I gasp as his hand finally goes where I want it. I'm still stroking him, feeling him hard and thick in my hand. He steps forward, forcing me back against the bed. We lie down and I push on his shoulder until he's lying on his back, then straddle him, guiding him inside me.
He reaches behind my head and brings my mouth to his as my hips move over him.
"God, I love you," he says between kisses.
"I love you too."
He grabs hold of my hips, pulling me into him as he groans, low and sexy. He guides me with his strong, forceful hands, then lets me take control. I move my hips faster. I can feel it building. I'm so close, and I know he is too.
Pearce lifts up and flips me on my back and thrusts into me, hard and fast. And then it comes. Deep and intense. Hitting every part of me. Pearce is right there with me. I feel him tense up, then release, his body shuddering over mine.
We lie there a moment, breathing hard.
"That was amazing," I say.
"I agree." He rolls off me. "We should do it again in an hour."
I laugh. "Maybe we should wait until morning. I'm really sleepy." I yawn and snuggle up to him, my head on his shoulder, my arm over his chest.
"Then let's get some sleep." He reaches down and pulls the covers over us. His arm wraps around me, securing me in place as he kisses my forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you."
"I love you too."
And that's how our honeymoon ends. A fairytale honeymoon that I will never forget.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
17
PEARCE
Today is only the first day of Dunamis meetings and I'm already finding it hard to stay awake. Even if I wasn't tired from the trip, I'd still find it hard to stay awake. The other members keep talking in circles about what to do with a man we put in the Senate a few years ago who isn't cooperating the way he should.
The politicians we place in office are supposed to do as we ask. That's their payment for us getting them elected. But this particular man has ignored our demands and is doing things his own way instead. If the man continues to not follow orders, he'll have to be terminated. But terminating a senator isn't easy. Senators are important people, so reporters will look into his death. If he has a heart attack, reporters will demand to know his medical history. If he's killed in a car crash, reporters might suspect someone tampered with his car. So if it comes down to having to terminate him, we'll have to have a well thought out plan.
The members have been discussing this for four hours now. They discuss it casually, as though killing someone is just a normal activity. There's no emotion involved. The senator is a problem, not a person. That's how our members have to see people in order to complete our kill assignments.
People are classified as either problems or obstacles. We even call them that instead of using their names. It keeps it from being personal. The senator is Problem 248. Each problem is assigned a number. Obstacles are assigned numbers as well.
"Problems" are defined as individuals who don't follow orders. They were given a task but didn't complete it. A freelancer could be classified as a problem, as could one of my fellow members. In fact, I have been labeled a problem because I didn't follow orders when I married Rachel. My problem number is my member number. When my punishment for marrying Rachel is complete, the problem label will be removed from my file.
An "obstacle" is someone who gets in the way of the organization's plans or puts us at risk of being found out. People who are obstacles usually have no idea they're being targeted for termination. The secretary I was assigned to kill was Obstacle 742. As with other obstacles, she saw something she shouldn't have, and therefore she was seen as a threat. Someone who might tell our secrets. Technically, Rachel could be considered an obstacle because she took the place of the woman I was supposed to marry, thus interfering with the organization's plans. But Rachel wasn't aware of their plans and didn't intentionally try to disrupt them, therefore, she can't really be considered an obstacle. But she could be if she knew about us and what we do, which is why I must be extremely cautious in what I say around her. She can never find out about us.
Today's meeting is being held in an underground facility that was built many years ago by our founders. To get to the meeting, you drive into what looks like a warehouse, park your car, then take an elevator deep underground, where the meeting rooms are located.
Jack installed top-of-the-line security to the underground area as well as the warehouse entrance and elevator. He installed the equipment himself because we couldn't risk having an outsider do it. It's another reason the members have to keep Jack around. They may dislike him, but he's extremely valuable to the organization.
When I arrived here this morning, nobody spoke to me except Arlin and Royce, who both said a quick hello. Everyone else avoided me, afraid to speak to me for fear of showing support to a "problem." I don't care. I'm glad to keep to myself. I'd rather not talk to anyone. I'll be forced to when we're in a social setting later tonight, but for now, I'm sitting in the back of the room, trying not to be noticed.
While my fellow members have been discussing what to do about the senator, I've been letting my mind wander to Rachel and our honeymoon. I've always loved Italy, but going there with Rachel was like seeing it again for the first time. She was in awe of everything there. The food. The sites. The scenery. I've never seen someone truly enjoy something to that level. When you're used to having money, like I am, you lose some of the joy in life. You don't appreciate things as much. I've traveled all over the world and have always been able to afford whatever I wanted, so I don't have the same reaction to things as Rachel does. But seeing Italy through her eyes, I came to appreciate it more.
The last few nights we were there, we stayed in this tiny village. I can't say exactly what it was, but there was something special about it. Perhaps it was the friendly people or the fact that is was tucked away in a remote location, away from big cities and tourist spots. Whatever it was, we felt a connection to that place and we both want to go back. I told Rachel we should retire there, and I wasn't kidding. It's such a beautiful area and so relaxing.
On our last night there, she brought up the topic of children. It took me by surprise because it seemed like an odd time to talk about it. When she asked if I wanted a child, I didn't know how to answer. I don't like saying no to her, especially to something she desperately wants. But I feel guilty just thinking about bringing a child into this world, knowing what lies ahead for his or her future.
But perhaps the rules will change. I've heard rumblings from some of our younger members that it would be better to recruit people to be members rather than force our sons to join. Unfortunately, the older members would never go for that. They're determined to keep membership limited to the descendants of our original founding members. But if Rachel and I had a child, that child wouldn't know about the organization for twenty years, and by then, most of the older members would be dead, giving us younger members a chance to change the rules of membership, or at least bring it up for a vote.
Even if Dunamis weren't an issue, I still have fears about having a child. I've been trying to imagine myself as a father and I just can't see it. My parents didn't spend time with me growing up so I have no examples of what parents are supposed to do or how they're supposed to act. And children make me very uncomfortable. I don't know what to do with them. They're always running around, making noise.
I know Rachel would be an excellent mother, but I also know she would expect me to be a good father. And what if I couldn't do it? What if I acted just like my own father? What if the child hated me like I hate my father?
Despite my many reservations, there's a part of me that wants to have a child with Rachel. I find it shocking that I would even think that, given that I was completely against the idea just a few months ago. But I love Rachel so deeply that the idea of having a child with her is now appealing. I know it would make her happier than anything else in the world. And I think i
t would make me happy too. Maybe with Rachel's help, I could learn to be a good father.
"And that concludes today's session," I hear a man up front say.
Day one is over. Just four more days to go. After that, Rachel will be back and we'll celebrate New Year's together. I already miss her terribly and it's only been a day.
I feel someone nudge my shoulder. "Are you heading over there?"
I look back and see Royce behind me. "Yes."
Royce motions to the exit where people are filing out. "Hurry up. You need to get your reservation card before all the good ones are gone."
"Reservation card?" We walk to the elevator. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He smiles. "You'll see when we get there."
There's a line of men waiting for the elevator. The doors open and we all file on. As we ride up to the garage level, I glance around at my fellow members. We're all in the same black suit, same white shirt, similar ties. We look identical. Jack was right when he said we're like soldiers. We're told what to wear, what to do, how to act. We think we have power, but if you really stop to think about it, we're powerless. We act based on fear, not by our own decisions. It's this fear that keeps us in line. Fear of what they'll do to us or our families if we don't follow orders.
We get in our cars and stream out of the warehouse, one by one. We all drive black cars, mostly black Mercedes. The cars are provided to us and are equipped with bulletproof glass in case one of our enemies comes after us.
I head to the hotel where we've having the banquet and cocktail hour. The hotel is owned by one of our members. His great-grandfather built it and it's remained in the family ever since. It's a gilded age mansion that is extremely ornate.
As I walk into the lobby, I immediately think of Rachel. She would love this place. There's so much history here, in the architecture and furnishings and artwork. She could probably give a tour of it without even having to do much research. She always amazes me with her extensive knowledge of all aspects of American history.
I follow the other men to the back of the hotel where the ballroom is located. The hotel is reserved all week for our group. Since many people are from out of town, they'll be staying here overnight. And some, such as Royce, will stay so they can get drunk and not have to worry about driving home.
I enter the ballroom and head straight to the bar. I dread these social events. They're almost worse than the meetings. I have no interest in talking to any of these people. I don't trust any of them so just being around them makes me tense. But I'm getting better at hiding it. I've had months of training with the body language coach that Jack set me up with, and I'm now much better at hiding my emotions. I was already somewhat good at it because I was raised in a house in which showing emotion was not allowed, but I need to work on not reacting when something unexpected happens. For example, when my father disowned me and fired me, I'm sure he could see the shock on my face and hear it in my voice. It's those reactions I need to get control over, because if I don't, they'll be used against me.
I order a scotch and water and drink it while still standing at the bar. Then I ask for another, and drink it down as well, feeling it warm and relax my body. I order a bourbon, and after the bartender hands it to me, I turn and face the room, deciding who to talk to. I go over and stand next to a group of eight men who are deep in conversation. Maybe they won't notice me and I can just blend in and not talk.
"Pearce." I look to my right and see Leland Seymour standing two men down from me. I didn't notice him when I walked up to the group. I can't stand Leland.
He grins. "Katherine was asking about you at dinner the other night."
The other men laugh. Everyone knows about Katherine's teenage crush on me.
"You should encourage your daughter to find a young man her own age," I say, then take a drink of my bourbon.
"I've tried," Leland says, "but she says she prefers mature men."
"Perhaps Pearce could take her to prom," Canton Stillwell says, chuckling. Canton is the man who owns the hotel.
"Or perhaps you should tell her I'm married," I say, "and end this ridiculous crush once and for all."
The men stop laughing. They look at each other, almost like they're hiding something from me.
My eyes move over all eight of them. "Gentlemen, is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"No. Nothing at all." Leland gives me an overly wide smile that's extremely fake.
These men could use some body language classes. They're giving themselves away. They're definitely hiding something.
"Speaking of your wife," Leland says. "I can't wait to meet her. I've heard so much about her. The little farm girl from Iowa. Or was it Idaho? Ohio?" He laughs. "It doesn't matter. It's somewhere in the middle."
I fight any kind of reaction. I'm not letting Leland get under my skin.
"Anyway," he says, "we're all looking forward to meeting her at the party."
"What party?" I ask.
"The one Audrey and I are hosting at the new house."
"I wasn't aware of the party, but Rachel and I will not be able to attend."
"You don't have a choice in the matter. It's mandatory. Weren't you listening during today's meeting?"
"I must've been in the restroom when they mentioned it."
"You'll be getting an invitation shortly. Be sure to mark it on your calendar. As I said, it's mandatory. You wouldn't want to miss it and face additional punishment." He smirks.
The other men just stand there, watching me, waiting for a reaction.
"If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to refill my drink." I still have some bourbon in my glass but I needed to get away from them. In my hurried escape to the bar, I bump someone's shoulder and hear him curse.
"Pardon me," I say, continuing on.
"Pearce!"
Shit. It's my father. I've managed to avoid him all day.
I turn back. "Yes, Father."
"Apologize for your behavior! Obviously being in the company of those cretin in-laws of yours has affected you to the point that you no longer have manners."
I clench my jaw. "I said 'pardon me.' Perhaps you didn't hear me."
"That is not an appropriate apology. You made me spill my drink, you imbecile." He swipes his hand over his lapel.
"I'm sorry, Father. I will make sure to keep a safe distance from you for the remainder of the week so as not to disturb you again."
He steps up to me, glancing left and right, then back at me. He lowers his voice. "The story I told them is that I encouraged you to find work elsewhere in order to diversify your skills and knowledge."
"What story? What are you talking about?"
"The story about why you left the company," he says, even quieter.
"I didn't leave the company. You fired me."
"Quiet!" he says, through gritted teeth. "You are not to tell anyone that. I could be punished. You're supposed to work for the company. But I convinced the members that your brief departure would look good to outsiders. You'll be seen as hard-working, wanting to make it on your own rather than being handed a job."
"And they were okay with that?"
"Yes. They thought it was brilliant. Then, later, you'll return to Kensington Chemical with a commitment to make it an even greater success."
"I thought you didn't want me there."
He checks that no one's around us. "I don't have a choice. If I could choose anyone else as a son, I would. You're a complete embarrassment to this family and I have never been more ashamed of you. But there are rules and traditions that must be followed, and so you will do as planned, and take over the company someday."
"If I'm as worthless as you think I am, then have someone else take over the company. I have no interest in taking it over."
"You will run the company and you will be happy to do so."
I keep my voice down. "What if I told the other members the truth? That you fired me?"
He narrows his eyes at me. "Don't
even think of challenging me, Pearce. Your fate is in my hands."
He's right, and I hate that he's right. I hate that he's been given influence over my punishment for marrying Rachel. He holds all the cards and I can't do anything about it.
"You will work for Leland during your departure from Kensington Chemical," he says. "I've already spoken to Leland and he has agreed to let you work in the finance department at MDX Aerodynamics."
"I'm not working for Leland."
"What did I just say about challenging me?"
"I can't work for Leland. I already accepted a job."
He straightens up. "What job are you referring to?"
"Jack offered me a job at his company."
My father's face becomes red, his lips purse, and his brows furrow. "You will NOT work for that man! Not now! Not ever! You know how much I despise him."
"I do," I say calmly. "But despite your personal feelings toward him, he's an excellent teacher and I know I could learn a great deal under his guidance."
My father is already furious, but for some reason, I felt the need to add flame to the fire and I knew that comment would. It's bad enough Jack is my mentor for Dunamis, but having him teach me about business as well? That's my father's worst nightmare.
"It will never happen," he says. "I'll speak to him myself right now and let him know that you will not be working there."
"I don't think that's a good idea." My father waits for me to tell him why, but instead I take a drink. I want him to stand there, wondering and waiting.
"Are you doing to explain yourself, Pearce?" he finally asks.
"I wasn't aware that people weren't supposed to know about you firing me, so I mentioned it to Jack. If you don't allow me to work for him, there's a chance he might let it slip that you fired me simply because you were angry, without considering the impact it might have on the organization."
Keeping Her Page 19