“Mrs. Garrity, this is Pauline, my new wash woman. You are to show her how to do things to my specification today. You will shadow her for the week and make sure she can handle this job. You are relieved of laundry.”
Garrity bowed. “Thank you, sir, but I can continue to handle the laundry. I do not require help.”
“You require it because I say you do,” he said, his tone stern.
She bowed, and her lips twitched like she had more to say, but she was keeping it to herself.
He left them alone and went to his motorcar, ready to be taken to the railroad.
His shipment was going to be arriving soon.
“Sir, I found out about the man staying with the girl you follow from the theater,” Samuel said.
“Call her Cherry, but go on.”
Samuel opened the motorcar door, and William stepped inside.
Once Samuel was seated and the motorcar was started, he began. “It is her cousin. His name is Leo Capperman, and he lives there with her.”
“What? This is unacceptable!” William faced his driver, his eyes stormy slits. “How did you find this out?”
“I spoke with the landlord of the tenement. He told me without my even having to pay him for the information. He is a rather careless fellow,” Samuel replied.
“Well, I must meet this careless man. Take me to him now. The shipment can wait.”
Samuel drove the motorcar out of the driveway, and they rumbled down the road, only three blocks down from the Ferrismore mansion.
William walked right up to the front door, and when the butler answered, William barreled right past him.
“Where is your master?”
“He is indisposed at the moment,” the butler replied.
“Not indisposed enough to see me.” William went in search of him.
Most likely this meant he was in the washroom.
William knocked on the door.
“Come,” the man called out.
William opened the door to find a portly fellow, washing his hands, his trousers halfway hanging off.
“Who the devil are y-you?” he cried out.
He pulled up his pants with dripping hands and fastened them in place.
“I am the man you do not wish to trifle with.” William stood taller, looming over this rotund imbecile.
The owner of the house’s eyes lifted with utter fear. “Please, I do not—”
“No, you do not. I daresay you cannot possibly ascertain why a strange man is at your door uninvited.” William backed away, and the man followed his lead out into the parlor.
William pointed at a settee.
“There is a new rule for your tenements you must abide. For if you do not, I shall make your existence miserable. I am William Berling Ferrismore III, and I have more power than you ever will.” He motioned around the grand room and all its plush furniture and adornments. “You like this house? You like the wealth you have accumulated? Well, I can seize it all. So, you hear me now—there are to be no more living arrangements in your tenements with unmarried couples, even if they are related—say cousins. Only married adults shall live together. God has decreed it, and now I enforce it.”
“But I . . . This is not your concern!” The man’s voice faded as William hovered over him with a look of death in his eyes.
“Do it! If you do not, I will start with your bank holdings and turn them into silt in your hands. You will live in squalor much worse than your tenements on the lower east side.”
The man’s eyes once more flashed with turmoil. “It is not that easy.”
“I do not care if it is easy or the hardest damned thing you will ever do. Just make it so!” William pulled out some money. “This is for your trouble. And as soon as you see to it this rule is enacted, I shall double this offer.”
The man gawked at the large sum of money he was given.
“Yes, I will . . . I can do this.”
“Good man,” William said, retreating to the door. “Make sure it is swift. I want this to happen immediately.”
“All r-right.” The man gulped.
William left without another word and ordered they drive by the cherry girl’s home before arriving at the railroad station.
“If I may, sir—you seem very high strung today. Might I offer you a flask?” The driver pulled out his brandy flask hidden inside his coat.
“No thank you, Samuel, but I appreciate your concern. You have done me a great service by discovering who came to Cherry girl’s door.”
“Do you even know her name?” Samuel turned his head for a second, then averted his gaze and went back to watching the road.
“Does it matter if I do? I cannot have her, and I do not want her.”
“Then why follow her?”
“Sometimes we are compelled to do nonsense things that are inexplicable.” Like his cock lengthening at the mere sight of her crumbling abode—because he knew what kind of ripe fruit lay inside there nightly.
“And sometimes we have feelings we wish to deny,” Samuel said under his breath.
“That is for you and everyone else to deal with. I do not suffer from anything as droll as all that.” William waved him on. “To the railroad. This shipment is what I have been waiting on for months.”
The motorcar moved on, and with it, those feelings he had trapped inside somehow gathered at his eyes in the form of moisture.
His contents he’d take home—they were for naught.
Who would he share them with? If he could no longer inflate his shaft for Pauline, then for whom?
He stared out at the scenery passing them by—unseeing, unblinking.
Damn his miserable feelings. He did not want them.
It was a short drive to get to the railroad station.
He dealt with all the paperwork and his dock workers with efficacy and was diplomatic in his approach to explaining that he owned a large portion of this railway. It was none of the railroad’s concern what he had just shipped here for his own pleasure when those in control came at him with angry voices and tight fists.
He knew precisely why they did this. It was no secret who was behind making this type of thing a veritable nightmare for William.
He ordered the larger shipments be taken at once to his mansion, while he and Samuel took hold of the smaller packages and loaded them into his motorcar.
They followed behind the carriages loaded down with the large wooden crates.
He smiled, but it was fleeting.
Once more, he wondered what he was going to do with all these treasures.
When he arrived home, they unloaded the boxes in the large spare room he’d never used before.
It was now filled with clutter from the shipment.
He directed his staff to keep out of his way.
The door was shut, and behind closed doors, he dismantled the boxes and stared at the gleaming chestnut wood.
His dick twitched, and all because it reminded him of the cherry girl’s lustrous hair.
What would it look like if she let it down? He had only seen it tucked up in a loose bun.
All at once, he was determined he would have her.
She would be here in this very room.
Like a madman, he placed all the pieces out, assembled his new table and then shoved all the debris and trash out into the hallway.
He heard his servants clearing it all away for him moments later.
His teeth clacked when he grinned and snapped at the devilish flair inside his chest as he gazed on his new furniture.
He went in search of some polish and once he had it, he shined it to perfection.
It was set in the middle of his room.
The walls were bare, but he would stock them with birches, straps, paddles, whips, ropes or anything he wanted.
This was his lair. This was where he belonged.
And the cherry girl would be the perfect garnish on top of his worldly, frothy dessert.
He was hard. And wanting.
Thank God his cock finally decided to function again.
Only Cherry would do.
He popped his knuckles and left in search of the rest of his boxes.
The implements would find their homes, too.
First on the walls of this room, and then on Cherry girl’s body.
Chapter 5
“Mr. Billings, what do you mean we cannot live here?” Leo’s jaw tensed.
“As your landlord, I see fit to make sure that all my dwellings are living in moral—”
“We are not sinning together. She is my cousin,” Leo cried out.
Clarissa stood behind Leo, crying.
“This is how it must be. One of you must leave. I cannot allow this atrocity to continue. It is my sole responsibility to assure my tenants that they live in a wholesome environment,” Billings said.
He backed away from their door.
“I will leave at once,” Leo told her after Billings was gone.
“What has gotten into him that he’s suddenly all noble?” She clutched her throat, for she could feel a fit of hysterics about to take over. “You are all I have in this world, cousin. You are the reason I keep going.”
“It is the same for me. We both lost our family in that tenement housing disaster sixteen years ago, and we were just small children. We escaped from the orphanage a few years after that. We have survived all this together. How can we not be there for each other? We will find a way,” he said, his voice hopeful but his eyes saying the opposite.
“You stay. I will leave. I have a friend I can be with—she owes me some money. Stay here and have that fellow that lost his finger at your job stay here with you and help pay rent.”
His eyes went wide. “I did not tell you—I saw Ferrismore at the rail station today. He carted off many large boxes, and he was in a foul temper one minute and giddy the next. I’ve never seen such a swing of humor.”
She shook her head. “He does not matter now. Let me gather my things. Can you walk me there?”
“Of course, but let us sing first.” He burst into one of their childhood favorites that talked of swimming, jumping over puddles in the rain and eating pie on a happy day.
She was filled with dread to leave him and so many conflicting emotions that she cried more than she sang.
After a brief hug and pulling her items together, she was walking down Cherry Street with him.
They ignored the calls after them. It seemed there was an inordinate amount of drunkards out tonight.
“Do not go down this street alone again,” he said. “Promise. Not even to see me. This street is becoming more debased by the hour.”
She shied away from a prostitute approaching them, her lipstick smeared across her chin and her dress hanging off her right shoulder.
They picked up their pace.
It took longer than she’d hoped it would to arrive at her friend’s on Twenty-Fourth Street.
He rapped at the door, then held her box for her.
The container almost slipped from his grasp when her friend opened the door, her blonde curls piled up on her head and her dress fitted to her body tighter than it should be.
Her breasts’ excess spilled out the top.
“Hi, Elizabeth, I am in want of a temporary place to stay. Our landlord has seized up our—”
“I’ve heard.” Elizabeth’s eyes glowed with appreciation as she looked over Leo. “I don’t believe we have met.” She directed her comment toward Clarissa, but said it to him.
His eyes shimmered back with excitement. “Leo Capperman—Clarissa Stone’s cousin.” He dropped his head into a sort of bow.
Elizabeth slipped into her boorish talk. “Well i’nt this a surprise? A burly, handsome man at me doorstop.”
Instead of cringing like she thought Leo might do, he smiled wider, his teeth all flashing at her blonde, voluptuous friend.
“Handsome? Oh no, not near you. I’m a half-drowned dog compared to you,” he said, his voice shaking.
Clarissa grinned.
Well, at least Elizabeth was better than the other tramp he’d been pining after for longer than she’d like to admit.
“So, am I able to stay?” Clarissa asked her.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, keeping her eyes on Leo. “There are three of us sharing a room, but we stays in bunks—so you’s can have the one above mine.”
“Thank you.” Clarissa grabbed her box back from Leo, and the second his hands were free, he had one of Elizabeth’s cupped in his and he was kissing it.
“Thank you for helping out my cousin like this. I have no money to pay you for this kindness, but perhaps . . .” he trailed off.
“We can figure somethin’ out.” Elizabeth twirled one of her locks around her index finger, biting her lip at him.
“Oh, I . . . Yes, I would like that.” Leo fumbled with his words, and Clarissa fumbled her way inside the door, finding the room all on her own.
Terrific. This room was even smaller than the one she had been sharing with Leo.
Less privacy would be grand. She rolled her eyes at her poor inner joke.
When Clarissa went back into the front room, Leo had set himself up with Elizabeth sitting next to him.
“He’s a wretched man. He throws fruits at us,” Elizabeth said.
“Who does that?” Clarissa asked.
“Oh, the Italian grocer outside your new home. He’s right outside the window, and he’s a very angry sort. Keep away from him,” Leo told Clarissa.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Clarissa listened to them prattle on and gossip about the neighborhood.
When Leo finally left, Clarissa took a peek at the imposing beefy dark man, selling his fruit.
He failed to throw anything at her, so she was hopeful she could keep it that way.
* * *
Clarissa had managed to come by a job as the new prop girl, mending hand for costumes, and of course—the new wash lady.
She had hoped this playhouse would be free of Lenora and Ferrismore, but she had been wrong. He was always around.
It was no use to walk away and find another job. There were few to be had, and it was likely he had a controlling interest in all of them.
Well, Clarissa had just kept to herself over the last week and had avoided them both.
Only she was never too far away from him—close enough she could still inhale his intoxicating scent.
And close enough she could steal a few peeks here and there of his handsome face.
When the practice was over, she scurried around, trying to finish the rest of her chores as quickly as possible.
He approached her from behind, and immediately her chest tightened, but it was also warm.
Why was he coming toward her?
She had been mastering the art of keeping out of his way very successfully up until now.
“Where have you been?” he said, his steely, mossy green eyes forcing themselves upon her.
She was already exposed based on the intense gaze he put upon her.
“I have found new employment.” She shirked away from his look and pushed the last of the laundry into a basket.
“This is beneath you.” He gripped her arm, forcing her to set it down.
“Is there something I can help you with?” She dropped her head, and when it raised, she glared at him.
“Yes—you can tell me why you are running from me when I only mean to help you.”
“Help me? Is that what you call setting me on stage with no warning, no vocal wam-up and then being forced to sing an inappropriate song before your peers?”
“Th-that was not my intention,” he spluttered.
“Then what was? To use me to humiliate Lenora?” Her fists gripped into her skirt.
“No, ma chérie, that is not the way of it. What do you want?”
“Not this. Not with you.” She motioned with her chin toward the stage.
“You do want this.”
“Yes,” she admitted, puffing out her
cheeks. “I want to go out there and sing. I want to act—be someone else.”
“Why do you want to be someone else?”
“Because who I am is nonsensical. I have no place in this world.” Her shoulders sagged.
He gripped her arms and was in her face, his warm breath spreading over her lips. A chill raced down her back, and a heat blossomed in her belly in direct contrast. “You want excitement?”
“Yes.”
“Damn you. You want me.” His eyes darkened.
Her eyebrows charged straight up to her forehead. “I beg your pardon.”
“You do not know what you need or want, but you crave excitement. A little bit of danger. That is who this man is, standing before you now.”
He grabbed the melon-colored silk scarf on top of the laundry and dragged her behind him to Lenora’s old dressing room.
“Stand right here. I will not harm you, but I will show you what you seek.”
For some asinine reason, her feet obeyed him, even if her heart was thundering in her chest.
Was she afraid? Terrified, but not of him exacting pain or retribution.
She was frightened of his intense fire and how he could consume her.
Her eyes drifted closed.
He locked the door behind her, and she could hear his faint footsteps as he approached her. “Arms up, Cherry girl. You will feel my slight touch. Let it shock you. Let it warm you to your toes.”
Her breath hitched as she raised her arms, and his touch was on her immediately.
His warm hands wrapped around her ribs, slid all the way up her arms, and then he was tying that soft silk around her wrists. “You will want this, because it will free you.”
She could barely breathe, and when she did manage it, her nostrils were filled with his expensive, masculine scent of cedar, a hint of mint and a light musk.
God in Heaven, but that was a divine aroma.
She pulled her lips in since her mouth was watering. It was better to trap the evidence of what he was doing to her.
His fingers tugged at the bindings, then he let go, and she was secured to something above her head.
She dropped her head back and opened her eyes.
The scarf was wound around her wrists and the plumbing jutting out the ceiling.
“Is that pipe secure?” she squeaked.
Pearl on Cherry Page 6