by Gemma Weir
Without starting the engine I climb back out of my car dialing Matthew, the head of my regular staff who crew the boat when I want to go out sailing.
“Mr. Windsor,” Matthew answers.
“Matthew, I know it’s short notice, but I want to go out, how quickly can you get here?”
“You pay us to be on call Mr. Windsor,” Matthew says with a laugh. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say on a relieved breath, ending the call and making my way back over to ‘The Escape’, my beautiful boat, my one true love, that’s now tainted with the most intense sexual experience of my life.
Securing the gangway in place again I climb aboard and unlock the galley door. The smell of sex and Priss hits me the moment I step inside and my dick instantly hardens. Fuck, once isn’t going to be enough. I might hate her, she might hate me, but she’s everything I wasn’t willing to admit I need in a woman. Perfectly, willingly submissive, happy to let me lead, knowing that I’ll make it good for her. She trusted me completely and that feeling, being in complete control of someone else’s body, was euphoric.
God, imagine all the things I could do to her now I don’t need to be careful with her, all the things I could teach her. We don’t need to be friends or in a relationship to fuck, in fact I can totally get on board with a fuck buddy situation—non-friends with benefits so to speak.
My dick throbs at the idea of being inside of her again. She might not know it yet, but this isn’t over. I might have said only once, but one taste wasn’t enough, and fucking Carrigan Archibald out of my system just became my new obsession.
Carrigan
Present
A quick google search and three phone calls is all it takes to find a gynecologist willing to see me at short notice. The Uber driver pulls to a stop outside of the modern skyscraper where the doctor’s office is located and I inhale slowly, trying to calm my erratically beating heart. I didn’t give them my real name when I booked the appointment. It’s probably ridiculous to imagine that my parents might have been able to find out about this appointment and bribe the doctor, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I need to do this today, while my resolve is still firm and before my parents have any clue what I’m doing.
Handing the driver a tip, I climb out and head for the doors, wishing that I wasn’t wearing these clothes that made me feel rebellious this morning, but now just feel infantile and ludicrous. My hair is still a little damp, drying into my natural waves that I usually straighten into oblivion before I leave the house each morning. I feel unprepared for this meeting without my armor of designer clothes and flawless makeup but I push forward regardless, because if I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll ever find the courage to do this again.
I ride the elevator up to the twentieth floor and push open the heavy gold framed glass door that leads into the doctor’s reception.
“Good morning, can I take your name?” the receptionist asks politely.
“Priss Windsor,” I say, refusing to consider why the fake name I gave, is Carson’s surname and the nickname he gave me.
“The doctor is just with a patient at the moment but I’ll let her know you’re here as soon as she’s finished. Please take a seat, can I get you a drink?”
“A glass of water would be great, thank you,” I say, forcing a brittle smile to my lips as I turn and take a seat on a comfortable leather chair. Inhaling long slow breaths I try to calm my racing heart. Until this moment I’ve tried to be pragmatic about this part of my ‘breaking the will’ plan, but now that I’m here in a strange doctor’s office waiting to be examined, I start to panic.
If I was closer to Tallulah, or if my friends were real friends—not people that my parents wanted me to befriend, or people who thought it would benefit them to be friends with an heiress—then I wouldn’t be here alone. The thought of having anyone in my life who I trust enough to have my back at a time like this, seems almost comical to me. I literally can’t name a single person who is interested in me for purely altruistic purposes. Not even my sister and she truly is a good person, but even she wants something from me.
If I wasn’t the key to cutting this noose around both of our necks would she want anything to do with me? I doubt it and I wouldn’t blame her.
This isn’t the first time I’ve sat waiting for an exam just like the one I’m going to request in a minute, in fact this will be the fifth one of these humiliating tests that I’ve had to endure. The first time I was fourteen years old and the doctor my parents took me to was a man. Fourteen years old and hooking my legs into stirrups so a fifty-year-old doctor could confirm that I was in fact still a virgin.
A shudder of revulsion cascades through me when I think about that day, how my mom made me go into the room alone, how scared I was and how ashamed I felt after it was over.
“Miss Windsor, if you’d like to come through,” a female voice says, jolting me from my thoughts.
Rising from my seat, I follow the smiling nurse out of the reception room just as the receptionist returns with my glass of water. The nurse leads me down a hallway, opening a door for me and gesturing for me to enter first. She closes the door behind herself and then picks up a clipboard from the counter.
“Miss Windsor,” she starts.
“My name is actually Carrigan Archibald. I apologize for the subterfuge, but I need to make sure that no one knows I’m here. My situation is a little, delicate,” I say, forcing a polite smile to my lips.
“Oh, err, okay,” the nurse says, her eyes widening a little. “Well the doctor will be in to speak to you shortly, there’s a gown on the bed, so if you could get changed then fill out these patient forms for me please.”
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the clipboard and then waiting for her to leave before quickly undressing and pulling on the blue paper gown. Climbing onto the end of the examination table, I lift the clipboard up and start to fill in the form wondering how much information I can leave blank if I’m paying cash.
A decisive knock on the door draws my attention and I lift my head just as the handle turns and a woman enters the room. “Hello Miss Archibald, I’m doctor Nestor, what can I help you with today?”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I say, lowering the clipboard to my lap. “I have a somewhat unorthodox problem that I’m hoping you might be able to help me with,” I say, cringing as I try to decide how to word this.
The doctor laughs. “Trust me I doubt there’s anything you can ask that I haven’t heard before.”
A scoff falls from my lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I say, then I start to explain about the will and it’s the stipulations. I don’t tell her everything, just enough that she gets the gist. “So I’m here today because I need you to examine me.”
“To confirm you remain a virgin?” the doctor interrupts.
“No, to confirm that I’m not a virgin anymore.”
To her credit the doctor’s only reaction is a raise of a single eyebrow.
“I need written confirmation that my hymen is no longer intact that I can use as evidence,” I say, unable to meet her eyes now.
“You want me to write a letter to confirm you’re no longer a virgin?” she asks slowly.
“Look, I don’t want this money. You might not understand that, I’m sure most people would think I’m crazy. But I need to break this will because the clauses tie my life up in knots, they keep me bound to its stipulations until I’m twenty-five. This is the only way out. So can you help me, or do I need to find another doctor?” I say, forcing myself to look her in the eye and not back down.
Her nod is slow and unsure to start off with, then her movement becomes more decisive. “Yes, I can help. With your permission I’m going to ask my colleague to witness the exam and then she can also provide a written confirmation, two independent statements will be beyond question.”
A gasp of relieved breath bursts from me. “Thank you,” I say, my voice cracking a lit
tle.
From then on, she’s all business. She leaves the room for a moment, returning with another woman a little older but polite and professional. The exam only takes a moment and then they leave me to get dressed. The nurse from earlier collects me and leads me into the doctor’s office and I sit in the chair before her desk and wait.
“Miss Archibald,” Doctor Nester says, as she pushes open the door behind me. Instead of circling behind her desk she sinks down into the chair next to mine, inhaling sharply as she smiles. “Here are the letters that you require. I can’t say that I completely understand the complexities of your situation but I understand fear and desperation, and Carrigan, I see both of those things in you. There are agencies and people in place to help.”
I cut her off. “I appreciate your concern but this letter is all I need at the moment. Thank you for your help today.” Lifting my hand, I hold it out, waiting for her to give me the envelope with the paperwork that will change my life.
With a sigh she passes it over and I quickly pull the letters free and scan the words. I close my eyes for a second, relieved, then I open them again and smile at her. “Thank you,” I say, offering her my hand.
She takes it squeezing slightly as we shake and then I rise from my chair, the letter held tightly in my hand, and leave. After paying, I ride the elevator down to the street, sliding the letter into my purse alongside the video camera. Exhaling raggedly, I tighten my hold on the strap of my purse, only one more stop to go and this should all be over.
The sun warms my skin the moment I step outside and I tip my head back and allow myself a second to just enjoy the feeling, but a moment’s all I get, because I’m almost done, this is almost over.
Lifting my hand into the air I flag down a cab, climb in, and settle back into the seat. I have one more place to go before I head to my sister and Arlo’s engagement party, and once again, I wish she and I were closer. If we were, maybe we’d be doing this together. Instead I’m alone, because everything about me is orchestrated, fake, manufactured.
My cell buzzes in my purse, another missed call or text message from my parents. I’m glad that I figured out a way to stop them from tracking my cell phone, else I wouldn’t be able to evade them and by now they must know something is wrong. I’ve only ever stepped out of line once since this all started years ago.
The day I should have attended a dinner at Arlo’s house, I turned off my cellphone and went on a date with a cute bartender. I thought for a moment that he liked me, that he wanted me, just Carrigan, but in the end he knew about the money and was hoping to use me as his meal ticket.
My mom laughed when she found out where I was when Tallulah took my place that day. I expected her to go mad, but she just laughed and reminded me that the only reason I was useful to anyone, was because my name was on that will.
Sometimes I like to try and decide if my parents are the worse or if I am. They got side stepped, missed out on their chance at a fortune, I can almost understand them doing whatever they could to get it, even if they got access through me.
But I’m truly despicable, because I was a child and I still did all these things even though deep down I knew they were wrong. I wasn’t blinded by greed or need, I’ve never gone without anything my entire life. So what’s my excuse? I don’t have one, I’m just bad, just a really bad person.
I wish what I was doing now was truly selfless, that my actions were solely to release my sister from the shackles of obligation, but that would be a lie too. Trying not to ruin her life any more than I already have is definitely part of it, at least something inside of me wants to help her, but the biggest part of my motivation is to save myself.
With Arlo engaged to my sister, my parents moved onto the next boy on the husband wish list, only he’s not a boy, he’s a thirty-five-year-old man. I don’t even know him. I mean I’ve met him, I’ve met them all, from choice number one all the way down the list I’ve been introduced, stood in the same room. But I don’t actually know any of them.
Rupert Overston is business mindedly brilliant, rich, and successful. He’s also bisexual, predatory, and disgusting. This is the man my parents have arranged for me to marry.
Parents.
Freddie and Vanessa hold that title in the very loosest of terms. Before the will, they travelled and their two children brought nothing but inconvenience to the lavish lifestyle they preferred, and that was okay. Tallulah and I were raised by a series of nannies and tutors. I’m sure we weren’t the first rich kids to have absentee parents and we won’t be the last.
But after the will, everything changed. My every move became their decision. Every step I took had to be orchestrated, considered. The length and color of my hair, my speech, my makeup, the clothes I wore, the people I associated with. All of it became so much more important than me.
Perhaps if I’d grown up differently I’d have seen their actions for what they were, controlling. But to a fourteen-year-old girl who had gone from seeing her parents three or four times a year to suddenly having them there every day, basking in me, doting on me, it was invigorating.
I loved the attention, loved that it wasn’t about me and my sister, that it was all about me, only me. It didn’t matter that she was smarter, more poised, more beautiful with those strange purple eyes. I was the important one.
If I had even a shred of decency left in me I’d be ashamed of myself, but I think I’ve become so deadened inside that I don’t really feel anything anymore, least of all shame or remorse.
I imagine by now my parents must have figured out that I’m trying to break one of the will’s clauses, but neither of them has said a thing. Maybe they really don’t know, maybe whoever they’ve paid off at school to make sure I maintain my grades hasn’t told them that I’m making a concerted effort to fail.
Maybe my parents are conceited enough that they believe they’re reach is infallible, that there’s no way anyone would go against their will. At St Augustus that might be true, all the staff seems to be under their thumb, or on their payroll. If I could have just gotten one D this would all be over by now, I wouldn’t have had to resort to desperate measures, to begging a boy who despises me to have sex with me.
A shudder runs across my skin as my memory teases me with thoughts of Carson and all the things we did. I’m not repulsed, I’m wanton, turned on by the way I can still feel his touch, feel the soreness between my thighs from his body.
My eyes fall to the video camera in my purse, if I were to turn it on I could see it, relive every touch, every moan, every orgasm. Shutting my eyes I bite my lip hard, using the pain to banish all thoughts of Carson away. It was just an act, just sex, nothing more than the mechanics of intimacy between two people, I can’t forget that.
When the cab slows to a stop outside the brownstone that holds the offices of Hallsworth, Hallsworth and Kingston attorneys at Law, I suck in a low shaky breath. I haven’t been here since the will was read, but I can still remember that day so clearly.
Tapping my credit card against the card reader I pay the cab driver and climb out, pausing for a minute on the sidewalk, needing to compose myself before I go inside and change my future entirely.
I haven’t called ahead, but I know they’ll see me, I just hope they don’t contact my parents the moment I walk through the door. With my resolve hardened I climb the steps and press the buzzer.
“Hallsworth, Hallsworth and Kingston,” a voice says through the speaker.
“Carrigan Archibald to see Mr. Worth please.”
There’s a pause, then the speaker crackles a second before there’s a click and the door lock disengages. Wrapping my fingers around the cool brass handle, I push the door open and step into the dark-wood paneled hall, following the same route I took almost four years ago.
The last time I was here I didn’t realize how monumental my visit would be, but this time I’m completely aware that the outcome of today’s meeting will change the trajectory of my future entirely. I’m scared, but
determined, and that’s what pushes me forward and into the small waiting room that houses an antique desk, with a stern-faced man in round horn-rimmed glasses sitting behind it.
“Miss Archibald, do you have an appointment?” he asks brusquely.
“I don’t, but I’m confident Mr. Worth will make time to talk with me once you let him know that I’m here,” I say succinctly, using the tone of voice my etiquette coach spent years forcing me to perfect. It’s the tone that says I’m better than you, richer than you, and more powerful than you. It’s the tone that gets a person whatever they want in life. It’s the tone my mother always uses, the tone she taught me to use, the tone I’ve never heard coming from my sister’s mouth, and the tone that will make sure this man doesn’t refuse me.
Just like I knew he would, the man lifts the phone on his desk to his ear, presses a button, and then speaks quietly into the receiver. A moment later he lowers the phone back into the cradle and stands. “Let me show you to Mr. Worth’s office.”
“Thank you,” I say politely, and follow as he leads me out of the reception area and toward the offices.
The lawyer’s office is identical to how I remember it and a horrible sense of de-ja-vu hits me. Nerves make me want to shake, but I refuse to let them. This is the right thing to do. The only thing to do, and for the first time in my life I need to grow a pair of balls and stop being such a coward.
It would be easier to just do as my parents want, to marry Rupert and become a billionaire. But since my sister’s happiness gave me that glimmer of hope, that seed of possibility, I haven’t been able to mindlessly follow orders, to do what my parents say just because they say it.
The moment Dad’s fist struck my beautiful, harmless twin, the rose-tinted veil I’ve been wearing over my eyes for the past four years lifted and I saw myself and my parents for what we truly are. Evil, heartless, power crazed monsters.
“Miss Archibald, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Mr. Worth says, stepping out from behind his desk the moment I enter the room.