At Mr. Cartwright's Command
Page 10
“Well I did.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Well fuck you too.”
His eyes and nostrils flare but he restrains the urge to look at me. “If I were you, I'd be really careful, especially after all the shit you pulled tonight.”
“Why, what are you going to do?” I say with a bark of laughter. “Kick me out? Leave me at the side of the road?”
He glances to the side and says, “Don't tempt me.”
“I think I already did.”
He holds me in his gaze, trying to read what's behind my eyes as I refuse to back down. “Driver, stop the car,” he calls out, and the limo comes to a halt at the side of the road. He raises an eyebrow as he calls my bluff. “You're free to --”
Before he can even finish his sentence I unbuckle my seat belt, push the car door open and throw my legs over the side.
“Oh, I can't leave without returning these,” I say as I unclasp the bracelet from my wrist and remove the earrings as well, placing them on the seat beside him.
I step out of the limo and turn to face him. Through lowered lids he says, “Everything you're wearing is mine.”
“Fine,” I say, pulling the thin straps of my beaded sheath dress and letting it fall to the ground beneath me. I step out, lifting the garment off the ground and throwing it at him.
His eyes widen and travel down my half naked body. “Those are mine as well,” he says.
I roll my eyes and say, “Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright,” before shutting the car door and walking away.
I don't make it two feet before realizing just how ridiculous of an idea it was to take my clothes off and walk down a deserted highway in the middle of the night. But before I can fully regret it I hear the car open and close behind me.
“Go on home,” I hear him tell the driver. I turn at the sound of the engine roaring once again, only to see the limo pull off and head down the road, with Mr. Cartwright standing idly by.
“Just what exactly are you doing?” I say with my arms folded across my chest.
“I think it would be more appropriate if I asked you that, considering I'm not the one who's naked.”
I feel the heat rush to my cheek as a sudden wave of insecurity washes over me. “Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright,” I say again, with more emphasis this time. I begin to walk away and he follows, moving briskly around me until he's in front of me again.
“Just where are you going, exactly?” he asks.
“Don't pretend like you care,” I reply, as I try my best to maneuver around hm.
He chuckles darkly, stopping me by my arm. “I don't. But like I said, those,” he says, his eyes falling to my breasts, “belong to me.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he replies as he holds his hands out, smugly. His dark green eyes challenging me. “You made our choice . And it wasn't my decision to leave in the middle of nowhere, now was it?” I could kill him. Right here in these woods. And with no one around, I just might get away with it.
In a huff, I unclasp my bra and push the straps over my shoulder.
“This is just like old times,” he says with a chuckle.
I scowl at him before sliding the panties off over my hips. I take both in my hands and throw them at his feet, refusing his hands. His lips curl into a smile as he looks me over, but I can't do anything but put place my arms over my naked body protectively.
I hear him groan and with one swift step, he closes the gap between us, pulling me tight against his chest with one arm and pulling me into a deep, dark kiss with the other. His mouth is hot and possessive on mine, but I can't be pulled back into his web. I can't. I push him away, but he pulls me back in, his mouth meeting mine again, his tongue pushing past my teeth and swirling through my mouth. His taste is intoxicating.
He takes me by the wrist, pulling me back into the trees and away from the road. We land against a tree, his body nearly crushing me against the hard bark as we palm at each other wildly. He strips off his jacket, and I reach for his collar, fumbling with the buttons until I get frustrated enough to just rip it half open.
He grasps my hips roughly, spinning me around until I’m facing the tree. He pushes me against it, feeling his way up to my waist and over my chest until he’s clutching my breasts firmly in his palms. I moan as he gropes me and I feel my nipples harden in his hands. His mouth falls against my neck, practically mauling my skin my skin and instinctively, I curl my arm around him, running my fingers through his silky, short locks.
He presses his body tighter against mine, making sure I feel the hardness under his slacks brush brush against my ass. His hands move, one arm falling around my waist and pulling my hips back. I grip the tree in front of me, listening to the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper coming undone.
“Open your legs for me,” he says, his breath hot against my ears. He doesn’t have to ask me twice, and I widen my stance, guided by his fingertips on my inner thigh.
His chest rises against my back as he breathes against the back of my neck. I feel him drag the tip of his cock down through my crack and over my hole -- it’s slick and hard, and I bite my bottom lip just waiting to feel him. Low moans escape his throat as he slips into me. I gasp, digging my fingers into the bark in front of me. He pushes deeper inside of me, holding me tight against his body as he fills me. He thrusts into me and I rock back against him, taking in all of him until we climax together.
He pulls out of me and I fall against the tree, bracing myself against it and feeling weak in the knees.
I turn towards him, resting my back against the bark as I listen to him pant. I eye his jacket on the ground as he reaches to pick it up. He places it over my shoulders and I tug on the lapels to hold it closed against my body
“Maybe you should call the limo?” I ask softly.
“I left my phone in the car,” he says remorsefully.
“Good one.”
Silence falls between us for a moment. He sort of paces aimlessly in front of me before stopping and dropping forehead against his fingers.
“You're going to marry her, aren't you?” I whisper to him.
He exhales, slumping his shoulder against a nearby tree. His body language is mre than enough to answer my question.
“You two are a good match,” I say, and he looks slightly offended.
“We're nothing alike.”
I laugh and reply, “Yeah, sure you aren't.”
I try to move away from him but he takes me by the hand, pulling me back towards him.
“I want you to stay,” he whispers against my ear.
“Where would I go like this?”
“No,” he says, turning me towards him with his hands planted firmly on my shoulders. “I want you to stay. With me.”
“That's an idea I don't think your fiance would appreciate.”
“She won't give a shit. She's in it for my money, and that's all.”
I want to laugh at how poorly he's able to read her, but I don't.
“And what are you in it for?” I ask.
He doesn't respond.
“It's about your father – you're still trying to get his approval.”
He looks up at me with angry eyes. “This isn't about him and I couldn't care less about his approval.”
I shrug. “Well either way, you've made your choice pretty clear.”
Mr. Cartwright sighs. “There's a lot you don't understand.”
“We can agree on that,” I reply. We're from completely different worlds – I'll never understand why he makes some of the choices he does.
“Tell me you'll at least think about it?” he asks.
I nod and say, “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
*
I wake up early the next morning, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling until the clock reads 7:30, well after I know Mr. Cartwright would no longer be home. Last night I told him I would think about it, and I did. There's no way I could go the rest of the night without thinking about it. But thinking a
bout something is much different from considering it. Because I’d never consider being someone’s mistress.
I roll on to my side, enjoying the view of the hills through the window, basking in the comfort of soft sheets in a bed that's for me and only me. Even if it's not mine. Later on in the morning I head downstairs, that familiar smell of fresh, sweet dough filling my senses – they're less enticing to me than usual. I follow it until I reach the kitchen and find Ronald piling a plate high with blueberries. He glances at me and flashes me a tight smile. His eyes look sad.
“Hey Ronald,” I greet him, running my hand through my messy locks.
“Good morning, Tamara,” he replies.
“I have a favor to ask you,” I say.
“Mmm, yes, fine. After your breakfast.”
“They smell delicious. I don' have much of an appetite today though.”
“No favors until after you’ve eaten,” he states plainly.
I sigh. “Alright.”
When he finishes preparing the plate he slides it in front of me. It smells delicious, and looks delicious. I cut a small piece off and drizzle it with maple syrup before letting it enter my mouth. Divine, as always. Enjoy it because it’s the last time. As good as it tastes I can only stomach half of it.
“Can you take me someplace today?”
“You don’t have to ask me, you can take the Ferrari.”
“Yeah, except I’m not coming back.”
He doesn’t even flinch when I say it, he just continues stacking glasses into the cupboard.
“Ronald?” I ask when he doesn’t answer.
“No. I won’t. I’m sorry, I’m busy.”
Huh? Feeling slightly hurt, I shrug. “Um, alright. I’ll just have the driver take me.”
“No, I won’t stand for you doing that either.”
What is wrong with him today?
“Why are you being so indignant?”
He turns to me, placing his hands on the table in front of him. His face looked pain and I’m taken aback by the change in his usually chipper demeanor. “Because… because you are the best thing that’s happened to Master Cartwright in a very long time and I don’t want to see you go. He needs you.”
I look up at him, stunned. “He’ll be fine. He has his fiance now.”
Ronald groans. “Don’t get me started on her!” he says, and I giggle. My laughter doesn’t last long.
“Regardless, he made his choice and I’ve made mine,” I say with a tight smile.
Ronald sighs, cocking his head with weary eyes.
“I’ll miss you even more than him,” I say and he smiles as well.
“Well, if you must leave us, then yes I can take you as soon as you’re packed.”
Packed? My shoulders slump. “I guess that means I’m ready to go now then.”
Ronald hangs his head and nods. “I’ll bring the car around. Meet me out front in about five minutes.”
He leaves, and I take a minute to take in the house -- the interior, the exterior, and the views. It’s beautiful, but for some reason, I don’t feel like I’m leaving anything behind. I’m just gaining my freedom.
I exit the house and hop in the front seat of the Bentley next to Ronald.
“Where to?” he asks.
“4684 W 18th St.“
His brows furrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yup.”
It’s a silent and solemn ride into town. I lean my head against the cool glass of the car window, my mind too preoccupied with a million other things to realize Ronald is taking me in the wrong direction until we actually stop. I snap out of my reverie as soon as the car comes to a halt, glancing around oddly.
“This isn't 18th street?”
“You're right, it's not.”
“Where exactly are we?”
“A hotel. Mr. Cartwright told me to give you this,” he says, reaching into his pocket he pulls out his wallet, and from that, he slips me a small piece of paper. “I want you to cash it, then go inside and check in for the night.”
Curiously, I take it from him and unfold it. It's a blank check with Mr. Cartwright's barely legible signature on it.
So he knew I would leave?
I look back up at Ronald, and promptly tear it into tiny pieces.
He sighs and reach back into wallet. “He told me you might do that,” he says as he pulls out yet another blank check.
He knows me far too well.
I hold up my hand to refuse it. “I don't want to make a bigger mess for you than the one I already have.”
“Ms. Pierce, I know you have our pride but please keep in mind that you also have no money and nowhere to go.”
I roll my eyes and turn towards the car door. “Thanks for reminding me, Ronald.”
He sighs and mumbles, “Now I understand why Master Cartwright calls you stubborn.”
I should be offended but as I look back at him, neither of us can help but laugh.
“I'm just...I'm done with being taken care of. I don't want anything else that's his.”
“Suit yourself then,” he says with a long, exasperated breath. He reaches for his wallet again.
“You can keep pulling those out Ron, and I’ll keep tearing them up.”
“No, I want you to take this,” he says, handing me a $100 bill. “And before you refuse, it’s not from Mr. Cartwright.”
“Then who’s it from?”
“It’s from me.”
“I’m not taking money from you.”
“Go on. Master Cartwright pays me very, very well, I can assure you.”
I can’t help but snicker. “I don’t doubt it. But I still can’t take your money.”
“You’re not taking it. I fully expect you to pay me back in say, the next 10 to 20 years.”
He flashes me a tight smile and I laugh, awkwardly brushing the hair away from my face. “Take it and find some place decent to sleep for a night or two until you get back on your feet.”
Without taking no for an answer, he slips it into my purse.
“Now get out of here before I change my mind,” he says.
“Thanks Ronald,” I tell him softly.
He turns towards me again with sad eyes. “There’s no need to thank me. You can always call me should you need anything.”
We share our last goodbyes before I step out of the car and watch him drive off.
The hotel he’s brought me to is actually more of a youth hostel, which makes it perfectly affordable. Well, for a night or two at least. But that’s all I need.
I check in, make my way up to my room and crash on the bottom bunk. I’ll most likely end up sharing the room with someone else, but for now, I lie back and enjoy the quiet, the solitude, and my new found freedom.
I roll over, fluffing the pillow underneath my head. For the remainder of the day, I’ll rest. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call Melissa.
CHAPTER 11
MR. CARTWRIGHT
Business Is Blooming
I stare at the headline, my eyes darting back and forth between the text and the photo below it. The brother-sister duo are featured prominently – grinning ear to ear obnoxiously for the camera, surrounded by flowers in their trendy SOHO shop. I can feel my sinuses flaring up just looking at them.
But there in the back she stands, looking away from the camera, seemingly unaware of the fact that she's being photographed. Shop Manager is her title now. Even in a still, I can tell she does her job with grace and she does it well. She looks more beautiful than I remember, even without mugging or posing for the camera. She's doing fine without me.
My hand instinctively begins to ball up into a fist, crumbling the paper between my fingers.
I look up at the man who's smiling smugly in front of me.
“Is there a reason why you're showing me this?” I ask.
My father leans back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Oh, I just thought you'd like to know how your little mistress has been doing since she left you.”
“And you have to admit that that's the most amusing part about all this. She rejected you. A woman who grew up in foster care left you. Tell me now – you find that amusing as well, right?”
“Do you have nothing better to do today than to sit around and antagonize me?”
His smile fades. “Don't worry, I have plenty of things to do to support your lifestyle. I just thought I'd remind you of why I think you're a failure.”
“Well, you have always been a loving, doting father,” I reply wryly, watching him as he rises from his chair.
“I've given you more love than you ever deserved,” he says carelessly, smoothing out his blazer.
“I wish you had died instead of mother.”
That familiar snide smile creeps back across his face. If we were a normal family, saying something like that would end with anger or tears. But we're far from normal and that kind of talk is par for the course.
“I know. You remind me every day,” he throws on his jacket and hat. “Good day, son.”
I don't bother seeing him out; I just take solace in the fact that he's gone. For now, at least. I'd lock him out if his name wasn't on the deed.
I tip my chair back, glancing around my office as my mind becomes lost in thought. I stroke my chin anxiously as I eye the crumbled trey paper in the trash can. Without remorse, I fish it out and unfold it, my eyes darting immediately to her.
My lip curls into a crooked smile. I have an idea.
TAMARA
“You guys, be careful, don't hurt yourselves!”
I nearly cringe as I watch Connor and Melissa ascend the narrow stairway, both with oversized boxes piled up high in their arms. Although they claim to be nothing alike, they're both so equally stubborn it makes me want to laugh. But the last thing I need is either of them getting injured trying to move my stuff.
“You might want to help Melissa if you don't want all your stuff broken, because she's not going to make it!”
“Shut up, Connor!”
“What was that sis? You sound kind of out of breath,” he mocks.