about choices," Selene says, after, when her crying stops. Rosalie had just laid there, catching her breath, waiting for her to finish. It's not cold of her; it's what Selene wants. It'd be crueler to comfort her. Too cruel for Rosalie's proclivities. "When you're the one with the power to set the terms. You know that, right? Who even reads the pages your lawyers draft?"
I do, Rosalie thinks. I check everything over. Victoria does too. What would she know about that? How complicated their lives really are?
"Okay," she says, simply. "Set me some terms then."
"Cancel the engagement." Selene's voice is quiet. "Or I'll stop sleeping with you."
Rosalie can't help but laugh. "You're not very good at this."
"I don't have leverage," Selene corrects her. "There's a difference."
"And I do?" Rosalie asks. "I can cut her out of the company. I can probably get her disowned. These things only matter if you let them."
"You're disgusting," Selene whispers.
"You've said that already."
It's simple. It has been from the beginning. Whether she realizes it or not. Selene sleeps over; Rosalie pays for her car in the morning. It's as simple as that.
("I know you haven't liked gifts, lately," she says, tentatively. As if afraid to ruin the moment.
Their date had been peaceful that night, albeit subdued. It'd gone well. Victoria's flight hadn't come up once—final wedding preparations on the horizon—only hovered, casting something cold and terribly empty over the table where the two of them sat in their restaurant, like a city's bright skyline, blotting out the stars. They'd filled it well enough with the sound of their voices.
They'd ended up in Victoria's apartment, where Selene would spend the night. They have the day off the next morning. It feels like all the time in the world; it feels like all the time they have in the world.
"But I just thought. I know what I can't give you. And then I came up with this."
She opens the box. It's a silver necklace, a thin chain with a simple disc pendant, small, hammered. She'd put aside some metal, back then, to turn into a ring someday. She used that.
Selene studies it. Looks up at her, her eyes welling. Victoria is so tired of being the one to make her cry.
"I made it. It's—it's part of a pair. An anklet." Victoria explains. Something discreet. "I already have it on."
"I know I can't give you what you want." Victoria swallows. "But I can give you everything I have." She gestures toward the box. "This is yours. It's one of a kind. You can take it, keep it in your desk. Throw it out the first chance you get. It's yours."
Selene turns away. A lump rises in Victoria's throat. You're fine with this, Victoria reminds herself. You said you'd be.
"Put it on me?" Selene asks, and Victoria relaxes. Steps toward here, as if her heart was in her hands.
She fumbles a little with the clasp. Her breath tickling Selene's neck. Her mistress shivers. Victoria holds her breath. Brushes Selene's hair to the side, exposing her nape.
When she's done, Victoria doesn't step back. Just stands there, arms on Selene's shoulders. Meeting her gaze in the mirror.
"How do I look," Selene asks, softly. Her neck has always been so smooth, Victoria thinks. Even the bruises, a fading purple; nothing she or Rosalie can think to do with their mouths will last.
"Beautiful," she whispers, because it's true. Kissing her neck. Noting the way Selene's breath hitches. Trembling.
Rosalie had left traces of herself everywhere on Selene's body. Haphazard, forceful. Victoria ghosts over each one, overwriting them with her mouth. Selene moans softly, clutching at her hair. The first marks in many months that she'd felt safe in leaving—a renewal, of things that were already there.
"I love you," Victoria whispers, working Selene over with her fingers, with her voice.
"I love you too," Selene sobs.
"It's okay," she says. "I know. It's okay."
After, Selene takes her by the wrist. Brings Victoria's fingers to her mouth to taste herself. Bruises dotting her collarbone, necklace shining in the moonlight. The softness of her lips. The imprint left by Victoria's ring, disappearing between them.)
Victoria's father, of course, is there to walk her down the aisle. It makes her feel like a doll: the former chairman holding onto Victoria's arm, as if making sure the bride won't run away at the very last minute.
She'd think nothing of it if it were Selene waiting for her at the altar. It'd be a formality, dressing up the parts of the ceremony building up to the moment Victoria kisses her.
She'd told herself she wouldn't picture that, today, that she couldn't bear to; it's the morning of her wedding day, and she's already broken another promise. She can feel the beginnings of tears welling, and she shuts her eyes, hard. She can't ruin her bridal makeup, no matter how much she'd like to—she has to look perfect, for no other reason than the obligatory photo on her soon-to-be wife's desk, back at her office in the States.
"You look beautiful." Rosalie's heels click as she walks toward her.
Victoria turns. "You did your tie properly." Rosalie snorts.
"It's a special day," she grins, her smile pleasant. "I've got to look the part."
"They gave you a front row seat," Victoria says, bitterly. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself."
"Well," Rosalie says. "You know I've never been one for family affairs."
"Don't pretend this isn't fun for you." She's on the verge of tears again. The makeup is one thing, but Victoria can't give Rosalie the satisfaction.
"I tried, you know?" Rosalie says. "It could have been worse. I made sure you got a woman."
"You expect me to thank you?" There's a part of Victoria that thought she was used to everything Rosalie could possibly say to taunt her, after all these years. Clearly, she was wrong. "After everything?"
"I'm just saying it's not so bad, in the grand scheme of things. You'll have your honeymoon together, and then you'll be back in Ocean City, living alone. You could move Selene into your building without raising any eyebrows. Keep her in your apartment, give her your card."
"And you'd visit her there?" Victoria asks, bitterly. "Keep her company while I'm gone?"
"Don't worry," Rosalie says, easily. "I'd change the sheets if you asked."
They fall silent. It's almost time, whether Victoria likes it or not.
"Well." Rosalie glances at her watch. "I'd better give you a moment alone." She spins on her heel, begins to walk away.
"Rosalie," Victoria calls, weakly. Her cousin pauses.
"Just—treat her well. If you're going to torment someone, torment me."
Rosalie turns. Studies her expression. "That's not what she wants."
The rest of the ceremony is a blur. That's the one good thing about a rehearsal dinner, Victoria thinks. You can go through the motions, on the big day.
She isn't even listening. She doesn't need to—she can tell it's her turn to speak when the officiant goes silent.
("You still want this, then." Selene had said, the night Victoria found out—they'd left the hotel window open, the curtains billowing inward with the cold, her voice thick with it, making Victoria want nothing more than to pull the comforter over them, pull her close, put whatever this talk was to bed. If she were any good, she'd have taken off the ring right then and there, better late than never, and dropped it into the bedside table drawer for some lucky housekeeper to find and pawn. Take Selene's name.
"You still want this, now that you finally know how it feels?")
"I do," Victoria says, and then her vow is swept away by the sound of her guests.