Too Much LoveChapter 37 free porn video

“Ari!”

Arwen woke and raised her head. Lev sat at the foot of the bed, looking at his phone. He’d obviously spoken her name more than once before she woke up. She looked at the clock on her bedside table. “What are you waking me up for? My alarm goes off in another twenty-two minutes.”

“I think we might have a problem tonight. How many people did you invite to the engagement party?” Lev asked.

“None.” Arwen frowned. “Or just Tiffany I guess. Why?”

Lev showed her the email client on his phone. He had almost two hundred unread messages. “I’m pretty sure that’s all RSVPs from my family saying they’re coming tonight. I counted fifty already and they’re still coming in. Didn’t you say your cousins from Abescom were coming?”

Arwen nodded. “Yeah. I told my father he could invite family. He and the Wicked were emailing me all day yesterday with updates. But it’s just one night. What’s the big deal?”

“How many people do you think can fit in the Noho Star before the fire inspector shuts them down?” Lev asked.

Arwen frowned and, with a dawning sense of panic, reached for her own phone. Shortly after getting in from Nepal, she’d had a very jet-lagged conversation with her father wanting to know which of her relatives he could invite to tonight’s party. She distinctly remembered uttering the phrase, “the more, the merrier” and asking him to handle it.

As a result, she had a steady stream of email and her Facebook wall had blown up. Looking at all the mentions and the new friend requests from people whose last names she recognized, but not their first, she still had no idea the number who were planning to visit, but it was undoubtedly a much larger number than she’d been expecting. “We might have a problem tonight.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Lev pointed out. “We should probably tell Nick about this as soon as possible.”

“I’m on it.” Arwen pulled on a pair of panties, belted on a green silk robe, and went looking for her friend. She hadn’t talked to Nick much about the engagement to Lev and this wasn’t really how she wanted to launch into the subject, but she had visions of her relatives and Lev’s milling around the neighborhood getting hangier and hangrier. She’d never met any of Lev’s relatives beyond his parents and Lev had never met any of hers. She really didn’t want that to be their first introduction either.

She found Tanvi in the main room sipping coffee and reviewing something on her iPad. Arwen asked, “Tanvi, do you know where Nick is?”

“Still sleeping, I believe,” said Tanvi. “Why?”

“We may have a problem with tonight’s party,” said Arwen.

“Is it something I can help with?” Tanvi asked. “I arranged most of the details.”

Arwen made a mental left turn. Obviously Tanvi had handled the details of the party, but she’d done so in such a way as to be functionally invisible. Arwen said. “I think our RSVPs may have exceeded the capacity of the restaurant.”

“Ok. The restaurant’s full seating capacity is 119. How many RSVPs do you have?” Tanvi asked.

“Approximately ... we have no idea,” said Arwen. “Maybe three hundred.”

“We can do three hundred,” said Tanvi. “We’ll just...”

“Maybe five hundred.” said Arwen. “I really don’t know.”

“How would you like me to help?” Tanvi asked evenly. “I’m available to do as much or as little as you want. You just have to ask.”

Arwen ran her hand through her hair, feeling overwhelmed. “I think I need a lot of help.”

Tanvi gave an understanding smile. “Just say the word and I’ll organize everything. All you and Lev would have to do is show up.”

Arwen looked up, wanting to protest that she couldn’t ask Tanvi to do that, that it was too much to ask. She asked cautiously. “Doesn’t Nick need you to do things for him today?”

“There are a couple of things I need to do personally, but most of what Nick needs can be handled by other members of the staff.” said Tanvi. “Being available to help with this party is my top priority today.”

Arwen felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “You really don’t mind handling all of it? Organization has never been my strongest suit.”

Tanvi laid a hand on the back of Arwen’s. “Organizing is my job and my calling. Give me the chance and the only things I’ll keep my hands off of will be things you want to take care of because you enjoy them.” She met the younger woman’s eyes. “I may have a few questions during the day, though. I don’t know much of anything about your families. Would that be all right?”

Arwen let out a long, relieved sigh. “All right? I think I just fell in love with you.”

Tanvi smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your fiance.”

Jazz was the last passenger to board the 12:14 PM flight from New York to Milan. Pilar knew this because she was watching the plane’s entryway and saw the flight attendants starting to secure the hatch for takeoff. They got it halfway closed, paused for a few seconds, then opened it again to let the young fashion designer on board before closing it for real.

As Jazz lowered herself into the seat on Pilar’s left, Pilar said, “I thought you were going to miss the flight for sure.”

Jazz laid a hand on her chest and panted. “I thought I had. I was trying to book the next flight and the ticket agent told me this one was still boarding. I could have sworn the screen said it had already left. Sorry.”

The apology confused Pilar. “For what?”

“I almost sent you on to Milan to collaborate with me, but then didn’t show up.” said Jazz.

Pilar gave an easy laugh. “That’s all right. I’m sure I would have landed to an inbox full of cryptic, but entertaining instructions for me to puzzle through while I stared at the stage for a few hours.”

Jazz fumbled with her seatbelt as the plane taxied forward. “I know you hate the sort of thing.”

“‘Hate’ is a very strong word,” said Pilar. “I was looking at pictures of the palazzo online this week. I think I would have found something to amuse myself until you arrived.”

Up front, the flight attendant was going through her canned speech about safety, emergencies, and seatbelts. Even though she’d probably seen it a hundred times, Pilar sat back and watched. It wasn’t until they were in the air that she spoke again. “You know how I went to Montana with Nick for that family wedding?”

“And apparently hit it off pretty well.” Jazz smirked and slapped her playfully on the arm. “Nicely done. A lot of girls tried to catch his eye on the Fourth. I didn’t even know you were interested.”

“On the Fourth? I wasn’t. I was still with Geoff.” Pilar shook her head.

“The last time you and I caught up, you were still planning to marry him.” Jazz reminded her. “What happened there?”

Pilar had been hoping to get a chance to talk to Jazz about the break-up. Of all the friends she might confide in, only two weren’t also friends with Geoff. She’d talked to Inez, but the whole thing had still been too new and raw at the time. She turned to face her friend. “I thought we were planning to get married too, but it was weird. At the party, he told me he was going to move to Hong Kong to take the helm of his family’s bank there. In the two seconds I was waiting for him to ask me to come with him, I was trying to figure out what my answer would be. I don’t want to give up the construction business, but maybe I could open a branch office in Hong Kong, expand the business. There aren’t a lot of Stones there, but more of Geoff’s branch of the family is moving in.”

“And you decided to say no?” Jazz prompted.

“I hadn’t decided anything when I realized Geoff wasn’t going to ask.” Pilar smirked. “He was waiting for me to ask if he wanted me to come with him.”

“Very political of him,” said Jazz.

“Textbook,” agreed Pilar. “We were always a very political couple. And I thought I was willing to play it that way. I opened my mouth to ask and instead I found myself asking how long he would be in New York before he left. He said ‘two weeks’ and I didn’t say anything. I’m not sure if I was throwing the ball back into his court or just shutting the conversation down. But, I didn’t say anything and he didn’t say anything for a few really long minutes and when he did talk again, he said, ‘I guess this is it for us, then?’”

“Just like that?” Jazz’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

Pilar rested her head back against her seat. “I believe I very eloquently said ‘yeah.’” She gave a small laugh. “He kissed me goodbye, said ‘Happy Independence Day,’ and left the party. Since then, we’ve communicated entirely via email.”

Jazz turned to stare at her. “That’s it? That’s the whole story?”

“That’s what happened that night. I’m sure the story goes back at least a year, but I’m terrible at telling stories,” admitted Pilar. She’d put her hair into a loose ponytail before leaving the Loft this morning and now decided she wanted to wear it loose for a while. She pulled out the rubber band. “I’ve been pretty successful in business. Don’t you think?”

“Incredibly,” acknowledged Jazz. “You’re kind of my role model there.”

That surprised Pilar. Her father frequently called her a role model for little girls, but Jazz was only two or three years younger than her. She raked her fingers through her hair. “Thank you. I guess what I’m saying is that I feel like I’ve been successful enough for a while. Going to Hong Kong with Geoff would probably have been a good career move and a chance to grow RSCS into Asia. I just ... don’t want to right now.”

“Because of Nick?” Jazz offered.

“Because it’s all I’ve been doing since I turned fifteen. For the last ten years, every significant decision I’ve made has been with an eye towards how it can help build the construction business. Dancing, modeling, who I dated, which weddings I went to...” Pilar made a gesture with her hands. “Nick is a vacation from all that.”

Jazz was silent long enough for it to be meaningful. Pilar thought about what she’d said. “All right. Our billionaire cousin is an odd choice for a vacation from my gold-digging ways, but that was the plan. I really thought we’d just fly out to Montana, hook up for the weekend, and that would be it. But he’s turned out to be ... pretty much exactly what I need right now ... I think. I should know for sure by the time this week in Milan is over.”

Jazz leaned in and asked quietly. “Why? What’s happening this week?”

“I don’t know. I’m leaving that up to Nick. He’s far more imaginative than I am.” Pilar smirked at Jazz’s widened eyes. “But, that does lead to a favor I want to ask.”

Jazz caught her breath, then lowered her eyes. “All right. I owe you a few.”

Something about her cousin’s reaction made Pilar think Jazz was expecting a much bigger request than the one she had in mind, but Pilar wasn’t about to try to guess what went through Jazz’s mind. “Can we front-load as many of my shoots to early in the week as possible, please? I’d like to actually do some of the tourist things with Nick and his friends during the week and ... you know, just in case anything we do leaves marks, I’d rather not have to work around that.”

“I can do that. Stringer should be arriving some time today. If you don’t mind working tomorrow, we can probably knock out one or two of your shoots then.” Jazz said after a few seconds. Then, she added. “Do you want me to shift Kiki’s schedule while I’m at it ... make her more or less available? I don’t know how you two are getting along with time sharing a boyfriend.”

Pilar allowed herself a small chuckle and leaned in to speak more quietly. “That’s not really how it’s worked out. I’ve been staying with Nick pretty much every night and, when Kiki feels like it, she joins us. But she emphatically doesn’t want a boyfriend or a girlfriend or anyone who might make any claim on her at all. I have no idea what she plans to do in Milan.”

“Oh.” Jazz looked confused. “How is that working out for you?”

Pilar sat back, closed her eyes and smiled. “Well ... I thought it was working out pretty well before last night.”

“Last night?”

Pilar nodded, eyes still closed. “The first night it was the three of us, Nick and I focused on making sure Kiki felt welcome. Since then, things have largely revolved around Nick and what he wanted. Last night was the first time I was the center of attention.”

She could feel Jazz’s eyes on her for a long time before her cousin spoke. “That good. Huh?”

Pilar nodded again and opened her eyes. “Honestly, it was ... pretty mind-blowing. I feel like I spent half the night just trying to catch my breath.”

Jazz looked her over and smiled. “You know, you do seem a bit ... radiant today.”

Pilar smirked. “That’s a good word for it. I feel radiant.”

Max sat side-by-side with his newest employee and watched at the older man typed. Dale Lidge had been managing Linux systems longer than Max had been alive and Max felt like he could learn from Dale for decades and never catch up.

“This file describes the infrastructure the application will run on.” Dale pointed to the screen, tapped a key, and pointed again. “This is your init script for the firewall. I’ve got some boilerplate for LDAP, load balancers, reverse proxies. It’ll take me a few days to get the architecture you described up and running, then I can work on sketching out what you’ll need once you get some software developers in here to work on your web projects. That should keep me busy until you get back from Europe.”

“That seems pretty ... aggressive.” said Max cautiously. “There are dozens of servers to set up. Aren’t there?”

Dale brought up the first screen again. “That’s a terraform script. It describes most of the network you sketched out for me. Once I tune it and run it, you’ll have the whole network running on the cloud. If you decide you need more machines or different machines, I’ll change the script and run it again. No offense, but your needs just aren’t the complicated.”

“Wow.” Max stared at the script like it was magical. “So ... you just describe the virtual machines you want, say how many you want, and run this script. What if you accidentally put in a really big number?”

Dale typed, replacing a six with a six hundred. “Like that?”

Max’s shoulders tensed. “Yeah. What if you accidentally ran that script? Wouldn’t it get really expensive really fast?”

Dale shrugged and typed the command to run the script. Before Max could stop him, he hit enter, then smiled at his boss. “Not really. Each of those servers costs about three cents a minute at most. Even if I let the whole thing run, then ran the teardown script, it would cost about twenty bucks. I think Nick can afford it.”

Max gripped his chest. “Jesus. You scared me there.”

Dale smirked. “If you are worried about costs, we can set up alerts on the AWS and Azure accounts to warn us when the monthly billing exceeds a certain amount. Or we can just rely on AWS to run out of processors in an availability zone. The bank where I used to work had a runaway process get to about forty thousand virtual machines before Amazon cut them off once. It took almost an hour to bring them all down again.”

“You ... didn’t mention that during the job interview.” Max said.

“Would you?” Dale asked, still typing. “But that wasn’t me. The most I ever lost an employer in a single day was right around seventy five thousand dollars.”

“How did you do that?” Max asked.

“Edge case in a trading algorithm. It only ran for about twelve seconds, but we got picked off by one of the big options traders before we spotted it.” Dale read something off his screen. “Have you set up a subaccount for me using your top-level credentials on AWS?”

“I ... don’t know what that is.” Max admitted.

Dale walked Max through logging into the cloud provider and setting up an account for Dale himself. He pointed to the screen. “This is where you constrain permissions for the account I’ll be using. We haven’t really talked about division of labor here. What do you want me to take care of?”

“Well - as I mentioned in the interview, I’m really only a game programmer right now. The division of labor to start is that Nick and the board will tell me what they want computers to do for us. I’ll tell you. You will hopefully find some part of that you can teach me how to do help with, then do the rest. Once I get back from Milan, we’ll start interviewing candidates who are actually qualified to help you.” Max shrugged. “I’ll be here for the rest of the day if you have any specific questions, but otherwise you’re going to have to be a motivated self-starter. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all.” said Dale. “Usually, I’ve had bosses who know just as little as you, but they like to pretend they’re tech geniuses.”

“Great.” Max rose. “In that case, I have a meeting in the basement I need to get to. Otherwise, I’ll see you for lunch.”

“In the basement?” Dale raised an eyebrow.

“That’s where the gym is currently,” said Max. “They’re building a bigger, better one on the third floor that should be ready by the time I get back ... speaking of which, I don’t know if the construction guys will need any kind of IT support, but use your judgement as to whether you honor any requests they have. They should be out of here by next Sunday.”

“You got it.”

Max felt like he’d shifted a big weight off his shoulders with Dale playing the role of Atlas. He’d spent the last month worrying that something would go horribly wrong with the systems he’d set up and he would have no idea how to fix it. Maybe now that Dale was on the job, he would stop having the nightmare where he was back in his parents’ house in Brownfield Mills trying to avoid telling his parents that Nick had thrown him out for doing a terrible job.

With his first employee settled in, he took the stairs down to the basement. In jeans and a button-down shirt, he wasn’t dressed to work out, but his meeting with Dale had run longer than he expected.

The basement gym was much more crowded than he’d expected. Connie was either still there from their morning workout or back, running at a good clip on one of the treadmills. On the next machine over was a Latina girl of maybe sixteen that Max didn’t recognize. Working on a weight bench in black sweats and a matching t-shirt with the Gibraltar Security Services logo printed in gold over his heart was a man Max recognized from across the front desk. Spotting for him was the woman Max had come down here to see.

A month ago, Max probably wouldn’t have been able to talk to Chesa Nel without sounding like an idiot. Her beauty would have undone him. Today, he was braced. He’d looked her up on YouTube at Connie’s suggestion and watched a couple of the beautiful, dark-skinned woman’s videos in which she led a Zumba class full of very fit women through some very energetic dance moves. Even with his own progress, he doubted he would be able to get all the way through one of the forty-minute sessions without collapsing. In addition to shooting those videos and working as a personal trainer to the rich and/or famous, she’d been on the cover of about a hundred fitness magazines, her combination of generous curves and well-defined arms gave lie to the idea that fit women couldn’t be feminine. When she saw Max emerge from the stairwell, she looked up, smiled, and waved him over. Even after a month largely surrounded by beautiful women, his stomach did something weird and not altogether unpleasant to see her smiling at him, but at least he was able to play it cool, cross the room without tripping over his feet, and say intelligently. “Chesa, it’s nice to meet you in person.”

“Max Whitford.” The way she said the name made it sound like he was famous and everyone must know the name. Without entirely looking away from the man on the weight bench, she shook his hands, her grip cool, firm, and dry. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

If he didn’t know she was South African, Max never would have been able to guess where her accent was from. He said. “Likewise. Connie says you have a very full schedule.”

They chatted about nothing in particular until the big man on the bench finished his reps. As he sat up, Chesa turned to Max. “Should we get you on the scale?”

Max winced. “I’ve been avoiding the scale. My mother says that knowing the number when she’s trying to diet is worse than not knowing.”

“Obsessing over the number can definitely be a problem.” Chesa nodded. “But if we work together, I can teach you to make sense of the numbers. What do you want out of your workout, Max?”

Max looked around the room. Nobody seemed to be overtly eavesdropping, but he would be surprised if Connie wasn’t listening with at least half an ear. “I just want to be as fit as I can.”

Maybe he glanced at Connie or maybe Chesa just knew the former model because she glanced towards the treadmills. “Maybe we should just take a walk and talk?”

Max started to gesture to the stairwell, but paused and looked Chesa over again. She was showing a lot of skin. “Do you want to get changed first?”

After he said it, he worried that it had sounded judgemental, but Chesa didn’t seem to take it that way. She just shook her head. “I shouldn’t get hassled as long as you stay close.”

Once they were outside, Max admitted. “I’m not sure how good of a protector I really am. I’ve seen the way guys look at Emily when we’re out together.”

“Looking doesn’t bother me so much.” Chesa craned her neck up and down the street and said casually. “Connie tells me you’re building a bigger gym on the third floor?”

“As far as I know. Nick asked us all what we wanted, but I don’t know all the details he settled on. I’m pretty sure part of it is going to be a dance studio.” Max offered. “If you want to know specifics, you’d have to talk to Nick.”

“Do you think I’ll get a chance today?” Chesa asked. “I hear he’s pretty busy.”

There was a masked eagerness in her voice that Max was starting to recognize. He’d heard a lot of it on St. Martin. It was the sound of someone who didn’t know Nick trying not to show how excited they were about the possibility of meeting him. It suggested Nick had gained some celebrity to go along with his wealth.

It would be easy to resent that aspect of Nick’s good fortune, but Max was finding it easier and easier to console himself with the fact that he was being approached to act as a gatekeeper for Nick. Having a beautiful woman like Chesa want something from him was a heady feeling. Without his close relationship with Nick, he knew she never would have considered being his personal trainer. He could look at his situation as being in Nick’s shadow or he could accept that he had it made in the shade. “That may depend on how long you can stick around. I know he’s got a lot on his plate before we leave for Milan tomorrow night. But we’re having a party tonight to celebrate our friends’ engagement. You could join us?”

Chesa lowered her head in momentary acknowledgement. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Max led her across Broadway, heading for Washington Square Park. “Do you live in New York?”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.” Chesa gave him an endearingly awkward smile suggesting that it would be a story long in the telling. “Until I know where I’m working, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to sign a lease.”

“Oh.” Max frowned and worked out his next question as they walked. As they crossed into the park, he said, “So, you’re probably looking for a client who pays pretty well?”

This smile was apologetic. Max wondered if Chesa’s full lips made her smiles particularly expressive, then wondered if the question was inherently racist. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with black people and pretty much none at all with young black women outside of two short meetings with some of the organizers for Black Girls Code.

“That’s the dream.” Chesa said. “Only a handful of trainers ever get that kind of arrangement, though. In the meantime, I’m looking for clients in New York ... maybe a gym to attach myself to.”

Max nodded. “Can I ask what you charge?”

Chesa pursed her lips. “That depends on the level of engagement you’re looking for. Why don’t we talk about what results you’re looking for?”

“For now, I want to be more fit. I’ve been working out with Connie, but I’m not planning on having my ass blown up onto a billboard in Herald Square dressed in a pink thong. So she’s apparently the wrong trainer for me.” Max offered.

Chesa laughed, covered her mouth and laughed again, looked at Max, then laughed a third time. She looked away. “Sorry. I just ... you’re talking about the one over Victoria’s Secret, right?”

“Yeah.” Max smiled. “They called and asked, but I’m more of an Intimates by Jazz man.”

Chesa laughed again, started to say something, and laughed some more. She looked at him side-eyed. “You’re a funny guy, Max.”

Max felt a warm flush of pride at the compliment. “I guess you don’t work with a lot of stand-up comedians.”

“No stand-up comedians yet.” Chesa acknowledged. “Actors, models, athletes ... all kinds of people.”

“IT directors?” Max prompted.

“If that’s what you do, I’m pretty sure you’d be my first.” Chesa offered. “Is the IT for ‘international trade?’”

“Information technology.” Max said. To Chesa’s blank look, he added, “Computer stuff.”

“Ah. Right.” Chesa nodded. She got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment before switching gears. “So, you seem pretty fit. What does an IT director need a personal trainer for?”

Max opened his mouth before he realized he didn’t have a great answer. “I ... don’t want to get fat.”

“So, you’re looking for a Jillian Michaels type to yell at you and keep you in line?” Chesa suggested.

“God, no.” Max shook his head. “I can’t stand her.”

“Just as well. My experience is that I work best with self-motivated people.” Chesa led him towards the fountain at the center of the park. “A lot of people look for a personal trainer when what they really want is a dominatrix to help them with their exercise kink. If that’s what you’re looking for, I can recommend someone.”

Max laughed. “You know, if I look at her that way, Jillian Michaels seems a lot less horrible. But, she’s definitely a bit too much for me. Even Connie can be a little rough for my tastes sometimes. She sounds a little too much like the voices in my own head.”

“Gwendoline Christie once told me I put the ‘therapist’ in ‘physical therapist.’ I never studied psychology, but apparently I’m a good listener.”

Max stopped walking and stared at her. “You worked with Brienne of Tarth?”

“I worked with Gwen to help her keep in the shape to play that role. She was my last regular client out of London.”

“And you don’t work with her anymore?” Max asked, alarmed. “They’re not going to kill off Brienne next season. Are they? She’s awesome.”

Chesa raised her hands. “She can’t tell me anything about what’s happening on the show, but we’re not working together right now because she’s doing something in Australia. I don’t know anything beyond that.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Max shook his head. “I didn’t mean to fanboi on you. You probably get a lot of that.”

“Some,” admitted Chesa. She paused for a few seconds, then added. “She’s supposed to be in New York in a couple of months. We’ll probably do a few sessions while she’s here. You could probably meet her.”

“That would be very cool,” said Max. He looked over towards the park’s famous arch. “I assume that’s dependant on my being a client?”

Chesa didn’t answer for a beat and Max winced. “Sorry. I’m really bad at giving job interviews. This is only my second one.”

“This is kind of my first, I guess.” admitted Chesa. “Pretty much every client I’ve ever had came to me from word of mouth. I don’t know. I didn’t really think of this as a job interview. Maybe I’ve had others before and just not noticed.”

“Oh.” Max thought for a moment that the conversation had just gotten awkward, but thinking backwards, he realized it had been awkward pretty much from the first moments, but that he wasn’t uncomfortable with it. Maybe his experiences the previous weekend in St. Martin had moved his bar on awkward and uncomfortable. “It probably isn’t, actually. I have no idea what I’m looking for in a trainer, but Connie says you’re a good one. Assuming I can afford what you charge, I’d like to try working out with you and see if we’re a good fit. That’s why I went right to money.”

Chesa nodded. “All right. What’s your budget?”

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Max. “I figure Nick will probably pay for it if I ask. But he’s already paying me a generous salary. If it’s something I can afford myself, I’d rather save my asks for something bigger.”

“All right. How often do you want to work out?”

“Every day,” said Max.

Chesa frowned. “And how often do you work out now?”

“Every day,” Max said, then amended. “Well, every weekday morning anyway - for about an hour.”

“How long have you had that routine?”

“Almost a month.”

“And you find it sustainable?” Chesa prompted.

“I actually really enjoy it.” Max hadn’t realized that until he said it and added. “That’s probably partly because I get to work out every morning with a movie star, a lingerie model, and Arwen.”