Idle Hands
by Lionel

chapter 5

"What's this?" Lorenzo asked as a single sheet of paper fluttered down to the table in front of him. His dinner, eaten alone at the dining room table, had just been cleared away when Alexis appeared behind him and tossed the document into the empty space.

"That's a list I drew up of some changes we're going to make." Alexis took a seat at the opposite end of the table, wearing her reading glasses and holding a black pen, with her own copy of the document in front of her.

She had been noticeably absent from dinner, despite his standing request that she join him, barricading herself in the sanctuary of Kristina's room where she knew he wouldn’t disturb her. When she finally emerged after putting the ailing little girl to bed early, he had asked her to sit and eat with him, but she had refused, claiming to have eaten earlier, and then disappeared into the study with her laptop. He wasn’t in the mood to fight her on it, so he let her go. He could only guess that the paper he held now reflected the fruits of her labor.

"Changes?" Lorenzo quickly scanned the typed list. "Why would I agree to any of this?"

"Because I'm going to insist on it,” Alexis answered, her manner brisk and business-like. “As you said earlier, one of the essential premises of our marriage has changed, and I think it's only appropriate that we take this opportunity to renegotiate certain terms. I really don't think I've been unreasonable in my requests. There's nothing there that you can't live with."

Lorenzo looked at her skeptically. "And there's nothing here that you haven't lived without for the last two months. You're not going to fall on your sword over any of this."

“And neither are you. You'll give me what I want so you can keep what you have. There’s no need for either of us to be impaled.”

Lorenzo tossed the paper on the table dismissively. "Do you honestly think you can bluff me, Alexis? You expect me to believe that if I refuse to lift these restrictions you’re going to call off our marriage and let me tell Sonny about Kristina? I know you better than that. You're not going to risk your daughter over anything so minor."

Alexis nodded serenely. "Oh, you're right, Lorenzo. I can live with all of the rules you've imposed, and obviously I have lived with them for two months. They don't really bother me as much as you might hope. But I don't want to live with them anymore. I've submitted quite peacefully to your rules up until now and put up with far more than I needed to because I assumed, incorrectly as it turns out, that this arrangement would be short-lived. Now that you've made it clear that there's no end in sight, the boundaries of what I'm willing to tolerate have changed. And if you would like to keep me as your wife, helpful and cooperative, you will agree."

"Or what?"

"Or the next time we socialize with your very important friends, you will find that the damage I can do dwarfs any advantages you might have hoped to gain from our marriage."

Lorenzo’s jaw dropped slightly. "You'd sabotage me?"

"Oh, yes. With great skill."

"I won't give you the chance. You'll never see those people again."

She smiled contentedly. "Actually, darling, we have plans to see some of them this weekend. Did I forget to mention that? Victor invited us down to the city on Saturday to join him at the Met. I told him we would love to go. They're doing Puccini's Turandot. Are you familiar with it?"

"When did all of this come about?"

"He mentioned it last night at dinner. We had a long talk about our mutual appreciation for opera. I called him this afternoon to finalize the arrangements -- while you were sleeping, in fact."

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. "If you sabotage me, I'll tell Sonny."

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. I don’t think you will, but if you really would throw my daughter to the wolves like that rather than honor my reasonable requests, it’s probably just as well we end this now. Because to be perfectly honest, if you can't compromise with me on even these small points, I don't see much hope of a long-term future, Lorenzo.”

He watched as she rose from her chair and came to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing in a casual, intimate way. She leaned over him to reach for the sheet of paper he’d pushed away, pulling it in front of him again, and then she spoke softly very close to his ear.

“Take another look, Lorenzo,” she purred. “Is anything I've requested here really worth blowing everything up? I thought you were a smart, reasonable man. Perhaps I would be better off taking my chances with Sonny."

Lorenzo smiled ruefully as he read more carefully through the list, trying not to let her closeness affect him. She was pulling out all the stops, and he couldn’t help but admire her ability to play the game. "So is this the way it's going to be now? You think you're in a position to negotiate with me just because I find you … useful?"

"Oh, I hope not,” she murmured, turning her eyes from the paper on the table to him. He glanced back at her but he didn’t turn his head, knowing if he did her mouth would be so close to his that he’d have to kiss her. “I don’t especially want to spend every evening in negotiation and battle with you, Lorenzo, and I'd rather not have to lob threats back and forth every time you ask me to do something or vice versa. I think all of this would proceed more smoothly if we learned to view our marriage as a mutually beneficial partnership.” She annunciated the last three words slowly as her hand slid down his chest. “Learn to work with me, Lorenzo, instead of giving me orders; you may find it enjoyable."

He pushed her hand aside and stood up to get away from her, hating that she was winning so easily on all fronts, and he went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. When he turned away from the fridge, she was standing in the doorway watching him. He noticed for the first time that her feet were bare. Jeans, a close-fitting black sweater and bare feet. Damn. He couldn’t muster even a hint of hostility, not the slightest memory of the way she’d lashed into him the night before. But he remembered very vividly the way she tasted. He took a second glass from the cabinet, filled it with water and brought it over to her. Accepting the glass, she leaned against the doorjamb with her arms loosely crossed. He stood opposite her in the doorway, closer than natural, mirroring her position.

He raised his glass slightly and bowed his head in concession. “To a new beginning.”

She raised her glass to meet his, the corners of her lips turned up in a satisfied smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “To a new beginning.”

He watched her take a sip of water. "I notice there’s nothing on your list about sex,” he pointed out.

She licked her lips, swallowed and shrugged. "Why would there be? I don't negotiate sex. I'm not a prostitute."

"If we're settling into this marriage for the long haul, I'd like to cover all the bases. I don't relish the prospect of continued celibacy."

"I wouldn't object if you were to conduct a discreet, impersonal affair."

He gave her a dark look. "I don't want to have an affair, Alexis. I want to have sex with my wife."

She shrugged in an infuriatingly calm way, her eyes never leaving his. “That was never part of the deal, Lorenzo. Even if I were so inclined, which I'm not, it's a complication we really can't afford.”

"You were so inclined last night."

"That was a lifetime ago.”

“No, it was less than twenty-four hours ago.”

“It was a moment of mindless physical indulgence brought on by dinner and wine and the mood of the evening. It wasn’t about you and me. It was about hormones.”

“Bull. You wanted me.”

“Briefly. I’m over it.”

She couldn’t have sounded more careless and unaffected, and it made his blood burn. He didn’t want to be the only one harboring this troublesome desire to extend their marriage farther than was wise. He had no business wanting this woman, but he’d feel better about his transgression if he wasn’t alone, and he was quite sure he wasn’t.

“You don’t need to make excuses for being attracted to me, Alexis. There’s no one else here. No one’s going to think any less of you. Just admit it. You may not like it – frankly, neither do I – but it’s there.”

She raised her glass to her lips and shook her head slightly. “Please don’t presume to tell me how I feel about you.”

His voice dropped lower. “I think that what happened last night was that you lost control over the game you’ve been playing these last few days. It got a little out of hand on you.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, what game is that?”

“You’ve been seducing me in your way. Playing on my emotions, making me admire you, making me want you.” Lorenzo removed the glass from her hand and set it on the counter behind her with his. “It worked, but you know what they say about getting what you wished for.” He put his hands on her hips and sidled closer.

“Seems to me you were the one doing the seducing last night,” she pointed out, taking no notice of his advance.

A small smile cracked his mien, and he tugged lightly on the loops of her jeans, rocking her toward him on one side, then the other. He thought he saw a flicker of heat in her eyes. “Yeah, maybe I was playing you, too. You never intended to follow through, just like you don’t right now, but you lost control a bit, didn’t you?” Lorenzo shrugged. “So did I. Don’t feel bad. There are worse things than wanting to go to bed with your husband.” His thumbs found the gap between the waistband of her jeans and the edge of her sweater, and he stroked lines across her bare skin.

“Under the circumstances, I’m not sure that’s true,” she countered, her voice slightly strained. Her gaze was steady, but he could tell her breathing wasn’t quite so easy anymore. She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe. “I think we’d be lost without our hostility.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be so terrible, Alexis,” he murmured. He lowered his lips to her neck to graze on the tender skin and felt her stomach muscles tighten against his fingers. She hadn’t slapped him yet, so he pushed his luck, inching his hands up her ribcage, warming her skin with his palms as he exposed it to the air. “It’s okay if we lose control again.”

“I’m not going to lose control, Lorenzo,” she said very quietly. “I’m not even tempted.”

“No?” He could feel the heaviness of each ragged breath she took, and he pressed his body against her, trying to flood her with the sense of him.

“No,” she confirmed flatly. “I want you to take your hands off me.”

She didn’t even deign to push him away. She just waited, as if there was no question that he would obey. He stepped back, but he deliberately trailed his fingers down her stomach as his hands fell to his sides. The icy resolve in her eyes, pillared by the dislike that never seemed to leave her gaze for very long, quickly cooled his ardor. He hadn’t meant to get worked up himself, just to repay her teasing and knock her off the chaste pedestal she’d claimed, but he’d failed to cut through her infuriatingly untouchable façade.

“Do you think I’m comfortable with this, Alexis?” he asked, angry again about his own weakness. “I’m not.”

“Then stop pushing the issue.”

“You started it with your little routine at the table.”

“What is this, third grade?”

“It seems that way sometimes.”

“Says the man who gets his jollies poking my pigtails in the inkwell.”

She turned to leave but he put his hand on her arm. “At least I can be honest and admit that I’m attracted to you. You should try it.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’m serious, Alexis. You don’t have to admit it to me. But be honest with yourself. Put the rest of it aside for a minute and acknowledge how you feel about me as a man.”

She removed his hand from her arm. “I can’t put it aside, Lorenzo. ‘The rest of it’ is my reality, and it’s not very pretty. Please don’t insult me by expecting me to forget how you feel about me and exactly what the circumstances of our marriage are.” Again she turned to leave and again he held her back, but this time she threw off his hand angrily. “You want to know how I feel about you as a man? I feel you’re a sick, controlling, egomaniacal bastard with an astonishing capacity for self-delusion and a remarkable appetite for pointless, petty cruelty. What part of that am I supposed to be attracted to?”

Lorenzo flinched at the vehemence of her barrage, his face registering shock for just an instant before he restored it to its usual smirking passivity, but she was gone already, storming off to the living room, before he could respond in kind.

*****

The rest of the evening passed mostly in silence, punctuated by only the most necessary, brusque exchanges, as Alexis immersed herself in her work curled up on the living room couch and Lorenzo hovered nearby reading. She ignored him for the most part; though she would have preferred to be someplace where he wasn’t, experience had taught her that he would only follow were she to retreat to the study or kitchen or guest room, and so she figured she might as well opt for the venue she found most comfortable. The real sacrifice was made by Lorenzo, who would have much preferred to be working at the desk in his office and chose to sit on the couch only to annoy her, though he received some small compensation from the opportunity to observe her casual fidgeting and the two times she stretched her legs and her bare feet inadvertently pushed against his thigh. He condemned himself as pathetic for counting such scraps as nourishment.

When she gathered her papers together, placed everything back in her briefcase and then headed off to bed without a word, Lorenzo followed soon after, determined as always to intrude whenever possible, but she barely spared him a glance when he came in the bedroom. She was at her dresser, about to retrieve her pajamas, and Lorenzo froze mid-stride on his way across the room when he suddenly remembered his impulsive tyranny of the previous day and the unfortunate fate of her pajamas. His rash decree abolishing conservative nightwear, designed to tweak her natural modesty and flush out some sort of response beyond her usual icy toleration of his tactics (and perhaps to satisfy his own prurience as well), now seemed hopelessly childish to him, and not at all in keeping with the spirit of their newly agreed upon ‘partnership’. He considered retreating rather than face her wrath head on, but he quickly dismissed the option as cowardly and entirely unbecoming of a man who held her fate in his hands. It was too late anyway. She was already rummaging through her drawer, her agitation increasing steadily as she pulled out one unfamiliar garment after another.

He retrieved his own sleepwear from his dresser, continued to the other side of the bed and began to change out of his clothes, keeping an eye on her. She stood at her empty drawer now, temporarily stilled. On the floor around her were half a dozen garments in a variety of colors, sexy babydolls and chemises, and in her hands she held the red chemise that would have made such a smashing follow-up to her dress the previous night. He watched her shoulders heave several times as she struggled not to explode. When she turned on him, eyes blazing, he met her with a steely gaze of his own and a tight smile, determined to maintain the courage of his vanishing convictions.

“I bought you a few things to sleep in,” he said kindly enough, pre-empting whatever her initial attack was going to be. “I think they’ll look lovely on you.” He pulled up his pajama pants and released the waistband with a snap.

She glared at him, too furious to speak, licking her lips and swallowing several times as she searched for the appropriate words. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she asked finally.

“Your husband. The man who sleeps beside you every night.”

“Not by invitation.”

“By mutual consent.”

“And you think that gives you the right to treat me like a dress-up doll? Like bimbo Barbie?”

“Not at all. I’m not going to insist that you wear any of it. It would be fine with me if you slept naked.”

She shook her head, anger boiling over. If looks could kill, he’d have gone the way of his brother. “You’ve been pushing and pushing, Lorenzo. This crosses the line.”

“I know,” he said, holding up a hand in a gesture of conciliation. “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t intended to apologize, thought he felt no inclination at all to do so, but the words came out. Clearly they caught her off guard as well, and she was suddenly more surprised than angry. “I’m just tired of seeing you covered up from head to toe. Who sleeps like that? It’s too much.”

“It’s December, Lorenzo. It’s twenty degrees out.”

“It’s plenty warm in here. Look at me.” He waved proudly at his bare chest.

“I’d rather not.”

“I’m fine like this. You’ll be perfectly comfortable in that.”

“Really? Do you have a lot of experience wearing these sorts of things? Because in my experience they’re the farthest thing from comfortable. You can’t actually sleep in them; they’re designed with the needs of the viewer in mind.”

“Which is more than I can say for your pajamas.”

She yelped in frustration. “I’m not here for your visual enjoyment, Lorenzo,” she cried.

“I know. I know.” He tried his best to look penitent. She took a deep, cleansing breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. He couldn’t tell if she was calming herself or winding up to hit him.

“And what, may I ask, have you done with my pajamas?”

“They’re gone. And so are the sweats,” he added, just as she was bending down to open the bottom drawer. She looked through the rest of her drawers anyway, in search of anything comfortable to sleep in. Somewhere she should have had an old t-shirt of Jax’s that she saved for those times when she most needed to be comforted, but she couldn’t find it. If he got rid of that, she was going to kill him.

“You jerk,” she muttered as she slammed a drawer closed. She stalked over to Lorenzo’s dresser and pulled open the top drawer, taking out a white t-shirt, and then she ransacked his other drawers trying to find a pair of pajama pants.

“Laundry day,” he explained when she came up empty.

She eyed the pajama pants he was wearing. “Take them off.”

“Excuse me? These are my only clean pajamas.”

“Maybe you can wear this.” She threw the chemise at him.

“Red’s not my color.”

“Deal with it. Take them off. You owe me.”

“I’m naked under here.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s against your new rules. No flagrant nudity.”

“We’ll consider this grandfathered in.”

“Fine.” He hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “Turn around.”

“Oh, please. All of the sudden you have a sense of modesty? You’ve been waving little Lo around here for weeks. I’ve seen what there is to see.”

Her dismissive attitude bruised his ego and temporarily deflated his usual boldness, and he turned around to slip off the pajama pants. When he glanced back over his shoulder he caught her looking at his butt with slightly raised eyebrows and a very agreeable look of appreciation. Hah. He knew it. He dangled the pants over his shoulder very smugly, and she quickly pulled her eyes up.

“Thanks.” She grabbed them from his hand and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

Lorenzo stood there contemplating the closed door for a minute, a slight smile creasing his face. He felt a little out of breath. That exchange had been … interesting. Kind of fun. He certainly got a reaction out of her, and it was a lot more satisfying than if she’d simply put up with his confiscation as another burden she had to endure. And she was going to wear his clothes, which to his mind was a hell of a lot sexier than any of the things he had picked out. Maybe there was something to be said for compromise. Maybe she had the right idea.

He grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from his drawer and sat down in bed to wait for his turn in the bathroom. He was ready to sleep, but she seemed to be taking forever again. Though there were four other bathrooms in the house, he had insisted on sharing hers, and now he had to wait until she decided to come out before he could brush his teeth and go to sleep. It was his own damn fault, but he was increasingly impatient as the minutes ticked away, and he wondered what she was doing.

After thirty minutes of waiting he finally got out of bed and went to listen at the bathroom door. It was quiet in there – no movement, no water. Maybe she was doing one of those mask things. Maybe she was doing nothing, just waiting him out, hoping he’d go to sleep before she came out. He wouldn’t put it past her to keep a book in there just to make him wait. Then again, maybe she was taking care of other needs. She had to have needs. The image of her in there indulging herself at leisurely length, determined to remain impervious to him, suddenly took over his brain. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

“Alexis? Everything okay?”

“Fine,” came the muffled reply. He heard some rustling, then some running water, and finally the door opened.

“All yours,” she said, but he didn’t really hear her and he didn’t step out of her way and he forgot all about what she might or might not have been doing. He just stood there staring.

Somehow he'd forgotten she would be wearing his clothes. She should have looked a little ridiculous, but didn’t at all. Ridiculously sexy was more like it. She had rolled up the pajama pants and knotted the waistband, and the t-shirt was too big, but the fact that none of it was cut for a woman somehow accentuated every womanly curve, and he had a sudden urge to undertake an archaeological expedition to unearth the true form buried beneath the layers of cloth. The real killer, the thing that made it awkward for him to be standing there in his underwear, was the way the soft cotton of his t-shirt stretched over her breasts with a hint of tightness, not yet yielding to the unfamiliar shape, creating a devastating silhouette of weighted curves accented by mouthwatering little nubs. Shit. He wasn't going to get any sleep at all tonight.

He didn’t realize he was staring until he felt her hands cradling his face. Her hands were graceful and feminine and touched him gently, even if they were the hands that killed his brother. She tipped his head up until his confused eyes met hers, and then she rubbed her thumb over the corner of his mouth. “You’re drooling,” she told him with a wicked smile and patronizing tone.

Her nastiness did nothing to cool him this time, and he couldn’t muster a comeback. He just stood still as she brushed by him on her way to bed. He continued into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and seriously considered taking a cold shower or quickly indulging himself, but there was something appealing about the prospect of the torture that he knew the night would be, and he wasn’t inclined to spare himself. It was the sort of thing that needed to be worked through, not buried. Maybe a night spent grilling himself about every grating thing about her would do the trick.

When he climbed back into bed her back was to him, but he could tell from the tension in her shoulders that she was still awake. The delicate curve of her back, swathed in soft cotton, beckoned him. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to touch her at least once. He leaned close to her, putting his hand over her top arm, at the point where her slender tan arm was engulfed by the white sleeve, and he spoke casually just behind her ear.

”Thanks for wearing that, Alexis. You look amazing in my t-shirt. Twice as sexy as you would in any of that stuff I bought you.”

He felt her bristle, and the sheets rustled as she shrugged him off. He fell back onto his own pillow, satisfied enough with the dig, unaware of the effect his momentary advance had had on its recipient. He would have been pleased if he had realized that Alexis was frozen in place, straining to steady her breathing after the jolt his touch had given her.

She cleared her throat lightly when she was finally able to speak. “I really couldn't care less. I’m comfortable. That’s the only thing that concerns me.” She rolled farther away from him as if to punctuate her words.

Lorenzo closed his eyes and reached his hands for the bars above his head. “Goodnight, Alexis. Sleep well.”

It took several seconds, but eventually the response came back to him, muffled in the busy silence that filled the room. “Goodnight, Lorenzo.”

chapter 06