Silver Tears(4)

They undressed her first, then themselves.

“I want to see the two of you,” Faye whispered. “Together.”

Jack’s face appeared in her mind’s eye—she thought about the time he had talked about inviting a woman to join them. Faye had refused. Not because she found the idea unappealing—but because it had always been so apparent that it was for his sake. It was different for Francesca and Matteo. Faye was there for both of them. It wasn’t because they’d grown weary of each other, but because their love and attraction was so strong that it was brimming over and there was enough for one more. And she was taking delight from the entire situation.

Faye groaned when Matteo bent her over—across Francesca—and pushed into her from behind. Faye stared into the Brazilian’s wide eyes as her fiancé thrust into her. Francesca’s mouth was half-open, her eyes inquisitive, intense.

“I like seeing you fuck her, baby,” Francesca whispered to Matteo.

She was a means for them to strengthen their solidarity, although she was also included.

When Faye was close to coming, Matteo pulled out of her. The deep couch was a tangle of their naked, sweaty bodies. Faye had never experienced anything as intimate as becoming part of these beautiful, infatuated people’s pleasure. Her body trembled as Francesca moved closer to her. They exchanged a look as they got onto all fours at the end of the couch and curved their backs. Matteo stood behind them, first penetrating Francesca and then Faye, before moving his cock between them. Finally, Faye reached climax. She cried out loud. Matteo couldn’t contain himself any longer; his breathing was becoming heavier.



“In her,” Francesca panted.

Faye felt him get harder before he exploded.

Afterward, they moved still entwined and lay down in the big bed in the adjacent bedroom—all three of them. They passed a cigarette between themselves, still breathing deeply. Faye set the alarm clock on her mobile to make sure she didn’t oversleep, before trying to drift off. After half an hour, she gave up. She carefully disentangled herself and clambered out of bed without waking the couple. They stirred slightly in their sleep, wrapped their arms around each other, and crept closer in the warm patch where Faye had been lying.

Naked, she poured a glass of champagne from an open bottle and then took both out onto the balcony. The city was filled with sound and light. Faye sat down on a lounger and perched her feet on the rail. A warm summer breeze caressed her naked body, making it tingle and tickle. But what should have been a perfect moment was marred by thoughts of Kerstin’s expression as she had looked at the monitor in the study just before Faye had left the house the previous day. Not much upset Kerstin. She was a rock against which other rocks crumbled into dust. Something was up.

Faye sipped the champagne thoughtfully while her thoughts careered away. There was so much that could go wrong in a company as big as Revenge, especially given the sizable investments they had made. Big money, big investments, big profits—but also big risks. Nothing was certain. Nothing was unshakable. Faye of all people knew that much.

She turned around and saw the beautiful couple lying in bed inside. She smiled at them. Right now, she didn’t want to think about Kerstin’s troubled face; right now, she didn’t want to think about everything that lay ahead. She wanted something else.





“Mommy!”

Julienne came running toward Faye and gave her a wet hug.

“Don’t run on the paving stones!” Ingrid called out from over by the rattan sofas.

“Now you’re wet, Mommy,” Julienne said with concern once she had disengaged from the hug and saw that the front of Faye’s blouse had a damp patch on it.

“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. It’ll dry out. But what’s this? Haven’t you got out of the pool since I left?”

“Nope.” Julienne giggled. “I slept in the pool and ate in the pool too.”

“Fancy that—I thought I had a little girl, but it turns out she was actually a mermaid!”

“Yes! Like Ariel!”

“Just like Ariel.”

Faye stroked her daughter’s wet hair, which had begun to shimmer a slightly greenish shade.

“I’m going upstairs to unpack, be back down soon,” she called to Ingrid, who merely nodded and returned to her book. She had clearly begun to trust Julienne’s capabilities in the pool a little more.

Faye climbed the stairs and carried her bag into the bedroom. She quickly wriggled out of the wet blouse and the other clothes she had been traveling in and changed into a soft cotton loungewear set. She stowed the wheelie bag in her walk-in closet. Her Girl Friday, Paola, would unpack it later.



The bed looked so inviting that Faye lay down on top of the covers with her hands clasped behind her head, allowing herself to relax. The thought of what had happened in the bed in Rome made her smile to herself. She yawned and could feel how tired she was—she had literally not slept a wink during the night. On the other hand, she had slept all the way home. She didn’t want to risk nodding off now, but over the years she had learned the art of taking a few minutes’ absolute rest before getting up with more energy. The trick was to resist the impulse to close your eyes, so she looked around and let her eyes linger on both the details and the big picture.

The bedroom was her oasis. There was also a light color palette here—crisp white and a soft shade of blue. Sleek, elegant furnishing—nothing too heavy. Nothing like the enormous, solid desk that she had bought as a gift for Jack, solely because it had once belonged to Ingmar Bergman. Jack had loved that kind of thing. Big gestures. Major bragging rights. Being able to show visitors around the house and casually mention that this desk they happened to be passing had belonged to the great director.