Chapter 5
Ophelia killed the engine of her red Ferrari and leaned against the leather seat before stretching her arms above her head. It was getting progressively too cold to drive with an open roof, it was ridiculous that it was already so miserable this early in September. Speaking of miserable, she thought as she glanced around the estate, God she hated it here. One would think that, with all that money, the Addamses would make sure the estate was in top condition but alas, the whole family seemed to have a penchant for all things old and decayed... that damned useless butler included.
Ophelia could understand eccentricity, she knew plenty of eccentric, rich people and she could be inclined to accept it. She could accept their outdated clothes and style of living - they all seemed stuck somewhere in the last century but she could accept that. It was the prerogative of insanely rich people to be eccentric, at least according to her mother.
Eccentricity was acceptable. What was not acceptable was Ophelia living in this decomposing, old dump, sorry excuse for a mansion. She deserved better than this.
They had to move out of here before the winter social season kicked into life in November because she could not imagine entertaining anyone in this atrocity. Everyone would come, of course, but oh God, she could imagine what they would talk afterwards and the mere thought was enough to make her nauseous. She had to convince Gomez that they should buy their own place. She did not understand why he was so insistent on living here, anyway. One would think he would be more than happy to move out, as far away from his father as possible. Truly, Ophelia thought that she and Morticia had more in common and were more amicable towards each other than Gomez and Harald - and that said something.
She didn't even know what the feud was about between her husband and her father-in-law but those two could not go even two weeks without some sort of fall out.
Oh, right, she remembered suddenly, it had something to do with Gomez's brother, what's his name, Frasier, or Foster - yeah, that was it, it had something to do with Foster taking off to God knows where, which Ophelia didn't really understand what the problem was anyway. Morticia was away most of the time as well and nobody made a big deal out of it.
A sudden groan escaped her and she resisted an urge to bash her head into the steering wheel. She completely forgot that Eudora invited Morticia today, holy fuck knows why. If Morticia embarrassed her as she did at the funeral she will truly snap that pale neck in half this time.
Ophelia spared one glance to the catalogues from the estate agents on the seat next to her and sighed tiredly, finally exiting the car.
The butler opened the door for her the moment she approached the door and growled at her.
Oh for fuck's sake, how could she invite anyone to see this. It was unthinkable.
"Is my sister still here?" she asked, handing him her beige coat.
Lurch nodded and pointed slowly in the direction of the parlour.
"Ugh, fantastic," she sighed again, making her way towards the parlour without sparing Lurch another glance.
She stopped at the door and surveyed the picture in front of her.
Morticia was sitting on the sofa next to Eudora, both holding some green steaming drinks in their hands, God only knows what those were made of. Harald looked animated, apparently telling another story about one of his endless relatives, Aunt… whatever, Ophelia really couldn't keep track of all the Addamses. They were as populous as cockroaches.
Finally, she rested her gaze on Gomez. He sat in the armchair opposite the sofa, his legs crossed against each other, his elbow resting against the armrest, cigar in his hand. He looked tense, uncomfortable. Ugh, if that little wench was rude to him -
"You have quite an impressive family history, Mr Addams," she heard her sister's voice and she almost rolled her eyes.
Impressive was not the word she would use. What was impressive in having relatives that were either psychotic, murderous or both. So many of the Addamses ended up in asylums, it was embarrassing, not impressive.
"I have to be very immodest and agree with that," came her father-in-law's voice, he sounded very pleased. "We are quite an interesting bunch."
"You certainly are."
"Hey," Ophelia said finally, entering the parlour when everyone turned towards her. "I'm sorry I'm late, the traffic was horrendous."
She smiled and leaned towards Morticia to place a quick kiss on her sister's cheek.
"No worries," Morticia smiled back at her."I had a really lovely time with Eudora. The estate is just magnificent."
"Yeah, it's just… great," Ophelia nodded and went to sit down on the armrest of the armchair Gomez was currently sitting in and placed her palm gently on his arm, smiling at him. "You're okay?"
"I'm fine," he whispered and forced himself to smile back.
Eudora cleared her throat and smiled at her daughter-in-law.
"Harald was just telling Morticia about dear Aunt Calpurnia," she supplied.
"Right," Ophelia nodded and then frowned in confusion." Who's that again?"
"She was burned as a witch in 1706," Morticia said, turning towards her."Isn't it fascinating?"
"I guess," Ophelia smiled, trying her utmost not to roll her eyes to high heavens.
"They say she danced naked in a town square and enslaved the minister," Eudora remarked, smirking when her husband shifted in his seat.
"Now, now, my dear, that is just a rumour," Harald contradicted, smiling at her affectionately nevertheless.
"Well, I believe it," Eudora grinned at him and then turned her attention to Ophelia."Anyway, Lurch will serve dinner in a minute, he cooked that dish for you as well, what's it called again?"
"Baked to-fu."
"Oh, that's right," Eudora nodded."Are you also on that special diet, Morticia?"
Morticia blinked and then her brows furrowed in confusion.
"Special diet?"
"Oh, Morticia is not on any diet," Ophelia laughed."She barely eats anything anyway, that's why she looks emaciated."
"Well, I do eat occasionally," Morticia replied without missing a beat."I will certainly make an exception for tonight's dinner."
"As well you should," Eudora chuckled, patting Morticia's hand gently."Lurch has outdone himself tonight - a baked iguana."
Ophelia resisted almost an overwhelming urge to gag.
This family's outrageous culinary inclinations were exactly the reason she has told them that, for all intents and purposes, she was a vegan.
This dinner couldn't be more torturous if it tried, Gomez thought miserably. He has barely said anything to anyone all evening and his mother already kicked him twice under the table and had been throwing him annoyed glances for the last ten minutes. She was probably thinking he was behaving like a rude, obnoxious twat.
Well, he was.
But he was scared to even look at Morticia. He was scared it would show - in his eyes, in his gestures, in his voice, he would betray himself and everyone would know. They would know what a bastard he was, what a sorry excuse for a human being. He was sitting here, with his beautiful wife next to him and yet his very soul burned for her. She was so beautiful and absolutely wonderful and every time she spoke he felt lost in the soft sounds of her voice. He wanted her so much, he wanted to taste those soft lips again and again, forever.
"Ah, Harald, darling you really need to step into the new century," his mother laughed."Times will not go back, you need to accept it."
What on earth were they even talking about? He needed to stop wandering off and pay attention.
"The good old days had a certain charm," Harald insisted and turned towards Ophelia." There was a structure, people knew their place. Don't you agree, my dear?"
"Oh, certainly," Ophelia nodded and smiled at him sweetly but Morticia only chuckled as if she found his father's statement utter absurd.
"I suppose you don't agree, my dear?" Harald asked, his tone affectionately teasing.
Gomez finally rested his eyes on her and immediately reached for his drink, his mouth suddenly dry.
Morticia raised her eyebrow and her lips curled in a gentle smirk.
"Oh, I'm sure many women reminisce about the lack of voting rights with fondness," Morticia supplied facetiously."Being essentially a property of their father or a husband had a certain charm, no doubt."
She took a sip of her wine and smiled at Harald.
"Women's inheritance laws," she continued in a dispassionate manner. "Who needs those?"
He could practically feel Ophelia's annoyance but his mother tilted her head and laughed.
"Touche," she said, touching the rim of her wine glass to Morticia's in a toast.
"Well, you certainly seem to use your freedoms to the extreme," Harald pointed out, clearly less amused with the whole exchange than his wife.
"You've got that right," Ophelia supplied with an exasperated sigh, shaking her head.
"Oh, I wouldn't say to the extreme," Morticia replied, utterly unperturbed by his disapproving tone.
"Not too long ago, a young, respectable woman like yourself, travelling on her own would be an unthinkable concept," Harald continued.
"So would have been commercial transatlantic flights, and yet, here we are," Morticia pointed smoothly and Gomez titled his head and laughed heartily at her response.
"The lady got you there," he said finally and they all looked at him, obviously surprised he had decided to unmute himself at last.
"My husband holds somewhat contradicting views towards women, I'm afraid," Eudora supplied in an affectionate tone."Some are horribly outdated."
"I'm a traditionalist," Harald shrugged, returning to his meal.
"And yet you gave Aunt Hetty the money when she wanted to invest in railroad stocks," Gomez pointed out.
"Harmless indulgence," Harald insisted."Hetty has a good nose for investments, I must admit."
"Runs in the family," Eudora smiled, turning towards Morticia."Gomez has simply an uncanny talent for lucrative investments."
Gomez smiled at the praise but his smile evaporated almost instantly when his father only snorted in contempt.
"Uncanny luck, I'd say," Harald interjected.
"I'm sure it takes more than luck to be successful in business," Morticia remarked, more sharply than she intended, but the man was beginning to irritate the hell out of her.
She could feel everyone's gaze rest on her, she imagined her sister would like nothing more than murder her right now but the man spent practically the whole evening making some condescending remarks towards his son and she had quite enough of it.
"What can a young thing like yourself know about investments?" The older Addams asked her, his tone somewhere between amused and condescending.
"Perhaps nothing, "Morticia admitted calmly and watched Harald's lips curl into a small smirk.
"But I know luck will only get one that far," she continued, her tone acquiring an intense note."It takes more than luck to succeed - in anything, but you certainly know your son better than anyone. I'm sure Gomez does nothing more than tossing a coin before making a business decision."
Harald raised his eyebrow at the sudden fervour in her voice.
The room went suddenly so quiet, one could hear a pin drop.
"Well, son, it seems you got yourself quite a charming defender," Harald finally remarked sardonically before adding smoothly, "that's usually Eudora's job."
"You make for a delightful company, I must admit," Eudora smiled as she walked Morticia towards the car."I hope you were not offended by Harald's talk, it's just that - a talk."
"I am not offended," Morticia assured.
She wasn't offended, she was simply irritated beyond belief by the man's obtuse attitude. He seemed inclined to stick with his absurd opinions no matter what arguments were thrown at him, as if admitting he was wrong was simply beyond his comprehension.
"And thank you for a lovely afternoon, I really enjoyed the tour of the estate."
They were standing just in front of the gate, for some reason the driver categorically refused to even step his toe onto the Addams estate.
It was hilarious.
"I would love it if you could visit us again."
Morticia smiled at her and spared a glance at the mansion.
"Well, I would love that too but I wouldn't want to impose," she retorted diplomatically.
Her sister was rather furious with her, if the way she stormed upstairs after dinner was any indication. She would probably call their mother first thing tomorrow to complain as she did since they were children, nothing much changed since then in their relations.
Oh, well, she couldn't possibly have sat there and listened to that nonsense. She didn't understand why the man, whom she initially thought to be absolutely charming, insisted on holding such absurd views. It was strange, considering whom he was married to. It also annoyed her the way he was talking to Gomez, she had no idea why it bothered her so much, though. She shouldn't care, she didn't know why she did.
"Perhaps… when your sister is out and about, then," Eudora suggested.
Morticia couldn't help but chuckle.
"Yes, perhaps then."
Eudora smiled and nodded at her, before her expression turned a bit more sombre.
"Harald is a good man," she said suddenly." He and Gomez just…," she paused and shrugged helplessly."It's a bit complicated."
"Families usually are," Morticia remarked gently.
"Yes, well, it was nice of you to defend him," Eudora said, smiling softly."Even though he was behaving like a boor towards you all evening and he will hear a word or two about it."
Morticia bit her cheeks lightly but couldn't help to allow a small chuckle to escape her.
Eudora was furious when Morticia told her Gomez had to go back to work and left her alone in the cemetery but then, what else was she supposed to tell her? The truth wasn't an option. The whole thing was the most tragicomic thing she ever experienced.
"Well, I shall leave parental decisions to you," Morticia retorted and smiled at the older woman. "Thank you again for the lovely tour, I've really enjoyed it."
"You're very welcome, my dear, I really hope - "
"Morticia."
They both turned towards Ophelia's voice and Morticia felt her body tense involuntarily. She recognised the tone immediately - they were heading for one of Ophelia's tantrums. Oh, splendid, this was certainly what this evening needed on top of everything.
"Eudora, do you mind leaving us alone?" Ophelia asked slowly as she approached them and Morticia noticed the older woman hesitate immediately. "I just need a quick word with my little sister."
Ophelia looked like she was about to pounce.
"Of course," Eudora said carefully." Good night, my dear, it was wonderful to see you."
"Good night, Mrs Addams," Morticia replied."And thank you again for the lovely afternoon."
Eudora nodded gently in acknowledgement, her gaze resting on Ophelia as if she was indeed worried that her daughter-in-law may really pounce but, ultimately, decided that there was little she could do, at least at this point and retreated back to the mansion.
"Did you want to say goodnight to me?" Morticia asked in a deadpan manner.
"Why the fuck do you always have to behave like that?" Ophelia hissed lowly through her teeth.
Morticia tilted her head, narrowing her eye slightly.
"Like what?"
"Embarrassing me in front of my in-laws," her sister seethed. "Why can't you, just for once, shut the hell up, eat your dinner, say thank you, goodnight and leave. Why did you have to butt in into something that has nothing to do with you?"
"I have a very low tolerance for absurdity," Morticia retorted, crossing her arms against her middle."I can't help myself, it's incurable."
She watched Ophelia's jaw tense and then she exhaled - a slow, measured rage.
It was almost admirable that Ophelia was able to stay so calm...ish. Morticia was sure that if they were having this conversation in the cosiness of her parent's home sparks would fly, to put it mildly.
"These are family matters, between Gomez and Harald," Ophelia continued in such a forcibly clam tone Morticia almost started to slow - clap for all her efforts.
"Doesn't it bother you that his father was so unnecessarily cruel to him?"
Ophelia snorted out loud.
"Gomez is a big boy," she insisted."He doesn't care what Harald says. That's how things are between them. Nothing to do with you."
But he did care, Morticia thought. Gomez did care, even she could see it, she could see his eyes burn with hurt when Harald was unfairly and blatantly cruel to him and Morticia felt immediately defensive on his behalf. It bothered her that he just sat there and received those verbal slaps without saying anything. Without anyone saying anything.
"Would it kill you to show him some support? He's your husband."
"Exactly," Ophelia hissed."He's my husband, you don't belong here so why don't you do everyone a favour and just fuck off? Preferably back to Europe?"
Morticia opened her lips to deliver an equally poignant reply but then thought better of it. What was the point really? Ophelia thrived on drama and arguments, what was the point to feed the dragon? Better to starve it.
She took a half-step towards Ophelia and leaned towards her until her lips hovered just next to her ear.
"Goodnight, Ophelia," she whispered, placing a cold, solitary kiss on her sister's cheek.
She turned towards the gate and it opened immediately, allowing her to pass through.
She didn't turn to look at her sister, even though she could feel her furious gaze lingering on her and only once she was in the car, did she allow herself to exhale tiredly and tilted her head back against the leather seat.
What would happen when they cross the line, she thought and then blinked, as if suddenly startled.
When. Not if. When.
As if it was inevitable.
As if they had no control over it.
And in a way, it was exactly so, no control. She never felt so out of control as she did now. Gomez Addams seemed to have consumed her every thought and now - now, that she felt his body pressed against hers and tasted him, she only wanted more.
She tasted him and now he was in her blood and she wanted no one else but him. She wanted him so desperately it was driving her mad.
She could do it, she could seduce him. He was more than willing. She could seduce him and she would be to blame. A whore who seduced her sister's husband, a homewrecker, destined for Dante's second circle.
She could seduce him, she could quench this thirst for him and then leave. Go back to Europe or somewhere else. It didn't matter where.
Her sister was right, after all.
She didn't belong here.
"You know, your grandfather always said the best artwork came from tragic love, anxiety and madness."
Morticia smiled at her father's words as they strolled through the gallery together. She loved galleries, it felt like a different world altogether. Each painting or sculpture felt to her like immersing herself in someone else's mind and their view of the world - who they were and how they felt at that given time, what they wanted to share with the rest of the world, their joy and their pain, it was all there. Art was the study of human beings and the world around them and Morticia valued its freedom tremendously, especially in a world that constantly tried to impose its boundaries.
And it felt good. It felt good to spend some time with her father again - just the two of them. She has always enjoyed their outings together. Especially when they were doing something she liked and not something Ophelia bullied them into. It was their fault, she supposed, to cave in each time to her sister's tantrums but Ophelia was nothing if not persistent and, if she was in one of her moods, she could make a trip to a gallery truly unbearable for everyone so it was often easier to just cave in.
"Well, Munch certainly fits the picture," she smiled.
"They say he found his peace in nature," he continued."He painted a lot of landscapes towards the end of his life."
"And nude females," Morticia supplied with a teasing grin.
"You had to mention that, didn't you?" he replied with an exaggerated sigh.
"A fact is a fact, papa," she insisted, curling her hand around the crook of his arm.
"I always regretted that you quit painting," her father mused, turning to look at her softly."You have a real talent."
"That's the father in you talking," she laughed."You praised everything I painted as if they were all masterpieces."
"They were."
"They were not."
"You should paint again, Tish," he insisted.
Morticia smiled somewhat tensely and shrugged.
"Maybe someday," she replied quietly.
"You were always less restless when you painted."
She couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle.
"Do you think I'm restless?" she teased.
Her father nodded, his lips curling into a small smile.
"I think you're still searching for your place in the world," he said."Your… inner peace."
"That's very philosophical of you."
"I have my moments," her father winked.
They stopped in front of a painting of a man and a woman and Morticia tilted her head, studying the artwork intently. The woman, with flaming-red hair, was holding a man in her arms, kissing his neck, or was she biting him? It was hard to tell.
"I'm thinking of running for the office," her father suddenly revealed.
She didn't reply, not immediately, but she felt her body tense slightly as she processed the information. She didn't know what to make of it, it was wildly out of character for her father to pursue such things as political positions.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Things look...encouraging," he remarked cautiously.
"I thought you despised politics."
"I still do, but one can't change things merely by moaning about the state of affairs," he replied and then cleared his throat gently."And I feel... stagnant," he admitted."Old."
Morticia laughed quietly at his remark.
"You're not old, papa."
"Well, I feel old," he smiled at her."I yearn for some change - a challenge. And Harald agrees, he thinks I have good chances."
"Harald?" she frowned. Surely he didn't mean -
"Addams."
"Oh, and what he's got to do with that?"
"Campaign funding for one," her father replied smoothly.
"Ah, naturally."
"What do you think of them?"
"Addamses?" she asked and then shrugged when her father nodded."They are… unusual."
"That's certainly one way to describe them," her father laughed."Very eccentric bunch, but they have a lot of connections."
"I see."
"Ah, don't give me that look, poppet," her father laughed gently.
"What look?"
"That look," he said, tapping her fondly on her nose but then Morticia noticed him tense slightly. "Now, I don't want you to take it the wrong way, but your mother and I -"
"Oh, God, papa," she sighed in an exasperated manner."Are we really going to have that conversation?"
She almost smirked when her father winced.
"It never hurts to clarify the matters," he retorted meekly."Politics are very... it's a delicate business. I need you to - "
"What?" she interjected, tilting her head.
"I need you to be careful," he said. "I can't afford any scandals."
She frowned, suddenly taken aback and felt momentarily chastised under her father's scrutinizing gaze. Scandals? What possible scandals could he have in mind? Surely not...No. There was simply no way that they were thinking of the same thing, he couldn't possibly know -
"I mean you and Mr Addams," he said pointedly. "It will not do, unless you will go about it...the proper way."
Her mouth felt so dry she had to clear her throat. Surely, she wasn't that obvious. She was sure she wasn't that blatantly obvious, what the devil was he talking about and why on earth was he so...understanding about it? It didn't make an ounce of sense.
"Papa, what are you talking about?" she asked as flatly as it was humanly possible, despite her heart hammering in her chest.
Her father inhaled deeply and scratched the back on his head tensely, before regarding her intently.
"Alright, I'll just say it," he decided, exhaling loudly."Vlad doesn't have the best reputation and I need things to be crystal clear when I make the announcement."
"Vlad?" she repeated.
Vlad, of course, he was talking about Vlad. Who else would he be talking about, why did she think… it was insane, of course he didn't mean...him.
She felt like slapping her palm across her face.
"If you want to keep seeing him...I need it to be," he paused, shifting somewhat uncomfortably and made a circular motion with his hand, as if it would help him to supply him with the right wording for this ridiculous conversion.
"Is this the bees and the birds conversation?" Morticia asked sardonically, infinitely glad that her heart stopped beating madly and they were certainly not talking about that particular Mr Addams.
"Well," her father coughed gently."It was either me or your mother."
"What a choice - "
"So, ehm, you and Mr Addams - "
Morticia closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I'm not having that conversation with you," she announced categorically.
"I've heard he's asked you to accompany him to the club this Sunday," her father remarked smoothly. "And you agreed."
Morticia almost laughed out loud because it was only a half-truth. Vlad had indeed asked to accompany him to the club where there they were having some ludicrous golf tournament this weekend and she was very inclined to tell him that she would rather stab herself in the eye with her own stiletto than spend a day surrounded by her sister, her friends and the rest of the high society, cheering them on through their eighteen holes for, the devil only knows how long. Debbie, however, apparently decided it would be hilarious if Morticia attended and replied to Vlad's message that indeed, Morticia would be delighted to attend.
Morticia was still thinking about what suitable revenge would be for that.
"You could invite him for Granny's birthday, you know," he suggested, leading her towards the next room.
"Papa - "
"It's just a suggestion, poppet," he grinned at her and then cleared his throat."By the way, your mother decided you will all spend the night at home after the party."
Morticia stopped dead in her tracks and turned to her father with an incredulous expression on her face. Surely, he was jesting.
"Surely, you're jesting," she said but her father only grinned again at her crestfallen expression and shook his head at her."Why?"
"We have some important people coming for lunch the day after," he explained."I want your charming self to be there, please and thank you."
"My charming self?" she repeated, cocking her eyebrow at him.
"Yes, my charming, little girl has to attend," he nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to her temple in a fatherly gesture as they resumed their walk."You are allowed to leave your sarcastic self at home. Let's have some lunch, I'm starving."
"Sarcastic?" she asked in a mock offence.
"Hmmm."
"I'm not sarcastic, papa," she insisted."I'm dry-witted and incisive. Granny says so."
Nothing said filthy rich quite like private golf clubs.
Ophelia Addams smiled to herself as she fixed the unruly strap of her white sandals. The weather was just divine, such a wonderful change from the gloom of the past few days. She sighed happily surveying acres of perfectly groomed greens, surrounded by Magnolia trees. Nothing cemented her new social position as being allowed into the most prestigious golf clubs, well technically she was not even allowed here, since she was a woman but her husband was a member and the men were allowed to bring women as guests on Sundays.
And so they did. It had become a sort of tradition to have those fancy picnics every other Sunday - men playing golf and women socialising among picnic baskets and getting fashionably drunk.
Gomez told her that the club was so exclusive, it was not even open to membership, one had to be selected and approached by the executive board to even get in. Needless to say, Ophelia absolutely loved it here.
She remembered the first time Gomez brought her to the club, shortly after they had announced their engagement. She was absolutely bewitched by the stunning clubhouse and the sheer luxury of the surroundings. She remembered how the society matrons surrounded her almost immediately, a bit like a well-meaning aunt, full of welcoming advice and a bit like a bunch of piranhas, waiting to devour her.
Sort of like they now were with her sister.
"Does she eat anything at all?" Vanessa asked."She's so fucking skinny."
All three of them were not so subtly observing Morticia, surrounded by the aforementioned society matrons, led by none other but Leticia Hornby, whose husband was on the executive board of the club. God, she almost felt sorry for her sister, she looked like prey surrounded by a group of sharks. And of course, in a way, she was. They smelled lucrative connections and Addams always spelt enormous money.
"She looks like a fucking bag of bones, if you ask me," Holly supplied, pouring everyone another glass of Moët, spilling some on their checked red and grey picnic rug. "I swear, I don't understand what men see in her."
"An easy fuck, that's what," Vanessa supplied.
"But it's like fucking a bag of bones."
"Some men like emaciated sluts, what can you do?"
"Gomez can't stand her," Ophelia snickered."My mother-in-law invited her over the other day, and he barely looked at her. I swear he was almost rude."
What was also rude was her husband, all of a sudden, implying that she should have supported him when Harald was making those stupid digs at him and it really pissed her off. What the hell he was suggesting? What the hell was he implying? That she wasn't supportive? That he expected her to behave like Morticia? Was she to get involved in every little squabble between him and his father? It had nothing to do with her. Did she bother him with every little rift she had with Morticia? No. She took care of it on her own. She went downstairs and told her off, she didn't bother him with it.
Gomez could really be so childish, sometimes. Although he certainly redeemed himself with this gorgeous diamond bracelet, she thought as she glanced at the shiny trinket on her wrist.
"You see, honey," Vanessa supplied over the rim of her champagne glass," Gomez is not a dog, he's not interested in a bag of bones. Especially since he has this fine piece of meat at home."
Ophelia laughed, tilting her head back.
"Well, we can't deny that," she agreed and then sighed in an exaggerated manner," I look after him very well."
"Oh, don't make it sound like it's such hard work," Holly teased, elbowing her gently in the arm.
"It is!" Ophelia laughed."The man is insatiable."
Her friend turned towards her and lowered her sunglasses, giving her an amused glance.
"Oh, poor, little you," she deadpanned."Fucked daily by this Adonis here, my heart bleeds for you."
She decided to murder Debbie at the earliest opportunity.
Four and a half an hour of this absurd game and they were nowhere near the end. It would be almost bearable if she was allowed to read her book in peace but even that was not the case because she was constantly surrounded by people. Women.
Women, telling her what a privilege was to be in this club, only most affluent people were invited here, and what a coincidence that both she and her sister end up married to an Addams, oh what a joy. Your mother must be absolutely delighted. And what a beautiful couple they were, she and Vlad. And wasn't Vlad handsome? Surely, your mother is already planning your engagement.
Surely.
Surely, she would murder Debbie for this.
Gomez was, unsurprisingly, back to doing his best to pretend she didn't exist, which seemed to happen every time they were surrounded by people. Not that she blamed him, of course, it would be suicidal of them to pay each other too much attention, let alone repeating their encounter at the cemetery. Although, she wouldn't mind that.
She wouldn't mind that at all.
"Enjoying yourself?"
She looked up from her book to see a very happy looking Vlad, standing above her. He grabbed a bottle of water and downed almost everything in one go.
"As much as one can enjoy a purgatory," she replied, finally closing the book that she didn't even have a chance to read yet. Kirkegaard will have to wait until she got home and murdered Debbie. "Did you win?"
"Hell no," he grinned."Gomez kicked my butt again."
"Oh," she exclaimed in a hopeful tone."Is it over then?"
"No, my lady," he grinned at her, sitting next to her."We will stop for lunch and then have round two."
She couldn't help but groan out loud, making him laugh.
"This is the most stupid game I have ever witnessed in my entire life," she said.
Vlad tilted his head and let out a gregarious laugh.
"Gomez!" He shouted towards his cousin."Morticia here said golf is stupid."
Gomez turned abruptly towards then. She thought they all look absolutely ridiculous in their golf outfits, but for some reason it suited him.
"Stupid?" Gomez repeated, approaching them, his golf club still in his hand.
She could swear he looked offended.
"This is the most absurd game," she insisted and almost laughed when he practically gasped in outrage.
"Obviously, she never attended the annual Addams Halloween party," Vlad supplied.
"Golf takes skill and years of practice," Gomez told her insistently.
This was becoming hilarious. Surely, he wasn't so serious about it.
"Striking a small ball into a series of small holes in the ground?" She mused, her tone openly mocking."Terribly ambitious."
The man actually frowned at her. He looked so offended she expected him to stomp his feet any second now. She had to bite her cheeks in an effort to prevent herself from laughing.
"It. Takes. Skill," He repeated stubbornly, glaring daggers at her.
"A monkey could do that," she retorted, looking him straight in the eye.
"Morticia, stop insulting my husband's favourite pastime," she heard her sister's amused voice behind them."He feels very passionate about it."
"Have a go," Gomez insisted, extending his golf club towards her.
"No, thank you," she replied softly.
"I insist."
She only shook her head at him. He really looked like he was only seconds away from stomping his feet.
"Come on, indulge me," he urged her, practically putting the golf into her hand.
She almost told him that she could indulge him plenty but perhaps now wasn't the best time for sexual banter.
"Do it, Morticia," Vlad encouraged before adding facetiously."If you actually get the ball into the hole I will never let him forget that - it will mean the world to me."
"Oh, alright," Morticia decided with an exasperated sigh, accepting Gomez's extended hand.
"Let's see then," he smirked at her, putting his golf club into her hand."Go ahead."
The man was insane. Surely, he realized, this was just a stupid game.
"Come on," he encouraged, crossing his arms against his chest challengingly
No, apparently he did not realize it was just a stupid game.
Apparently, he was deadly serious.
Morticia looked at the golf club in her hand. She had never played golf in her life, but then, how difficult could it be? All she had to do was to strike a small ball into a small hole.
A monkey could do that.
She approached the ball Vlad had just placed on the grass but she barely managed to even grab the golf club in both hands when she heard a disapproving sigh behind her.
"Oh the devil," Gomez groaned and came to stand right behind her, almost pressing his body against her and she felt suddenly very warm.
What on earth was he doing?
"Spread your legs wider," he instructed.
She had decided her mind was pure filth but she did as he told her, trying very hard not to think about the fact that there were just a few thin centimetres of material between them.
"Left hand above the right," he instructed."Hold it firmly."
Filth, filth, filth.
She swallowed heavily. She was quite sure that if someone asked her now what her name was she wouldn't be able to answer. She felt hot and her heart was hammering inside her chest.
"Good, now take a swing," he said, just behind her ear and she felt his warm breath tickle her skin.
Her knees almost buckled under her. She swallowed again and tried to focus on the white ball on the ground or... anything really. Anything but his warm body against hers.
She took a swing and hit the ball and they all watched its trajectory as it flew into the air and then, quite unceremoniously, ended it right inside the hole.
She heard his outraged gasp behind her, followed by Vlad's maniacal laugh.
She turned towards him slowly and cocked her head to the side, her lips curling in a triumphant smile as she casually handed him his golf club.
"That," he pointed after the direction of the ball."Was a beginner's luck."
The house was bursting with the array of guests and Morticia could swear she never met at least half of them. This wasn't unusual in itself because she seldom attended any social gatherings, however, considering that this was supposed to be her Grandmother's birthday party the guest list seemed suspiciously foreign.
On a side note, she seemed to attend more family engagements in the last month than she had in the last three years.
"Surprise!"
A familiar voice behind her exclaimed happily as she felt him cover her eyes with his hands. Obviously, she will have to speak to her father as well and explain to him exactly what she thought about inviting Vlad to this party without her explicit consent.
Not that she necessarily minded Vlad's company, she found him rather entertaining but that certainly did not justify her father making decisions for her and inviting him behind her back. She did not appreciate it.
She turned around towards the man behind her and smiled at him.
"Vlad," she greeted him ."What a surprise, indeed."
"Your mother invited me," he revealed immediately, placing a soft kiss on her cheek."You look beautiful, as always."
"Thank you."
Mother dearest, never one to disappoint.
This was looking less and less like a family function, Morticia thought sourly, whatever her mother planned here was certainly not a celebration of her mother-in-law's seventieth birthday. She wondered what her father thought of this elaborate guest list.
"Are you really related to all those people or did your mother decide to strike two bird with one stone?" he asked facetiously."I've heard your father is planning to run for the office."
"How dare you suggest that my mother would sacrifice a family celebration in order to forward my father's political career?" She asked in a deadpan manner.
"I know, I'm despicable," he admitted solemnly before adding in a cheerful manner,"would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to," she assured, smiling at him despite herself."But I haven't even seen my Grandmother yet, I want to wish her a happy birthday first."
"Oh, of course," he nodded."I saw her on the terrace."
"Thank you," she smiled at him."I'll see you in a bit."
She had indeed found her Grandmother on the terrace and she had to smile at the sight before her.
Morticia never had any love for colourful garments herself, but she always loved the daring style her Grandmother favoured. This time she wore an outrageously pink, very festive tuxedo, complete with huge white-rimmed, round sunglasses and apparently decided to start smoking cigars. Morticia regretted not being here when her mother saw her, it will be interesting indeed to see her father pull off a political campaign with this exotic bird of a mother behind him.
She also looked bored out of her mind.
"Enjoying your party, Granny?".
"This isn't my party, dear," Patricia Frump supplied as Morticia leaned to kiss her both cheeks."It's your mother's."
"So I noticed," Morticia remarked, sitting next to her Grandmother on a white garden sofa."Happy birthday."
"Thank you, my love," Patricia smiled and patted Morticia' hand affectionately. "I loved the scarf you made me. Did you really make it yourself?"
Morticia laughed gently, picking two glasses of champagne from the silver tray.
"What a question," she grinned." Of course I did," she assured, handing one flute to her Grandmother. "With my own two hands."
"I didn't know you were into pensioners' hobbies nowadays," Patricia remarked teasingly.
"Debbie said the same thing," Morticia laughed in response.
"She's right."
"Knitting is fun," Morticia insisted."I'm making a pair of gloves for you as well."
"Oh, bless, but not the hat please, it will flatten my hair," she told her, patting her hair as if to highlight her point.
"Granny, nothing will flatten your hair, not with that amount of hairspray," Morticia pointed out, taking a sip of her champagne."I think you and your hairspray deplete most of the ozone layer."
"Oh, shut up," the older lady laughed, swatting her arm gently."What is life if your hair is not luxuriously voluminous? Did you hear your father is planning to run for the office?"
"Hmmm, he told me," Morticia nodded."I'm surprised, though, he was never into politics. I can't imagine why he would want to do that?"
Her grandmother only shrugged in response.
"I'm not sure," she admitted."The other day he mentioned giving the factory for Addams to manage so he can focus on his political career."
"Harald?"
Patricia shook her head, taking a slow sip of her champagne.
"Gomez," she said."Harald doesn't know anything about business, he's a retired army colonel, he got it all in inheritance. His father took care of it while he was in the army and now Gomez manages the family business on his own, ever since the old Addams passed away, bless his soul."
Morticia frowned, silently digesting the revelation. It was interesting, to say the least, it was even more strange than for Harald to make such hurtful comments towards his son when it was Gomez who solely managed such fortune.
"So," her grandmother smiled."What do you think of your brother-in-law? Your mother's admirable social gymnastics certainly paid off."
"Are you suggesting it isn't a love match?" Morticia smiled.
"The only person your sister is in love with her is herself."
"And him?" She asked casually, trying to cover the curiosity.
"In my opinion," Patricia whispered, leaning closer to her."Throughout the whole wedding ceremony, he looked like he would rather jump off the nearest cliff. And who could blame him?"
Interesting. Not surprising, but certainly interesting. Gomez didn't strike her as a man who'd marry anyone against his will. He had too much passion in him to be stuck in an arranged marriage. He practically wore all of his feelings on his sleeves and when he looked at her, his eyes burned with such lust it made her knees weak.
No, he was certainly not made for an arranged, artificial, poppet marriage.
Not that it mattered. It didn't change a thing, he was still married, and to her sister no less.
"If I were a few years younger I would have taken a boy-toy like him," her grandmother whispered to her in a conspiratorial manner and Morticia almost snorted into her champagne glass." God only knows why he is wasting his time with that silly goose."
"Granny, stop it, or else I might choke on this festive beverage."
"Now that would be a shame, but you must admit," she continued carelessly."He's one fuckable specimen."
Morticia laughed out loud but didn't reply, despite the fact that she agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment.
"Come, let's dance," she said, wrapping her fingers around her Grandmother's thin hand.
"Together?" The older lady asked, raising her eyebrow sceptically.
"Why not?" Morticia smiled encouragingly.
"Your mother might faint," Patricia pointed out.
"Well, we'll have to take our chances," Morticia smiled, already pulling her gently up to her feet."It's your birthday party, after all."
"Oh, what the hell," the older lady decided, downing the rest of her drink."Let's go."
He exhaled loudly in relief when he found himself in the welcome solitude of the library. He approached the tall line of shelves and curled his palm into a fist, resting his forehead against it and he leaned against the neat row of leather-bound books.
His head hurt.
He had had enough of this blasted party, thank God it was almost over. He had enough of mindless small talk, he had enough of Mrs Hornby batting her fake eyelashes at him, he had enough of watching Morticia and Vlad together. He couldn't stand it a minute longer.
He could not stand that his cousin could touch her so freely when he could still remember tracing those glorious curves under his palms. When he could still feel the aftertaste of her kisses.
Was it always going to be like this? Would she marry his cousin and be his eternal temptation? Was he supposed to watch her marry Vlad? Marry him and then bear his children and he would have to watch it all and die inside every single time?
Impossible. He would not be able to bear it.
What was the alternative, though? What was he supposed to do? He could not have her, not now, not ever. What was there to do? Have an affair with her and prove his father right? Show everyone that he was nothing more but a despicable bastard? Jealous of his brother's fiancees? Jealous of his cousin? And his mother? What would she think? And Ophelia. And Vlad. They would never forgive him.
Why, for the love of God, why did it have to happen to him? Why did she have to happen to him? Why couldn't he have met her before he met Ophelia. If he met her then, before, he would just drop on his knees in front of her and propose right then and there and begged her to accept him. He would give her everything she asked for, he would do anything for her.
But he couldn't, and there was nothing he could do. She wasn't meant for him.
And yet, he couldn't stop thinking how good it felt, when she challenged his father over his biting remarks. He supposed it was pathetic really, the fact that he had assigned such a significance to her actions. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps it wasn't really about him, perhaps she just reacted the way one reacts at the sight of a kicked puppy - a pathetic sight that makes one immediately protective. Except, she didn't know that it was all deserved, that he deserved all those cruel remarks and didn't deserve her defence. He deserved this punishment.
And now she was his punishment as well. And he will have to bear it.
"This was always my favourite room in the whole house," her smooth voice reverberated behind him and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound to surround and caress him.
God, he loved her voice. He wished she would talk to him forever.
"Your mother is looking for you, I think they are about to leave."
He nodded at her mutely, almost too aware of her presence behind him.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly when he didn't make a move to turn towards her.
He shook his head in an almost involuntary gesture.
No, he was not alright.
She was standing too close to him, or too far, he couldn't decide. He couldn't focus.
"I hate seeing you with another man," he seethed, swallowing heavily as he finally turned towards her.
She laughed then, tilting her head and exposing the enticing column of her neck.
"Another man?" she mocked as her gaze rested on his again."You sound like a jealous husband…," she smiled and tilted her head to the side, thoroughly amused, before adding sardonically," except your wife is in another room."
She was challenging him, blatantly so.
He swallowed heavily again and rubbed his jaw tensely, all the time aware of her mocking gaze that he could barely stand. She was standing too close, he couldn't focus when she was so close.
He saw her turn her head slightly and only then realized that he was touching the raven tresses of her hair. His limbs seemed to act on their own accord. He lifted the silky strand towards his lips, inhaling its luxurious scent.
And then suddenly his lips were upon hers, and he felt her moan gently.
"Gomez, "she whispered softly, framing his face with her hands but he only pressed harder against her and deepened their kiss.
Gods, the taste of her, the scent of her, her very presence - he wanted to melt in her, until there was nothing to separate them.
There was certain madness in this, he's decided, blatantly tempting fate, with his wife mere feets away.
His wife.
"What are you doing to me?" He whispered against her lips.
She could have asked him the same question.
She felt him wrap his hands around her arms and press his fingers into the soft flesh before suddenly letting go of her, as if he's been burned.
"I'm sorry," he whispered."I shouldn't have done it."
"Gomez -"
"This shouldn't have happened," he insisted, and then swallowed heavily."I'm sorry."
He left the room promptly before she could say anything and she could say anything.
Well, she supposed he was lucky that most of her lipstick was left of her champagne glass, otherwise it would be quite a sight to see him explaining her red lipstick on his lips.
"It was a marvelous party, don't you think?"
He had to get her out of his head.
"Mama has absolutely outdone herself."
He was a married man and she was his sister-in-law. He had to get her out of his head but, God, how? How, when the thought of her filled every single cell in his body, when she was there and she was willing and wanted her more than anything in the world.
"The beds here might be a bit softer than you like."
He didn't remember what it was like to live without this constant, gnawing need for her, he had never felt such lust in his entire life.
"Gomez?"
He blinked, suddenly startled by Ophelia's presence.
"Sorry," he apologised, tapping the ash from his cigar gently outside the rail of the balcony." Did you say anything?"
"Yes, Gomez, plenty," she said, joining him at the balcony. She was already in her nightgown. "You haven't been listening to a word I said."
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired, it's quite late," he explained.
"Hmmm, indeed," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck."Bedtime, don't you think?"
She nibbled at his lips playfully.
"We've never had sex in my parents' house," she giggled quietly."We should christen the bed immediately."
He forced himself to smile at her.
"Some other time," he said softly."It's already late and we have a busy day tomorrow. "
"How sensible of you," she teased, slowly undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt. "But I think we'll manage."
"I'm serious," he insisted, but didn't stop her when she opened his shirt.
"So am I," she murmured against his skin, placing open kisses on his chest.
He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily. There was no way he was going to have sex with her tonight, not when mere hours ago he was kissing someone else.
"Your mother will murder us if we come downstairs in the morning looking like a pair of zombies," he supplied lightly and was relieved when he felt her chuckle.
"Look at you, terrified of your mother-in-law," she teased again but, to his relief, she stopped her caress.
"As one should," he retorted, forcing another smile at her.
"I will definitely tell her that, she will love it."
He felt so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open and yet sleep wouldn't come. He couldn't tell if it was the bed, that was indeed too soft, or the humid air or simply guilt eating at him, or perhaps a combination of all three.
He has spent almost an hour wandering around the garden, hoping that the night air would soothe him but alas no such luck. It was hot and humid and now he was thirsty on top of everything. The staff would despise him if he woke anyone up at his time to call for a cup of tea but he wasn't even entirely sure where the kitchen was here.
Well, it had to be somewhere downstairs, he reckoned, as he had time to kill so he might as well wander a little around and look for it.
The kitchen was almost completely dark and utterly deserted. Which was unsurprising since it was well past two o'clock in the morning and he had no idea what led him here because he didn't even know how to make a decent cup of tea. Well, he supposed he could have a glass of water instead.
He didn't even bother turning the lights on as he approached the cupboard to search for a glass or a cup, anything will do.
"Sleepless night?"
He turned abruptly towards the amused, velvet voice and almost dropped the porcelain teacup when he realized whom the voice belonged to.
He could just barely make out the shape of her, sitting behind the long, kitchen table. He heard, more than he saw, her set the teacup on the saucer.
"Tea?" she asked so casually, for a moment his mind didn't seem to register the question.
She seemed to take his silence for consent because before he knew it she put the metal pot on the stove and turned up the gas.
Gomez swallowed heavily as his eyes rested on her slender form, sparsely illuminated by the fire from the stove. Her black, silk robe was wrapped tightly around her. His lips felt suddenly dry.
"My culinary skills are nonexistent, but I do make an excellent cup of tea," she told him as she reached for the metal container with the loose tea leaves.
She turned towards him and handed him the container.
"Do you mind putting it back on the shelf? Lucia throws a fit whenever anyone messes around in the kitchen," she informed him.
He swallowed heavily, forcing his gaze to rest on the metal can in her hand. He reached for it but instead his fingers brushed against hers, moving over her knuckles and then the smooth skin on the top of her hand.
She felt her breath hitch the moment she felt his touch and then his gaze burned into hers as he took the tea container from her and set it on the table.
She couldn't tell who moved first but the next thing she was aware of was his hot lips against hers, his palms firmly against her back, pressing her to him, and she couldn't help but moan quietly, fisitng her hands into the red velvet of his robe.
She slid her hands towards the sash of his robe and felt it come undone under her fingers. She moaned again when he pulled her closer to himself and she could feel how hard he already was for her. She moved her hands against his pyjama-clad chest and down his abdomen, feeling the shape of his tight muscles against her palms and heard him hiss as she reached the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.
She wanted him so much her whole body was shaking.
"This is wrong," he whispered, abruptly breaking the kiss. His voice hoarse with lust."We shouldn't - this is wrong."
She blinked, suddenly disoriented, and she could barely make sense of his words, her lips tingling from his kiss.
"This is wrong," he repeated and she couldn't help a wave of humiliation that swept through her.
She moistened her lips, swallowing the unwelcome feeling and nodded at him faintly before slowly unclenching her fists from the silk of his pyjama top, pushing him gently away.
"Good night, Gomez," she said frostily, switching the fire off on the stove."Enjoy your tea."
"Tish - "
"Don't call me that," she retorted coldly, looking straight into his eyes."You have no right to call me that."
"You don't understand," he said, his voice pleading." I can't...I want you… so much," he assured."But, I can't - "
Her eyes flashed dangerously and her jaw stiffened in annoyance.
"Oh, go to hell," she retorted impatiently and pushed him away, with more force this time but he barely budged.
She tried to get past him but he stopped her, curling his palms around her arms.
"Morticia... please - "
"Take your hands off me."
But he didn't.
His gaze rested on hers, pleading and desperate, and she could see that he was having an enormous internal battle with himself, with this, but she was too irritated with him to care.
"What do you want, Gomez?" she asked indignantly.
He swallowed heavily but didn't reply and she was about to push him away again when he suddenly pressed his lips against hers.
He pushed her against the bare wall next to the pantry and his hand rested briefly upon her cheek.
"You," he whispered, his voice hoarse, with guilt or with lust, she couldn't tell."I want you."
And then he kissed her, long and hard and she moaned at the mere sensation of his lips upon hers. She pressed herself against him, deepening the kiss until it made her feel lightheaded and she had to tear her lips from his to regain her composure but he gave her no chance, attacking her neck in a myriad of delightful kisses. She gasped quietly as his hands captured and squeezed her breasts before his mouth descended on her hardened nipple as he pushed her robe and nightgown aside and they moaned in unison.
She barely felt her robe sliding down, pooling at her feet. There was nothing tentative about his caresses, his hands moved, decisive and purposeful along her breasts, under the silk of her nightgown, caressing her stomach and in between her thighs and it made her delirious with the need for him.
He wanted to savour her, every delightful detail of her, the taste of her, the feel of her silky smooth skin against his hands, in case this never happened again and he loathed the time constraints looming above them.
She moaned his name, her voice hoarse and urgent as she helped him disrobe, she ran her hands against his chest and the tense muscles of his abdomen, pressing her lips against the pulsing vein on his neck and heard him moan as she ran her tongue against the olive skin of his neck.
He let out a low moan, bunching her nightgown above her hips, sliding her panties down her legs and pressed his hand in between her thighs, moaning quietly when he felt the sleek wetness and watched her tilt her head against the wall in a breathless gasp, resting her hands firmly against his arms. He pushed his fingers inside her, eliciting another quiet gasp from her and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, moaning her pleasure into his skin.
"Harder…," she urged him."I want you… so much...Gomez -"
He fisted his other hand into her hair and pulled her head back, claiming her lips into a hot, wet kiss while pressing the palm of his hand against her core and felt her inner muscles clench around his fingers as she moaned her release into his mouth.
He felt so good, he felt soo good she wanted to weep.
"Fuck me," she urged against his lips."I want you to fuck me -"
He let out a low, silent howl, at the back of his throat and hooked her leg around his hip before plunging into her so hard she felt instantly breathless.
She slid her fingers into his pomaded hair and pulled at it insistently until he looked at her and she immediately captured his lips in an aggressive, bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth as he lift her higher and moved frantically inside - fucked her, against the wall, their breaths coming in short, abrupt gasps. She locked her legs around him and he groaned against the damp skin of her neck as he slammed into the very core of her and her muscles clenched around him as the white, blissful heat spread through her groin.
She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream in ecstasy but she bit her lips in an effort to stay quiet, she bit them so hard she was sure they'd bleed. She felt his body tense against hers, he pressed more firmly against the wall and his fingers dug painfully into the soft skin of her hips as his body jerked and he came against her, his lips parting in a reverent moan.
"Fuck...gods," he gasped and captured her lips into his, howling his release into her mouth, his fingers bruising against her skin.
She was grateful he held her so tightly against him because she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand. She pressed a soft kiss to his neck, holding him closer to her. It felt so good, he felt so good.
She locked her gaze with his, searching for any traces of regret but she found none. They both knew that within this heat - this sinful pleasure there was also desire for more - not simmering under the skin anymore but burning deep into the very core of their beings.
He didn't say anything as he captured her cheek, sliding his thumb gently against her jaw bone. And then he kissed her, slowly, with such painful tenderness she could barely stand it.
There was no regret, and no remorse.
Only a desire for more.
A/N: Thank you for reading!
