Number Thirteen
Page 15
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“It’s not your right to have them when they cause nothing more than pain,” he retorts, though his voice is still soft.
“I cannot give myself to you when you will not tell me why we’re here.”
He’s silent again, and his finger tangles into my hair. He’s outright refusing to give me any part of him. And why would he? I’m nothing more than a slave to him. I close my eyes, gathering myself.
“It’s a two-way street,” I say, in a soft voice. “You give me something, I give you something. I’ve given you part of me, by sitting here on your lap. Now, I ask that you answer one question for me. Why thirteen girls?”
He’s silent for so long I’m sure he’s going to ignore me, and just continue with his stroking until I go crazy and yell at him again. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and protest, he speaks. His voice comes out thick, and full of emotion.
“I was thirteen the day they stripped my innocence from me, and turned me into this. Now do not ask me questions again unless I give you permission.”
Turned him into this? What’s this? My heart aches to know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WILLIAM
“You can’t avoid the meeting, Will,” my brother Ben says down the phone.
“I’m fully aware of that, Ben, but I’ve got pressing things that need to be dealt with right now.”
“It’s an hour.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Fine, I’ll head over for an hour.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I press the phone down, and feel my jaw clenching. Ben is the only family that I’ve got who cares enough to constantly check up on me. He works for my father, and I’m the silent partner who does all my work from here. I’m the one he doesn’t want the world to know about. I’m the child he’s ashamed of.
I turn to my desk and lift a phone to my ear, dialing George. He answers on the first ring, as he always does.
“Yes, Master?”
“I have to go and meet Ben. I’ll be gone for around an hour and a half. I need you to make sure the girls are all secured in their rooms. They’re not to come out until I return.”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Thank you, George.”
I hang up and stand, pulling on my suit jacket and exiting the room. I got out the back door, and walk around to where my car sits in the garage. I’m not one for having someone drive me places. I don’t trus ^eve t0;Fine, t another person enough to let them risk my life by driving me. I unlock the small Audi and slide into the front seat.
Here goes an hour of my life with a man I despise.
WILLIAM
The meeting is at my father’s business in the middle of the city. It’s a well-established place, and he owns branches throughout the country. I park my car in a reserved spot, and pull on the eye patch I refuse to go in public without. I straighten my shoulders and step out of the car and into the lot. There’s an elevator here that will lead me directly to my father’s receptionist.
The moment I step into the room, she smiles at me. She always does, and I know it’s out of pity. People always pity the damaged, but what they don’t understand is that we don’t want their pity, we just want to be treated normally. She knows I’m here for my father, so she nods towards his office and murmurs, “They’re waiting for you.”
I jerk my chin in a sharp nod, and walk into the room. The minute I step in, I see Ben standing by the window, puffing on a cigar. He looks over at me, and his eyes brighten, but behind that brightness I can see the pain he always has in his gaze when he looks at me. I know he blames himself for what happened, and I’ve stopped trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault.
His hair is cut fairly short, and curls around his ears. He has light-blue eyes, just like...mine. He’s a powerful man, standing at six-foot tall. He’s strong, and well built. He wears a crisp gray suit with a blue tie that brings out the color in his eyes.
I turn to my father, who is glaring at me. He’s aging now, and his once dark hair is silver. His skin is wrinkling, but his eyes are as stark blue as they always were.
The man sitting at the table isn’t someone I’ve seen before. He’s older, with a balding head and square glasses. If his stomach gets any bigger, it’ll pop out of the suit that’s straining to keep it in. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence; he just stares down at the mass of papers in front of him. Ben walks over, clapping me on the shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, brother.”
I nod at him. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Stai, Benjamin,” my father rasps, ordering Ben to sit.
He does. My father’s glare comes back to me, and with a growl, I sit, too.
“James,” my father begins. “This is my son, Benjamin. He will take over the company when I go. He’s very talented, and I’m sure you’ll find him suited for the tasks we have set out for him.”
The man reaches over the table, and shakes Ben’s hand. “Good to meet you, son.”
“And this is Will.” My father looks me in the face as he says to the man, “He’s a silent partner.” Not his son. Never his son. “But he comes to these things to be kept in the loop.” Father’s voice is empty, as though I’m no more than a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
He doesn’t refer to me as his son because he’s ashamed of me; he always has been. My chest coils tightly, and the urge to reach over and grasp his collar, strangling him until all the breath leaves his body, is quite strong.
“I cannot give myself to you when you will not tell me why we’re here.”
He’s silent again, and his finger tangles into my hair. He’s outright refusing to give me any part of him. And why would he? I’m nothing more than a slave to him. I close my eyes, gathering myself.
“It’s a two-way street,” I say, in a soft voice. “You give me something, I give you something. I’ve given you part of me, by sitting here on your lap. Now, I ask that you answer one question for me. Why thirteen girls?”
He’s silent for so long I’m sure he’s going to ignore me, and just continue with his stroking until I go crazy and yell at him again. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and protest, he speaks. His voice comes out thick, and full of emotion.
“I was thirteen the day they stripped my innocence from me, and turned me into this. Now do not ask me questions again unless I give you permission.”
Turned him into this? What’s this? My heart aches to know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WILLIAM
“You can’t avoid the meeting, Will,” my brother Ben says down the phone.
“I’m fully aware of that, Ben, but I’ve got pressing things that need to be dealt with right now.”
“It’s an hour.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Fine, I’ll head over for an hour.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I press the phone down, and feel my jaw clenching. Ben is the only family that I’ve got who cares enough to constantly check up on me. He works for my father, and I’m the silent partner who does all my work from here. I’m the one he doesn’t want the world to know about. I’m the child he’s ashamed of.
I turn to my desk and lift a phone to my ear, dialing George. He answers on the first ring, as he always does.
“Yes, Master?”
“I have to go and meet Ben. I’ll be gone for around an hour and a half. I need you to make sure the girls are all secured in their rooms. They’re not to come out until I return.”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Thank you, George.”
I hang up and stand, pulling on my suit jacket and exiting the room. I got out the back door, and walk around to where my car sits in the garage. I’m not one for having someone drive me places. I don’t trus ^eve t0;Fine, t another person enough to let them risk my life by driving me. I unlock the small Audi and slide into the front seat.
Here goes an hour of my life with a man I despise.
WILLIAM
The meeting is at my father’s business in the middle of the city. It’s a well-established place, and he owns branches throughout the country. I park my car in a reserved spot, and pull on the eye patch I refuse to go in public without. I straighten my shoulders and step out of the car and into the lot. There’s an elevator here that will lead me directly to my father’s receptionist.
The moment I step into the room, she smiles at me. She always does, and I know it’s out of pity. People always pity the damaged, but what they don’t understand is that we don’t want their pity, we just want to be treated normally. She knows I’m here for my father, so she nods towards his office and murmurs, “They’re waiting for you.”
I jerk my chin in a sharp nod, and walk into the room. The minute I step in, I see Ben standing by the window, puffing on a cigar. He looks over at me, and his eyes brighten, but behind that brightness I can see the pain he always has in his gaze when he looks at me. I know he blames himself for what happened, and I’ve stopped trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault.
His hair is cut fairly short, and curls around his ears. He has light-blue eyes, just like...mine. He’s a powerful man, standing at six-foot tall. He’s strong, and well built. He wears a crisp gray suit with a blue tie that brings out the color in his eyes.
I turn to my father, who is glaring at me. He’s aging now, and his once dark hair is silver. His skin is wrinkling, but his eyes are as stark blue as they always were.
The man sitting at the table isn’t someone I’ve seen before. He’s older, with a balding head and square glasses. If his stomach gets any bigger, it’ll pop out of the suit that’s straining to keep it in. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence; he just stares down at the mass of papers in front of him. Ben walks over, clapping me on the shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, brother.”
I nod at him. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Stai, Benjamin,” my father rasps, ordering Ben to sit.
He does. My father’s glare comes back to me, and with a growl, I sit, too.
“James,” my father begins. “This is my son, Benjamin. He will take over the company when I go. He’s very talented, and I’m sure you’ll find him suited for the tasks we have set out for him.”
The man reaches over the table, and shakes Ben’s hand. “Good to meet you, son.”
“And this is Will.” My father looks me in the face as he says to the man, “He’s a silent partner.” Not his son. Never his son. “But he comes to these things to be kept in the loop.” Father’s voice is empty, as though I’m no more than a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
He doesn’t refer to me as his son because he’s ashamed of me; he always has been. My chest coils tightly, and the urge to reach over and grasp his collar, strangling him until all the breath leaves his body, is quite strong.
