by K. Webster
His eyes narrow. “I don’t have time for your games, Poppy.”
“She knows?” Peter asks. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
I jerk from my dad’s grip and point at him. “I know everything. I know what you did to Camden. I know it all.”
The room stills for a moment, then John pulls a gun.
I scream out in horror, frozen in place.
“She doesn’t know shit, asshole,” he roars. “Peter, get him out of here. She’s bluffing, and he’s too drunk for this. Take him home and I’ll clean up our mess.”
Peter takes the gun from John and guides his drunk ass from the office.
“I’m not lying. How could you?” I demand, now that the room is safe from drunks with weapons. “I know all about Project GB.”
Dad’s face turns red, and he radiates fury. “You don’t know anything about Project Good Boy, child.”
“I do,” I reply, my argument quickly becoming weak. Tears form in my eyes. “It’s awful.” Lies. I have no idea. “And I know you hurt Camden.”
Dad’s nostrils flare. “You’re lying. Do you remember what would happen when you’d lie to me as a girl?”
I take a step back. “You’d whip me. I’m a grown ass woman, Dad. You can’t whip me. What you can do is talk to me! Tell me what’s going on. I want to know what Project Good Boy is and how it involves Camden.”
Dad and Roger exchange hate-filled glares.
“I’m sleeping with him,” I tell him boldly.
This sets him off. He charges over to me and slaps me. I’m so shocked, all I can do is hold my cheek and gape at him. The man before me isn’t my father. He’s angry and scary.
“Hold her hands,” Dad barks at Roger as he advances on me.
“Get away from me!” I shriek, turning to try to escape. There’s nowhere to go because his massive desk blocks my exit.
“When you lie, you get a spanking. When you try to manipulate your father, you get a spanking. When you sleep with a motherfucking Pearson, you get a spanking,” Dad roars.
He pushes me down over the desk, and Roger wrenches my wrists behind my back, locking them in place. I scream and squirm as terror rises up inside me. I haven’t been whipped since I was fourteen years old and Dad caught me making out with a boy. He bent me right over his lap, yanked down my panties, and whipped me with his belt. I’d been so horrified and embarrassed, I promised I’d never make him upset with me again.
And now, here I am, nearly thirty years old, about to get a spanking.
“Let me go!” I scream. “I’ll call the cops!”
Roger laughs at this. Of course he does. The police commissioner has connections. The police won’t do anything.
Dad shoves my dress up and roughly pulls my panties down my thighs. This is even more embarrassing than when I was fourteen. I hear his belt unbuckle, and then a swish as he yanks it from the loops.
“You don’t know anything, Poppy,” Dad snarls. “And when I’m done, you’ll walk out of here and never speak a word of any of this. Do you understand me?”
Before I can answer, the leather lashes across my ass. I howl in pain and wriggle to no avail.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
A loud, ugly sob rings out in the air as he beats me.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“I think that’s enough,” Roger barks out, saving me from further abuse.
Dad throws his belt to the floor and stalks off. “Get her decent and out of my house.”
Roger releases me, but I’m too weak to move. I’m sobbing so hard, I feel like I might throw up. His palm caresses over my ass cheeks, and I flinch at the pain. Then his fingers brush up my thighs as he slides my panties back into place.
“Your father loves you,” Roger says softly. His finger boldly touches my pussy between my legs over my panties. “We all do. Just be a good girl and let us look after you.”
He then drags my dress back down over my ass and helps me stand. My knees buckle, and he pulls me to his chest. I cling to his shirt for fear of hitting the floor. Tears stream down my face and drip from my jaw, soaking us both.
“Calm down, Poppy,” he coos. “He is looking out for you. Trust me. If he didn’t, he’d have let John have his way. Who the hell knows what John would have done? He’s always had a thing for you, but he looked like he wanted to kill you.” He kisses my head. “You’re safe as long as you just stop trying to pry into your father’s business.”
He pulls away slightly and grips my chin, tilting my face up. I try to move my head, but he’s stronger. His lips press to mine, and I manage to push him away.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss through my tears. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He rushes me, no longer trying to play the nice guy, and pushes me against the wall. His meaty hand gropes my breast as he glowers at me. “None of this happened. You walk out that door and pretend none of it happened. Then you can continue fucking that piece of shit if you want. You can go on to become lieutenant governor. Your whole life continues as planned. Do you understand me?”
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
He grinds his laughable erection against my thigh. “If I have to in order to make you understand how goddamn serious I am, I will. You are fair game now. Tread carefully.”
I freeze in his grip. “Please let me go.”
“Tell me what I need to hear.”
“I know nothing,” I whisper. “I saw nothing. I heard nothing.”
He tries to kiss me again, and I go limp in his grip. Finally, he releases me. “Good girl.”
Chapter Fifteen
Camden
“What’s going on?” Brock demands the moment his face shows up on the Skype screen.
Ethan and their girlfriend Camila pop in behind him, worried looks on their faces.
“Pearson business,” Hayden snaps, shooing off the other two with a flick of his wrist.
Nobody corrects Hayden and says Trevor isn’t a Pearson, and that’s fine by me. Trevor was always like a brother to my dad. He can stay for what I’m about to say. If anything, it makes me feel closer to my dad.
“I’ll meet you guys down at the beach later,” he tells them both. When they’re gone, he turns to regard us with a frown. “What’s going on?”
“Camden has to tell you all something,” Nixon says.
I let out a huff of resignation. “When I was a kid, around the time Mom left, Marshall Beckett abused me.”
“Almost,” Nixon corrects. “He fucking tried, but we took care of it.”
“He what?” Hayden growls.
“It’s why it’s a bad idea for him to fuck Marshall Beckett’s daughter,” Nixon explains.
“You’re fucking Poppy?” Brock asks, clueless until now. “She’s hot.”
“Back up to the part where you said her fucking dad hurt you,” Hayden snarls.
“Almost—” Nixon starts again.
“Shut up,” I hiss, fury blazing through me. “Just shut the fuck up.”
Nixon, my best friend and protective older brother, gapes at me as though I’ve killed his dog, until he starts clicking the pieces into place. “No.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes. Nixon walked in on Marshall doing some sick shit and scared him away.”
“I tried to tell Mom,” Nixon chokes out. “She…”
We all know what happened after that. She ran off anyway. Ran off and ended up dead, buried in our neighbor’s yard.
“I’m going to kill him,” Hayden growls.
“You and me both,” Trevor hisses.
Brock mutters, “Fuck,” over and over again.
I straighten my back. “He was a sick fuck. He came back.” My eyes bore into Nixon’s. “He came back plenty. And then, one time, he made me want to die.”
Hayden rises from the sofa and starts pacing. “I will destroy him.” His rage matches that of our father. I love Hayden. Seeing him like Dad all those years ago makes me love him even more. Hayden has been here for me acting as a father figure since Da
d died, and I appreciate that more than he will ever know.
“Who fucking does that to a kid?” Brock demands. “What kind of sick fuck does that?”
Trevor trembles with fury, his teeth grinding to dust as he barely keeps from exploding.
“An asshole who is going to die,” Nixon says coldly. “He will fucking die for this.”
I reach over and clutch Nixon’s shoulder. “You’re married, man. You have Rowan and Erica and a baby on the way. Don’t go getting stupid on me.”
“Rowan’s pregnant?” Brock asks.
“Maybe show up more than twice a year and you can keep up with the family,” Hayden snarls.
I stand and walk over to Hayden to grip his shoulders. “Calm down.”
“Me?” Hayden roars. “Me calm down? How the hell can I calm down knowing what happened to you? I’m going to ruin him!”
I turn and look them each in the eye. “Marshall Beckett is why I’ve wanted to go into politics since everyone can remember. Dad said if someone hurts a Pearson, you break them. I’ve spent my entire life working on a plan to break him.”
“Eric knew?” Trevor demands.
“No,” I tell him. “He knew something happened, but I didn’t tell him. Marshall had me scared. He took advantage of a scared little boy and I believed his threats. But now…now I know better. I know I hold all the cards.”
“Poppy,” Nixon breathes. “You’re going to…what? Fuck with her just to fuck with him?”
It’s more complicated than that.
“It started as that, yes. I wanted to use her to get me meetings with Marshall and his fuckface friends. I wanted to get in and let them know I have shit on them.”
“What kind of shit?” Trevor probes.
“The kind of shit that gets grown men thrown in prison for life.” My friend Cronk dug up enough dirt on them to bury them forever.
“What are we waiting for? Why toy with Poppy?” Hayden asks. “Why aren’t we taking this shit to the police and making him pay?”
“Because I want to see the look on his face when I tell him he’s fucked. I want to look him square in the eyes and make him feel like a piece of shit. I want to tell him I’ve defiled his daughter like he defiled me. I want to destroy him. Smear him. Run his name across every tabloid before sending him off to prison.” My chest heaves with fury. “I want to ask him why.”
Nixon scowls. “Because he’s a sick fuck, that’s why.”
“I just need to see what sort of bullshit excuse he gives me,” I utter softly. “I just need to hear it.”
“He won’t apologize,” Nixon warns.
“I don’t want an apology,” I snap. “You can’t say sorry and make that shit go away. I don’t want it to go away. It’s built the man I am today. I want him to see that. To realize he created the very beast that will tear his proverbial throat out. I just need that meeting. Then I’ll send what Cronk dug up to the FBI and let them do the rest.”
“It’ll ruin Poppy too,” Nixon tells me. “You know that.”
I hate that my brother always reads me better than anyone else. He knows I like her. What started out as a revenge plan has evolved into me actually fucking liking her.
“So I’ll ruin her.” I shoot him a hard glare. “It was always the plan.”
“Sometimes plans change,” he mutters.
“You do realize,” Trevor says slowly, “when the media gets a hold of this, it’ll expose all the bad stuff that happened to you. The reporters will pick and pick and pick at that wound. Are you ready for that?”
“A true leader shows what kind of man he is by how he handles the bad situations. I’m fully prepared to face this head on. I’ve thought about this for a long time. The actual events that happened feel like a bad dream. But making him pay is a reality. I want it more than my next breath. I’ll take whatever the media throws at me. Then I’ll move on with my life and make my way to the fucking White House where I belong.”
“Well, okay then,” Trevor huffs. “Tell us what we can do to help.”
“We get him that motherfucking meeting,” Nixon growls. He turns to me and pierces me with an intense look of fierce love and protectiveness—the same look he gives our little sister and his wife, Rowan. “I will get you that meeting, brother.”
* * *
Poppy: Lady Vindicta.
Her text was sent late last night, and I squint against the morning sun to reread it. I was supposed to pick her up from her apartment.
Me: On my way.
“I’m going to be a big sister,” Erica tells me proudly as she stabs at her pancakes. She doesn’t quite understand her family dynamics yet, and no one corrects her. Hell, it’s almost too complicated for us to understand, much less explain to a young girl.
“I heard, little bit.” I walk over to her and kiss the top of her head. “When are your parents going to bring you on the boat? I got you a pink Minnie Mouse fishing pole.”
She squeals and starts begging Rowan to take her today.
“Today I have plans, but maybe next weekend,” I tell her.
“Next weekend works better,” Rowan says. “Remember, Aunt Lucy and Aunt Katie are taking us shopping today.”
“I want to go fishing,” Erica pouts.
“I thought you wanted to go to the Disney store.” Rowan raises a brow at her.
Poor kid looks positively torn. I save her from her misery.
“If you go shopping with Mommy today and go fishing next weekend, then you get to do both. You don’t have to choose.” I wink at her, and she grins. “See you ladies next week.”
I feel lighter during the drive to the marina. Getting that load off my chest to my brothers and Trevor was oddly a relief. I knew tempers and emotions would flare, but we got through it. We’re Pearsons, after all. We get through everything—as long as we do it together.
I park and make it out to where my yacht sits. When I step inside, there’s a trail of Poppy’s mess and it warms me. I like her mess all over my things. She’s still in bed when I get below deck, so I undress completely and slide beneath the covers beside her. I brush her hair away from her sleeping face and stare at her.
I’m going to make a mess of our lives.
As soon as I get that meeting with her dad, all hell will break loose. She’ll be forced to choose. And my girl isn’t brave. She won’t choose me. She’ll choose him. He’s her dad. Not to mention, I’ll be the reason her political career will be destroyed.
Guilt, an unfamiliar emotion, plagues me.
I don’t care.
This was always the plan.
Her eyes flutter open, and the striking blue glimmers at seeing me. It makes my heart thunder in my chest.
I do care.
Fuck.
“Hey,” I rumble.
She leans forward and kisses my lips. “Hey.”
“Miss me?”
When she doesn’t respond, I pull away to look at her. Her features crumble before my eyes as an ugly sob makes her entire body tremble.
“Baby,” I murmur. “What’s wrong?”
She clings to my chest and presses her face to my flesh. Her tears soak my skin as she cries. I stroke her hair, my nerves threatening to give me an anxiety attack.
When her sobs die down, I push her onto her back again. She winces as though she’s physically in pain. I rain kisses down all over her face. I’m not sure what the fuck is wrong with her, but I’ve never seen her so broken. It unnerves me.
“Tell me what to fix,” I murmur.
“I’m sorry.”
I cock my head to the side and study her features. Her cheeks are red and tearstained. Her nostrils flare with each ragged breath she takes. She’s so beautiful. Hurting and broken, yet so striking.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because he hurt you.”
I clench my jaw. “Poppy,” I warn.
“He hurt me too.”
At this, I startle. “What?”
“Did…did my dad moles
t you?” Her bottom lip trembles.
I give her a clipped nod even though she doesn’t deserve the answer. It’s risky. She’s technically Team Beckett, not Team Pearson.
“You want to meet with him to confront him?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“Destroy him.”
She winces, but doesn’t move away from me. Her eyes are sad as she looks me over as if to memorize my face. “I can’t stop you.”
“It’ll destroy you too,” I warn.
“Then you can put me back together.”
Her words give me hope that maybe I don’t have to choose. Maybe I can still get my revenge and get the girl. Would it be so fucking bad to take her as my trophy? I could shield her from whatever the press dishes out. She’d fit right in with Lucy and Katie and Rowan. The very idea of her one day at their side with her own pregnancy hormones fighting over a chocolate cake recipe has me filling with this need to possess her. To stamp my mark on her soul and make her mine. I’ve been utterly obsessed with her from the moment I was introduced to her all those years ago when she was way out of my league. When I thought Tampa’s Golden Girl would always be an image I whacked off to—never the real thing.
Yet here she is.
Spreading her legs and inviting me inside her.
Kissing the hell out of me like her life depends on it.
She loves me too. On some unspoken level, she feels the same intense way I feel about her. Mateo treated her like an arm piece. A shiny trophy to cart around. But she’s more than that to me. She always has been. For nearly a decade, she’s been the center of my revenge plan. The silver lining. The prize at the end. I knew eventually I’d fuck her and then ruin her dad. I didn’t ever count on fucking and falling for her. Certainly didn’t plan for her to fall right down the hole with me.
My mouth consumes hers as I thrust into her wet heat. I fuck her sweetly like we do sometimes and kiss her reverently. She’s mine, and no matter what happens with all this, she’ll still be mine.
Even if that means changing the plans.
Destroying him means destroying her.
And I don’t think I can do it.
Fuck.
