by Bella Jewel
“You haven’t even tried it,” he says with fake calm.
His father huffs. “I don’t need to try it, I don’t like it. I should have never come here. I should have just gone to the restaurant and had a decent meal, not this...slop.”
My anger rises even more.
“Dad,” Ben says, “he’s made a big effort.”
“This isn’t effort,” his father says, waving his hand over the table. “This is a forced dinner. I never wanted to come here, Benjamin. If you had listened to my requests, instead of trying to include...him...then we wouldn’t have this problem.”
Him?
He can’t even speak properly to his own child.
I clench my fists, feeling my heart beginning to pound as I struggle to hold back my anger.
“He is your son, and this is a chance for us all to mend a broken relationship,” Ben growls.
“He isn’t my son. Just because I’m his father doesn’t mean he matters.”
“Peter!” William’s mom cries, pressing her hands over her eyes.
“Enough,” William roars, slamming his hand on the table. “If you’re so horrified, then get the hell out of my house.”
Peter stands, throwing his napkin down. “Gladly. I never wanted to come here. In fact, if it weren’t for your mother’s pity, I wouldn’t have you working for me. You’re a disappointment William. I don’t know how you call yourself a man.”
That’s it for me.
“He’s more of a man than you,” I say. My voice icy.
Peter turns, his expression horrified. He jerks his head back, like he can’t believe I have spoken.
“I beg your pardon?” he snaps.
“You heard me,” I growl. “He’s more of a man than you. He’s successful, he’s loving, and he’s a good person. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a coward. What kind of man comes in to his own child’s house and speaks to him like that? What kind of man makes his own wife cry because he cares about no one but himself? That man,” I yell, pointing to William, “is amazing, and beautiful, and all the things you aren’t.”
“How dare you?” his father roars.
“You should leave,” I snarl. “People like you are weak. People like you pick on others because it makes you feel better. He doesn’t need someone like you in his life. You’re the kind of man that will die old and alone, because you will shove everyone away. Eventually, they’ll stop fighting to make it better.”
“Are you allowing your staff to speak to me like this?” Peter bellows, turning to William.
William is watching me, and there’s something in his eyes. Something intense. He turns to his father. “Yes, I am. You know where the door is.”
Peter turns to William’s mom. “Jane?”
She sobs into her hands, and then looks to her son. “He’s your son, too, Peter, and he never did anything wrong.”
He turns to Ben next. “Benjamin?”
“You should leave, Dad. William made an effort here, and you completely ruined it. If you want to go to that nice restaurant, then away you go. Only you’ll be going alone.”
“You can all go to hell,” Peter yells, and then takes his jacket before storming out of the room.
I look over to William’s mom who is crying; she’s a complete mess. I walk over to her, and I kneel down. “Would you like me to take you to the bathroom so you can clean up?”
She lifts her head, and her eyes are puffy and red. “Yes, please.”
I help her up and lead her from the room. I take her down the hall to the bathroom, and I gather her some fresh towels. She runs the cool water over them and turns to me, giving me probably the weakest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’ve never heard anyone speak to him like that before.”
My cheeks heat. “I’m sorry, it was disrespectful, I understand but...”
“No,” she croaks. “He deserves it.”
I stare at her. “You just stay and enjoy your sons. You deserve that.”
“I miss them. It’s not often I get to see them together.”
“Well, you’re here now.”
“Thank you,” she breathe1; em. s, and slightly straightens her shoulders.
“Are you ready to go back out?”
She nods, and I open the bathroom door, leading her out. The minute we get out, we run into William.
“Momma, are you okay?”
She nods, and smiles weakly up at him. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Go and sit down. We’ll finish dinner and spend some time together.”
She nods, and thanks me once more before walking away. I turn to William, certain he’s going to punish me for speaking like that to his father.
“I’m sorry, William, I know it wasn’t my place to speak to him like that, and—”
Suddenly his hands are in my hair, and he’s leaning down, capturing my mouth with his. Oh, my. He pushes me into the wall, and he kisses me so hard my lips begin to ache. He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I open to him, enjoying this new, exciting feeling. His hands slide down my body, cupping my backside. He lifts me, literally, bringing my body up against this. I can feel his arousal pushing against my belly.
I gasp, and reach up, tangling my hands into his long, thick hair.
He pulls his mouth off mine, and stares down at me with an intense, lusty stare. “That was...incredible.”
“You’re not mad?” I whisper.
“No one has ever defended me like that before.”
I give him a wobbly smile. “No one deserves to be treated like that.”
He runs his fingertip down the side of my face. “I’m going to finish dinner, but tonight...come to me, Number Thirteen.”
Come to him? My entire body sparks to life.
“To your room?” I whisper.
He nods, and presses his lips against mine again. Then he pulls back and begins to turn away, before looking over his shoulder and murmuring, “It’s time I made you mine.”
Oh.
He gives me one more look, and then he’s gone.
His...I become his.
Do I want to be his?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NUMBER THIRTEEN
The rest of the night goes well. William spends time with his family, and they leave around 9pm. We’re all sent back to our rooms to shower and prepare for bed. My belly flutters as I think about going to William’s room. I think I know what he wants to do with me, but I’m not so sure I want to give it. I’m nervous, I don’t even know if I’ve ever done that before.
After my shower, I slip out of the room. Number Twelve watches me, her eyes narrowed, but she doesn’t ask where I’m going. I slowly make my way down the halls, swallowing down my nerves. I reach William’s room and I hesitate a long while. Is this wise? Is this what I want? Only a week ago I wanted to escape, now I’m here...feeling things I don’t ever recall feeling before.
I lift my hand and I knock.
A moment later, the door opens and William appears. He’s wearing only his pajama pants again, and my eyes automatically take in his large, muscled form. He reaches out, taking my arm and pulling me into the room. I go, still not sure if I’m ready to put up more of a fight. The minute the door closes, William spins me around and stares down at me.
“You’re frightened, Number Thirteen.”
“Is Emelyn my name?” I ask, shocking myself.
I’ve thought a lot ahou his.bout the name, but I didn’t plan on it being the first question I asked. William tilts his head and stares down at me, then he nods and answers with a soft, “Yes.”
I feel as though someone has balled up a fist and punched me right in the stomach. I can’t remember my life, but the last few weeks I’ve been nothing more than a number. Now, I have an identity. I reach out and steady myself using a table beside me.
“I know it’s hard to take in, but slowly, your memories are going to come back. They’re not going to be pleasant, Emelyn.”<
br />
I snap my head up at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s amazing.
“Say that again,” I whisper.
“Emelyn,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
He reaches up and strokes a piece of my hair from my face. I stare up at him, wanting to ask so much, needing so many answers.
“You said you wanted me tonight, William, but you need to know that there are questions I have...I can’t give myself to you if you can’t trust me enough to answer them.”
His expression doesn’t change, but he does nod.
“There is only so much I can give you, Beauty. You need to decide what question you want answered the most. I will only give you one.”
I study him for a moment, but I know what question I want to know the most. I need to know it to understand William, or at least make a little more sense of what’s happening here with him, with us.
“I want to know what happened?” I say, pointing to his eye.
He visibly stiffens, but he takes my hand and pulls me to the couch. He pulls me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle into him, and I let him take a moment to decide if he wants to give me what I’m asking for.
He does.
“I was a quiet kid, not the usual boisterous type. I didn’t have a backbone, I found it hard to communicate with others. Ben was my best friend, and mostly, he kept me out of trouble. My father adored Ben, he was the son he always wanted. I was just the...freak. I was too quiet, too gentle, too easy to push around.”
Hearing him use that awful word has me flinching. I called him a freak. Guilt swarms my chest, knowing what that must have done to him, and how much it must have hurt.
“My momma was soft, too gentle. She babied me. She didn’t stop me from being a weak, broken child. My father worked away a lot, but when he was home, he spent all his time with Ben. When Ben decided he wanted better schooling, my father sent him to this amazing, expensive boarding school. He left me behind. For a long while it was just me and Momma, my father was rarely home.”
He stops for a second, and entwines his fingers in mine. I won’t push him on this, he can tell me as much as or as little as he needs.
“I suddenly became her protector,” his voice sounds strained as he continues. “She cried so much. I was all she had. I didn’t burden her with my problems, she could barely deal with her own. So I didn’t tell her I was getting bullied at school. She made me go every day, and I did so graciously. Once again, I didn’t want to burden her anymore than I already was. The bullying started off quite mild. Head flushing, shoving into lockers, that kind of thing. But there was a boy, Marcel, who took great pleasure in watching me suffer. It got to a point where I almost became his obsession.”
Bullies did this to him? They hurt him like that? My hand squeezes his, and my stomach coils.
“One day I was late for school, Momma had a difficult morning,icu he and I didn’t want to go. She made me, telling me I had to go and learn. I did as she asked, but I backtracked, going a different way so I could get there quicker. Marcel and his group of friends cornered me in an Alley just at the back of the school. He was telling me his girlfriend found my eyes beautiful, and that seemed to really bother him. He told me no one was beautiful to his girlfriend except him.”
I swallow the pain rising in my throat, and manage to keep myself from crying.
“I didn’t even know his girlfriend,” he laughs bitterly. “I didn’t know what he was talking about. I don’t even know why he chose me to bully. I knew something bad was going to happen, I felt it. When they tackled me to the ground, I can’t explain the confusion and fear I felt. They pinned me down, his friends holding my arms and legs while another held my head down.”
I think I’m going to be sick, but I manage to keep myself calm enough to keep listening. My hands are trembling, and I feel him squeeze one. I don’t know why he’s comforting me. He should be the one getting comfort.
“They had stolen hydrochloric acid from the science lab at school. They held my eye open and poured it in. I can’t even begin to explain the pain I felt. I couldn’t even wipe it away, my hands were pinned. I know I was screaming, but I didn’t hear it. It ran down the side of my face, burning all the skin there too. They ran off and left me there, and I was sure for a moment that I would die. The people that lived across the road from the alley heard me screaming and got help. I was never the same, it broke something inside of me.”
I’m crying now, nothing can stop the tears from cascading down my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage. What more can you say to someone who has had something so utterly cowardly done to them? I can’t bring his eye back, nor can I change that it happened. Sorry is all I have, yet even then, it’s just not enough.
“I became a monster that day, but not in the way people would think. I didn’t become cruel or unforgiving, I became disfigured. People stared at me, they pointed, they taunted. People are cruel to those who are different. I could have become a heartless, cold person, shutting of my emotions and turning into an unrelenting bastard, but it wasn’t who I am. Instead, I became obsessed with teaching. If Marcels parents had have taught him properly, he might have never been so cruel. He had never learned his lesson; he was never punished for his crime. He was a bad person, and he was allowed to get away with it.”
“Is this why you’ve got us?” I dare to ask.
He looks down at me with a soft expression. “That’s more than one question, and it’s not something I’m willing to speak about right now.”
Even though he’s speaking to me kindly, he’s also being very firm. I think about tonight, and how his father treated him, and I think about how his life must have been growing up: the taunting, the abusive words. It couldn’t have been easy.
“William?” I say in a small, meek voice.
“Yes?”
“Your dad...was he always like that?”
I’m sure he won’t answer me because I know what he’s given me tonight is more than he’s probably even given anyone. I don’t want to push it, but at the same time I just can’t shove my curiosity down.
“For as long as I can remember.”
“Why?”
It makes no sense to me. Why would a father love one son and yet treat ands lothe other with such hatred? They’re twins, they look the same—hell, they have similar behaviors. How could someone who is meant to love you be so cruel?
“I can’t answer that, Beauty, because I don’t know. When I was growing up, it made no sense to me. Ben and I were exactly the same in so many ways, yet he only saw him. He never saw me. He never wanted to.”
We’re silent a moment before I murmur, “I see you, William.”
He flinches, and then he uncurls me off his lap and stands. He makes his way over to his desk and shuffles a bit; soon a soft, slow song comes on, filling the room with its beautiful melody. He turns around and walks over to me with an outstretched hand. I hesitate. If I take this, if I let him in, that’s it for me. I already know I won’t be able to turn back. I lift my gaze to his, and I see him staring at me with an intensity I’ve never experienced.
It’s in that moment I just see him for what he is: a jagged piece of glass that can never be glued back into its spot because it’s not perfect. It has rough edges, even though the middle is still stunning.
I’m a piece of jagged glass, too. Maybe together we can find a way to fit.
I reach up and I take his hand. He pulls me slowly to my feet before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against his body. I feel so tiny compared to him. His powerful form surrounds me, but it’s in the most amazing way. Like we were made for each other, two people molded to fit. He slides a hand down my arm, wrapping his fingers around mine, and then we’re dancing. And it’s perfect, and brilliant, and everything I ever imagined dancing should be.
We sway slowly, just staring at each other. His lips are slightly parted, and his blue gaze is intense, filled w
ith something so deep it has me questioning everything I’ve believed in the past month. He’s changing everything I am, and it’s one of those changes that can’t be undone. Warmth fills my body, and I find my mind trailing off into thoughts that involve absolutely no dancing.
Taking a leap of faith I never knew I had inside me, I lean up, and I press my lips to his. He sucks in a breath of air, but he’s soon responding, letting go of my hand and tangling his fingers into my hair. He deepens the kiss until my body is falling against his, limp and needy. He reaches down, cupping my bottom. His big fingers curl into my soft flesh and he pulls me harder against him. I whimper, and my fingers clutch his shirt.
Slowly he moves us until we’re leaning against his bed. With one swift shove we’re both going down. I hit the soft mattress first, and he stops himself from falling onto me by dropping a hand down beside my head. I stare at his muscles, relishing in how defined they are. He’s so...strong. His lips leave mine, and they travel down my neck. I quiver, and let my head fall back, relishing in the sensations burning through my body.
“William?” I whisper, arching against him.
He makes a rumbling sound against my neck to let me know he’s heard me.
“Am I...I mean...have I done this before?”
He stiffens, and lifts himself off me. He stares down at me, his face a mask of confusion, doubt, and arousal.
“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice gravelly.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I just...I wanted to know.”
I reach up, caressing his jaw. He stares down at my lips, and then he murmurs, “Are you sure about this? I won’t deny what I want, but I won’t force myself upon anyone.”
“I’m sure,̵p> 8221; I say, feeling my heart pound.
He nods, and then returns to torturing my neck with those sweet, slow kisses. His fingers slide down my sides until he finds my top. Slowly, he slips them up underneath it, trailing them lightly over my skin as he moves up towards my breasts. My body breaks out in tremors, and I push myself harder into him, letting him know just how much I want this.
