Redemption (The Bet)

by Phal, Francette

  "She's not my best friend anymore." Was Bella's petulant reply and Ellie was resigned to sigh at the fickleness of nine year old girls.

  "Come one Bella, drink the medicine, I promise it'll make you feel better." Devlin gently tried his hand and received a stubborn head shake in return.

  "Hello, Bella." Not having noticed Nicholas before, Bella turned her head and lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw him.

  "Daddy, you came!" She sounded so pleased.

  Ignoring all others in the room, father and daughter only had eyes for each other. Nicholas lowered himself to the carpeted floor of Ellie's living room, in designer pants that probably cost more than the carpet itself. "Of course I came. I wouldn't dare stay away from you while you're so sick."

  Bella nodded and rested her head against Nicholas's chest, what little bit of rainwater had touched him felt cool against her fevered head. "My head hurts."

  "Tell you what, you drink your medicine and I'll stay for as long as you want me to."

  She stared up at him. "You promise?"

  "I wouldn't lie to you." he said earnestly.

  She gave him a tired smile. "Okay." She opened her mouth, closed her eyes and scrunched her face tightly and waited for the bite of the medicine to hit her tongue. Nicholas chuckled as she made a disgusted noise after he withdrew the spoon from her lips. "That's so gross."

  "I know how you feel. I wasn't a big fan of medicine when I was your age either."

  Ellie rolled her eyes. "He wasn't a big fan of medicine even when he was a teenager." Nicholas looked up and for an eternal second, they shared a moment that was entirely their own, like a private joke only they knew the punch line to.

  That look annoyed the hell out of Devlin and he made his annoyance decisively known. "Ellie, a word in the kitchen if you don't mind." He left then without saying more, tension in his every step.

  Ellie watched his retreating back with an anxious sigh. She turned to Nicholas, who looked at her with an odd expression on his face. "What?" she asked narrowly.

  "I didn't say anything." He replied, although his gaze remained the same. "You should get going; I'll take care of Bella until you come back." Her dubious expression implied that she didn't trust him, which in turn annoyed him to no end.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave with her and keep her from you for ten years.” He retorted.

  Ellie flushed, guilt and shame returning to eat a little more of her. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nicholas nodded. "Go, we'll be fine."

  Although she wanted to give Bella a small kiss on her head, Ellie didn't dare. Getting that close to Nicholas was a big “No, no”. With one last look behind her, she followed Devlin into the kitchen.

  "Daddy?" Nicholas peered down at his daughter. "It's good to have you home." She touched his cheek and smiled adoringly up at him.

  Nicholas smiled. "It's good to be home, Belle."

  ~*~*~*~

  He didn't do jealousy. No wait. That was a lie. He was human, so he could admit that, yes every now and then he did have his moments of envy. But never did it reach the point where he felt he needed to break things to gain control again. Devlin didn't like to think that he was a violent man, but he was finding it exceedingly hard to keep his cool when in the company of a certain silver eyed man.

  He wanted to be understanding and heaven only knew how hard that was. But for Ellie, Devlin had vowed to himself the evening before that he would be by her side no matter what happened. 'No matter what happened' did not include Nicholas Grayson in their home, holding his little girl. Never mind the small fact that Nicholas was Bella's biological father.

  A small technicality Devlin didn't think mattered much in the grand scheme of things. The point was that Nicholas hadn't raised Bella or the rest of Ellie's children, Devlin had. He considered those kids his, and damn the bastard for barging into their lives wanting a part of something he'd long ago abandoned! Damn the man to the far reaches of hell!

  Gritting his teeth and grasping the edge of the counter with enough strength to have his palms scream in protest, Devlin inhaled sighed trying to release the aching tension forming between his shoulders. He didn't know what bothered him more, the fact that Nicholas was scheming to take away what Devlin had worked so hard to have, or the way Ellie acted around her ex-lover.

  Devlin wanted to pretend that he didn't see the way those vibrant hazel eyes lingered seconds too long when Nicholas was in the room, or how those exact eyes could feign resentment and hatred one minute and the next spark with a hint of something so devastating that it didn't dare contemplation.

  He wanted to believe that it was his jealousy wreaking havoc on his mind, making him see things that weren't really there. Devlin wanted to believe that Ellie couldn't and wouldn't contemplate the idea of abandoning what they'd worked so hard to gain. He wanted to believe that Ellie despised Nicholas. Devlin wanted the only thing between them to be mutual hatred and nothing more. Devlin wanted a lot of things, but mostly he just wanted to trust his fiancée, because at the moment, trust was hard to come by.

  "Dev," Devlin loved Ellie's voice, it wasn't too deep, nor was it too high, just a perfect harmony of both. When they'd first begun their relationship, Devlin had been lulled to sleep by that voice, in the countless hotels room overseas. They would stay up for hours, like erstwhile teenagers and talk on the phone until one or both of them succumbed to sleep.

  Those were a few of the countless little memories Devlin remembered fondly and held to heart. To him Ellie was more than a lover, more than a gorgeous woman, more than even his fiancé. Ellie was the exact opposite of him, the embodiment of everything that was good, pure and sweet. She was the clichéd half to Devlin's soul. He'd be damned if he allowed Nicholas to take that away from him.

  "Tell me that you love me, Ellie." He had his back to her, his hold on the edge of the sink unyielding.

  "What's this all about, Dev?" she sounded puzzled and Devlin fought the urge to go to her and do the comforting. This time he wanted it to be Ellie who sensed his discomfort and ran to him.

  Ellie approached as if sensing the inner battle ragging inside her lover's mind. Not knowing exactly how to proceed, she stopped midway. "Dev?"

  "Say that you love me, Ellie."

  “Of course I love you." She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  Ellie's eyes widened and she gasped as Devlin enveloped her in a spine bending hug. For minutes they stood as they were, Devlin holding onto Ellie for dear life and Ellie wondering what was going on, but she nevertheless hugged Devlin back with the same intensity.

  Head hidden at the base of Ellie's neck, Devlin inhaled the scent that was distinctively Ellie.

  "Let's go to upstairs." Latent desire caused the huskiness in his voice and he almost smiled when Ellie shivered in his arms. Devlin nuzzled Ellie's jaw and took full advantage of the exposed column of her neck. Lips, teeth and tongue trailed upwards until they found their target behind the shell of Ellie's ear. "I need you so much right now." he whispered as he continued his rain of butterfly kisses. "You on the bed, writhing against the sheets, me above you…"

  Ellie moaned turning to putty in Devlin's arms.

  Devlin smiled, mouth still laving that spot behind Ellie's ear, he snuck his hand between their bodies to tug at the strings of Ellie's sweats. "Moving in and out of you, my hand over your mouth so you don't scream too loud and alert anyone of what we are doing. Although I wouldn't mind if your ex-lover heard us."

  As though a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over her, Ellie struggled out his grasp. "This is all about, Nicholas?" she asked incredulously. "What are you trying to prove, Devlin, that you have me?" Her anger was beyond words. "I'd expect this sort of thing from him, but not from you. If you think you need to prove something to him, then don't put me in the middle. I know who I love and I know who I want to spend the rest of my life with and Nicholas reappearing back in my life isn't going to change that."

  She
stormed out and left Devlin standing in the kitchen, resentful and shamed.

  ~*~*~*~

  An assortment of photographs decorated the expanse of Tony's mattress, while others littered the dingy brown sac that constituted as a carpet beneath his bare feet. Like a man possessed, he stooped low and riffled through each photograph, the frown marring his weathered features deepening as each picture displayed things that did nothing in alleviating his already sour mood.

  Image after image, like a haunting specter, the patrician features of that Machiavellian bastard littered the glossy surface of the photographs Tony held between his fingers. He was seeing it and yet Tony was having a hard time believing that Nicholas Grayson---the bane of his sorrowful existence had returned. Emotions whirled like musical carousels, spinning around and around in his mind to the point where he felt almost sick from it.

  Unmitigated hatred was all he felt for this man. He could, without an ounce of remorse, put a gun to that head and pull the trigger.

  It was a recurring dream. A dream in which Tony could describe without missing a beat how liberating it was to torture and then kill the man who'd taken his life and made it into the Divine Comedy. It was the sort of dream that Tony awoke from, his cock hard, that very last image of Nicholas gagging his last breath in a pool of his own blood, the stimulus to his inevitable release. That dream had kept him sane through the brutal intrusions his body had been put through during his time in prison.

  And now…very soon, retribution would be at hand, so close, so delectably close, that Tony could taste the saccharine sweetness on his tongue.

  "You should have stayed away, Nicky." A fine sheen of lunacy blanketed the obsidian depths of his cold gaze. With new plans formulating in his mind, Tony stood from his mattress and made his way to the wall apposite to the shrine he'd created of his ex-lover and their child. He would in no way sully that wall, with the picture of this man. This man, who ironically shared the same life story as Tony himself, as far as being involved with Ellie and all that bullshit.

  They'd loved. They'd thoroughly managed to fuck themselves over and in the process managed to lose everything they'd worked towards having. Now they each had children they barely knew with a woman who wanted nothing to do with them, whose enmity was as fierce as Tony's hatred for his antithesis.

  They had all the elements of a cheesy soap opera, but this wasn't some hour long T.V. show that promised a happy ending. This was life. This was Tony's life and as much as he'd contributed to fucking up said life, other people, namely Nicholas, had gone the extra mile to see that he never received a glimmer of happiness again.

  Tony wanted to return the favor and pay Nicholas in full for the wonderful work he's done so far. After all, what type of man would he be if he didn't personally see to it that Nicholas received all that was coming to him? And if he wasn't rewarded with gushing 'thank you's' and tender kisses from Ellie afterwards? Well Tony would return to prison knowing that Nicholas was no longer part of this world.

  This was no longer about ferreting his way back into Ellie's life. No doubt that she still held Tony's heart within the center of her palm. But this wasn't about Ellie and how much Tony's infinite obsession would never wane. This was about retribution. This was about a cold, hard vendetta that would be carried out no matter the consequences. This was now about those little curly haired runts Tony knew so very much about.

  Isabella and Dylan.

  Tony couldn't have asked for a better opportunity! What better way to mete out revenge on your enemy then to slowly rip out the core of what made him thrive? Tony couldn't think of anything better.

  He pressed a black tack at the center of the photograph he held against the wall and he grinned. "Wait for me Nicky, I promise I'm coming for you."

  ~*~*~*~

  She'd wanted to do ‘Tea' so Devlin indulged his doting mother and drove to her home at his earliest convenience. Exiting the luxurious interior of the Maybach 62 S he'd recently purchased, he gave the chauffeur an imperceptible nod before heading for the ornate glass door. One ring of the doorbell brought about a petite flaxen haired maid who'd been in his mother's service for several months now.

  Proving true to her French ancestry, Antoinette's blood burned with the ardor of her legendary namesake and on several occasions, such as this very one, she would deliberately bat her elongated lashes and thrust her ample bosom Devlin's way, in hopes of---well Devlin always found her advancements amusing.

  It was quite a stroke to a man's ego to have such a pretty girl interested in him, despite his advanced years and had he been years younger and not in love with the world's most wonderful woman, Devlin knew he would no doubt encourage her advancements.

  "Bonjour, Mr. Westport." She greeted, accent and all, with a coquettish smile that made Devlin grin.

  "Bonjour, Antoinette." It was impossible to expect a man who adored women, not to look upon the heaving endowments placed before him, when they were screaming to be seen. Devlin was a faithful man and would remain faithful for the rest of his days, but what harm was there in simply looking? My God the girl's breasts were huge! She seemed to be practically spilling from her top! And no doubt she was finding his ogling the best sort of encouragement as she gave a little bounce, deliberately jiggling those monstrous beauties.

  "Devlin, darling there you are!" Devlin looked up and gave a little cough, his ears burned and all over again he felt like a school boy being discovered with his first edition of a Playboy magazine. His mother came into view and Devlin was thankful for her sudden intrusion and to prove how much, he walked to where she stood and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug.

  She squealed and protested to be put down. Devlin only obliged her after settling a kiss on her cheek. "Hello, mother."

  She fussed with her outfit. "Honestly Devlin, what has gotten into you?" she asked indignantly although she did not hide her joy. His agreement to meet her for Tea pleased her very much. "Come," she looped her arm through his and tossed a glance over her shoulder, "Bring tea and scones to the Blue room, Antoinette." She said curtly, and then to Devlin said. "We have much to discuss and not enough hours in the day to do so."

  ~*~*~*~

  "Tongues are wagging, my love." Miranda gracefully picked up her teacup, a lovely set, gifted to her by a Russian artisan who'd wished to gain a favor for his wife.

  Devlin regarded her as he sunk his teeth into a warm buttered scone. "And what are they saying exactly?" Gossip was as dangerous as it was helpful; one just had to know how to manipulate it. His mother was the best when it came to manipulating the spiteful matrons of their high society. The worst sort of gossip, Devlin feared, was the one that would bring his fledgling company to its knees and in no way could he afford for that to happen.

  "Has Ellie told you absolutely everything there is to know about Nicholas Grayson?" Devlin scowled and deposited his half eaten scone on the small plate, no longer hungry.

  "We don't speak of him often." Of course this had to be about him, everything recently had been about him! The last three weeks had been nothing but Nicholas this and Nicholas that! The children spoke of him as though he were a goddamned saint hailed from the heavens to free them from tyranny. His constant presence in their lives had put a strain on his and Ellie's relationship, so much so that Devlin had refused to come over when that pious bastard was around.

  "I hear you barely speak at all." Devlin turned his angry gaze towards his mother, though she looked unaffected by his rising temper. "Don't be alarmed, dear; a mother has her way of knowing these things, which is mainly the reason why I have asked you here today. Your marriage with Ellie must happen, I understand how important she is to you and I will not have you lose her."

  "I'm not going to…"

  "Hush darling, let me explain something to you which I am afraid you have yet to understand. Nicholas is a very formidable man. To go up against him would be foolish and detrimental. But to do nothing will cost you the greatest joy of your life and what sort of mothe
r would I be if I allowed that to happen?"

  "Mother?" she looked far removed from the flowery, fragile woman he was used to seeing, in her stead, a plotting and devious woman sat in the upholstered brocade chair, very much the same and yet the steel behind her mulch tinted eyes gave him pause. "What are you planning?"

  "Nothing that can be traced back to us. Your job, my darling son, is to keep your family happy. Attend to Ellie's needs, be the doting father to her children and our Roan. Worry about nothing but your wedding and leave the rest to your loving mother."

  "Somehow I've never envisioned you to be the Lady Macbeth sort," Devlin wryly commented, before continuing. "Please promise me that whatever you have planned will not spiral into some Shakespearian tragedy mother. I don't think I can handle seeing Nicholas's blood on your hands, as much as I hate the ambitious bastard, he is in no ways worth it."

  Miranda's laughter threw her son further off his guard. With practiced patience, she settled her teacup on the imported coffee table before looking up at her child, a small smile on her lips she spoke. "Plotting the demise of your enemy by ways of murder is far too archaic my love and I am not so heartless that I would willingly kill the eldest child of my one true friend. No, what I have in store for Nicholas is subtle at best, but the effects will be so damaging that he will have little time for his children and even less time for Ellie. I will see you happy before I pass from this world my child and if giving you Ellie is what happiness means for you then I will do so without remorse."

  Devlin stood and began to pace the expanse of the colorful room. He carded his fingers through his hair, his distress evident in every stride he took. Finally, after an eternal moment battling with his morality, he turned towards his mother, sweet, loving, devoted mother, who has done nothing else since his birth to give him everything he's ever desired.