by H. M. Wolfe
''But this is insanely frustrating!'' Mattie huffed. ''I mean, you've come up with a lot of great ideas lately, and they've rejected them all, preferring Wade's strategies, that are nothing but bullshit, if you ask me.''
''I'll just try harder next time.'' the man replied in a barely audible voice. ''You see, Mattie, the board is full of people who were in this business even before we were born, and they know their job. If none of them gives importance to my ideas, it means they are not good enough. End of story.''
''Yeah, and it's only a coincidence that all these experienced people are members of the same golf club Wade's daddy goes to. If things continue in this direction, I may have to start hunting for a new job.''
''Speaking of!'' Henry's voice became somewhat livelier. ''I got an offer from Van Sloot Jewelry Designs, as head manager, but I considered turning them down.''
Mattie didn't answer; she just stared at the man in front of her, disbelief was written on her face. He was the first and probably only friend the woman had in the company, and she couldn't forget how he greeted her, showing around and explaining everything she needed to know. His leaving would create a void in Mattie's already empty life.
On the other hand, she couldn't understand Henry's decision to decline the offer of Van Sloot Jewelry Designs, the second-largest company of that kind in the world. There was nothing for him in New Jersey, except his tyrannical mother. And he only visited her three or four times a year, anyway. The woman knew his personal life inside and out, and there was no one who could hold him back, but she decided to ask anyway.
''Time for a confession, my friend! Is there something I need to know?'' Mattie asked, biting into another chocolate-filled donut. ''Is there someone holding you back and making you turn down such a fabulous offer?''
''Yes, something like that.'' Henry lowered his gaze. ''There is this wonderful woman, and I'm head over heels for her, but she only sees me like a big brother or something. However, I'll wait for her, even if it takes the rest of my life.''
''Whoa, slow down a minute! Some of us are very confused here.'' Mattie raised her hands in surrender, a small frown creasing her forehead. ''Since when are you into women? I thought that you were terrified of them after all your mother has put you through. I'm not against it, just trying to understand.''
''It didn't happen overnight if that's what you're trying to insinuate. Everything started as a platonic thing, and, before I realized, she stole my heart. And no, I'm not into women, I'm into this woman. The problem is she doesn't believe in marriage or relationships, and I can't show up at her doorstep, shoving my feelings down her throat. Listen, I would love to chat with you some more, but unfortunately, I'm not being paid for this. See you later, gator.''
Mattie wanted to ask if she knew the woman, but Henry had already left the office, closing the door behind him. Taking a stack of papers, the woman started to sketch various models of necklaces, feeling inspired and refreshed, a welcomed change after the slump she was in for the last couple of months.
Christmas was close, and Mattie was sure that the new collections would sell very well. After all, the company she worked for was one of the largest in the area, although insignificant when compared with giants like Cartier, De Beers, or Van Sloot. At this point, the woman put the pencil down, sighing heavily.
She would have killed to work for any of those giants, but, on the other hand, she didn't want to leave New Jersey, because her family and Henry were there. Relaxing into the office chair, Mattie thought about her older brother Ramsay and what a great father he was to her nephews and niece. It didn't matter how upset or stressed she was, thinking about Duncan, Tarann, and Tess always put a smile on her face.
The face of her dear, supportive father, saddened as he was by his wife's death, appeared before Mattie's eyes, her heart aching a bit. When she decided to express her true self, the man was there for her through the whole transition process, from the first hormone injections to the last adjustments, as she jokingly called the breast implants. He also was the first one to call her Mattie instead of Matthew, the entire family following his example.
At this point, the woman took up the pencil again, her hand sketching amazing pieces of jewelry, while her thoughts wandered back to her father, who, in spite of the support he showed her, screwed up royally the relationship with his youngest, Raven. Neither Mattie nor Ramsay could understand how it was possible that the man, so caring and affectionate with the two of them, could treat their brother so harshly.
Everything started four years earlier when Raven and four of his friends were kidnapped by a criminal organization, on their way home from a mutual friend's birthday party. Ransoms were asked for and paid, but the boys were set free only after two more weeks. When finally, he was literally dropped in front of the house, the teen ran inside, straight into his father's arms, his safe haven.
But those arms, instead of protectively wrapping around the boy, fell inert, leaving Raven devastated. Shoulders slumped, he trudged to his room, locking the door behind him. It was the first and last time Mattie heard her parents fight. A few days later, when the boy finally came out of his room, he had a blank stare, barely reacting to things around him, making his father suspect he was using drugs.
A search of Raven's room proved his suspicions right, and everything went down the hill between him and his father. It all ended with the boy moving from home and living on the streets. He periodically came back to spend some time with his mother, and then he would disappear again, sometimes for a few months in a row.
She had to make time and visit her father, Mattie made a mental note. He was still feeling lonely after more than two years since his wife passed away. A couple of months earlier, however, Raven brought home a teen with a strange, foxy appearance, saying that he needed a stable environment for a couple of months, disappearing again.
The boy, Russell, or Rusty, as Raven had called him, had light brown eyes and orange-red hair. He managed to win the master of the house's affection almost instantly, to Mattie and Ramsay's great relief. The kid was quiet most of the time, but he became extremely agitated on several occasions, crying in pain, but refusing to be taken to a doctor.
Strangely enough, the man's voice and touch instantly calmed him down every time, and Mattie couldn't stop wondering why her father denied his youngest the same consolation when he needed it the most. Raven seemed at peace, resigned to the thought that he'd lost that paternal affection and Roderick Stanford barely mentioned his youngest's name, stubbornly refusing to discuss the subject, even with Ramsay.
Suddenly, Mattie raised her head from the pile of papers filled with amazing sketches, casting a look to the clock hung on the wall. She gasped in surprise, seeing that it was close to her lunch break. Caught up with the work and her thoughts as she was, the woman hadn't realized how fast time had gone by. She gathered all her sketches, stacking them neatly, then went to the cafeteria on the ground level.
The place was cozy and welcoming, but Mattie rarely spent more than half an hour on lunch break, trying to avoid the army of gossipers working in the place. That day, it was no different, but, as soon as she was back in her office, the woman had a bad feeling. Taking a look at her desk, she froze on the spot: the stack of sketches had disappeared.
It was Saturday morning after breakfast, the moment that all the kids gathered at the Connecticut Stark mansion had impatiently waited for since Friday evening. The decorations, in their large, wooden trunks, were brought into the great reception hall Thursday afternoon, and the little ones were curious to see their content.
The ladies of the clans were also there to supervise the operation and prevent any incidents. So were Ardan, Alasdair, and Quinlan, who felt like three happy fish in a pond. From one of the couches, Peyton and Regina, flanked by their significant others, watched everything with amused smirks.
Taking advantage of the general chaos, Alastair and Mallory discreetly signaled Tarquin to follow them into the patriarch's office.
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''Look, son, you know that I usually don't ask for personal favors, on the contrary, I discourage this as much as I can, but this time is different.'' the older of the three men started.
''Sure, Mister Stark. I understand.'' Tarquin smiled shyly, ''I've known you since I was crawling, and you used to pick me up and tickle me. Just say the name or the bit of information you have, and I'll locate them in a sec.''
''I don't know the first name or the gender of the person, but I know their last name, Stanford, and the name of the mother, Lady Cecilia. The family must be of British origin because the father of the person was an Earl. Oh, and they must be around fifty-six years old.'' Alastair said in a professional voice.
''Here we are!'' Tarquin exclaimed, after several rounds of continuous typing on his mini-computer. ''Holy mother of the universe!'' the blond's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape.
''What is it?'' Mallory frowned, worried at the expression on the younger man's face. ''Is there something wrong?''
''No, not wrong per se, only that...Anyway, I found who you were looking for, sir.'' Tarquin turned to Alastair. ''His name is Roderick Stanford, fifty-six, widower, father of three, grandfather of three. The guy's youngest child, Raven, is one of the best undercover agents the FBI has ever had.''
''An undercover agent?!'' Alastair furrowed his brows. ''Why didn't his name appear in any of the federal databases?''
''Because he hasn't had any formal training. The kid volunteered after being kidnapped and tortured by one of Alexander's associates. The other three teens who were with him didn't end well, but Raven...I haven't seen so much strength in someone, except for Ardan.''
''Was he...'' Mallory didn't dare to say the word. ''What did they do to him?''
''They didn't sexually assault him, but other than that, the poor boy was put through hell. He was beaten with a cane and a belt, burned with the cigar, cut, and other things like that. No one in his family knows about the ordeal; it was his express wish.''
Tarquin went silent for a moment, checking something on his mini-computer, enough for Alastair to remember how, nine years earlier, a fragile blond boy was telling him about the hell he was put through. Just like the Stanford boy, he begged the then-Supreme Dragon not to mention a word to anyone, especially his father.
And there he was, the senior special agent in charge of the whole IT department of the FBI, father of five, married to the love of his life, stronger and more confident than ever. For a moment, Alastair couldn't help wondering how special that Raven guy was, that he managed to win the admiration and respect of someone like Tarquin.
''Do you have anything on Raven's siblings?'' Mallory broke the silence, turning to the blond. I'm particularly interested in the older one, is he a lawyer whose given name is Ramsay?''
''Actually, yes.'' Tarquin nodded, ''and he has quite an interesting story. At fifteen, he and his childhood sweetheart, Claire, lost their virginity to each other, with their oldest son as a result. The families were very supportive of the young couple, who married three years later, their second child, also a boy, on the way.''
''The fellow was quite productive!'' Mallory let out a low whistle. ''Two children before reaching twenty years of age, now that's a performance!''
''Indeed,'' Tarquin confirmed, ''especially since both of the parents graduated high school one year earlier than their classmates. Ramsay was admitted to Harvard, and his wife became a children's psychologist. Unfortunately, she died at the age of twenty-three, one year after giving birth to the couple's youngest, a girl.''
''Thank you very much, son, I appreciate your help.'' Alastair gave Tarquin one of his warm, paternal smiles. ''Now, go and join the others, before that eagle-eyed husband of yours notices your absence.''
''Glad to be of help.'' the blond returned the smile, ''I'll email you the last part of the report, concerning Roderick Stanford's daughter, so you can read it when you get the time. I'll leave you, for now, gentlemen, because you, Mister Stark, are right about my husband.''
Alastair booted his laptop, waiting for the mail Tarquin promised to send, and indeed, it popped up a few seconds later. Besides Matthew's, currently Mattie, background information, the email also contained a detailed report of the jewelry designing company's financial situation and one about the law office where Ramsay, Roderick Stanford's firstborn, was a junior partner.
Reading them, Alastair pursed his lips, frowning, as both businesses were on the verge of bankruptcy. However, there was no way that Zoe knew all those things; she didn't even have the slightest idea about the identity of her friend's child. The man had the nagging feeling his mother was hiding something from him, for the first time in a long time.
''Am I the only one who thinks Mama Zoe has a hidden reason for this invitation?'' Mallory broke the silence, making his husband raise his head.
''You really are the most brilliant man on the planet, on so many levels, and that's why I love you so much!'' Alastair passionately exclaimed. ''Please, go on.''
''When the pact was made, you were just a little boy, who needed all the protection he could get, and I suspect Lady Cecilia was in about the same situation as Mama Zoe. But the two of you are grown-up men now, and this pact doesn't apply to the current situation.''
''I'm also thinking about the financial aspect here.'' Alastair continued his husband's logical construction. ''I mean, it's true that, at the moment, Ramsay and Mattie's jobs are in jeopardy, but they can easily find other, even better-paying ones. Besides, Roderick Stanford has a stable financial situation, and I sincerely doubt that he won't support his children, should the necessity arise.''
''You're right," Mallory nodded, ''but there's nothing we can do at the moment other than wait. I'm sure that Mama Zoe will tell us the whole story when the time comes.''
''My wise, beautiful husband.'' Alastair moved from behind the desk, cupping the younger man's face with both hands, and gently kissing him on the lips. ''I stopped wishing for a Christmas present years ago, but in the end, life gave you to me, and I became the richest man in the world. And the happiest.''
I
t was a bitter-cold early morning, but Ardan didn't mind the weather. He was warmed up by the thought of his mission: collecting the packages of food for the children's breakfast. That was a very ingenious idea of Thaddeus, who'd won the Council's enthusiastic, unanimous approval. A significant number of the House's associates, he said, had bakeries or restaurants that could provide the food for the little ones.
Cooking it at the base was time-consuming, not to mention the waste of precious space. Many of the storage rooms and the kitchens could be converted into dorms and bathrooms for the little residents, Tyler suggested, supporting his cousin's idea. Thanks to the extra space, they could put fewer kids into a dorm, offering them the privacy they all needed.
Space, or better said the lack of it, became the most significant challenge the crew and everybody else at the base had to face, especially since they'd discovered that a lot of families they'd placed abused kids with had exploited them in the same evil way. With everyone else's approval, Ardan decided to keep all the rescued children at the base, making sure they were adequately treated and cared for.
At that point, the man smiled as he remembered that Christmas was only three weeks away. During his absence over the weekend, the guys from the core, who'd escaped from hell with him, had decorated the tree and part of the building where the festivities and holiday dinners were held.
A wave of emotions washed over Ardan every time he saw the expressions on the children's faces at the sight of the decorated rooms and tree. For most of them, that was a completely new experience, something they hadn't even dared to dream about during the years of neglect or abuse at the hands of the worse monsters hell spewed into the world.
Ardan put a stop to his thoughts' trail, as one of the restaurants on the list was only a few yards away. Instead of stopping in front of it, he entered the narrow alley alongside the back of the building.
He stepped out of the vehicle and went inside. He came back about ten minutes later, accompanied by several helpers carrying the bags with neatly stacked containers filled with deliciously smelling breakfast food.
Ardan let out a soft sigh of contentment at the sight of the trunk filled with bags of food containers, especially since that restaurant was the last on his morning route. Thanking the helpers, who disappeared into the restaurant, to continue their work, he was about to climb into the car, when a noise coming from the large dumpsters next to the building caught his attention.
Listening intently, Ardan headed to the dumpster where the noise came from, opened it, and gasped in shock and anger at the sight of the big, black plastic bag containing a still-living creature that was struggling to get free. Most likely, it was a medium-sized dog or a very large cat, thrown away by some soulless bastard or cold-hearted bitch who'd decided they didn't want it anymore.
Careful not to harm the creature inside, Ardan tore the bag open with the knife he always carried in his pocket. He covered his mouth with one hand when he saw the contents of the bag, the skinny form of a boy in his early to mid-teens, covered in horrible wounds. The poor child, who was barely breathing, reminded him of Gaspard, the memory, making Ardan shiver.