Wicked Steps

by CORY CYR

  “So tomorrow’s the day, huh?” Coco asked, grabbing more cream cheese for her bagel.

  “Yeah, I guess. I’m not looking forward to it to be honest. But I guess it has to be done.”

  “It’s about goddamn time. I hate to keep rehashing this, but don’t people normally do a reading of the will within the first few weeks of death? I mean, you’re only one person. It’s not like there are going to be any hiccups. He left it all to you. The end.”

  “I suppose, but as I told you before, we’re talking about millions. Possibly billions if you count all the real estate holdings and companies. Hartman had quite the empire.”

  “Elle, you are planning to dump Global, right? We have our hands full with the gallery. What you don’t need is that headache. Just have Preston sell it. Your dead husband fucked over enough people. The bidding wars will be enormous. You could make extra cash by putting it on pay-per-view.”

  “Ha. Ha. I have no intentions of being involved with Global or any of the other ten-plus companies he owned. I don’t even want to be the primary stockholder. As far as I’m concerned, all I want is the gallery, the house in Scarsdale, a vehicle, and enough to cover living expenses. He had no other heirs, so the rest can go to charities, a ton of them.”

  I only wanted what was promised, nothing else. Guilt had plagued me for the past five years and, still, even now, I felt contrite. Maybe that was the motivation behind why I wasn’t overjoyed about a legal meeting. It was also the reason I didn’t want his companies or any of the other vast investments he had. If most of it went to charity, I might feel some sort of vindication.

  Our agreement still haunted me even after all this time. Yes, it’s what I signed up for. And I had done my part. But Hartman’s fortune was too extensive, and the price had been too high. I needed it behind me. I would rely on Hartman’s attorney to take care of my non-interests in all the companies. I just wanted that part of my life over. I was desperately trying to put my years with him behind me.

  “So tell me about this flavor of the week you went home with,” I said, trying to deflect from my issues.

  Coco shrugged as she sipped her mimosa. “Good body, had skills, nice. I haven’t had time to research his income yet.” She chuckled.

  She always managed to obtain all financial information on any man that piqued her interest. She had the unordinary ability to stay on friendly terms with men she’d given walking papers to. I assumed one of these “‘friends” aided in her economic espionage. I always thought it was self-serving to ignore the personal attributes of the individual and have his qualifications as relationship material based solely on his financials. But Coco wanted the perfect package, and that included financial stability. She didn’t want to waste her time on a man who had no ambition or money.

  She had told me, time and time again, at our age, time was precious. We couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes we made in our twenties, when the only thing that mattered was their cars and how attractive they were.

  I, of all people, had no right to judge her. What I had done was worse than anything she could ever imagine. Even now, I still hadn’t confessed all the details concerning why I married Hartman. I told her only what she needed to hear. I’d warned him she was a digger and she would continue to probe if I didn’t tell her everything. The longer I waited, the worse it got, and eventually, there was no way I could justify it. But once we had the final plans for Salacity and the money to secure our dream, she stopped asking. Her mind was now occupied with the goals we had concocted years ago. The gallery had taken center stage.

  It had been good the first two years. I spent my mornings with Hartman, going over weekly spreadsheets and budgets. I took care of any correspondences he had via email. He worked mainly from home, doing videoconferences. We had implemented rumors that he wanted to spend more time with his new, young wife.

  Once a month, he would make an appearance at Wick Global just to keep up the façade of being the CEO. The changes were subtle, and for a long time, I didn’t notice. But when they happened, it was like the changing of the guards. He would just blank out, and some other entity would take over. It started gradually, but three years in and it began to happen two to three times a year. The episodes would only last a few hours. The cruelty he would exhibit knew no boundaries. Some of the time, he’d remember and beg forgiveness afterward. But I became increasingly afraid. He had warned me in the beginning that there were things about him he didn’t want me to ever know. Characteristics he never wanted me to witness.

  In five years of marriage, we never made love. We’d had his variation of sex seven times, which left me battered inside and out. He’d been rough. No, he’d brutalized me, sometimes with a belt or glass dildo. Many times with what was available at the time. There was nothing loving about the things he’d done. The one anal assault had been so savage I’d had to seek medical attention the next day. I lied and told my doctor we’d been drinking and gotten carried away.

  Hartman was so apologetic. He sobbed. But every time I saw the fine-line scars on my lower back and buttocks, I cried. I wanted to excuse it all because it wasn’t him; it was his disease. His mind was being consumed, and I pretended he didn’t have any control over what he was doing.

  Even though I justified it, I knew these were the rumors people had whispered about behind his back. He had lied and deceived me with an imitation of a kind and warmhearted man, when in reality, he’d been this monster. He was a sadistic animal before he’d gotten sick. He might have loved me in his own way, but hurting me was his compulsion. It’s what got him off. It was his greatest pleasure.

  Eight months before he died, I began cognitively ticking off the days. Praying every night would be his last and his death would come swiftly. Money aside, this had all begun because I wanted to do the right thing. I cared for this man and chose to sacrifice my life to stay with him even when he became a sadistic monster. I wasn’t going to be unrewarded. He had given me everything he’d promised while he was alive. Now that he was dead, I expected to be well compensated, per our agreement.

  Yes, I’d done this all with good intentions, but we all know what they say. The road to hell is paved with them.

  Six

  Kieran

  “Did you sleep with your stepmother?”

  “Well, good morning to you, Preston. What a way to begin a will reading,” I said, chuckling, while inspecting my manicure.

  “Goddammit, Kieran. Did. You. Fuck. Your father’s wife?”

  I stared at Preston incredulously. He was livid. His face was red and his chest puffed out. I’d better fess up before he had a stroke.

  “Hypothetically, no. Besides, she’s not his wife anymore. The prick is dead,” I replied, smirking as I collapsed in a chair and kicked my feet up on his desk.

  Preston quickly shoved my feet off his desk as curses fell from his mouth. “You do know the present Mrs. Wick hasn’t done anything to deserve your disdain. You’re pissed at the wrong woman. Ellery is not Jillian. Your father tossed her aside nine years ago. The woman you’re currently blaming has only been in the picture seven years. I tried to tell you all of this before, but because you’re a little shit, you never bothered to return any of my phone calls.”

  “Are you done? Because honestly, I don’t care. Someone has to suffer the consequences, and I’d like it to be her.”

  “You arrogant little ass. All that money and fame has gone to your head.”

  “Yeah, well, that and pussy. Between painting and fucking, I’ll admit it’s a pretty good life. And by the way, let me tell you something. The current Mrs. Wick is not as virtuous as you think.” I paused to look straight at him. “She would have let me, you know. I could have fucked her. She was ripe for the plucking and so damn wet. My fingers were dripping after I made her come.”

  Preston shook his head as he sat down. He looked exhausted. “Enough. Who are you? Jesus, I’ve loved you like a son, but this person you’ve become… You’re killing me here.�
��

  “You can thank Hartman Wick. After all, I am his flesh and blood. And I mean to follow in his footsteps. Now get on with it. Just sign everything over so I can destroy his fucking empire.” I grinned as I rubbed my hands together, pretending to be mercenary.

  “I understand your feelings. I know what you’ve gone through. You know I loved your mother, too. But why in God’s name would you make a complete stranger pay for the sins of your father and some ex-lover? Ellery had nothing to do with what your father did to you or your mother. You know if she were in any way responsible for Darcea’s death, I would be right there, supporting you completely.

  “The woman you wish to persecute went through her own hell. She only wants what Hartman pledged. Just give her the damn gallery and what she’s due and be finished with it. Be a better man than your father was. I know you. This isn’t who you are. Don’t let the desire for revenge consume you. You could split everything and still walk away with millions.”

  “I want her,” I stated, matter-of-fact.

  Preston stared at me as though I’d lost my mind. “You want her? Your stepmother? You’re not giving me a clear picture here.”

  “I may be willing to part with some of my father’s assets if she and I can come to some sort of agreement.”

  “Be straight with me. What do you want? I had hoped bringing you two together might offer some closure for you both. I don’t have all the details of the last five years of Ellery’s life with your father, but I know she has suffered. Can’t you just be content he’s dead and after you inherit, you’ll be on Forbes wealthiest list?”

  “There’s something about her that intrigues me. Well, besides the obvious, she is hot for her age, and after Friday night, I have no doubts my father didn’t properly satisfy her. I mean to rectify that.”

  Preston shook his head as he glared at me with disappointment. “Son, let this go. I can see now this was a bad idea. I blame myself. You’re obviously too set on reprisal. I thought after you met her… Never mind. I was wrong to interfere. You’re still too immature. I had hoped these last seven years had made you a man. I realize now how naive I was. I know what you did at the gallery, Kieran.”

  “What? You had me under surveillance. Were there cameras involved? I hope you captured my best side. You know how I love an audience. If you’re privy to Friday night, then you already know. She wanted it. She wanted me,” I spit out impatiently. “I’m tired of this crap. Let’s get on with it. Where in the fuck is she?”

  “She’s on her way. Don’t do this,” Preston pleaded. “She’s not what you think. You two—”

  I stopped him with a wave of my hand. “This is bullshit, Preston. You honestly thought I would come here, meet her, and become what, so enamored I’d forgive my father’s indiscretions? You surprise me, because when my mother was dying, you too vowed revenge. What happened? All of a sudden, this woman Ellery has conned you, too. You’re not fucking her, are you? Because that would be extremely disappointing. I always expected more from you.”

  “Jesus Christ, will you shut up? You cannot penalize a woman who had nothing to do with your pain. She has endured her own. You’re looking to find some sinister plot here. And as far as I know, she and your father were married in name only. They were strictly friends. She was a financial advisor at Wick Global. She married him to help him through the transition of dying so the board wouldn’t find out.”

  I shrugged as I smirked. “That sounds like him. Tell me they saw through his fictional deceptions.”

  “No. I was the only one they confided in. I got the distinct feeling she hadn’t wanted to marry your father. But you know how persuasive he could be. Even though she was promised all his wealth and assets, I know for a fact all she ever wanted was the means to afford her own gallery. The art world is her entire life.”

  “Now I see. She made a pact with the old man. For her compassionate skills, she would be rewarded. So in other words, Florence Nightingale had a price. Doesn’t that paint her as a parasite, even to you?”

  “She’s not like that. I know her. She’s not only beautiful on the outside, but the inside, too, and she’s intelligent and kind. She stayed with him until the end, even though… Never mind.”

  “Nothing you say will deter me from my plans. I want the money, everything he had—all of it. And if she wants to keep her little gallery, she’ll do as I say. I may even give her a monthly stipend. That will depend on her and how well she treats me.”

  “She’s not a whore. You can’t buy her.”

  I laughed heartily. “That remains to be seen. My father bought her. She was his whore first. Now she’s mine… According to the will you never changed, I get his entire fortune. Everything he owned. Well, that includes Ellery. I own her now, too.”

  Seven

  Ellery

  I felt sweaty. Perspiration saturated my underarms. I even wore extra deodorant this morning, too. I didn’t understand why I was so uneasy and nervous about this meeting. It was only Preston and me. I’d known him since he came back to Global after being gone for years.

  I’d always suspected some kind of falling out between Hartman and him, which caused him to leave in the first place. But I didn’t feel it was my place to ask, so I never questioned why he returned. I was just glad he did because I liked him personally and he seemed trustworthy. I never confided in him regarding the nature of my marriage, but he appeared to understand the reality of the situation. He and Hartman went back many years, so he likely knew the man far better than I ever would have.

  Today, I would be signing the final documents to the will, and then I could get on with my life. If it didn’t mean obtaining the deed to the gallery, I’d walk away from the money altogether. The cost had been too high. I wanted all of this over, now.

  I planned to tell him to sell all the companies, beginning with Wick Global. I wanted out from below the shareholders. Hartman had been right about one thing. They were all vultures. And I wasn’t sticking around to see all those people gorging themselves on my dead husband’s remains.

  I took out my compact and reapplied my lipstick. As I cracked opened the door, I heard voices. In my peripheral, I saw him. He was lounging on one of leather chairs, and his expression was one of smugness. What was this? Who was he? I only knew him as Wicked, and even now, I began to question if that were the truth.

  “Come in, my dear,” Preston said as he ushered me to a chair. He looked as visually shaken as I was.

  “What is this?” I asked, glaring straight at Preston, then focusing on Wicked. “And, you, what the hell are you doing here?” I seethed.

  His eyebrow ring shimmered as he pierced me with a mocking smile. His body posture was that of arrogance. I wanted to slap that grin right off his face.

  Preston cleared his throat. “Obviously, you two have already met.”

  I burned scarlet. Oh my God, did he know what happened Friday night? Did this prick brag about it?

  “Ellery.” Preston appeared at a loss for words, which only made me more nervous. This man was one of the most articulate people I’d ever known. He swept his hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ. Ellery… this is Kieran Wick, Hartman’s son.”

  Before insanity struck me, I gathered my words and chuckled nervously. “Really? Because he had no children. What the hell is this, Preston, a shakedown?”

  I tried not to look at Wicked. Wait. Wicked, as in Wick? No. I let my eyes wander to him. Yup. Still sinfully beautiful and not only pierced, but tattooed. The consummate bad boy. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that put his body art on full display. Black, gray, and white ink covered his skin so vibrantly it looked like sleeves. I briefly skimmed his entire perfect body. He was casual today: jeans, black T-shirt, and biker boots.

  I scrutinized his face. It wasn’t until he fully turned toward me and stared that I saw it. I wondered how I hadn’t noticed Friday night. I choked back a quiet sob as my eyes met his. Penetrating. Cruel. Green like shards of emeralds. He had Hart
man’s eyes.

  “Can I call you stepmother?” he quipped, his voice filled with contempt. “Oh hell, I think we’re past that.” His stare held mine as he perused me from head to toe.

  I straightened my spine as I squeezed back the tears that were forming. “Go to hell. You’re an asshole,” I said, returning a cynical smile.

  He glared at me with cold, savage eyes. “Already been there, came back to collect, but unfortunately, Daddy’s dead. That only leaves you to pay his debt.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “Nope, I had a mother, a loving and kind one that had a heart of gold and the soul of an angel. I also had a father, however, as luck would have it. I took after him.” His reply was flippant.

  “I don’t be-l-lieve you,” I stammered. “He would have told me. He confided in me.” I hung my head and closed my eyes as my body shook inside. There was validity to his claim.

  My emotions splintered as I struggled with two things. Hartman had deceived me and he’d had a family, and two, I’d gotten carnal with his son. What exacerbated the matter was that I knew, without a doubt, I was physically attracted to him. This was wrong on so many levels. I wanted to scream.

  “The thing you should know about my father is he was a liar and a cheat. For what he did to my mother and me, I am due, and I plan to collect.”

  I shuddered as he spoke and then stood. He bent his head down and whispered in my ear. “I hear you want the art gallery—that it’s your life. If that’s true, I may be willing to part with the deed. But I would want something from you in return.”

  I could smell toothpaste as his warm breath caressed the shell of my ear. Shit. He was getting to me. My body was betraying me. I couldn’t do this. He was Hartman’s son, and if he were still alive, this would technically be my stepson. Who am I?