Serenity's Key

by Charlotte E Hart

He smirked at her response and began walking again, feeling desperately in need of his cane for all the essential reasons. Such as support.

  “Are you still in that much pain?”

  “Hmm.” It was the only answer he had, one he did not regret in the slightest. He would have the pain delivered again in a heartbeat. He deserved it after all, and regardless of the pain, he could not have wished for a more inspiring session for their first time together.

  “Perhaps you should see a doctor?” she asked, concern affecting her voice, which was most undesirable and dull.

  “What a preposterous thing to say,” he snapped out, irritated with her righteousness. She halted and scowled back at him, probably containing the need to slap him for such a tone. “You, my love, are the only tonic I require.” Thankfully, this seemed to bring back a smile, softening her glare to one of amused compassion. “Hmm? Later you shall rub me with ointments and lather me in your medical expertise. I have probes and ensembles…” She snorted, stopping him mid-flow.

  “I’m hardly an expert in medicine.” She would need to learn to be. “And he needs to control himself a little better. You’re not entirely immune to breakage, are you? I should have stop-”

  “No, but your dainty fingers fit into holes most appropriately, hmm?” he cut in, halting the need for her to stop anything. She would only stop that which was life threatening, nothing else. She would bask in their debauchery as much as he did, and then help him recover from it. “You may slather me with balms as much as you wish. Eternally should you choose to, hmm? Ram them into open wounds and comfort the pain he provides.”

  The laughter that rang through the air was everything he needed. It dulled his agony effortlessly, rendering any thought of brutal obligations lost. She was his support. She would evermore be his support. She would hold him together, blanket him, cover the bruises and mould their future. She knew not how much he adored her for her ability to manipulate Alexander in a way he neither wanted, nor cared for anymore. She made them whole without demanding his provision to do so, leaving him free to endure Alexander in his own way without thought. She was perfection.

  “I haven’t got any money,” Claire screamed from the cafeteria, piercing his eardrums and holding her ice cream out to them. She had. She had seven point six million the last time he’d checked her account. A fine amount for her to garner wealth from. She would never rely on anything other than herself as far as he was concerned, and Lilah would help him make it so.

  He dug into his pocket as they reached her and handed the old man fifty dollars, not bothering to take the change that was offered. Claire darted off again, crossing the ground once more at breakneck speed, not caring a damn for the ice cream’s safety.

  “You know that thing I wouldn’t tell you about,” Lilah said softly, digging in her pocket and directing them to a bench. “Well, it’s nearly finished.”

  “Hmm.” He still knew not what they had been up to. Cared little for it now either. They were whole, together. Whatever the perplexing thing entailed, it would have been done with the greatest of intent. Love.

  “And so I thought maybe you should read this,” she continued, handing over his mother’s letter as she sat on the bench and pushed her long coat beneath her. “So it can all be finished before we begin.” He stared at it, not really that interested in its contents. “We can get it all out in the open then, yes?” Mostly.

  There were plenty of other situations she did not know of, none of which he supposed were relevant at present. One included a house in the woods in Berlin, one seemingly filled with children that he could not remove from his mind no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps they should go back. He could stop such things for the greater good, free the little things and feel at ease about their well-being, certainly now that Jon was dead. Alexander’s Addison Foundation could help in such matters, he was sure of it. It would give them new life, hope after their ordeals. Perhaps even forge some semblance of decency.

  “Come on. How bad can it be? You hate her anyway, so…” He watched her fingers tap the table, a little unsure of her conversation maybe as she stopped the momentum of her mouth.

  Hate. He was not sure hate was an appropriate term any longer. He turned from her careful watch and gazed at Claire’s rushing feet instead as she balanced on the fountain’s edge, amusing herself with balance and control of her limbs. Control. An essential mechanism in life. It created equilibrium, moulded the force that drove one onwards toward excellence. Hatred only hindered progress. It halted the need to move, constantly returning one to darker days and distant memories. It only immersed one in ties that were ever tightening, restricting growth as it did. He had little hatred for anything at present. Perhaps he was too consumed with love, or too focused on elevating himself past previous indiscretions. Or perhaps he simply could not see though the pain that hindered his every move of late. He cared not for overthinking such things, certainly not when new horizons beckoned so luminously.

  He slid the envelope from the table and stood, kissing her lips briefly as he did and heading towards Claire’s extremely focused frown, taking her arm to avoid an ice cream spillage.

  “Where is your unicorn?” he asked, pocketing the letter with the intent to burn it later, ceremoniously, with alcohol. And fucking, if his cock performed adequately. Or perhaps they would read it together someday. Mull over the words within and find their meaning somehow, or analyse his past with a more predisposed liability in tow. Who knew? He cared not. It was not relevant to anything in their future at present. The past was simply that—the past. He only wanted what was lingering ahead of them. A life without the concern of hatred.

  “Here,” she said, ripping her arm from his hold and scowling as she drew the necklace out of her dress. Hmm. Quite the little independent princess. He smirked at her as she dangled the charm in front of him and carried on around the fountain again. No more backwards. Not. They would all harness their attributes and traverse headlong into whatever should befall them. Unicorns and rainbows were welcome. Pots of gold, too. Many of them.

  “You truly don’t care?” Lilah asked, suddenly standing beside him and tilting her head at him dominantly, elegantly so, of course. He scanned her face, radiating in the exquisiteness of it and basking in the glow.

  “I care for you, and her. Possibly the other two on occasion of merit.”

  She nodded and smiled, gracing him with one of her most brilliant beams, illuminating the very ground beneath them. Gods could not shine brighter. Even amidst the gloom she could deliver when she chose to.

  “Well, then you should take this and put it in a safe somewhere, or clear it of all your ‘stuff you don’t want anyone else knowing about’,” she said, offering up the memory stick she had taken from Alexander in the midst of Jon’s demise. He hadn’t asked for it before, and he didn’t need it now. That life was best left closed.

  “Keep it. When you have time for such things, open its contents and dismantle it effectively.”

  She looked a little aghast. He wasn’t surprised, but who better to tackle matters of legality—or rather non-legality—than her? She had his heart already. His accounts and information were merely a matter of monetary value. “And next time we are in Rome, have me open the safe so you may also delve through that should you chose to. There is a quite an appealing emerald necklace in it that would match your beauty well.” What did it matter? He would rather her wear the damn thing and help rid him of Mama yet more, and should she choose to attempt destroying him with her knowledge of his paperwork, Alexander would kill her before she got the chance. He knew that above all other things now. They all knew that.

  “Okay,” she replied, smiling again and stepping towards Claire to lift her from the fountain. “Come on then. We’re meeting Alex and Beth for lunch, then we’re going to the zoo with them. And then, if everyone’s really good, we’re going to eat pizza at my friend’s restaurant.”

  It was not possible she meant that revolting cesspit he had end
ured last time they ate out in New York? He spun to her, causing yet more pain to wrack his innards, but was so disgusted with the very thought he prepared to slap her for her absurdity. “And your Papa,” she continued, giggling quite erotically and rallying his hands more for spankings of the highest order, “is going to use his fingers to eat.” He most certainly was not.

  “I will not.”

  “You will, too,” they both said in unison, sticking their tongues out as an after-thought. It was most disloyal, and entirely wonderful. He growled and readied himself for argumentative discussions nonetheless, flapping his hand around at the thought and already checking his handkerchief was correctly ensconced.

  “And shall we mix his food up? Swirl the mayonnaise into the ketchup?” Lilah carried on, twirling Claire around and walking them away towards the park restaurant. Good God. He almost vomited at the vision, somehow managing to contain the eruption by letting his eyes caress Lilah’s legs instead. Perhaps he could strap them apart later, showing her exactly what the merging of fluids could achieve when one prepared the correct chemical combinations.

  Hmm. Delightful.

  He eventually walked after them, gazing at his unit of two and wondering how long it would be so. She had made it clear she would require more than Claire. She wanted her own. He understood that, and perhaps when they had had their fill of debauchery, and she had settled within herself, they would have more. However, this Lilah was far from ready to settle. She would bloom yet more, ravaging men as she did and growing fiercer by the day. Something he not only worshipped her for, but cherished her for, too. She was independence personified, and he was damned if he’d allow anyone to take that from her. No one would ever take a thing from her again.

  “Did you furnish the apartment?” he asked, turning them all into the Loeb boathouse and searching for blue eyes with a smile.

  “Mmm. I still haven’t forgiven Alex for changing the spec, though, or the location. It’s not like I needed a three bedroom apartment two floors below his, is it? I mean, why would I need that? There’s only me and some furniture.”

  He smirked to himself and pushed them forward again as he caught sight of Elizabeth’s hair in the corner. Of course she did. Independence or not, there were too many imbecilles in New York who despised both Alexander and himself. She would be protected, irrespective of her impenetrable liberation while she forged on with her career. She would be chaperoned without knowledge. She would be kept safe and alive so that Alexander could continue to grow within her care. If that was what Lilah’s version of aggravation could be called. The man needed her as much as he needed both himself and Elizabeth. She was the answer, the key, and he would not let her go without good reason to do so.

  There was a scream of exuberance as his Rose saw them. She got up and ran over to Claire, picking her up and kissing her with aplomb. It was quite charming. A serene moment. One that was compounded further by Claire reaching her arms out to Alexander as they neared him. He took her, somewhat stiffly, and allowed her time on his knee, which caused giggles of enormous proportions from Elizabeth. Even Lilah chuckled as she stripped her coat off and took to the chair opposite him after kissing Elizabeth’s cheek.

  “Looks good on you,” Lilah said, laughing and smiling at him as she reached for the menu. “Not that you deserve anything nice.” The last of it was muttered, but not unheard as Alexander’s brow rose.

  “Mmm.” There was no other answer on the subject, nothing other than him keeping Claire slightly at arm’s length and shoving a folder towards Lilah. “It’s all there. She agreed and signed. You do the rest.” Lilah grinned and fiddled with the folder, shuffling papers from within it..

  “It was that easy?”

  “There was a certain level of coercion involved.”

  “Of course,” she replied, chuckling away to herself and nodding.

  If he hadn’t been so consumed by the image of Alexander and Claire, he might have cared what they were talking about, but he was, so he gingerly sat and watched as Claire tried to touch the brute’s face, wriggling around until she could kiss his cheek.

  Enchanting. He glanced at his rose, noting her whimsical expression and wondering how long it would take her to make children happen—perhaps not as long as he originally presumed.

  “Why are there scratches on your face?” Clare asked, flicking her fingers over the lacerations and frowning. “Did someone hurt you?”

  Lilah coughed. Elizabeth snorted. Alexander smiled and winked at her, taking her hand from his face and tipping her chin up to him.

  “Yes, they did, Claire, but I deserved it. I wasn’t being very fair. Everyone needs telling off sometimes. Even me.”

  Fair. A thought-provoking word for such a man. Never had he been fair. Hardly ever had he been decent, let alone reasonable. It was that which had drawn him to the man in the first place. He’d always had an arrogance that bellowed to the world, wrecking lives as it did. But now, perhaps this new version was fairer, less unjust at least. He was still a self-centred moron on occasion, but he was more contented in who he was, what he was. Their journey onwards would only help him decipher why he was with time. As long as Lilah stayed close and kept digging.

  “Here,” Lilah said, breaking him from his thoughts. “Now it really is done.”

  He picked up the folder absentmindedly, still more obsessed with Alexander’s hands on Claire than anything else as he flicked it open. Decree Nisi. The words blurred under his gaze, making him question his sight.

  “She agreed to everything in the documents. You just need to countersign and it’ll be finished,” Alexander said. “When Lilah finishes it for you, anyway.”

  Divorced? He could hardly find the words. This is what they had been up to behind his back?

  “It’s honest. She gets what she deserves, mostly,” Lilah said. “Elizabeth reminded me it was entirely correct to do the right thing by everyone.” He snapped a glare at her. The bitch deserved nothing as far as he was concerned, but he found Lilah gazing at Claire again and realised what she meant before opening his mouth. It was nothing to do with Lucinda in actuality, only that Claire needed Lucinda, and therefore some wealth associated with that. Hmm. They would discuss this in more detail at another time, when his daughter wasn’t present, and preferably when he could move quickly enough to cage her felonious ass for giving half his fortune away. The half that everyone knew about, anyway.

  He closed the folder and drew in a deep breath, almost instantly grimacing at the pain that tore through his chest once more.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” his rose said, sending her chair scraping back on the floor and rushing to his side. “This is ridiculous. Are you okay?” She faffed with his clothes, patting him on the back and sending visions of care his way. “Alex, you’re a–” He gripped her arm sharply, flicking his eyes at Claire and hoping she halted her flamboyant lips in time.

  “Coffees?” Lilah cut in, reaching for Elizabeth and drawing her back to her seat, which she complied with almost instantly. “Or hot chocolate, what say you, Claire?”

  “Chocolate!” she screamed, spinning on Alexander’s knee and then hugging him tightly.

  “Yes, let’s make that two,” Lilah replied, giggling and signalling for a waiter.

  “Make it three,” Alexander said, smiling at Claire as she bounced on his knee, then turning to look back at him. There was no contrition or regret for the damage he had done, but the love shone clearly enough regardless. He could feel it still coursing through his veins, hear it from the man’s lips in the moments after it was over, a torrent of romance falling in flashes of agony.

  I love you.

  He believed it now, wholeheartedly. They would be private for some time, he was sure, simply learning how to deal with each other, but they would continue on this path, challenging lucidity as they went and moulding new avenues for torture. Pain.

  “Four,” he said softly, amusing himself with Claire’s constant bouncing and wayward curls as he br
aced himself on the table. “One must always savour the sweetness, hmm?” She giggled at him and left Alexander’s knee to crawl over to him, sending menus flying as she did. He could have scolded her for the manoeuvre. He probably should have, but her little arms were something to be cherished, and she could disturb the furniture as much as she liked to get back to his heart.

  “Five.”

  The last voice belonged to his rose, and yet it was possibly the most potent of all in its clarity. He swung his eyes to look at her, nodding at her acceptance of what was to come and inwardly thanking her for her benevolence. He would never tell her so openly, never utter words of love with her again, but he did in some way. Without her, he doubted this would ever have happened, and without her, it still wouldn’t be. She still had the power to stop all of this should she choose to. Dramatics or not, anger or not, heartfelt offerings or not, she would only have to snap her fingers and Alexander would yield. She had his collar, one she knew nothing of yet, but she was learning and one day she would realise the authority she held with that simple thing. Not that he would be telling her those intricacies anytime soon. The only person here she held no power over here was Lilah, something she would be thankful for soon enough, no doubt.

  She looked away after a few minutes of gazing, reaching behind her and grabbing at a horrendous looking box with a pink bow. A present for Claire, he assumed. Lovely.

  “So we got you a present, Pascal,” she said, pushing the box up the table and grinning from ear to ear, blushing somewhat, which was quite bewitching in its own way. He could feel his innards cajoling themselves back to consolidation at the very sight of her pinking cheeks. Submissives were a necessity after all, and she was a particularly captivating one when handled correctly.

  “Can I open it? Can I? Can I?” Claire yelled, ringing her enthusiasm around the whole damn place as she bounced up and down again, forging yet more pain through his bones. Alexander drew her away immediately, noticing yet more grimacing and raising a brow in amusement at it. Sadistic fucker. Perhaps a slapping was in order soon. When he could garner enough courage, or energy. However, the brute overturned the thought of disgust once more by pulling the box towards him and helping Claire untie the bow. His fingers worked dexterously next to her smaller ones. Given the man’s aptitude with rope, it was hardly surprising, but the vision was amusing nonetheless, sweet even. He snorted out a laugh to himself, which also hurt, and then watched the two of them as hope engrained itself further into his soul.