The clicking of a key turning in a lock reverberated in the room. Luke took slow but steady steps towards her and she couldn't help but wonder if he would continue if she fainted. Remembering Mimi's mantra of staying alert, staying safe, she allowed herself to be pulled into his arms.
"You look stunning Grace," clearly he had been brainwashed if he could ignore how terrified she was, and there was no hiding that now. His mouth ghosted over her cheek and he held her hand in his. For a moment she wondered if he was okay as he seemed to be twitching, his fingers kept tapping against her wrist. The tapping became more insistent.
"You know I never thought that I'd be able to spend time with you like this. You were always out of reach, that's why I needed to find a new way to talk to you." Grace didn't respond, his thumb had moved to the palm of her hand, and what had first seemed to be random movements now seemed intentional.
Dare she hope that she hadn't been deceived about his character. Was it safe to trust her instincts with so much on the line. For as close as she was being held, and his free hand was moving, his touch was neither invasive or lingering. Nor were his words crass or suggestive.
"You are the only girl in school who has ever caught my eye, who could tempt me to sin." She concentrated on the letters he was forming in her palm, her hope growing, but how to confirm it.
"I never wanted to hurt you," she kept her voice soft, "you have always been so kind." She raised up on her toes, her lips moving closer to him, hoping that Nate would understand and forgive her. At the last minute Luke moved his head so she kissed his cheek instead.
"You belong to another, one who I would not want to disrespect, therefore I must decline your gracious gift." Grace felt herself flush with embarrassment, hoping that no one else had been watching just then.
"He will soon be with you and all shall be as it was always meant to be." Having delivered this line, Luke increased the pressure of his thumb on her palm, one word, one name over and over again. She knew she had one chance to ask her question, not least because she could hear multiple sets of footsteps approaching the room.
"He will come for me?" The only reply she got was the continued writing on the palm of her hand that only stopped when the door was thrown open, and one of Sinclair's henchmen spoke, unknowingly confirming what Luke had been trying to tell her.
"Henderson and Riley are here."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It was going to be a night that Silver Glade would never forget. A night that would live forever in the memories of those lucky enough to experience it first hand, people who would then be able to share their stories with future generations. Tonight was the culmination of all his planning, his sacrifices, his dedication.
After tonight everyone in the town, nay the state, would know his name. They would know the strength of his character and this he would use to achieve his ultimate goal. Tonight was the night that Charles Sinclair became a household name.
Those who had been loyal, who had never doubted or faltered, who had recognized the brilliance of his plan, they would receive what was due to them. There would be a show of his strength, his ability to lead, his young followers would pledge their allegiance to him.
This he felt would help ease the minds of the more conservative section of Silver Glade society, those who had never quite accepted him, had never seen his true potential, had never acknowledged what he could bring to their town.
Yes seeing how the youth of Silver Glade held him in such high esteem would prove to the older generation that he could be trusted to bring the town and their considerable collective fortunes into a new era of prosperity.
A representative of each of the founding families would stand on the stage with him tonight, again a visual representation of the transition of power. And then there were the crown jewels of the night's festivities.
First the most vocal, disruptive, ungrateful, disloyal of his subjects would offer a heartfelt and public apology. Then the young pretender would hand over access to the ultimate treasure chest, putting at his disposal riches and resources beyond compare. These would be used to keep him in the lifestyle he felt was owed to him.
Then there was the girl. She was to be his new princess, who in name would be his son's wife, and wasn't that just another example of his benevolence towards one who had been so disobedient. Of course he intended to make her his consort one day, she who would serve, submit and bring forth the next generation of Sinclairs.
She would, this very night, make public vows to this effect, then receive his benediction and then his brand which would forever more separate her from all the rest. If she pleased him especially well, he might even deign to use his newest signet ring to leave his mark of ownership. Such an honor had not even been given to his wife.
From their brief conversation, he had found Grace just as she had been described; beautiful but with just enough spirit for him to break. She, like the others before her, would learn quickly or suffer for her failings.
As much as he would have liked to give her his special potion he needed her pliant through fear not drugs, at least until all the paperwork was signed and legal.
As his loyal subjects rushed around, ensuring that all preparations were completed, he couldn't help but look back on how exactly he had made it this far, with only his wits, his charm and the smallest amount of blackmail.
For Charlie Sinclair, early life had been ordinary enough. He was raised by his father who worked at a local state college so when the time came it was possible for him to attend classes there. It was a bit galling to be ignored by those with had bought their places in school, much like they had bought their GED's. But that was the way of the world, a lesson his father had constantly taught him; the rich could do what they wanted and no one would ever stop them, they would use those they felt were inferior to take the blame.
"Remember Charlie, those boys are not your friends, they might talk the talk but they will hang you out to dry if it means saving themselves." There had been an underlying hint of bitterness to this statement, but the words stayed with him all his life.
His first year in school he took more classes than was necessary, approaching his father's coworkers for permission to audit classes, claiming he didn't want to miss any opportunity to learn.
He developed a habit of listening in to conversations, of watching how the rich kids behaved, and he found that when people thought no one was listening they spoke freely about things that should be kept secret.
That was how he learned about the affluent town of Silver Glade, the glamorous founding families and how the beautiful Henderson heiress was finally of age.
He secured a job at a local tavern for the summer, and was intrigued at how much time the group from Silver Glade spent there. It seemed strange that they would have to take part in internships or associate programs, it wasn't like they were hurting for money.
It was not just the Silver Glade group though, there seemed to be this desire held by the wealthy students to mingle with the locals, to make themselves appear normal. They tried to hide who they were but there was no missing the expensive watches and designer clothes they wore. Not like the quiet, mousy student he worked with most days.
Annie Fields was a plain girl, she was polite enough, wasn't afraid of hard work and was willing to change shifts if needed. No one looking at her would ever mistake her for anything other than a scholarship student, depending on tips from serving the rich patrons of the bar.
He watched over the summer as somehow she caught the eye of the ringleader of the Silver Glade group, Micheal McKenzie. It was amusing to see the heir constantly ignored, his advances; made via his friend something McGinley, rebuffed, until one night when Charlie happened upon them in a compromising position.
He was careful not to interrupt, but something about her behavior in the following days, had him wondering about what exactly had happened. From what he had seen, both on campus and at the bar, girls and women th
rew themselves at McKenzie and his friends, the lure of money making them little better than hookers as far as he was concerned.
One day Annie stopped showing up to work, no one knew why, but she was soon replaced, and life continued. He had the chance to get to know McKenzie a little bit, mostly from listening to his private conversations, every so often, especially when he was drunk, the poor little rich boy would be so inebriated that he chose to share his secrets with his friendly bartender.
Like how his father was expecting him to land the Henderson heiress, how he had to pay off other students to do his work and how he was growing fond of a particular type of white powder, but his supplier was being difficult.
Early in the first semester of his second year Charlie audited a class that would forever change the trajectory of his life. The professor discussed certain experiments that had taken place in some fancy Ivy League school, about how they had wanted to see how people behaved in certain circumstances. Obviously the professor went into more detail, but the idea of being able to control people, to make them act a certain way, definitely called to him.
Perhaps that would have been as far as it ever went, a random thought to imagine what if, except a few nights later while at work, an exceptionally drunk and high, Micheal McKenzie shared that he was in trouble, with no one to turn to.
Instead of putting him into a taxi, Charlie had brought him home, had plied him with more drink until he knew all the sordid details, including the existence of graphic photographs that would destroy many lives if they ever saw the light of day. McKenzie had grabbed him by his collar confiding in a pathetic voice that if his life wasn't already bad enough the Henderson heiress had been lost, marrying way beneath her, and was already knocked up.
Charlie found it difficult not to laugh at what the rich boy thought were life threatening problems. So he had to marry a rich heiress instead of an insanely rich heiress. McKenzie would still have access to a lot of money, more money than Charlie would ever see in his life. However he realized that such an opportunity might never appear again so he went to work.
He found his former colleague who was now scared and pregnant, and he promised her the chance of revenge against those who had hurt her.
She looked at him with such gratitude and trust, promising that she would do everything he said, if only he would help her. As far as she was concerned he would act as a mediator, helping her to get some money so that she could pay for medical bills, keep a roof over her head and then once born, the child would be put up for adoption. If the father agreed to a large one off payment, his name would not appear on the birth certificate.
McKenzie was nervous when Charlie had approached him, fearing the worst, only to admire the deal that he had negotiated. From that moment he became Charles, the McKenzie fixer, as well as Annie Field's savior.
At McKenzie's insistence he was measured for bespoke suits, "after all Charles you are representing my family now." He didn't appreciate the tone used, but he let it slide for the time being.
Things were changing, Charles knew this and there was nothing he wouldn't do if it meant, eventually, that he ended up on top. He was soon being invited to accompany McKenzie to the best restaurants and clubs, and Charles soaked up all that he could.
He learned how to use fancy cutlery, to smooth out his natural accent, and how to appear as if he had drank too much of the vintage wine or liqueur on offer; when in truth he was stone cold sober.
When Micheal McKenzie married, there Charles was by his side, and that was when he first set his eyes on the beautiful, soon to be widowed Henderson heiress. He was happy to watch her from the sidelines, not wanting to make waves among the society folks of Silver Glade.
There were still those who questioned his closeness to McKenzie, who were horrified to find out that not only was he not new money, he was in fact, technically an employee of the McKenzie Corporation. For the most part he was not overly worried, this was an older generation, and not likely to stand in his way.
Of course not all of McKenzie's friends were welcoming, not trusting the newcomer, who was clearly not one of them, but over the next year and a half, he worked to change their minds. To show them that he was an asset to them, someone who could be depended on to keep secrets, to make problems go away, to find new forms of entertainment, ones that more than blurred the lines of what was socially acceptable.
By the time he was ready to make his first big move, they were right where he wanted them to be. Completely entangled and beholden to him, and if they dared to step over the line, to cross him, everything they valued the most would be taken away with a snap of his fingers.
Amelia Henderson was his as well. He had used his connections to arrange a 'chance' meeting, and armed with all the information he had gleamed from McKenzie and others there was no way that she could fail to fall for his charms.
The son had been a bit of a nuisance but as his control over Amelia grew; combined with the absence of her parents, he was able to deal with the situation in a way that he found extremely satisfying, while also getting his hooks deeper into those in town whose support he needed.
By this point McKenzie was completely under his thrall so when a few of his friends tried to speak against Charles they were banished. When his family questioned some of his decisions relating to his trust they were told to let him be. If it weren't for Charles the money would have been gone, the morality clause would have been triggered by the appearance of an illegitimate child. So no matter what Charles asked for, no matter how dark his requests and suggestions, McKenzie obliged him.
When Annie Fields reappeared, without a child and thinner than ever before, McKenzie only asked if he could spend some time with her; they had unfinished business. He liked the new people that Charles introduced him to; they might be new money, but they also had new ways of thinking, ways he appreciated as his tastes grew darker.
Time passed, and with the exception of Amelia's willful son, he was able to gather more people to him, to his cause. Promises were made to those who were weak and wanted a better quality of life than they currently had.
Like Micheal McKenzie before them, Charles took great pleasure in corrupting them, in tempting them to the dark side, in bending them to his will, his every wish granted, which brought him back to the present. As much as he enjoyed trips down memory lane it was important to focus on the here and now, on what would be his by the end of the night.
"Excuse me Mr Sinclair?" Officer Camden stood at a respectable distance from him, waiting with his head bowed, to be given permission to speak again.
Joey Camden was a great example of those people that he like best; easily manipulated, controlled and corrupted. He nodded his head, like a regal king or emperor, loving the feeling of superiority that flooded his system on seeing Camden's submissive stance. It was better that any drug, than the finest vintage of champagne.
"Our search in the wood was inconclusive. There were some disturbances to the terrain, but nothing to suggest that the boy has been camping there." There was a tremor in the other man's voice, his fear of Charles obvious.
"And the search of the hotels in the area?"
How could one teenage boy disappear like that? One who had surely grown used to a certain amount of creature comforts. Old Man Henderson never skimped on luxury, even when pretending he was just a regular guy. With as many zeros as he'd had in his bank accounts, there was nothing normal about his father in law.
"No one matching his description, or registered in a name associated with the Rileys or that lawyer, at any of the hotels or motels in a thirty mile radius."
"And your source for the woods?" Charles allowed a hint of anger to bleed into his voice.
"We were unable to contact him again, he did warn us that he was going off the grid to hunt, but would let the department know if he saw anything suspicious on his travels."
"You've done well Joseph." It was difficult not to laugh openly at the overweight
, middle aged officer standing a little taller after that scrap of praise.
"I wish that there was time for you to be rewarded for your efforts." Charles always loved tempting the men. "I need my most trusted soldiers by my side tonight."
He paused again, then thought of the perfect bait. "You may spend some time with Maddison tomorrow. She should be fully rested from her exertions earlier."
Charles, being a sophisticated man of the world, was able to resist the urge to leer at the memory of his little Maddie, following their tryst that afternoon. She'd been particularly energetic and attentive.
Camden looked like he might need a cold shower and some fresh underwear. He was struggling to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on a hook.
"Thank you, Mr Sinclair."
"Do not let me down this evening Joseph." He cut across the other man's rambling, then sent him on his way.
The denial of gratification would give him an edge, the officer would need to find other outlets for the frustration he'd be feeling, and if the officer picked his wayward stepson, then that would be an added bonus for Charles.
There was a growing sense of excitement and anticipation within him, and watching as people continued to run around to complete his extensive list of demands, he basked in the knowledge that he was unstoppable. That the years he had dedicated to reaching this point ensured that his control on all the crucial players was unbreakable. They all had too much to lose, he knew all their secrets, and he had shown over the years that he was prepared to use the information he had.
He had taken his father's words to heart, he had ensured that as his personal fortunes soared, he kept a tight leash on those who served him. He had amassed a wide range of followers, each with a vital role to play.
There were those who would not have trust funds to fall back on, rather ordinary people willing to take risks in the hope of getting ahead of others. Next came those too focused on the rewards instead of the actions needed to get them. Both these groups would become unwitting scapegoats should the need ever arise.
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