Revenge

by Laurelin Paige

  “Because you’re my husband, sir.” I swiped my palm over his crown, earning me a growl.

  “Try again.”

  I paused, unsure what he wanted.

  Then I knew. “Because I choose this.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Because I choose this, sir.”

  “That’s right, Celia. You aren’t a victim here. You choose to let me dress you like my doll. You choose to let me degrade you on your knees like this, with the stone scraping against your skin.” My hands picked up vigor with the raw grate of his words. “You’re going to have bruises, later, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You choose to let me do that to you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Yes, yes. And I loved it.

  “You choose to let me do what’s best for you, too,” he said, his hips shoving forward. “Because you trust that I know how to care for you. That I’ll build you up to who you want to be. That I will protect and honor and love you in every way that I know how.”

  My throat felt suddenly tight, like his cock was lodged inside it instead of thrusting in my hand. I couldn’t speak. So I just nodded, instead.

  “All right, my turn.” He stepped back taking his cock into his fist. My arms dropped to my sides, but I could barely feel their exhaustion, I was so mesmerized by the rapid tug of his hand back and forth over his steel length. “Pull out your tits for me, pretty bird. I’m going to decorate them with my cum.”

  I grabbed the bra cups and pulled them down, thrusting my chest forward, a willing canvas.

  “Yes, yes, fuck.” His words disappeared into a groan as hot liquid spurted from his tip, shooting ribbons of sticky white across the peaks of my breasts.

  Yes, yes, fuck was right.

  It was dirty and filthy and debasing, and I was soaring. How was it possible to be both claimed and liberated all at once? To be treasured and defiled? To be taken and given back?

  I didn’t realize there were tears falling down my cheeks until Edward’s thumb swiped them away. After tucking his still semi-hard cock into his briefs, he pulled me to my feet and into his arms, not seeming to care that his semen was now pressed up against his chest.

  He kissed me thoroughly, his tongue slinking predatorily deep into my mouth, promising there would be more generous rounds of lovemaking before the night was through.

  When he pulled away, it was abrupt, and I had to cling onto his shoulders for balance, even though his arms were still wrapped tightly around my waist.

  “You didn’t answer me earlier—how do you feel when you submit to me? How does it feel wearing my clothes and doing what I ask and jerking off my cock and wearing my cum? How does that make you feel?”

  I could sense the importance of the answer he was looking for, and I paused to make sure I found it too, repeating his questions again in my head. I’d felt powerful. I’d felt important. I’d felt cared for. I’d felt desirable. I’d felt strong. I’d felt worthy. I’d felt horny. I’d felt new. I’d felt…

  Then, there it was. The truth clicking into place. By submitting to him, I gave up all the baggage that I’d carried all these years. That peace I’d searched for in The Game with Hudson had been false, but this peace was real. With Edward, I no longer had to pretend the chains around me weren’t there. They’d actually gone, because he’d picked them up for me, he’d taken them as his own like reins.

  How did I feel without that burden?

  My voice was sure with my answer. “Free.”

  Eight

  Edward

  “Well?”

  At the sound of her voice, I turned to find Camilla leaning on the doorframe behind me. I swept my eyes once more around the guest room then gave an approving nod. “It’s nice.”

  “That’s all?”

  It wasn’t fair, and I knew it. I’d been a giant ass, actually. She’d started her search for a new flat as soon as Christmas passed, and while she’d given me many opportunities to be part of the process, I’d declined every step of the way, too busy nursing the wounds of her impending departure.

  Of course I’d had my advisors look at the property before she made her official bid, just to make sure she wasn’t making a mistake. It had been without her knowledge, which I felt no guilt about. She insisted she was ready to be on her own, and she probably was, but she was still my sister. Still the girl I’d had a hand in raising. Parental instincts didn’t just turn off.

  Now the deed was in her name, and she was already moved in, and the London rags were already gossiping about a family dispute between us. I couldn’t delay a visit any longer without creating a great deal of animosity.

  Besides, we had other things that needed to be discussed.

  “I think you chose well,” I said as I crossed to stand at the door beside her. From here I could see across the hall into the playroom where Anwar was tending to my nephew who was currently occupied with the Lego set I’d brought for him just this morning. It was a smaller space than the one he’d had, but brighter, giant latticed windows bringing in an abundance of natural light. “Freddie seems to like it. The courtyard is nice. Warwick Gardens is a respectable neighborhood. Not too far from the park or the office.”

  Not too far from my residence, either, though it might as well have been across the ocean as far as I was concerned.

  “But…?”

  I blew out a sigh, letting go of my stubbornness along with it. “But nothing, Camilla. I would rather have you at home is all. I hadn’t realized how quiet the house is without the two of you around.”

  Her body sank with relief, and for the first time since I’d arrived ten minutes ago, she smiled. “It’s not me, you miss. It’s him. He’s the noisy one.”

  “Mm.” True, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

  “You could have a child of your own.”

  I laughed, stepping out into the hallway to head toward the stairs. “I have children of my own.”

  Camilla’s footsteps echoed on the floor behind me. “I meant with Celia.”

  A strange weight of yearning pressed against my chest, imagining the family we might have had, if I’d met her as a younger man. If my path had taken a different route. “I’m passed that time in my life.”

  “You’re only forty-three. A lot of men aren’t even starting their families until now.”

  “But I did start young, and now I’m done. I’m not about to start the whole process over again.” I stepped off the landing onto the stairs that led to the main floor. They weren’t carpeted, but there was a runner, and they were less steep than the ones on Cornwall Terrace. That was a benefit of the move, at least. Safer for the boy.

  “Genny and Hagan were easy for you,” Camilla said, continuing the conversation I’d thought I’d closed. “You got to be the typical man who left the childrearing to your wife. What are you complaining about?”

  Ouch.

  We were generally honest with each other, no matter the expense. Unfortunately, that sometimes resulted in blatant truths that I would have preferred been left unsaid.

  This one had been said now, though. I turned at the bottom of the stairs to face her. “Perhaps that was exactly the problem—I wasn’t the best of fathers the first time around.” Not with Genny or Hagan, and certainly not with Camilla.

  She reached her hand out to rest on my arm, an unusually affectionate gesture from my sister. “You were a fine father, Eddie. A bit preoccupied, perhaps. You had an empire to build. Your children understand. They weren’t neglected. But if you truly think you weren’t as good as you could have been, then all the more reason to give it another go.”

  I frowned at her logic. “All the more reason not to give it another go.”

  It was her turn to frown. For a moment I thought she meant to push the issue, but then her expression shifted. She dropped her arm and crossed it with the other over her chest, putting up the familiar wall. “Why are you here?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean? I came
to see the place, now that you’re settled.”

  “That’s your excuse, but it’s not the reason you came. If that were all, you would have brought your wife along. I called to see if you had left yet. She didn’t even know you were coming here. She said you’d gone out shopping for Valentine’s Day.”

  “That was what I told her,” I admitted.

  “See, then? Secrets and subterfuge. Are you going to at least tell me what you’re up to?”

  I glanced around the house again, wishing this hadn’t been the way we’d reached the subject I’d been aiming for eventually. “I really did want to see your new place.”

  “I know. I’m glad you did.” The wall didn’t come down all the way, but it was less fortified. Which was good, for what we had to discuss.

  “Shall we sit?” I asked, gesturing toward her living room.

  “I’ll tell Perry to put on the kettle.”

  Thirty minutes later, we’d drained the pot of tea between us, and I’d finished telling her the major points of my plan to go after Ron Werner. This scheme was much different from any I’d had for his brother. With Warren, I’d wanted to steal his corporation, let him experience what I thought he’d done to my father.

  Ron, I wanted to ruin. Entirely. His reputation, his fortune. His life.

  Since he’d sold his shares of Werner years ago, the different tactic was somewhat out of practicality. Mostly, though, it was because of Celia. Whether she wanted to be part of his ruin or not, she remained a large part of my motivation.

  For the most part, Camilla had sat quietly, letting me tell her my ideas without interruption. Now it was my turn to ask, “Well?”

  She set her teacup on the ottoman before her and folded her hands in her lap. “That’s quite a plot, Edward. A long game. And not like you to use the justice system.”

  “It has to be a long game, I think. There’s no way around that.” I was familiar with long games. In fact, I considered myself quite good at them.

  “Likely true,” she said.

  “And I’m only using the justice system because I think, in this case, it’s the best way to completely ruin him.”

  “Agreed.” I could see the gears shifting behind her eyes. “If you can get him to go to Exceso, why don’t you just arrest him at that point?”

  That was one of the early stages of my plan. Get him to the island where all sorts of debauchery played out. It would help earn his trust. Make him think that those of us who were members there were men of the same ilk, or at least were willing to look the other way.

  “That would be easiest,” I agreed. “But international waters. There’s no jurisdiction there. It will have to be here or the US.”

  “It will be more devastating for him in the US, I’d think.”

  “I agree.” I studied her, looking for any clues as to what she thought about the idea on the whole.

  There were none to be found, though. She’d learned to guard her emotions as much as I had.

  She clicked her tongue, a habit she’d had for as long as I could remember, and then pursed her lips together. “You usually don’t tell me this much about your plans. You rarely care about my opinion. Why are you involving me this time?”

  Either I was losing my touch or she could read beyond my mask better than I realized. “I think you should be the one to make the first connection,” I said, realizing that trying to hold it back any longer was futile.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding me.”

  “You’re well-bred and polished. There’s nothing that screams undercover agent with your pedigree. He’ll be in town in a couple of weeks, staying at the Savoy. You could casually meet him at the bar—I’m told he’ll likely spend his evenings there. You could leave Freddie with us, check in a couple of nights. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Casually meet him and say what? ‘Would you like to come to an island with me in the Caribbean where you can rape little girls without getting caught?’ That’s not something strangers just bring up over a drink.”

  “No, of course not. But I do think directness is key. You would approach him purposefully. Tell him you know who he is and what his interests are. Assure him not to worry, that you’re discreet, and then inform him you have a client who is looking for a particular sort of hookup and then ask him if he might have any leads.”

  “And you expect him to just hand over that sort of information to someone he’s never met before?”

  “No. He won’t give you anything.” Only a fool would, and there was no way Ron Werner was a fool. He’d managed to remain untouched by gossip or speculation for at least twenty years. “He’ll pretend he has no idea what you’re talking about. You’ll thank him for his time, give him your card, and tell him to contact you if anything changes. As you’re leaving, as almost a throwaway, you’ll mention that you’ll reach out to him if you find another lead yourself. Then we let a few months pass before you call him and invite him to Exceso.”

  “You want me to be Ghislane Maxwell to his Jeffrey Epstein,” she said, correctly identifying the type of role I envisioned for her.

  “Only, if this works—and it will work—you’ll be saving girls. Not destroying them.”

  She crossed her legs and clasped her hands around the top knee. “Why me? Why don’t you make that connection yourself?”

  “I’m married to one of his victims. He might see right through it.”

  “How am I any different? I’m her sister-in-law.”

  “Exactly. Close enough to the family to have learned about her uncle’s proclivities, but not necessarily close enough to feel obligated to her in any way.” I let that her absorb that before continuing. “It wouldn’t be ridiculous to let him believe you aren’t fond of your brother’s choice in wife. You’ve already got the rags talking about a possible family dispute. Ride with it.”

  It only took a beat before her mouth opened in a silent gasp. “You planted the gossip.”

  I shrugged then thought better of it. She deserved honesty. “It was the perfect opportunity to set up the scene,” I admitted.

  “Again, why me?” She leaned forward now, as if to press me physically as well as with words. “It could be just as believable with one of your hired men. Or women, if you prefer. A real agent of the law, preferably. Someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  “You know why.”

  “Because you think I need this.”

  “Yes. As much, if not more, than I do.” Also, I didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t blood or on my payroll. Fewer people than that, actually.

  Her tongue clicked again, the wheels turning. With a sigh, she sat back and draped her arm over the back of the sofa. “What else are you working on?”

  The question took me aback. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard you on the phone when you got here. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but this is my house. You were talking about someone in prison, from what I gathered. Definitely not talking about Ron Werner.”

  I’d already been on her doorstep when the call had come in, and while I would normally have sent it to voicemail, I’d been waiting for weeks for Kofi to call with the information I’d requested.

  There was no reason to try to hide this from my sister either. “There were more men involved in Celia’s assaults than just her uncle.”

  Her skin paled as she digested my meaning. “Jesus,” she said with a shudder.

  I understood the feeling. My stomach was constantly on the brink of heaving, thoughts of what she’d endured never far from the forefront of my mind. “I’m working on tracking down the ones I’m aware of. One of them, a Charles Endcott, worked briefly as a personal chauffeur for Ron. He’s currently serving time for child abuse, rape, and molestation as well as several counts of possession of child pornography.”

  “Look at that. Justice somehow managing to get done without the intervention of Edward Fasbender.” Her teasing held a bite, but it was lighthearted all the same.

&n
bsp; I, on the other hand, was deadly serious. “He’s one man, Camilla. I can’t find any others either currently serving time or with records who are connected to this monster. They’re smart and they cover their tracks. There are dozens of men with close ties to Ron, but none I can be certain are part of his pedophilia ring.”

  She sobered at that. “And Celia isn’t able to help point you in the right direction?”

  “She doesn’t know I’m looking for them,” I said, my throat tightening at the admission.

  Of everything I’d said, this seemed to alarm her most of all. “She doesn’t know about any of this?”

  “She’s given her blessing on going after Ron in whichever way I choose, but she declined to take any part in it. She doesn’t know I’ve expanded my quest for vengeance beyond that.”

  “Ah. I understand now why you kept this visit from her.”

  The accusation in her tone was warranted, but unnecessary. I already felt guilty about it. Not about my actions, but about the lack of honesty. I’d promised truth to her, and I intended to keep that promise. I’d share this with her, eventually. Perhaps even before I actually did anything to those arseholes who had hurt her.

  For now, at least, all I was doing was gathering information.

  But my sister could see my long game here as well. And, apparently, she didn’t approve. “Are you sure this is necessary? Why is this so important to you?”

  “These are bad men, Camilla. I’d think you, of all people, would support this.”

  “And I do, for the most part. But not at the expense of your relationship. If this isn’t important to Celia…”

  She didn’t have to finish her sentence. I could guess the ending. If this wasn’t important to my wife, why put so much energy behind it? Why make it such a priority? Camilla knew firsthand what my pursuit of revenge had done to my first marriage.

  But Celia wasn’t Marion, and this quest was for her, not in spite of her. “It is. It will be,” I insisted. “She just hasn’t realized it yet.”