by Jewel, Bella
“Number Thirteen, something is wrong.”
“That’s not my name,” she whispers.
“Is that what the problem is?” I murmur, running my nose up her neck. She shivers.
“No,” she mumbles. “I don’t have a problem.”
“Do you remember what I said about liars?”
“I’m not lying to you, William,” she seethes, stiffening.
“But you are, because I felt it today. I felt that you were angry, and you didn’t look at me. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. I’ve opened up to you, Number Thirteen.”
She spins to me. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“You’ve opened up to me? You’ve given yourself to me? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“How many people do you think see me like this?” I grind out, feeling my body stiffen.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should ask Number Twelve.”
My eyes narrow, and I shake my head, looking down at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” she cries, tucking herself further into me, as if she needs my comfort even though she’s angry at me.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, enlighten me.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can feel her breath puffing against my chest. She smells amazing, and my heart clenches as I relish in how well she fits into my lap.
“I don’t play games, William,” she whispers in a small voice.
“Neither do I.”
“But you do, you’re playing with me right now.”
‘You’re not making any sense.”
She sighs, and I risk lifting my hand and running it over her soft locks. She makes a whimpering sound, before continuing.
“You’re using me and Number Twelve.”
“I beg your pardon?” I say, feeling my hand stop and my body freeze.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You’re getting us both comfortable so you can have your way with us. You’re making us think we matter, but we don’t matter, do we, William?”
It clicks then. She’s obviously found out about Number Twelve and I. God, she has no idea. No idea how little that meant to me. How little I felt while I pleasured her. If she understood how good it felt to have my fingers inside her, how I craved her, she would understand there is no comparison.
“You’re jealous that I had a sexual encounter with Number Twelve?”
“You mouth-fucked her. It’s hardly a sexual encounter.”
I feel myself grin, even though she ca th221;n’t see it. She’s so sassy, constantly challenging me.
“Yes,” I say in a gravelly voice. “I did mouth-fuck her.”
“God, don’t go easy on me or anything,” she mumbles against my chest.
“Does it bother you, Beauty?”
“It bothers me that you’re still calling me in here, trying to get close with me. If you’ve picked her, if you’re doing that with her, then let me go and join the other girls. Don’t keep calling me in here to spend time with you. It’s pointless.”
I decide the best way to approach this is to be brutally honest with her, so that’s what I do. “She asked me to deliver, I delivered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted when that happened. I had three girls left in my group; one really didn’t want to give in to me. The other was smart-mouthing me every chance she got. Then there was Number Twelve, willing to be everything I wanted.”
She stiffens again, and her hands fumble together. “So you chose her because she is easy.”
I shake my head, leaning down, and breathing her in. “Wrong, Beauty, I didn’t choose her.”
She stares up at me, and her lips part slightly. “You didn’t?”
“No. I didn’t choose her because you’re right, she is too easy. She doesn’t put up a fight; she doesn’t challenge me. She just gives me what she thinks I want. There have been no choices made.”
“Are you looking for a lover, William?”
I think on that a moment, and once again I answer her honestly. “Yes, Number Thirteen. I am.”
“And you picked our group because the girls in it were...” she prompts.
“The girls in your group are the most damaged, but you’re also the sweetest, the kindest, and have the biggest hearts.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
I chuckle softly. “But I can. I’ve been testing all of you. I gave you the chance to make Number Eleven your slave, but you let her go. You were the one who took lashes for your girls, so they didn’t get hurt. You were the one who held Number Three in your arms, not caring about the mess it was making.”
“I just want you to know,” she whispers, “I’m not a game-playing kind of girl. Okay, I don’t really know what kind of girl I am, but I do know that right here, right now, I don’t like to be played with. I don’t want to be competing against Number Twelve. I have no purpose or desire to.”
“So you’re saying there’s a competition to be had?”
God help me, her cheeks flush. My body tightens, and my want towards her increases.
“No,” she whispers. “I’m just saying that if you’re interested in her, then I really don’t need to be coming to you.”
“And if I’m not?”
We hold each other’s gazes for long, long moments. “Then I guess things stay as they are.”
“And if I request you as my lover, Beauty?” I say, feeling my lips twitch.
“I never said I would be your lover. That wasn’t what I was doing...I...” she stammers.
“What were you doing, then?”
“I don’t know you, William. You haven’t given me the chance to know you. But if I got that chance, then yes, I might consider letting us...I mean, letting you...”
“Mouth-fuck you.” I grin.
Her lips pop open. “I...”
..&yes“Master?”
We both turn to see George standing at the entrance of the room.
“Yes, George?” I bite out, wondering why he’s interrupted me.
“You have a visitor, sir. It’s Ben.”
I nod, and then turn, staring down at Number Thirteen. I curl my finger under her chin and tilt her face, pressing my lips to hers. She has the sweetest, softest lips I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing. She whimpers, and her fingers go up and splay out against my chest. I rumble and pull back, staring down at her mouth.
“We’ll finish this, Number Thirteen.”
Then I lift her off my lap and exit the room.
~*~*~*~
WILLIAM
“The girls are ready to work,” George says early the next morning when he comes in with my breakfast.
I turn in my chair, and nod at him.
“Are they aware of what they’re to do today?”
“Of course sir,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “You can go and check in on them, if you like?”
My chest clenches. He’s right, I should be bringing myself out more now, I shouldn’t be hiding up here. To earn their trust, I need to show them more of myself. The other girls see me here and there, because they aren’t the group that are damaged, but those girls, they have only ever known me as hidden. Number Thirteen is the only one who has seen me properly.
I know I can’t keep hiding here, though. I have to start letting them become familiar with my presence. Letting them get to know that I’m not the monster they think I am, that I’m here, watching them, supporting them. I’ve been avoiding taking the next step, but I know that it’s time, and so does George. I stand, turning to him. “You know, I think I’ll do that, George. Thank you.”
He nods, giving me a brief smile. I take my eye patch, the one I have specifically made to cover all the damage to my face. Then I head out. I pass groups one and two as I move down the halls. They watch me, their mouths slightly agape. They’ve seen me before, of course, but they don’t see me often. I nod my heads at them, giving them a brie
f smile. Their faces light up. My chest swells with pride.
I reach the kitchen, and I stand outside the door, listening to the girls chattering inside. I know my group is in here; my girls. I know me coming in will shock them, but it will also help them learn to trust me. I put my girls in their places when they need it, but I’m also a kind, giving man.
Taking a breath, I shove the door open. Number Seven, Twelve and Thirteen are preparing the food. They all gasp a little when I enter, and I notice Number Twelve staring at my eye. I guess she knows what lies behind the patch. I stare around at the amazing food they are preparing, and once more I feel pride.
“How is it all going, ladies?” I ask.
“Uh, very good, Master,” Number Seven says.
“Yes, very well,” Number Twelve smiles.
I turn to Number Thirteen and her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of red, and she bites her lower lip. The urge to kiss her again is quite overwhelming.
“Number Thirteen?” I murmur.
“It’s going as planned,” she says in a small, meek voice.
“Very good. I’ll see you all when you serve dinner.”
They all nod, still watching me. I give them one last look over before exiverry ting the room.
George was right; this was a good idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“You were with him for a while last night?” Number Twelve says, walking over and placing some chopped vegetables beside me.
“And?” I say, not looking at her.
“What happened?”
I sigh, and turn to her. “I don’t know what you want from me, Number Twelve. Master William is the person who controls how everything goes around here. Don’t confuse yourself into thinking it would matter what I said to him. If he wants to see me, then he will see me.”
“So, you’re interested?”
Anger bubbles in my chest, but I squash it down. “You’re my friend, Number Twelve. I care about you. I care about what we’ve lived through here. I need you to stop asking me about this. I cannot control what goes down, and I will not compete with you over a man that quite frankly, will do as he pleases.”
She stares at me, and her eyes soften after a moment. “I’m sorry; you’re right.”
I give her a weak smile, and then I turn and continue on with what I’m doing.
Things are getting to me. I can feel my patience breaking.
I hate that I’m letting myself feel so weak today.
~*~*~*~
WILLIAM
“They are here,” George advises, coming into the library where I’m reading just as the evening falls.
My entire body stiffens. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this. I love my brother, hell, I love my mother, but my father...it never seems to go well when we’re in the same room together. I don’t know how today will go; I don’t know if he will put a face on because Momma is around. I can only hope he will. My patience with that man is really, really small.
I follow George out of the room, and down the halls. We reach the front door, and my family is already inside, staring around my home. They rarely come out here; why would they? They have no reason to visit me. I let my eyes settle on my tiny, fragile mother, and my heart aches for her. She’s so broken. She always struggled to deal with stress, but when I was hurt, it destroyed her.
She’s spent a lot of time with doctors since then.
She turns her gaze to me, and I give her my best smile. She looks more frail now, her salt-and-pepper hair seems wispy and thin. She has a set of square glasses on, but they don’t take away from the stunning blue of her eyes. She’s tiny, only five-foot two or three, and she’s as petite as they come. I see her eyes fill with unshed tears as she walks over to me.
“Hey Momma,” I murmur.
“William, my son, you look so well.”
She wraps her arms around me, and I let her. I hold onto her for a moment, and I catch my father’s glare over her head. Happy as always. I let her go, and look down at her. “You look well too, Momma.”
She gives me a wobbly smile, and stares around the house. “Your home is quite lovely.”
She says that every time she’s here. It’s like she forgets she’s seen it before. I nod, and turn my attention to Ben. He grins at me, and walks over, clapping me on the shoulder. “Thanks for this. It smells great in here.at s a221;
“The food will be ready soon, so come in, and we’ll take a seat.”
“Aren’t you even going to acknowledge your father, Will?” Dad grunts.
I clench my jaw, and turn to him. “Hello Peter,” I say in a gravelly tone.
“Please,” my mother pleads. “Can we just have a nice day.”
I turn to her, and I lose my scowl. “Of course, Momma. Sorry.”
I turn and walk off before he manages to get another word in. We walk through the halls, and I can feel them staring at my home as we move. I know he’s judging me, looking for something to have a go at me about. That’s the way he works; he enjoys getting to me, he enjoys breaking down my barriers and embarrassing me in front of people, especially the other members of my family.
We reach the dining room, and I show them to their seats, then I nod to George to let him know we are ready to eat. I turn to Ben as soon as we’ve sat down. “Did you get the figures I sent?”
He nods, taking a glass of iced water. “Yeah, I got them.”
“Have enough respect to not talk about business at my birthday dinner,” my father grunts.
I glare at him for a long moment, before turning and looking at my mother.
“What have you been up to, Momma?”
She smiles. “I’ve been knitting.”
“And how is that going for you?”
“It’s going well. I made a scarf the other day.”
I give her another smile. “I’m glad.”
“So, where is our dinner? I’m hungry. I thought you would have had it all ready,” my father asks.
I ignore him, and stare at the door for a second. Come on, girls, come out here and finish this for me. I just want this over and done with. I can’t deal with him here for more than an hour.
~*~*~*
NUMBER THIRTEEN
I’m the first to serve, and the moment I step out and see William’s family, my curiosity sparks. Ben grins at me, and I can’t help but flush. He’s got a very charismatic personality. I let my eyes travel over the other man at the table. He’s shorter and rounder than the boys, with greying hair and blue eyes. He doesn’t even look at me.
I settle my gaze on the woman, who looks so tiny at the table it’s almost hard to see her. She also looks very fragile. She’s fumbling her hands together, and her eyes are flickering around the room rather frantically. I watch her, and see where William and Ben get their good looks. I imagine in her day she was extremely stunning.
“Emelyn, good to see you again.”
I turn to Ben, and then I look over my shoulder to see who he is speaking to. He’s looking right at me. Is he confused? Emelyn isn’t my name. Well, at least I don’t think it is. I hear William clear his throat, and I turn to him. He’s watching me, and then he nods at my handful of bread sticks and butter.
Right.
I place the tray down on the table, accidentally knocking a glass of water over as I go. I’m distracted; for some reason the name Emelyn is shoving at something in my mind. I hear a loud curse, and I straighten to see I’ve knocked the glass onto William’s fathers lap. He gets up, shoving at his pants, growling angrily.
“I’m so sorry,” I say frantically.
“If you?I>~*;re going to hire staff, Will,” he snarls at his son, “then at least get smart ones.”
“It was an accident, and my name is William.” William grates out.
“I’m sorry, it was my fault. I didn’t mean to,” I begin lifting a handful of napkins to hand to him.
“Shut up!” his father barks, causing my mouth to snap closed and my h
and to drop to my side.
“Don’t speak to my staff like that,” William says, standing.
“Your staff are useless, but it shouldn’t surprise me. Everything you do is half-assed and pointless.”
My mouth drops open. He’s being awful to William because of a spilt glass of water? The fact that anyone could speak to his or her own child like that has my blood boiling. How dare he? William went to so much effort to make this nice, and he’s speaking to him like he’s a dog.
“Go back to the kitchen,” William says to me. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” his father barks as I turn and hurry off.
I get into the kitchen and press myself against the wall, taking a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Number Seven asks.
“Yes, I just spilt a drink on his father’s lap. And that man is awful.”
Number Seven is holding their entrees, and at my comment her face pales a little.
“I’ll be fine. Just don’t speak to him.”
She nods, swallows, and then walks out. I prepare the main meals onto plates, feeling my heart pounding. Something is swimming in my mind, desperate to get out, and that, crossed with my mistake of spilling that drink, has me feeling completely on edge. I try to focus on what I’m doing, knowing I don’t have time to worry right now.
By the time mains are ready, I have managed to calm myself a little. I lift the plates, and Number Twelve takes some too. We walk out into the dining room, and place them down. Ben smiles at me when I put his down, and I can’t help but smile back. I place William’s fathers down, and he grunts angrily.
“Is this beef?” he mutters.
“Yes,” William says.
“You know I don’t prefer beef, William.”
Number Twelve scurries back into the kitchen, but I find myself frozen to the ground, my anger bubbling. This man is an ungrateful pig, and he certainly doesn’t deserve the effort that’s been made here today. I look over to William, and I can see the anger in his expression. I can see that, but I can also see hurt. His father is hurting him.