Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  Jennie told them to look in her closet and get her Raggedy Ann doll. When they gave her the doll, she told them to see that her child got the doll. They both agreed through tearful eyes. She did not know what her father would do, but she did know that if he found out George was the father, that both George and their baby would pay for her mistake and she did not want that.

  Mr. and Mrs. Neil knew she spoke the truth and loved Jennie like their own. Promising to do as she requested, they both held her trembling hands in hopeless despair.

  The pain was getting worse. The child was coming early. So her father would not know that she was going into labor, Jennie had someone hold a towel over her mouth to muffle her screams. During the last push, a little girl was born not breathing. Jennie, frantic and weak, pleaded for the Neils to save her child.

  As they fought to get the child to breathe, neither noticed that as the child gave its first cry of life, it was at that moment Jennie smiled and was still. When they turned to present the child to her, they were shocked and horrified…Jennie Chadwick was dead.

  One of the maids hurriedly took the baby and the doll down the backstairs and ran into the night. Fear clutching her heart and a tiny life in her arms, she ran breathlessly to the Van Cleefs’ home, praying George was there with every step.

  Hours later, Joseph Chadwick entered his daughter’s bedroom, giving no attention to the solemn atmosphere or to the people in it. With his anger still barely under control, he stalked determinedly over to the massive bed.

  The first thing he saw was the pink lace blanket, handmade by his deceased wife, stained with fresh blood, then his eyes riveted on his little girl lying eerily still on the bed. Upon examining her closely, he realized in stark horror that she was dead. His little girl was dead. His mind refusing to register what his hands were telling him, began to violently shake Jennie’s lifeless body, as if by doing so would make her open her eyes.

  Mrs. Neil groaned aloud falling to the floor. When the torrid admission finally clamped its dark claws on his tormented mind, Joseph Chadwick let out such a cry of anguish that it actually shook the panes of the closed windows in the room. The atmosphere in the bedroom thickened with rage and hatred.

  “Where’s the baby?” He asked softly, but Mrs. Neil even in her grief was not fooled.

  Rubbing her hands down her dress nervously, “The child’s dead,” she said in an agonized whisper, unable to take her haunted eyes off Jennie. “The child’s dead…” she said again through tearful sobs, remembering her promise to Jennie.

  Quietly, “I want to see the child,” he said still looking at Jennie. Pain, as he had never felt before, raced through his body with every breath he took, causing him to unconsciously squeeze the lifeless hands of his daughter. The man who touched his little girl, he thought, unaware of his hands continuing to squeeze tighter, will die and his bastard child too.

  Finally, eyes boring into Mrs. Neil with such menace, the hands that were once rubbing up and down her dress now clutched her own throat in a protective gesture. “…I want to see the bas…child.” He said through his teeth. “Now.”

  Gut wrenching sobs poured through Mrs. Neil’s lips. “The child wasn’t fully developed.” Pleading for Joseph to understand, “Mr. Chadwick, you don’t want to see the deformity. Please, Mr. Neil is taking care of the child’s remains in a respectful manner for Ms. Jennie’s sake.” Tearfully pleading louder than before, “Let us take care of things…” Looking over at Jennie, “Sit with your daughter, we know you loved her more than life itself.”

  Mrs. Neil was crying hysterically now, her face buried in her trembling hands. Her tears of grief were for poor Jennie and that poor little babe. Lord help them all for the things done this night, she thought in misery, as her body shook violently from fear.

  In his anger-colored grief, Joseph Chadwick reluctantly agreed. When the police and ambulance arrived, they were greeted with the grieving Joseph Chadwick holding and rocking his daughter as though she was still alive, staring vacantly into space. It was several minutes before they convinced him to let her go.

  The maid, who took the baby, arrived on the doorsteps of George’s house, trembling and out of breath. When George heard the knock at the door, he was dumbfounded not only to see Ms. Cassie standing on his doorstep, but that she was holding a screaming baby. He knew immediately that something was wrong.

  When Ms. Cassie told him tearfully of the yellings, the arguments, the horrifying scream, Jennie falling, then her death, George fell to the floor and cried like a wounded animal. He had not seen Jennie since the day several months ago when they made love.

  He told her he needed time to himself, that he loved her more than ever, but needed to figure out how he was going to go on without his mother. He needed to think about his future, one in which he hoped she’d share with him.

  He had promised that he would see her again, but could not bring himself to step foot on Joseph Chadwick’s property, much less work for the man whom he knew killed his mother. He did not know that Jennie was pregnant.

  He looked down at the screaming child with awe and despair. Ms. Cassie placed the child in his arms and told him that he must leave town. Joseph Chadwick didn’t know that the child lived. Jennie made them all promise.

  She gave him the doll and said that Jennie wanted the baby to have it; it was Jennie’s mother’s doll when she was alive. Before she died, she gave it to Jennie, Ms. Cassie knew and told George this.

  George looked helplessly at his daughter as tears silently streamed down his cheeks. Not only had he lost his mother to Joseph Chadwick’s hand, but he’d also lost the love of his life. He loved Jennie so very much, how…how was he going to survive…without his mother…and now without Jennie?

  His baby girl stopped crying, looked him straight in the eyes, and he would swear on his own life that she smiled.

  The memories of the past feeling as fresh as the days that he had lived them made his stomach clench in revulsion. The hatred George felt for Joseph Chadwick gave him focus. He would destroy him, he thought, as he took several deep breaths while cleaning the blood from his own hands off his desk.

  Dropping the bloodstained tissue into the trash, George wrestled his turbulent emotions for control, with thoughts of completely destroying Joseph Chadwick and all that he held dear. He considered more of what Sable and Stephen had relayed to him. He would make no mistake.

  Chapter 14

  Hearing the door to his office close with a loud bang brought Stephen’s head up in a snap. He had just hung up the phone.

  “I want to talk to you.” Bursting into his office unannounced, eyes flashing with a look to kill…him, Sable was damn angry. Looking at her through narrowed eyes, Stephen could tell that she was very angry. Normally she had better manners, despite her usual behavior toward him, but unfortunately for her…so was he.

  He had just finished talking to Brad Chadwick, the arrogant little prick; he actually wanted the mall to be named Chadwick and Son, instead of Chadwicks.

  “Do you want to tell me why you made changes to my project without first informing me?” Sable demanded, feet planted, hands fitted, and the look in her eyes said he’d better be glad for the desk that separated them. His secretary Barbara was at his door, with an apologetic look on her face.

  Voice quiet with restrained anger simmering the air around them, “It’s okay Barbara, please see that Ms. Van Cleef and I are not disturbed.” He had not once taken his eyes off Sable since she entered his office. Nor had he moved a muscle. If he did, he would strangle her.

  “Yes sir,” Barbara said with unease, looking from Stephen to Sable and back again.

  Clearly not understanding the situation at all, Barbara, glancing at Stephen again, knew he was not having a good day and silently closed the door to his office.

  After the door was closed, still seated at his desk, Stephen continued looking at Sable for what seemed like hours. If she had known him better, she would have known that she had ju
st crossed the line with him.

  Slowly rising from his chair, never breaking eye contact with her, he gave a slow heavy sigh as if he had just decided on something. With slow deliberate movements, he came from around his desk. He reminded Sable of a panther slowly stalking its prey, she thought, you know…like the kind, you see on Wild Kingdom.

  Before she could analyze his behavior thoroughly, he purposely pulled her to him, placing a hand firmly behind her head and kissed her, hard and uncompromising. Holding both her hands behind her back with one of his hands with ease, while the other hand cupped her head, he kissed her, giving his pent-up emotions free reign to run wild.

  Sable was utterly stunned. Her eyes were round as saucers and would have probably popped out if they could. Stephen kissed her so passionately that she thought her neck would snap.

  His succulent kiss was hard. Demanding. Searching. Probing. His tongue demanded entry into the innermost part of her, that he had dreamed about for so long. Now, the reality of it hurt with sweet ecstasy. He suckled and savored every inch of her mouth, like a man in the dry scorching heat of a barren desert.

  Having the taste of cool energetic water, quenching the thirsty parched need of his torturous desire for her, Stephen drank his full greedily. His silent demands to her for a response were almost primal. As though they were always meant to be, united…as one, with sweltering kisses that required a response from her, the shock of his mouth on hers lasted only seconds.

  Anger forgotten, Sable eagerly returned his kisses with just as much fervor, if not more, and tried freeing her hands from his solid grip. Stephen would not let them go. Holding her hands more tightly behind her back, fearing what would happen if she touched him, yet desperately wanting her to, he tightened his grip.

  She wanted to touch him. To feel him. And since her hands could not go where she wanted them too, she held nothing back, wanting him to feel what her hands could not communicate. Kissing him with all the pent-up desires she kept in check for months, Sable allowed her emotions to erupt.

  Sucking. Tasting. Pulling his tongue into her mouth, she heard his sharp inhale of breath, and then dove in for more. Sable’s tongue glided across his teeth, across his lips, then plunged into his mouth again in an excited exploration of passion that left Stephen helplessly breathless.

  Wanting so much more and on the edge of losing his control, Stephen crushed her closer to him, pulling his mouth forcibly away as they stood cheek to cheek.

  Both breathing heavily from their unreleased desires. Passion teetering on the edge of complete surrender, demanding freedom from emotional barricades carefully erected by the both of them, would not let go without a fight. And fight it was with voracious determination.

  Stephen’s body tensed with excruciating tenderness. Bridled expectations. Sable, breathing heavily as though she was running, stood limp in his arms unable to move a muscle.

  Liquid fire slithered through Stephen’s thoughts, burning through his defenses like molten lava oozing down the slopes of a volcano, devouring all moral grounds in its path. Wage war. Two opposing forces battling within him for total control, tearing at his mind with meticulous intent. If he gave in to his emotions, his yearnings, there would be no turning back…for either of them.

  Somewhere in the deep crevices of his passion-filled mind, he heard the soft professional voice of Barbara on the intercom apologizing for the disturbance. “Ms. Van Cleef, your father requests you stop by his office after your meeting with Mr. Hart.” Barbara, efficient as always, awaited a response to her message, ensuring it was received and understood. She would have to confirm with Mr. Van Cleef the delivery of his message to his daughter. Sable was in no condition to answer.

  Lost in her own internal struggle, rubbing her cheeks along Stephen’s much like a kitten, he moaned achingly, loving the feel of her skin next to his. The woman was slowly driving him insane. Sable did not hear Barbara’s voice, so Stephen acknowledged Barbara in a voice thick with passionate desire. Sable was still in his arms, soft…just as he knew she would be, he thought achingly.

  The energy in the room was so powerful that neither of them could move. Standing on weakening legs, cheek to burning cheek…breathing deeply…eyes closed, they touched one another with feelings as ancient as time.

  Stephen, making a decision which his body repelled strongly against, gently pushed Sable to arm’s length. Sitting on the edge of his desk, fingers gripping the sides forcefully as if to anchor himself, he said nothing for a few seconds; neither did Sable, both staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours.

  Eyes darkening with intense passion, voice deep with rapacious hunger Stephen said quietly, “Sable…you have two minutes to leave my office.” His voice laced with potent energy vibrating the air, and the way he gazed at her told Sable that he meant every word.

  His composure was one of intense calm, but she could see in his eyes raw feral passion. The primitive need to mate, to seize, his body tense, as if ready to pounce…like a panther, she thought.

  Sable did not move. She could not leave, not now, her mind quietly whispered. She was spellbound and her body ached for his, so she slowly walked toward him, positioning herself between his legs.

  Stephen, fingers digging deeper into the base of his desk, watched her every move unblinkingly. Then, very slowly raising her arms, wrapping them purposefully around his neck, Sable kissed him succulently at a snail’s pace.

  Feeling the tremors of desire vibrating in his body, causing him to slightly shiver as if cold, she trailed tiny moist kisses across his lips, his cheek, making her way toward his eyes. And still Stephen did not move a muscle, although shudders of blazing passion permeated throughout his body with fervor.

  She trailed her tongue along his lips, outlining his entire mouth. Slowly, crossing his face and dipping it sensuously in his ear, Stephen’s control snapped. He engulfed her in his arms with such strength, that she thought she would break in half, and she did not care as they kissed each other in total abandonment.

  In the far corner of Stephen’s mind, he knew if he did not stop this, they would make love right there in his office, and everything and everyone else be damned. It was Stephen again who ended the kiss. He tried to push her away, at the same time keeping her close.

  Putting his head down, his breathing was ragged, as she moved her lips sensuously, lightly touching his forehead, leaving trails of burning tiny kisses. Stephen was inhaling and exhaling rapidly, trying to control his senses, while deeply taking in the scent of her with each laboring breath. One of his fingers, rhythmically caressing her lower back, on its own accord began pressing harder into her skin. She instinctively pressed closer to him.

  Her fingers, sensually caressing the back of his neck as she too inhaled and exhaled deeply, savoring the touch, feel, smell and taste of him. He feels wild, she thought, and the wildness in her raised its head at the thought. Stephen felt the subtle change in her instantly and reached once more for the control he was always so proud of, until now.

  “Sable…,” her name rolling off his tongue unhurriedly. Sensuously. The taut strain in his deep voice, telling of the tormenting inner battle within him, intensified. “You have one minute to leave my office.” He meant it, and she knew it.

  Sable uncontrollably stroked her chin leisurely across his forehead, as her fingers continued to lovingly caress his neck. She did not want this sensation to end. She knew, as did he, that they had reached a point of no return.

  Raising his head slowly, eyes full with passion as they locked with hers, “When I make love to you…” his sensual voice telling of promises to come, “I want all of you,” placing his hand over her rapidly beating heart.

  The touch of his hand on her breast was too much; her lips descended upon his swiftly, cries of agony unknowingly passing from her lips into his mouth, as she savored the taste of him.

  Stephen tenderly touched her breast slowly, and then removed his trembling hands. He briefly thought about sitti
ng on them just to be safe. Instead, gripping his desk firmly, he mentally prayed for strength to keep from touching her again.

  Closing his eyes, trying to control his breathing, he reminded himself that they were in his office. His plans for the Chadwicks must be flawless. He could not and would not let himself be distracted, not by anyone. The thought made him angry. His eyes snapped open.

  His intense stare told her that he was fighting to stay in control, and she was on extremely shaky grounds. Common sense told her to leave, but she did not want to, not yet anyway.

  Sable, eyes aflame with unleashed passion, returned Stephen’s gaze unflinchingly. Her eyes challenged him, although she did not mean to; she just wanted to touch him one more time. Placing one hand on his upper thigh, very much near his manhood, and the other over his heart, Stephen inhaled sharply; his eyes remained unblinking on her. Focused.

  “When I make love to you, Stephen…” speaking passionately, “…I want all of you.” Kissing him ever so gently, as the hand on his thigh leisurely caressed his manhood, she purred. That was Stephen’s undoing. Control be damned he thought fiercely, embracing her in admitted defeat.

  Later, several agonizing minutes later, Sable ended the kiss. With eyes intently on her, and in a voice that told her Stephen would have what he wanted, and right now he wanted her…badly, Stephen’s gaze locked her to him.

  “Sable…you now have ten seconds to leave my office.” She felt like a deer caught in blinding light, frozen. In the quiet of his office, the only sound that could be heard was their rhythmic breathing, as each labored to control the air rushing in and out of their lungs, and their surging amorous desires.

  Once again Barbara’s calm professional voice, flowing through the intercom, apologized for the interruption. “My apologies, Mr. Hart. Mr. Van Cleef wants to know how long will you and Ms. Van Cleef be? He has another meeting to attend, and it’s vitally important he speaks with Ms. Van Cleef before leaving the building.”