A/N: Let me just clarify that I do not speak a word of French so I don't know if the French dialogues are correct or not. Blame or thank google for all the French words in this chapter. And feel free to let me know if they are atrociously wrong. lol
Chapter 8
Gomez stepped into a spacious elevator, pressed the top floor button and smiled politely at the elderly couple next to him. He hoped they wouldn't start a conversation because he spent practically the whole day in the boardroom and really didn't have the energy for small talk. They really needed to get a new accountant, and soon, because as much as Gomez preferred to keep himself busy, his workload was getting ridiculous and the last thing he wanted was spending never-ending hours at the office when he had much more pleasurable things to do.
He felt a jolt of anticipation running down his spine when the elevator finally stopped and he stepped out, making his way down the carpeted corridor. He stopped just before the door and promptly slid the wedding ring off his finger, placing it securely in the pocket of his navy blue, woollen peacoat before turning the door handle.
He never thought it would be possible to be addicted to another human being but, in the last two weeks, Gomez Addams felt like an addict craving his next dose.
He didn't care about anything but her, it took all his willpower to focus on anything else than the thought of seeing her again, he endured his business meetings barely listening to what was being said, all he cared about was to get through the mundane until he could meet Morticia again, until he could forget everything in her arms. It felt insane, this constant hunger for her, the sheer need to at least see her - if only to feast his eyes with her. He even started to look forward to the Sunday lunches at his in-laws just for a chance of seeing her, to be in the same room as her and was close to howling in disappointment when it turned out she decided to miss the family gathering.
Which was, all things considered, a sensible approach on her part. It would certainly look suspicious if she suddenly started to attend every family gathering where previously she avoided them whenever possible.
And they were treading on thin ice as it was - seeing each other almost every single day for the past two weeks except for weekends because he wasn't in the habit of working on weekends and no one would ever believe such a sudden and intense dedication to paperwork.
It was, however, an immense consolation that he wasn't the only addict in this equation.
"What in the devil took you so long?" She chastised impatiently, claiming his lips into a firm, rough kiss, the moment he so much as had a chance to close the door.
Not that he was complaining, far from it, he could barely comprehend how he lasted two days without feeling those glorious lips against his.
"I'm sorry, my meetings have been running late all day," he apologised, shedding his coat and suit jacket on the floor."I got here as soon as I could - God, you taste delicious."
"Not soon enough," she insisted, running her palms against his chest, sliding her fingers into the opening of his white shirt to undo the buttons."This is all I could think about all weekend."
"You're all I can think about all the time," he breathed out, his voice already hoarse with the need for her.
He groaned, pressing his fingers into the soft swell of her hips, feeling his blood rush straight to his groin when she pushed his shirt down his shoulders and slid her nails down his chest. She flicked her tongue over his lips, placing warm kisses along his jaw and down his neck, eliciting a low howl out of him.
God, she loved touching him, she loved the feel of his taut muscles against her hands, the scent of him - earthy and so irresistibly masculine - he was just so ridiculously attractive she could barely think of anything else but him.
She gasped in delight when she felt him fist his hand into her dark tresses and tilt her head towards him, kissing her roughly.
"You're wearing way too many clothes," he rasped heavily, pressing her closer to himself.
"You must definitely do something about it," she replied, claiming his lips into another aggressive kiss before her lips stretched into a small knowing smile when he sneaked his hand to her back and did a quick work undoing the buttons of her dress and pulled it down to her hips before pushing it all the way to the floor.
"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured appreciatively against the column of her neck, pressing his lips against the pale skin. "Absolutely exquisite."
Morticia moaned deliciously and closed her eyes, tilting her head to allow him better access, as she allowed him to disrobe her fully. She felt his hands caress her breast before he squeezed her nipples and he followed the caress with his lips and she felt her head spin at the sensation.
She gasped when she felt him slip his hand in between her thighs.
"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" He offered, his voice already heavy with those delightful Spanish notes.
"I absolutely cannot wait that long," she replied, capturing his lips into another rough kiss before pushing him on the sofa behind him.
She straddled his thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his chest as her hands expertly unfastened his trousers, pushing them down before tugging at his silk boxers.
She pushed him further down across the sofa and crawled over him, wrapping her fingers around his length as her gaze locked with his and she took him inside of her, letting out such a delicious moan, it was almost enough to finish him there and then.
She couldn't even explain what it did to her when he looked at her like that, his eyes seemed ablaze with sheer lust for her that was almost frightening in its intensity, and she felt her very soul locked into this gaze, enslaved to the need for him.
"God, Tish," he rasped heavily and grabbed her hips, grinding her core against his abdomen and watched her lip part in an exquisite moan before her lips crashed against his.
"I love the way you feel," she breathed out, her beautiful face only millimetres from his as she fisted her right hand into his hair and pulled at it, tilting his head back, eliciting a delighted moan out of him as she moved her hips roughly against his.
He couldn't take his eyes off her, the enticing movement of her hips, the way she looked at him and he felt trapped in her gaze, lost in the delightful, hedonistic pleasure of her.
"So good," she moaned and arched back suddenly, taking him deeper inside her and smiled at him lusciously when he bit his lips and howled deep at the back of his throat.
"You're going to kill me," he moaned.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she breathed out and reached behind, cupping him firmly and smirked when he moaned loudly and swore under his breath.
She was going to kill him, he had no doubt about that.
He pulled himself into a sitting position and slid his hand back to her rear, his fingers wrapping firmly around the supple flesh as he pulled her roughly against him and heard her ardent moan.
She grabbed at his shoulders, pressing her nails into the olive skin and resisting the urge to leave the marks on him even though the need in her was almost overwhelming. She wanted to mark him, she wanted to state her claim on him, she wanted it more than she was prepared to admit.
She heard him whisper her name, in those Spanish tinted notes she absolutely adored and moved her hips more urgently, claiming his lips into a ferocious kiss, the warm, throbbing feeling already spreading at the back of her tights. She could feel him tense as her inner muscles clenched around him and she buried her face into the crook of his neck as her breath hitched in her throat and the blissful heat set her very blood alight.
"Gomez…," she cried out his name in that huskily, breathy sound that seemed to just gnaw at the core of his very soul as he tensed and howled her name hoarsely, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her hips as she continued to ride him through her release.
"More," he groaned against her collarbone, gritting his teeth and breathed in raggedly."Move your hips...fuck - yes, gods, yes - like that…-"
She cried out his name again, curling her fingers against his biceps as she leaned back, taking him even deeper inside her and felt him tense before he let out a strangled groan as he pressed her hips down against his, coming inside her so hard he was barely able to draw another breath.
"Morticia," he gasped, wrapping his arms around her and kissed her - long and hard, until the last tremors of his orgasm subsided and she broke the kiss, framing his face between her hands as she ran her thumb across his full lips.
"Now," she whispered breathily, biting teasingly at his bottom lip." We can take this to the bedroom."
Ophelia bit her lower lip as she stopped just before the entrance to the library, which also served as her husband's office, and ran her hand through her hair, smoothing freshly styled blond tresses.
She was not happy, to put it mildly, and she was about to make it very clear to her husband that this behaviour simply won't do.
She took a deep breath and took one last look at the powder pink, embroidered sleeveless dress, smoothing some invisible creases before pulling it a bit downward to accentuate her decolletage and ran her hands gently through her blond hair before finally opening the door, without any courtesy of knocking.
Her husband looked at her from behind the thick stack of papers covering his desk, a phone receiver nestled between his ear and shoulder as he nodded at her in greeting. She offered him a thin smile.
"Can I speak with you for a moment?" She asked, already moving towards him.
"Can it wait?" He asked and then his eyes rested on documents again." No, that's not good enough, they can do better than that," he told whomever he was talking to on the phone."Let's give them…say… another forty-eight hours, see what's the offer and we go from there - "
Ophelia sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes before taking the receiver and slamming it back on the phone.
"That," Gomez pointed down at the phone."Was your father on the line."
"Whatever," she replied carelessly, perching at the edge of the mahogany desk and crossed her legs.
"It was rather important - "
"You can call him back later, I need to speak to you," she interjected him curtly.
"Is something the matter?" He asked, taking in her sharp tone.
Ophelia took a deep breath and bit her lips into a thin line, looking away briefly before turning her gaze back at him but said nothing.
Gomez frowned as he waited for her to speak but she merely stared at him, visibly upset without saying a word.
Since he had no idea what could have possibly caused her such distress - well, except the… thing, which he was sure as hell wasn't the case because if Ophelia ever found out about his affair, she wouldn't just sit here, staring at him with that wounded, glassy expression. She would rip him apart.
He had no idea if she wanted him to guess the cause of her distress but he certainly wasn't about to dig himself this particular grave and decided to just patiently wait for her to tell him what the matter actually was.
"Have you noticed that we barely go out anymore," Ophelia finally said, her tone of open disdain."You're always busy."
Gomez didn't know if he wanted to breathe out in relief or roll his eyes to the high heavens.
"It's a busy time of the year," he explained patiently, taking a cigar from his breast pocket.
"So busy you couldn't make it home for dinner three days in a row?" She asked testily." I barely see you. You stay at the office all day and then stay with Gerald and the rest at the club until well after midnight."
He tried very hard, as hard as humanly possible in fact, not to avert his gaze from hers because what she said was only partially the truth.
The entire truth was that he made sure all his meetings finished at five at the latest - all his genuine meetings, that is. All his late afternoon meetings he made up as an excuse to meet with Morticia. And he made sure to hit the gentleman club afterwards just for the sake of alibi because it would be just dead suspicious if he suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth each afternoon. The sheer amount of logistics that went into planning their clandestine affair was as impressive as it was exhausting, to say the least.
"Believe it or not, most business deals are decided over a drink at the club," he remarked offhandedly, leaning further into his leather chair.
"I know how it works," she sighed, clearly vexed with his unconcerned attitude."But I do feel very neglected, Gomez. You barely pay me any attention. It's all work, work, work."
"I'm sorry you feel neglected," he said calmly, collecting the papers on his desk into a neat rectangle before placing it next to his porcelain saucer that held a cup with his - now, lukewarm coffee." But in case you didn't notice, I have two family businesses to oversee. Most of the contracts with the suppliers at your father's factory expire at the end of March, I have to renew and renegotiate them now, they can't wait until the last minute. And everyone wants to wrap up before Christmas."
That was actually the truth. He was insanely busy these days.
"Surely you can find time for a dinner or to go to a party," she insisted firmly."We've missed out on so much fun lately. I'm so bored."
"Ophelia, surely you don't need me to organize your time for you," he pointed out." I'm sure you can find something to occupy yourself with."
"We've missed two appointments with the estate agents because you were too busy to come."
"I really can't help it if the meetings are running late, Ophelia," he retorted, his tone more than slightly irritated. "You could have gone to those appointments on your own, or take the girls with you."
She pursed her lips, visibly unhappy with his response.
"You just don't care, don't you?" She sighed."You just don't give a damn."
"Of course I care," he assured.
Actually, he couldn't care less if he tried. And he should, he should at least have the decency to recognize that hers was a valid complaint because he did neglect her. He really did spend most of the day away and the last three nights he didn't even bother making sure he was at least home for dinner because all he wanted was to be with Morticia. She was all he wanted to think about, she filled every particle of his mind, body and soul and his mind seemed to chant her name constantly until he was almost afraid to go to sleep in case he might say her name even then.
"Gomez," she purred and moved slowly to sit on his laps, wrapping her arms around his neck." Let's go for a vacation abroad. How about Italy, hmmm? Just the two of us," she smiled, kissing him gently."Work on that… baby business."
He cleared his throat, gently disentangling her arms from around his neck.
"I can't leave the country until the police are done with the investigation," he reminded her."You know that."
"Oh, goddamn it," Ophelia sighed, irritated and stood up abruptly."What the hell am I supposed to do until then? Gardening with your mother?"
"You have all the time and money in the world," he pointed out."Surely, it's not that difficult to find something to do. Why don't you do some charity work?"
Her jaw dropped for a second in mute disbelief.
"You can't be serious," she snorted contemptuously."I couldn't care less about charity work, darling."
He parted his palm in a gesture of helplessness.
"I really don't know how I can help, then."
"I can't believe it," she muttered, glaring at him openly."How can you be so utterly disregarding of my feelings?"
"Feeling bored isn't really a conundrum now, is it?" He retorted, his tone so unconcerned it felt almost cold. It was so unlike him, he was momentarily taken aback by it.
Why was he doing this? Why was he being so mean to her? Why couldn't he just apologise and buy her some new jewellery like he always did? Why was he arguing with her?
"I want us to have fun, we used to go to parties that lasted all night," she pointed out."We had fun all the time. Now all you do is work. I can't go out by myself all the time because my husband is choosing work over me."
She stared at him expectantly, waiting for his answer but he merely rubbed his forehead tiredly. What was he supposed to say, anyway? She was right.
She was right and he hated it. He didn't want to deal with it, but it was clear that he would have to because if there was one thing Ophelia wouldn't stand for was not receiving enough attention and she received none from him lately. He didn't know what an idiot he was thinking he could get away with essentially disappearing for two weeks.
"Daniel took Vanessa for a weekend to Paris," she complained, crossing her arms against her middle defiantly."We haven't been anywhere since our honeymoon. The girls were talking about spending a few days in the Hamptons but I'm sure you're going to be too busy for that too, are you?"
Gomez closed his eyes briefly before exhaling tiredly.
"All right, we will go away for a few days to the Hamptons, will that make you happy?" He asked her sharply and almost winced at the sound of his own voice.
What the hell was he trying to achieve arguing with Ophelia? He couldn't understand why all of a sudden he found her behaviour so irritating when she behaved exactly as she always has.
"Now you're behaving like I'm forcing you to go away for the weekend," she huffed.
"Then what do you want me to say?"
"I want you to pay me more attention," she exclaimed, exasperated."I'm your wife for God's sake. Surely, I'm more important than some silly business meetings."
"You know, I would really love to continue this conversation," he remarked, collecting his things into his leather briefcase." But I have quite a few silly business meetings to attend."
"You can't be serious," she called after him and followed him angrily into the foyer."You're not going to actually leave in the middle of the conversation, are you?"
He turned towards her, already in the midst of slipping into his coat.
"Watch me."
"Oh, for fuck sake -"
He didn't bother replying and resisted the urge to slam the door on his way out.
What an idiot he was. What an utter fool.
It took him until the late afternoon to realize that not only did he behave like an absolute idiot, but also that his parents probably heard the whole exchange in the foyer and he bet his life, his father will watch him now like a hawk because Gomez didn't doubt for a second that Colonel would side with Ophelia. And why wouldn't he? It was Gomez who was being a neglectful bastard of a husband but he felt already tired at the thought of the sermon he was going to receive.
Ophelia's absolutely right, you can't just bury yourself with work, Gomez, make some effort, chap. She's your wife, not some little tart you've used to date, stop being such a sorry excuse for a husband. You are so lucky to have her.
He couldn't make himself make an effort, though. He found her behaviour irritating. The little things he used to ignore were suddenly almost unbearable. He loathed her daisies, the sickly sweet scent of her perfumes. All the things that reminded him that she wasn't her, she wasn't Morticia.
He suddenly realized that perhaps Ophelia's only fault was that she wasn't who he wanted her to be. Hers wasn't the face he longed to see in the morning, it wasn't the body he wanted to wrap his arms around before he went to sleep.
It wasn't Ophelia's fault. It was his.
And he should make an effort, if only for the sake of appearances. At the same time, the prospect of spending the weekend with her in the Hamptons was almost unbearable.
He sighed tiredly and pressed the doorbell. His last meeting for the day - with his father-in-law no less, duly rescheduled since Ophelia essentially cancelled it in the morning.
He should probably apologise for that morning's interruption as well.
He schooled his features where he heard the footsteps approaching and prepared himself to greet the butler, Mr Evans - if there was one essential person to have on your side in every household it was the butler. One should never mess with the butler.
Except it wasn't Mr Evans who opened.
"Fancy seeing you here," the familiar velvet voice greeted him in an amused tone and he was immediately struck by how good it felt to see her. Just to see her face made it all better.
"Tish," he smiled at her, and stepped through the threshold into the bright hall." I have a meeting with your father," he informed her.
"A meeting," she repeated teasingly, smiling at him coyly as she curled a strand of her long tresses around her finger."Sounds very serious."
He smiled at her subtle dig, resisting the urge to run his hand through her hair. He loved her hair.
"And you?" He asked as she led them to the parlour.
"Ah, I'm Granny's designated driver for the afternoon," she informed him. "She has a health appointment."
"Nothing serious I hope?" He asked, standing a bit too close to her to be considered appropriate.
Morticia didn't seem to mind though, her eyes merely illuminated with mild amusement.
"No, no," she shook her head."Her driver's got the flu, so I offered to take her. Drink?"
He nodded at her offer, he could definitely use a drink, his lips curled into a small, content smile when she poured him a glass of brandy - his favourite, she remembered, and he momentarily found himself longing for intimate moments like this, with her. He could not help but imagine how absolutely glorious it would be to come home to her, to spend quiet evenings together - he could almost see her, sitting in the old Queen Anne chair in the library, or maybe curled on the sofa next to him - reading. Or maybe they would enjoy a nice conversation or, perhaps, they would listen to his favourite operas - he wished he could take her with him to the opera.
God, he wanted to kiss her so much. He wanted to feel the silk of her hair in between his fingers.
"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered in an amused tone as she handed him his drink.
"Like what?" He smiled, accepting the burgundy beverage and took a small sip.
His mouth felt dry at the very thought of all the things he wanted to do to her.
"Like you're imagining me without my clothes on," she smiled at him knowingly and he didn't even have the good grace to feel contrite.
"Guilty as charged," he grinned.
"Hmm, you will have to restrain yourself until later," she whispered." And who knows, you might get rewarded," she smiled at him enticingly, almost brushing her lips against his. "Or punished."
"Either way, what bliss," he retorted, staring intently at her lips.
"Mmmmm, except I need to survive through tea with my mother, first," she remarked solemnly.
He thought she sounded tired at the very thought.
"Your bravery and sacrifice are commendable," he deadpanned, quite pleased with himself when his comment elicited a soft laugh from her.
They both turned towards the sound of the footsteps descending the stairs and Morticia all but shoved him into the armchair opposite the fireplace, making him almost spill his drink, before promptly taking a seat on the velvet sofa as far as possible from him, folding her hands demurely on her knees and bit her lips, obviously trying hard not to laugh.
He just managed to tilt his drink to his lips, covering his own amusement, when James Frump happily strolled through the door.
"Gomez!" His father-in-law greeted him warmly." No one's told me you were already here, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. "
"Not at all," he smiled, putting the, now empty glass, on the table."Morticia was so kind to keep me company."
James raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"That is very generous of my lovely daughter," James remarked fondly, turning towards Morticia.
"I have my moments," Morticia supplied in a dispassionate manner.
"Indeed," her father agreed."You should feel very privileged, my boy. Morticia abhors small talk, she usually just stares people down until they give up on talking to her entirely."
"Oh, but it wasn't a small talk, papa," Morticia smiled at her father, before continuing in a smooth tone, "coincidently, Gomez and I happened to read the same author, Mr Puig but Gomez here is fortunate enough to have read the work in original and I was curious if he thought the translation does it justice."
"Interesting," Her father nodded."What book is that?"
"Kiss of the Spider Woman," he replied, without missing a beat.
It was actually the truth, except they haven't been discussing it now but last night - naked and wrapped in nothing but white, satin bed sheets. It was actually quite beguiling how they could go from sex to discussing literature and back to sex again all in the space of one hour.
"Well, I'll be sure to read it as well," he remarked." Granny should be down any minute, by the way, " he informed Morticia before turning to Gomez."Shall we?"
"Absolutely," he nodded and then, seemingly just remembering his manners he looked at Morticia."Thank you for the nice conversation. "
"Nice is perhaps a bit of an overstatement," Morticia replied flatly, as if already bored with the whole exchange."Adequate would be more apt."
"Ah, there's my girl we all know and love," her father supplied facetiously, leading Gomez out of the parlour.
"I'm sorry about this morning - " Gomez started but the older man simply shook his head in light amusement.
"Oh, not at all," James waved off his apologies."I know my daughter. Ophelia can be a bit…demanding. I hate to sound so condescending but just…buy her some jewellery, she loves that."
"Yes, well, thank you for that advice," Gomez cleared his throat."I will probably have to follow it. "
"Sit down and don't worry too much about it," James continued, pouring them a generous amount of whisky."Ophelia is quick to anger but she's also very easy to appease."
Gomez merely nodded mutely, sitting down on the nearest settee, not interested in pursuing the subject any further and focused on the room instead.
The study was perhaps his favourite room in the whole house, it was clear that it was James Frump's little sanctuary - darker than the rest of the mansion and filled with a selection of very eclectic art pieces that Gomez couldn't imagine his mother-in-law allowing to display anywhere else in the house. His gaze travelled to the painting on the wall depicting an array of clouds of smoke of various deep reds and greys mingling together, but then his eyes noticed the shapes behind the mist of colours, decaying, crumbling buildings.
"Impressive, isn't it?" James Frump remarked behind him, handing him a glass of brandy.
"I don't think I'm familiar with the artist," he said, accepting the drink."Is it someone local?"
"You could say that," he laughed."Morticia painted it, she painted it in layers, a very laborious method - it took her over a year to finish it."
"It's really good," he agreed, intrigued by the piece of news."I didn't know she paints."
"She used to -"
"Morticia has an amazing talent," Patricia Frump declared, entering the study without knocking."And I'm saying it impartially and objectively as her besotted grandmother."
"Sounds legitimate," Gomez laughed, and got up, leaning towards the older lady to place two kisses on her cheeks.
"She got a place at Berlin University studying Fine Arts - all on her own," the older lady boasted.
"Indeed," James remarked smoothly." She even told us about it one day before her flight to Berlin."
"Well," Patricia smirked."She told you about it, I knew way before."
"Figures. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" James asked, changing the subject.
"No dear, Morticia is taking me for my appointment, she will chaperone," she replied, her lips curling into an amused smile when her son snorted loudly at the idea.
"Neither of you should be trusted with chaperoning anyone," he commented.
"Affirmative," Patricia nodded smoothly." Yet my physiotherapist is quite an eye candy," she explained and Gomez couldn't help but grin at the pained expression on James' face."He might not feel comfortable flirting with me with your presence there and I simply won't have that."
"I really didn't need to know that," his father-in-law muttered.
"It was lovely to see you again, my dear," Patricia turned towards Gomez."You're always easy on the eye as well."
"Mother - "
"Darling, I would love to stay and chat but I have places to be and very attractive people to see," she quipped and left the room but not before winking at Gomez flirtatiously.
James Frump rolled his eyes and shook his head, raising his eyes to high heavens.
"Tell me, what kind of lunatic allowed this woman to raise his daughter?" He asked.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Gomez retorted, smiling wildly.
"Very much so," his father-in-law sighed heavily in a mock exasperation before smiling at him."Now, let me just tell you what an invaluable help you are - "
Gomez shook his head.
"Not at all," he assured."I'm happy to help."
"Nonsense," James countered, placing his arm over his shoulder in an affectionate, fatherly manner."It would be absolutely impossible for me to focus on my campaign if it weren't for you. Your help and your suggestions have been absolutely invaluable and I want to know how much I appreciate it. You have a simply uncanny touch in business."
Gomez blinked, momentarily taken aback by the praise, as well as sincerity in the older man's tone. He was so utterly unused to it that for a moment he didn't know how to react. He could count on one hand the number of times his own father openly acknowledged anything that Gomez did.
"I'm sorry, my boy," he heard James' amused voice."I didn't want to embarrass you, but you are really doing an amazing job. Now, to the old business - "
"Old business?" Gomez asked.
"It's a little rule of mine to keep things manageable," his father-in-law explained." Old business is the old business and the new business is the new business and we do not discuss the new business until the new quarter."
"That doesn't make much sense," Gomez laughed."I have to be honest."
"Exactly!" James agreed happily."And that's the best part."
One of the side effects of not getting along with one's sibling was that once forced to be alone in each other's company there was seldom any topic of conversation one could kill the silence with.
When one was having an affair with one's sister's husband that inevitably narrowed the range of topics for discussion even further.
It took one glance, even before she made her way in between the restaurant tables to join her sister, for Morticia to immediately realize that Ophelia was not happy.
No. Scratch that.
Ophelia was pissed.
And Morticia recognized it immediately because she could read her sister's moods like an open book. It was a useful skill she learned very early in her childhood - a skill that often proved to be her lifesaver.
Unhappy Ophelia used to make her life difficult and pissed Ophelia (she often tried to find a more sophisticated word for that mood but nothing quite cut it) - pissed Ophelia always made sure Morticia's day was downright miserable - and not of the good kind.
Except Morticia stopped caring about Ophelia's moods years ago.
"Don't you ever get tired of this widow attire?" Her sister greeted her before she even had a chance to sit down.
"Why would I?" She retorted lightly.
"This black dress makes you look stick thin," her sister remarked as Morticia took the seat across from her at the table."You really need to put some weight on."
Morticia really didn't understand why so many people felt it was socially acceptable to constantly comment on her weight. She didn't see anyone approaching overweight people telling them to lose weight and yet it seemed perfectly normal to tell slim people just how slim they were as if Morticia didn't possess a mirror and didn't know what she looked like.
"This is already starting so well," Morticia remarked softly before adding in a deadpan manner," I'm so glad I came."
"Oh, don't be so touchy," Ophelia rolled her eyes."It was just an observation. I do hope mum will hurry the hell up," Ophelia sighed impatiently. "I have a meeting with the estate agent to see this really amazing place, only eight bedrooms but it looks so chic."
"Do you really want to move out from the Mansion?" Morticia asked.
Ophelia looked at her incredulously.
"Hell yes," she replied."Have you seen that place? It's an old dump, it looks like no one renovated it in three hundred years. It looks fucking hunted."
"I know, it's absolutely charming," Morticia agreed."It certainly has a character."
"Figures you'd find it charming," Ophelia rolled her eyes in open disdain."Thank God Gomez is on the same page as me."
"Really?" She frowned despite herself.
It seemed to her that the last place Gomez Addams would want was to live in was a bright and airy mansion in the suburbs.
"Oh, he was a bit reluctant at first but he just loves spoiling me," she giggled quietly. " He's happy when I'm happy, I just didn't expect property hunting to be so exhausting. I can't make up my mind where I want to live."
"Oh, the tough choices we're forced to make in life," Morticia sighed. "Did you even ask his opinion?"
Predictably, her sister graced her with an annoyed glare, tapping her long, pink nails against the side of her martini glass impatiently.
"I don't expect you to understand it, Morticia," Ophelia rolled her eyes before adding in a purposely biting tone," when you love someone you want them to be happy. My happiness means everything to Gomez but you wouldn't understand that since the only person that matters in your life is you."
Morticia's lips stretched into an amused smirk.
"Are you trying to hurt all of my five feelings?"
"I don't know why I even bother talking to you sometimes," her sister exhaled loudly in an exasperated manner."Why do you always have to be so difficult?"
"How am I being difficult, Ophelia?" Morticia retorted calmly.
"You know what I think your problem is?"
Oh, she loved that part.
"I suppose you're about to tell me regardless of my answer?"
It was always jealousy.
"You're jealous of me," Ophelia insisted.
Morticia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head gently to the side as if thinking deeply about Ophelia's judgement of her.
"Right," Morticia decided."That must be it."
"You always were ever since we were children but I am not responsible for your insecurities, Morticia."
Oh dear, someone must have really stepped on Ophelia's toes today, she was really going for the jugular.
Morticia took a breadstick from the basket and snapped a small piece before slowly putting it in her mouth.
"My insecurities?" She asked in a serene tone, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel of dried bread.
"You're unhappy with your life choices and it bothers you that I'm living my dream life," Ophelia remarked bitingly."Well, I'm sorry if I'm too perfect."
"I really don't know what I am supposed to reply to that," Morticia decided."Let me get back to you on this one."
"I have a loving husband and everything my heart desires and what are you doing with your life? Travelling the world and fucking random strangers -"
"Oh, but they are not random at all," Morticiq countered lightly."I can assure you I select them with the utmost care, so you may cease your worries."
She almost smiled when Ophelia exhaled impatiently.
"Fuck's sake -"
"I'm sorry I'm late," their mother's voice interrupted them."My hairdresser appointment ran a bit longer than expected."
"Oh I love the colour," Ophelia complimented, touching her mother's carefully styled hair.
It was absolutely amazing - her sister's ability to transform her moods to suit her needs in a matter of seconds, one had to give her that. She could be ripping your throat one minute and singing Christmas carols in the next.
"Thank you, darling. It's platinum blond," her mother replied, taking her seat in between Morticia and Ophelia."It took my girl three hours to get this shade. She said it's the latest trend."
"It looks fabulous."
"You do look lovely, Mother," Morticia agreed.
She wasn't crazy about the colour but she could appreciate aesthetics and the colour definitely suited her mother.
Her mother barely nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment as she hung her purse over the back of her chair.
"Where is your grandmother? I thought you took her to the physiotherapist?" She asked, reaching for the breadstick." I really need to watch my carbs but I'm absolutely ravenous," she added as if munching on a piece of breadstick was some sort of crime.
"Indeed I did," Morticia confirmed."Alas, she ditched this joyful event for her poetry club."
"How typical," her mother rolled her eyes."Well, it's nice that at least you showed up."
"How could I have missed it?" Morticia asked."It's always so much fun to have lunch with my mother and sister. We should do it more often."
"No need for sarcasm, dear."
"Mama, you know Morticia, she can't help herself," Ophelia supplied."The nonsense just naturally sprouts out of her mouth."
"That's enough, both of you," their mother interrupted sternly."I didn't ask to come here so you could argue."
"Are you sure?" Morticia asked."Because we're so good at it."
Her mother shot her an annoyed glare but decided not to comment.
"As you both know, the campaign is very important to your father," she remarked instead, in a very official tone." It's a team effort, we need the whole family to participate, I'm sure you're aware of that," she paused, letting her words sink in." However, Stanley informed me that you two have not been very supportive."
Ophelia had a good grace to look mildly chastised but Morticia merely frowned.
"Who's Stanley?" Morticia asked.
Her mother turned towards her, looking at her as if she were the most exasperating thing in the universe.
"Stan - your father's campaign manager," she retorted in annoyance. "He said you haven't returned any of his phone calls."
"Oh, him," Morticia nodded before adding smoothly." I've been busy."
"Doing what?" Her mother demanded.
Morticia blinked, willing her brain to provide her with some indisputable excuse.
"This and that," she finally replied.
"Well, I want you both to come to Sunday's lunch," her mother announced firmly and raised her hand when both of her daughters opened their mouths almost simultaneously." Your excuses do not interest me. Stanley offered to come and brief us all on how things are going and how we can all help. Running for council office is very important to your father and we all have to support him. Make no mistake of not showing up for that lunch or I will wring you both through a meat grinder and make you listen to your father's campaign speeches for the whole afternoon, understood?"
She almost smirked when the two women merely glanced between each other.
"Sunday lunch sounds like a great idea," Ophelia said in a deadpan manner.
"Delightful," Morticia quipped."I simply cannot wait."
Their mother smiled, obviously pleased with their enthusiasm, faked as it might be and reached for the menu card.
"Fabulous," she remarked, lightly."Now, how about some shrimp salad? I'm famished."
In the course of his life, Gomez Addams sat through quite a few mind-bogglingly boring meetings; he'd attended quite a number of university lectures delivered so monotonously that made even the most eager and dedicated of students doze off.
And yet, nothing - absolutely nothing, compared to the ordeal he was forced to seat through this Sunday afternoon.
"A political campaign is a team effort," Stan said, standing in the middle of the parlour, a black, leatherbound diary in his hand as he removed the sunglasses he wore despite the fact they were all sitting in the parlour and the sun was securely hidden behind the array of thick clouds." The press and the public will not focus just on the candidate, they will focus on the whole family, so we need to work as a family."
Gomez wished he could at least stare at Morticia but since he could practically feel Patricia Frump watching his every move like a Russian customs officer, he figured it would be more prudent to focus his gaze on his father-in-law's campaign manager.
"When exactly did he marry into this family?" Patricia asked out loud between the sips of her afternoon tea and Gomez couldn't help but smirk.
"So," Stan continued, ignoring Patricia's question." It is imperative… sweetheart, " he sighed in exasperation, turning towards Morticia who sat with her arms crossed and one hand propped against her cheek, looking so bored, Gomez thought she was going to fall asleep any second but at the same time managed to glare the hell out of poor Stan. "Is it possible for you to look a bit more animated?"
"No," she replied flatly, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Stan.
"It's just your whole persona feels a bit… hmmm, what's the word," he wondered out loud.
Enchanting? Exquisite? Sublime? Gomez's mind immediately supplied.
"Bitchy?" Ophelia offered, curling her lips into a mean smirk but Morticia barely glanced at her.
"Foreboding," Stan corrected."You don't look very approachable."
Morticia actually managed a small smile.
"Why, thank you."
Who would have thought, maybe he wasn't such an annoying, little twat she thought he was.
"That wasn't a compliment," her mother remarked.
"I beg to differ."
"Okay, so let's go through this issue with you dating Mr Addams," Stan announced, glancing through his diary.
Morticia only glared at him. What an annoying, little twat.
"And what issue is that?" It was her father who asked.
Stan turned towards Morticia's parents.
"I mean, I'm cool with it but dating as an idea… although socially accepted - politically, is not a great territory to actually operate on."
James Frump turned towards his wife, but she merely shook her head and shrugged.
"I'm not entirely sure I understand what you just said," James said.
Stand pursed his lips and rested one hand on his hip.
"Mmmm, okay, so… I would prefer if we'd added some more definition to that relationship - say, some courting… leading perhaps to… a marriage proposal?"
"Should I call Mr Addams now and propose or should I take him out to dinner first?" Morticia asked in a deadpan manner, making her grandmother snort in amusement.
"This sassy attitude is so unnecessary," Stan retorted."I'm here to help and also, we need to be very discreet about any intimate situations, please."
Morticia took a deep breath and turned her head towards her father with an exasperated glare.
"All right, I'm sure there's no need to go into such details," James intervened."This is Morticia's private life and let's keep it that way."
"Of course, but let's make discretion a keyword here, okay, lovely?" He smiled at Morticia before abruptly turning towards Ophelia."Also, Mrs Addams here should definitely engage in some charity work,"
"Oh, is it necessary?" Ophelia winced.
"Hell yes," Stan nodded eagerly." Let me assure you that nothing… absolutely nothing irritates the potential voters more than rich, spoiled princesses who do nothing but squander their husband's wealth."
Gomez thought his wife looked ready to rip the skinny man before her into ribbons. He definitely chose the wrong time to piss her off, since she was still irritated with Gomez, despite him buying her a really large diamond ring (that she already showed off to her family and was currently wearing on her finger) and apologising for his behaviour.
"Excuse me?" She hissed but Stan seemed utterly unconcerned by the fact that he was probably two sentences away from his demise.
"Please remember that the majority of our voters are from a working-class background," he pointed out."They don't do much research about who they vote for, for them it's all about simple things, images - likes and dislikes, okay? And what they don't want to see is a rich socialite without substance. They don't need to know that your husband spends weekly more money on his cigars than they earn in a month. We want them to see people aware of the struggles of the normal people, working-class issues - inequality, unemployment, poverty blah blah blah - things like that."
Ophelia rolled her eyes.
"Of course, I would love to help my dear Papa, but I really don't have time for any of this, I'm simply far too busy," she explained sweetly.
"Doing what?" Her grandmother asked.
"Well, looking for a new home for us for one, isn't that right, darling?" She turned towards Gomez, linking her hand with his.
"Oh, absolutely," Gomez agreed because he certainly wasn't about to shoot himself in the feet by disagreeing with her.
Stan flipped through the diary and removed a folded paper.
"I picked three charities that, in my opinion, would be just ideal." He handed the paper to Ophelia before adding firmly."It would be great if you could join one of them by the end of next week."
"And now last but not least," he sighed, turning toward Gomez."Darling, that murder case you're involved with… what's the deal with that?"
"It's confidential since the investigation is still proceeding," Gomez smiled at him.
"Okay, so, the thing is your family, as an idea, is absolutely brilliant for our campaign," he said, hugging the diary close to his chest with one hand and waving the other in a circular motion which, Gomez noticed, seemed to be his habit."It says - we are open and progressive, we are not scared of different, we embrace different - and I love that, it's such a great selling point. Insanity in the family is also wonderful because mental health issues sell so well now - we challenge the taboo, we understand and sympathise but murder," he winced, kissing his teeth." Murder is never good for any campaign, so if you killed the guy, I need to know that, so I can prepare for damage control in case this blows in our faces."
"Are you insane?" Ophelia huffed."My husband is not a murderer, it's all some awful misunderstanding."
"Totally," Stan nodded."So is there a chance you can be convicted or is it really some misunderstanding?"
"Yes," Gomez replied jovially, puffing lazily on his cigar.
It took Stan a whole minute to realize that this was the whole answer.
"Yes, what?"
"Either."
"You know, you might be really cute, but right now you're only slightly less annoying than the mistress of darkness there," he remarked, pointing his thumb at Morticia."Okay, I know this is all a bit overwhelming, political campaigns can get very intense, but let me make this abundantly clear - we cannot afford scandals on any scale."
"I think everyone understands that, Stan," James Frump spoke."And we shall all be on our best behaviour."
"Yes, I'm sure," Stan muttered unconvincingly."And if you can assure that the Queen of Doom doesn't pull another stunt as she did for her debutante ball it would be much appreciated."
"She won't," James assured.
"One can hope," his wife supplied, joining Stan at his side and smiled charmingly at the younger man."Thank you, Stanley, it's been… very informative but I'm sure we took enough of your time already."
"Actually - "
"You have been absolutely amazing," she interjected, wrapping her fingers gently around his elbow." Let me walk you to your car."
"Honey, you have to stop nagging him," Holly scolded, putting some sweetener into her black coffee."Nothing irks men more than a nagging wife."
"Hol, all he does is work," Ophelia complained.
Granted, he bought her a beautiful and obscenely large diamond ring but then fucked off back to work again, and it pissed her off beyond belief. She should be the most important thing in his life, she shouldn't have to remind him of that - it was humiliating.
"That's what husbands do, work," Holly assured."How else could they afford the lifestyle we've become so accustomed to? I barely see Gerald during the week at all, he's either at the office or at the club. Funny story - once he came back from a business trip, three weeks in Hong Kong and Eloise started crying when she saw him - she didn't recognize him, isn't that hilarious?" She chuckled, dunking a biscotti into her coffee.
"It's a miracle she still knows to call him 'daddy' and not 'sir'," Vanessa teased.
"Oh, Marcella makes sure to remind her until it's imprinted in her cute little brain," Holly smirked, chewing on her biscotti.
"Isn't that a bit sad?" Ophelia commented."His own daughter didn't recognize him and your nanny had to teach her who the guy next to her mother is."
"It's not sad, she's only two, Will was the same," Holly insisted, referring to her four-year-old son."Now he knows daddy is very busy but we always spend Sundays together, the whole family. Well, not always but - you know, we try."
"Sweet," Ophelia commented curtly.
"But anyway, I'm serious," Holly said."Make sure you have at least one kid in diapers before you start nagging him."
"How am I supposed to do that if I barely see him?"
"You can always visit him in the office for a little quickie, Gerald loves when I do that, it spices things up," Holly remarked dispassionately before her lips curled into a teasing smirk."Or you can ask your sister for advice, she seems to have Vlad following her like a little, besotted, loyal puppy."
"Is your sister still seeing Vlad?" Vanessa asked in surprise, lighting her thin cigarette.
"As far as I know," Ophelia shrugged."Who knows, really, it's not like we're having sleepovers, briding each other's hair and talking about boys."
Holly snorted in amusement but Vanessa merely huffed.
"I'm sorry but I really don't understand what the fuck does he see in her," she remarked, pursing her lips.
"Sweetie, fuck is being the operative word in here," Ophelia replied."Haven't we been through this before?"
"Gerald told me Vlad mentioned something about proposing to her," Holly whispered."Can you believe it?"
"What the fuck? He's barely met her…what, a month ago?" Vanessa almost hissed."He's such a jackass, I swear. Six months ago he was telling me he's not ready for a serious commitment and now he wants to propose to some emaciated slut he met at the funeral a few weeks ago? Honestly, what in the actual fuck?"
"Honey, forget about him," Ophelia remarked softly, wrapping her hand around her friend's." He's doing you a fucking favour, for all we know him he'd cheat on you before you even hit your first anniversary. You deserve more than that."
Vanessa smiled and blew her a quick kiss.
"Thank you, doll," she said."It still pisses me off, though. He's such a whore."
"Well then, he and Morticia will be ideally matched," Ophelia supplied smugly and grinned when her friend tilted her head and laughed heartily.
"You two are so bad," Holly remarked fondly.
The sound of a fork being tapped against the glass interrupted their conversations and Ophelia almost rolled her eyes for what was to come.
She really could rip Stan into ribbons for making her sign up for this shit.
"Please everyone, let's give our warmest welcome to our dearest president and beloved friend - Mrs Leaticia Hornby."
"Anna Bessett," Vanessa whispered into Ophelia's ear."Kiss-ass extraordinaire. Enjoy the show."
Morticia started to consider that when Mrs Addams said the African Strangler was demanding like a baby she didn't tell her the whole truth.
Actually, she seemed to have vastly exaggerated, because she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to have babies if they were so demanding as her plant was - cute and precious but so awfully demanding. Never in her life had Morticia seen a carnivorous plant so fussy with her food as Cleopatra. She didn't like her meat raw at all, she wouldn't even look at it. It wasn't enough to fry it, the plant would just spit it out. Apparently, Cleopatra's meals had to be cooked and seasoned to perfection and, ideally, cut into small chunks and fed to her one by one.
How would that thing survive in its natural habitat with such an attitude was a mystery but the fact was that the plant essentially forced Morticia to learn how to cook was ridiculous and yet here she was, standing in the least exciting section of the local bookshop - cooking, trying to decide which cookbook to purchase.
Maybe she could ask Mrs Addams to lend her some books because The Joy of Cooking didn't look joyous to her at all.
She picked up another title and winced: Live Your Best Life. Vegan Diet for Beginners.
After her dead body.
Cook Your Way to Thin Life
Certainly, like she needed that.
How to be a Perfect Housewife. Cook Your Way to His Heart.
Apparently, she will have to go with Joy of Cooking.
"Hey!"
Morticia frowned and turned around at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Vlad," she greeted in surprise."What are you doing here?"
Meeting him in a bookstore near her apartment was too much of a coincidence to be even considered to be one and she could think of only one person in the world who would find this situation amusing.
"Your friend told me I might find you here," he told her, somewhat sheepishly.
"Right," she smiled and nodded. She would have to renegotiate with Debbie the terms and conditions of this friendship.
"Interesting choice of literature," he pointed to the titles in her hands."A new hobby?"
"You can say that," she laughed despite herself."It's for Cleopatra."
"Who?" He frowned.
"The carnivorous plant your Aunt gifted me," she clarified.
"Didn't know they read books," he commented, so genuinely perplexed she couldn't help but laugh again.
"The books are for me," she explained."The food is for Cleopatra."
"Oh," he chuckled." That makes more sense. Although it wouldn't be too odd for Aunt Eudora to have a plant that reads books, " he commented fondly, before clearing his throat."It's hard to catch you these days."
Morticia tried very hard not to wince because hard to catch was a vast understatement. It didn't even occur to her to call him, or anyone for that matter because she couldn't think about anything but Gomez Addams to the point where she was irritated with herself for being unable to focus on anything but him.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I am a bit busy these days," she explained laconically.
He nodded, his eyes resting briefly on the books in her hands.
"Are you free now to join me for coffee?" He asked in a tone that sounded like he was certain she would say no.
And she was very tempted to come up with some excuse, so she could… she paused and frowned at her own thoughts… so she could go home and think about Gomez Addams? Was she insane?
"Absolutely not," she shook her head and smiled when she saw his crestfallen expression."But you can certainly invite me for tea."
His facial expression changed from disappointed to confused to relieved in a matter of seconds and he shook his head in a mild exasperation before smiling at her happily.
"Tea sounds great," he laughed, taking the books from her."Are you taking all those?"
"Just this one," she pointed at the Joy of Cooking.
"You sure?" He asked, looking at the title of a pretty sizable cookbook before adding teasingly," you don't want to cook your way to his heart?"
"Shockingly, no," she smiled, pushing him gently toward the counter. "With my superior cooking skills, I'd probably cook my way to his early grave."
"That," he grinned at her."Is a very Addams thing to say."
"May I be honest?" Vlad asked, tapping the edge on his large coffee mug absently before directing his gaze at her.
"Always," she smiled.
"I'm a bit… confused, I suppose," he remarked as they sat outside the street cafe, despite the cold weather and grey skies.
"What about?" She asked, sipping her black tea, although she was sure she didn't even have to guess what he wanted to talk about.
"You…us, us together," he clarified and then took a deep breath before asking bluntly," are you seeing someone else?"
"What makes you think that?" She replied evasively.
"This past week, you barely spoke to me," he told her."It makes me think that... maybe… a romantic relationship is not what you're looking for."
"It's not," she replied."I've told you that."
She will drive him insane. He had no doubt about it. He will end up in an asylum with the Amore Twins by the end of the year.
"Okay, fair enough," he let out a small, self-conscious laugh."The thing is, I would… I would very much like to have a romantic relationship with you. I want you to have no doubts that I am very serious about it - about you. Unless… you're seeing someone else."
"I'm not seeing anyone," she replied. She didn't consider it a lie because she really wasn't seeing Vlad per se. Although, he probably didn't see it that way. And Gomez, well, seeing certainly wasn't an apt word for it.
"Okay, so is there a chance you can give me more of your time?" He asked."Can we have dinner together?"
She wrapped her hands around her teacup and compressed her lips into a thin line.
"Dinner sounds lovely but," she said slowly and paused, choosing her words carefully. "I just… I was with someone, in Europe, for quite a while and ended it just before coming back to States - "
"Okay," he nodded, letting out a relieved breath."I understand, you don't want to rush into another serious relationship. I get that."
"Yes," she nodded."I enjoy spending time with you, but… it's a bit too early for me for anything more than that."
"I understand," he assured, smiling at her."We can take it as slow as you need to."
"Vlad - "
"I want to show you how serious I am about this," he interjected, reaching for her hand and wrapping his fingers gently around hers."It's not just about… you know."
"Sex?" She supplied, amused by his sudden reserve to mention the fact that they slept together and he seemed to realize the same thing because he laughed in a very self-deprecating manner.
"Yes, it's not just about sex," he confirmed, squeezing her fingers lightly." I like you," he whispered. "I like you very much. And I would love to take you out to dinner, Morticia, just the two of us."
"If you can assure me that it's a dining establishment where we're not going to accidentally bump into my sister and her friends?" She found herself saying, her tone teasing, openly flirtatious and her first thought was that Gomez would hate it.
Gomez would hate it and he would be hurt but they were seeing each other nearly every day which was not only careless, it was royally stupid, plain and simple. And at the same time, she couldn't imagine scaling back on their trysts and that in itself was problematic.
They needed some boundaries. She needed to focus on something else besides him.
She barely knew him and yet it seemed that since she laid her eyes on him her world started to revolve only around him.
She needed to put some distance between them, as much as she despised the thought, she needed to put some sanity back into her life.
"Deal," Vlad grinned at her."So, how about tonight?"
"I already have plans for tonight with Debbie," she lied.
As far as killing Debbie could be considered plans for tonight that is. And also she was seeing Gomez tonight and well and she was definitely not going to cancel it for anyone. Not yet, at least.
"Oh, I see, sort of a girls night out," he smiled at her fondly.
"More like in, but yes."
"Sounds fun," he remarked."Tomorrow then?"
She nodded.
"Tomorrow sounds great."
Gomez would hate it, she thought again.
Why did it matter, though? He was married, she didn't owe him fidelity and he never asked for it, so why did she care? They didn't owe each other anything
After all, they weren't in for happily miserable ever.
Any thought of putting any sort of distance between her and Gomez Addams evaporated the moment she entered the hotel room and saw him already waiting for her, sitting in the spacious armchair, one leg crossed against another, his burgundy cravat already half undone and the ubiquitous cigar in between his fingers, looking so unbearably sensual she didn't know how the hell was she supposed to say no to that?
It was his fault, she decided, it was his fault for being so irresistibly sexy that she spent her days practically waiting for the time when she'd be able to see him again.
Everything she did during the day seemed to her a distraction - something to pass the time with until she'd be able to see him again and then it seemed that his presence filled every fibre of her being.
She never felt like this before, with anyone, and she barely knew how to handle this constant need for him. It would be so much easier, she thought, if that need was strictly contained to the carnal pleasures but she knew it was more than that.
He was interesting.
He was unlike anyone she's ever known and she knew plenty of eccentric people.
She liked talking to him. She found herself wanting to know little things about him and couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why other than the fact that she was curious.
She simply wanted to know things about him - what books he read, what he was interested in, what was his opinion on this and that and he often gave her the most bizarre answers, leaving her wondering if he was teasing her or was he a bit insane and she came to the conclusion it was a little bit of both.
There was the intimacy between them that was slowly slipping beyond the boundaries of physical attraction and she wasn't sure what to do to contain it. Especially, when she found herself often encouraging it, craving it even.
Being with him felt so good, even though it was so wrong. It was so wrong on so many levels and yet the more things she knew about him the more she wondered… what on earth made him decide to marry Ophelia. The more she thought about it the less sense it made.
Of course, she knew how the market of marriage operated - the idea of arranged marriage, although deemed archaic, still happily functioned among the upper classes, not that anyone was forced to marry anyone against their will or any of the absurdities of the olden days but, still, some relationships were strongly encouraged and hardly anyone would dream of marrying outside of their social circle.
At the very least, though, even the strongly encouraged unions were between people who were compatible, they had similar ideals and values and, frankly speaking, she could not think of a single thing her sister and Gomez Addams could have in common.
What on earth possessed him to propose to her in the first place?
Not that she would ask him, or that it mattered, the subject of her sister or Vlad, for that matter, was practically non - existent between them. They haven't discussed this - what it was and where it was going. Even though there was no doubt in her mind where it was going - that they'd have to end it and quite soon because to continue sneaking around at the frequency they were at the moment was extremely thin ice. Or maybe they were already drowning.
Either way, they'd have to end it.
"May I say something crass?" He asked, interrupting her musings.
Morticia looked at him from over her shoulder, her hair still damp from the shower they shared together, the pristine white hotel robe wrapped loosely around her body, just about to be considered decent - which was more than could be said about Gomez Addams who half-lay on the kingsize bed, propped by the pillows, completely naked with merely the bath towel wrapped around his hips that barely covered anything.
And he looked absolutely delicious, like someone painted by Titian or Caravaggio, a celebration of the human form, a debauched Adonis. Absolutely impossible to resist.
"If you must," she replied, picking another piece of cured meat with a silver fork from the selection neatly arranged on an ornamented platter, and smiled at him indulgently.
"Your ass is amazing," he quipped, releasing a cloud of grey smoke from his mouth and smiled when his words elicited an amused chuckle out of her.
"Hmmm, you certainly show your appreciation aplenty," she replied, taking a small bite before turning toward the cheeseboard and put some pieces on her plate.
"Come back to bed and I'll be sure to show some more," he suggested lusciously eliciting a small, amused laugh from her.
"I need some sustenance first, you insatiable demon," she retorted, pouring them some red wine into the two glasses set neatly on the table.
"How about you bring that sustenance to bed and we eat it here?"
"So demanding, Mr Addams," she sighed in mock exasperation and picked up the plate and the two wine-filled glasses, slowly making her way back to him.
He took the wine glasses from her and placed them carefully on the bedside table.
"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him, straddling his hips.
"I was going to but you've distracted me," he retorted, immediately sneaking his palms under the robe on her naked thighs.
"How easily distracted you are, Mr Addams," she teased, popping a small piece of cheese into his mouth before capturing his smiling lips into a playful kiss.
"So? Tell me," she encouraged, moving gracefully off him to sit on the bed space next to him, with her back against the headboard and slid her legs under her, smiling when he growled in disappointment at the loss of her warmth."What would you do if you didn't have to run a family business?"
"Ideally?"
"Yes," she nodded, cutting into a piece of stilton.
"Locomotive engineer," he replied without hesitation.
"Go -mez, I'm serious," she laughed, swatting him gently on his arm."Tell me."
"No, I'm deadly serious. Locomotive engineer, dream job," he insisted, handing her a glass of wine as he poked through the selection of charcuterie on her plate.
She smiled at him above the rim of her wine glass, utterly amused at the idea, and gently bit her bottom lip.
"Do you even know how to drive a train?" She asked.
"I'm sure I do, how hard can it be?" He replied, smiling at her." I have a train set that I used to crash regularly. I'm great at crashing trains. I will show you one day, we could crash them together," he offered and then almost immediately his smile faded.
What a stupid thing to say. There wouldn't be any crashing trains together, he thought miserably, he didn't know what came over him to say something like that.
"That is certainly an unexpected answer," she smiled at him softly and leaned forward to kiss him.
"What answer did you expect?"
"I don't know," she admitted." You often say most bizarre things, I rarely know what to expect but I know it wasn't a train driver."
"A locomotive engineer," he corrected firmly.
"Semantics, " she grinned at him.
"Locomotive engineer sound more sophisticated," he insisted." Just as trains are the most sophisticated modes of travelling."
"And what about planes?" She asked teasingly."Aren't they sophisticated?"
"Planes are commercial, soulless creatures, Tish," he countered stubbornly before adding passionately, "trains are a mystery, they are adventure and they are beauty!"
"What an interesting insight into the mystery of Gomez Addams," she teased, leaning towards him to place a soft kiss on his lips and couldn't help a small smile that formed on her lips when he placed his palm on her thigh, gently curling his fingers just behind her knee.
She liked when he did that, she liked how intimate it felt.
"Speaking of mysteries," he mused curiously, tracing lazy patterns on her skin."What do you do when you're in Europe?"
"Well, according to my mother, " she replied, taking a dainty sip of her wine."I squander my father's money and fornicate with random men."
She smiled when he let out an amused chuckle and squeezed her thigh gently.
"Mhmm, and what are you really doing?" He asked.
"I squander my father's money and fornicate with random men," she replied in a deadpan manner, making him laugh.
"And study Fine Arts at Berlin University in between," he said, raising his eyebrows knowingly.
"And who told you that?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Patricia."
"That tattle tale," she supplied fondly. "I had quit after two semesters."
"Why?"
"I found the atmosphere to be obnoxious and pretentious," she replied simply."And I had enough of that at home. I changed it to History and Political Science but got suspended from my history class ."
"Interesting," he grinned at her."Continue, please."
"One of the professors was a firm believer in eugenics and didn't take kindly to my refutation of his absurd theories," she retorted."German academic circles are still filled with ex-party members, quietly seething inside their tweed jackets about the fact that they've lost the war."
"New political system, same people," Gomez supplied.
"Exactly," she agreed, putting the plate away on the bedside table and taking another sip of her wine.
"Will you go back?"
"To Europe?" She asked and watched him nod at her."Most probably, but not to Berlin, I was thinking Belgrade or maybe Paris."
He nodded and then his eyes glowed mischievously.
"Do you speak French?" He asked in a tone that suggested he found the idea quite enticing.
"I do," she confirmed and smiled at him indulgently."Fluently."
"Say something in French," he requested.
"Why?" She laughed.
He shrugged.
"I want to hear it," he replied, placing a small enticing kiss, just in the corner of her mouth. "Your voice is so sexy," he mused, burying his face into the dark curtain of her hair and placed a soft kiss on the skin of her neck." I can just imagine how absolutely beguiling it sounds in French."
"What do you want me to say?" She asked, amused by his enthusiasm.
He lifted his head to look at her and narrowed his eyes in an exaggerated contemplation.
"Anything, it can be something completely random, say...hmmm," he pretended to muse." Say…. Gomez is the most handsome man I've ever met," he deadpanned.
She tilted her head and laughed at the request but decided to indulge him nevertheless.
"Gomez est le plus bel homme que j'ai jamais rencontré," she purred.
Her eyes widened with surprise when he let out a breathy gasp, and grasped her hand, making her spill some of her wine at white sheets before placing a firm kiss on the inside of her palm.
"Gomez!"
"Good God say something else," he begged, his voice so heavy with desire she didn't know what to make of it.
"What... are you doing?" She asked slowly as he proceeded to pepper her arm with ardent kisses, pushing her bathrobe off her shoulders.
"The way you speak French is so…," he faltered, momentarily lost for words, and captured her lips into a ravenous kiss."Makes my blood boil. Say something else."
"You're insane," she decided in a half-amused, half-astonished tone.
"Say it in French,-"
"Gomez -"
"Please, it could be anything," he begged.
"Are you serious?" She laughed incredulously.
"I beg you," he muttered, busy kissing her neck and along her collarbone. He crawled on top of her, settling in between her legs.
"Je peux sentir à quel point tu es dur pour moi," she whispered in such a delightfully sultry voice he almost died there and then."Je veux te sentir à l'intérieur de moi."
He howled deep in his throat, claiming her lips into a rough kiss.
"God Tish, if you're going to start talking dirty to me in French, we won't leave this room for a week," he warned in a strangled voice.
"Mmmm, I think," she purred, sliding her hand in between them and wrapping it around his length and smirked when he let out another strangled gasp."I think I can most certainly live with that… mon savage."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated.