The Company

by JA Huss

  “Vincent. Fenici.” He says it very slowly, like I’m incapable of understanding what’s going on.

  I do understand. I just don’t want to believe it.

  “James and I are twins. When we turned sixteen, we were brought to an island to meet you. Not together, of course. We lived separate lives since shortly after our second birthday.”

  “I didn’t see you there.”

  He chuckles. “Of course you did, darling. We spent the day together. I watched you blow out your candles. I gave you a gift before I left. Some colored pencils to draw in the notebook that James gave you.”

  I have to hold on to the edge of the bar to steady myself. “James was with me that day, not you.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. That was me. James said no to the Admiral’s offer. He was sent on his way that afternoon. I spent the rest of the day with you. Not him.”

  That’s not right. James had that notebook all these years. He stole it back. So he was there that night. But this guy… this Vincent… he was the one I was with? I think my world is tipping. No. I think my world is capsizing.

  “Are you OK?”

  I swallow hard and look over at the man who is not James. What the hell am I supposed to feel about this? “I’m promised to you, not him?”

  “Me,” he says. “Not him.”

  I stare at him in the dim lights from the overhead canopy. Candles flicker on the tables and the fire warms one side of my body, while the ocean spits up a spray that cools the other. “What if I don’t want you? What if I want him?”

  “He’s dead, darling.”

  “He’s not dead!” I scream it. My whole body begins to tremble and before I know it, I’m shaking uncontrollably. “He’s not dead!”

  “He might as well be. He’s insane, and that is an indisputable fact. Harper, listen to me. Ask yourself this question. Who the hell kills their own brother? A brother they were not even angry at. A brother they loved and grew up with. A brother who saved their life as many times as they saved his. Their partner. Who kills their partner?”

  “He told me why he did it and I agree with him. He had a good reason.”

  “Why?” the man who looks like my James demands. “Tell me why he did it, then.”

  I think of what James told me in the desert bathroom the other day. About Tony’s girlfriend and baby. He did it to keep the baby safe. But if no one knows there’s another Company kid running around, I’m not gonna be the one to spill the beans. “It’s private,” I say.

  “It’s not private, Harper. We know about the child. And she’s going to be brought back into the fold. Soon. Once we settle who is in charge of things.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My face is devoid of emotion. No expression at all. I put on the best liar face I have.

  Vince smiles and shrugs, letting it drop. “Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks.

  I shake my head no. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Not yet, Harper. Come here, please. Sit across from me, because we need to talk before you go back to your room and get your things.”

  Get my things? “What?” Oh, shit. My heart is pounding in my chest.

  “Come sit. Please.”

  I do go sit because I need the three moments it takes to cross the room in order to think. He’s taking me somewhere. I need to get my things.

  I settle on the couch across the long glass coffee table from him and try to stop my knees from knocking together. I almost wish I could have a pill.

  “You were promised to me on the day you turned six. It was an agreement of the highest importance because it bonded your family to mine. Like in the old days when a princess was married off to an enemy’s prince.”

  “Are you the enemy?”

  His smile gives me the chills. “In a way. But so is James. We come from the same Company family. Understand this. I am no different than him in that respect. So please”—he stops to smile—“don’t be frightened. I’m sure you are far more dangerous than I am.”

  “What’s your job?”

  He hesitates, but the smile never wavers. “It’s a new position, actually. For a new era in the Company business. Aaaand I’m not sure how much you know, but I’m sure you understand why I can’t divulge everything.”

  Still with the smile.

  “What’s that mean?” I decide dumb questions are best with this guy. He likes to feel superior. Why not lure him into his comfort zone?

  “It means you don’t need to worry about it. Now, let’s talk logistics, OK? I’m here. You’re here. We’re talking. The inevitable has been discussed. So even though you were scheduled to leave with me tomorrow, the helicopter is ready and waiting. So I think it’s better for you that we leave tonight. What do you think, Admiral?”

  I turn around and find my father standing behind me. Smiling.

  “Harper. I’m sorry I kept this from you. It would’ve probably saved thirteen lives had I just been upfront about who your promise was. But it was a difficult thing to consider. It was a difficult conversation to have.”

  “But now you’re fine with me being given to some stranger?” I snap. “I’m just supposed to leave with him? Right now?”

  “You already liked him as James, Harper. He is James, only better.”

  “In what way? The way he talks down to me like I’m a baby? The way he gives me the chills that makes me want to avoid touching him? Or the way he—”

  “That’s enough,” my father barks.

  It stops me cold. I’ve lived with that shout my whole life. I can’t stop my immediate reaction to be quiet.

  “That’s enough now. James is psychotic, Harper. He will kill you or he will get you killed. He’s not safe. He’s not family material. He’s not father material. We’ve dispatched a team to follow him and take him out. If they haven’t killed him yet, they will. Very soon. He’s as good as dead. So the sooner you accept the fact that Vincent is your promise, that Vincent is the man who loves you above all others, that Vincent will keep you safe, the sooner you can move into your new life.”

  “What life? If I’m his property, then what life?”

  “Children, Harper. Your job as a Company woman is to have children. And”—the Admiral looks over at Vincent and smiles—“Vincent says he’d like you to take part in his new role as well. See? He already loves and cares for you enough to consider the idea of letting you work.”

  “Letting me—” I can’t think straight. “Children?” He has got to be joking. “Slaves, you mean? Like me? Daughters who will be sold off when they turn eighteen? Sons who will be given away to whomever to be turned into killers?”

  “Your sons will not be killers, Harper. Don’t overreact. Your sons will be Company royalty.”

  “Like Nick?” I scoff. “Who was taught to kill and taught me to kill?”

  “Nick,” my father laughs. “Nick is not royalty, sweetie. You are not royalty. But your children, with Vincent’s blood mixed in, will be. You are the start of a new Company line. The two strongest families will be united after tonight and a new era of power will begin. We own everything, Harper. We have people in positions in every world government that matters. We run the US Senate and the next president will be a Company man, regardless of which party gets elected. We hold private utility companies, prisons, water treatment plants, hospitals, and millions of acres of farmland. We control everything but the hearts and minds of the people. And that comes next. You, Harper, along with Vincent, will capture their imaginations. The pretty girl with the handsome politician. The road to power, and your place in history, is my everlasting gift to you.”

  Oh my God. It’s like he’s a villain in those comic books Nick and I used to read.

  “Ready?” And then Vincent has me by the elbow. Not hard, still gentle. But it’s not even a question. It’s a foregone conclusion.

  I let him lead me away, not knowing what else to do.

  “Harper,” Vincent says as he leans down in my ear. “Do you want any
thing from your room?”

  I consider this. I consider the phone. But the more I think about it, the less likely it is that the phone in my room is the phone I had from before. I probably fucked things up by trying to text James. “No, thank you,” I say, falling back on my manners to help me get through things.

  My promised man wraps an arm around me and guides me over to the ladder that leads below deck. “I thought there was a helicopter?” But before the words are out of my mouth, I know there’s no helicopter waiting on this ship. It’s a fucking sailboat.

  “Once we board my yacht we can take the helicopter to my home. Our home,” he amends. “It will be wonderful, you’ll see. And soon, Tet will be gone and you’ll never have to think of him again.”

  He pulls a hoodie on over his head and then he slips his feet into a pair of gray canvas boat shoes and grabs my hand. We go down three floors and make our way to the garage. There are men there waiting for us. My body feels hot as I realize that they all knew I was coming aboard only so I could be given away. They probably love the fact that I’m being punished. I killed thirteen people, some of them crew. They probably hate me.

  “Step carefully,” Vincent says as he holds his hand out to help me into the tender, but not ours. His.

  I settle in the seat next to Vincent at his request and he puts his arm around me. “Are you cold, lionfish?”

  “What did you just call me?” The nerve of him.

  “Lionfish,” he says, nuzzling my ear as we take out into the darkness. “Remember I gave you that name on the beach? After you told me about touching the stingers?”

  “I told that story to James, not you.”

  “Baby,” he says as his hand slips between my legs and his mouth covers mine for the briefest of moments. “I am James. How do you not recognize me?”

  I tilt my head up to say no, but his mouth is right there. It covers mine. His tongue slips in and tangles with me. His hands are busy rubbing my inner thighs and then his fingers slip right up to my panties.

  I push him off and scoot away. “You’re not him,” I say, not very convincingly.

  “Oh, but I am. And when we get home, we’re gonna have that talk about power all over again.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine - Harper

  He is not James. He is not James. He is not James.

  I know he’s not James, I don’t need the mantra to convince myself. I say it because I need to keep my mind from spinning out of control while we’re on the boat. It takes a long time to reach his yacht, and once we’re there, he takes me to a stateroom and says good night.

  That’s it. Just good night.

  The closet has two outfits. One set of modest night clothes. Tank top and shorts. And one set of outdoor wear. Jeans, boots, plain cotton shirt, and a light jacket.

  I have a feeling we’re not going to be staying on board the yacht very long.

  The bathroom is fitted with a large round tub, and even though all these things have happened to me in such a short time, I soak in the tub. I need something to settle me. To calm me. Hot water and a bottle of pills in an orange bottle on the counter are all I have, and I don’t want to take those pills. I cannot take those pills again.

  So I soak for a little while and then change into my night clothes. When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a tray with cocoa and cookies.

  Cocoa and cookies. Like I’m six fucking years old.

  I drink the cocoa and skip the snack, then climb into bed. The ship is moving fast—full speed from the feel of it. It makes my stomach sick to think about it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been at sea for this to feel normal, but after tossing and turning for a few minutes, I finally drift off.

  Sometime later Vincent wakes me. It takes me several seconds for his face to come into focus once I open my eyes. “We’re ready. Please get dressed.” The hand he places on my arm gives me the chills and I pull away. The bedside light is flicked on and I have a chance to get a good look at him before he leaves my stateroom.

  Why does he have to look exactly like James?

  I dutifully put on the clothes and exit the cabin.

  Vincent is waiting for me in the hallway wearing a dark blue suit with a tie that matches. Gone are his hoodie and boat shoes. He looks like a businessman now instead of a beach bum.

  He gives me a quick smile and then I’m ushered up to the helipad and into the waiting ’copter before I even have time to think. I don’t know how long I slept, but it feels like late evening now. Almost all day if I had to guess.

  Did he drug me? With the cocoa?

  I don’t ask where we’re going. I stopped talking to him after he said he was James. I mean, please. These people treat me like I’m an idiot. He thinks I don’t know the difference between a stranger and the man I’m in love with?

  God, did I just admit I love James?

  I turn my head in the ’copter so the impostor can’t see me, and I grin. I’ve barely spent any time with James at all, but I know what I feel, and it’s love.

  I miss him so bad.

  Why did he drop me off?

  I mean, yes, I can follow the logic. He was probably freaked out when that guy drugged me and maybe he thought I’d be safer on the yacht.

  I probably would be safer on the yacht.

  But I’m not on the fucking yacht. I’m in a goddamned helicopter flying to God knows where. And all this stuff about James being crazy—yeah, I can see that too. He’s totally psycho. I grin again. But that’s just part of his charm.

  What girl does not fantasize about taming a wild man? Well, I never have until now. But that’s how I feel about it. James Fenici is one of the most dangerous men in the world and he wants to take care of me. He wants to love me and sleep with me. He listens to what I have to say and he puts all the violence aside when I’m next to him.

  Grown men are terrified of him. Global organizations haven’t been able to kill him. And yet when his cock is in my mouth, he gives me all the power.

  I could get drunk on that power I have over him. I could get off on that power too.

  I want my James.

  I’m not even remotely interested in what this stranger who looks like him has to say about anything. I don’t care if he’s the one I was promised to. What kind of man accepts a six-year old girl as his wife?

  Sick. That’s sick.

  James was the one who said no. James was the one with integrity. James was not insane when we turned six that year. He was untouched by all the killing that came afterward. And he was taken prisoner that first year. Left somewhere horrific for a long time, the notebook said. That’s bound to change anyone. And that’s not his fault.

  The helicopter finally starts to descend just as the sun begins to set and even though I must’ve slept all day, I’m so tired.

  “We’re about to land.” Vincent’s voice crackles though my headpiece.

  I look over at him and before I can stop myself, I smile. His face catches me off guard a little. I mean, they are identical. The eyes. The haircut. The broad shoulders that taper down to the perfectly proportioned waist.

  “I hope you like it.”

  I cut the smile and add a nod. What does he want me to say? I’m not staying here. I’m not gonna be his wife. I do not give a shit what promise was made. I belong to someone else.

  A few minutes later and we are on the ground and everything becomes all rush, rush. I have never understood the hustle involved with boarding and disembarking a helicopter. Why must they pull me along like we’re in some kind of war zone?

  I go with it. Vincent’s grip on my arm is tight. Tighter than is normal. And I wonder how worried he is about me running off into some unfamiliar woods as he drags me away from the rotating blades and ushers me up a series of steps that lead to the back patio of an imposing Mediterranean-style mansion.

  Even though the Spanish tile roof and warm stucco exterior might look welcoming in bright sunshine, the dusk makes it look ominous. “Where are we?” I finally ask
as we slow our pace and he straightens out his shirt collar.

  “North of Santa Barbara.”

  “How the hell did we get to Santa Barbara from Newport Beach in a sailboat?” More importantly, how will James find me here? I’m not all that up on my American West Coast geography, but I think that’s a fair distance.

  “We motored up the coast,” he answers back. “It’s difficult to navigate up the California coast in a sailboat.”

  “We must’ve been hauling ass.”

  “Language, Harper,” he says, only half paying attention as he reaches for my hand.

  I shake it off. “Don’t,” I growl at him. “I might be your prisoner for now, but I’m not your fucking child to admonish.”

  He snatches my hand and yanks me into his chest. “Manners, Harper Tate.” His steely gaze transfixes me. His green eyes flash. “I was told you have them. Was I lied to?”

  I match his gaze and refuse to bend. “I have manners. But I’m not sure you deserve them.”

  He loosens his grip on my hand and exhales. “Please,” he says, pressing his fingertips to the space between his eyes like he has a headache. “I don’t like the language and I don’t like the attitude. We’re both tired. We’ve been through a lot. And we’re going to freshen up and have a nice dinner so we can chat.”

  “If you’re still insisting you’re James, then I’m going to refuse that chat.”

  He grits his teeth. “If James is the one you think you want, then I am James.”

  “How did you know about that conversation we had about power?”

  He laughs a little under his breath and then leans into my ear. “I was there, Harper. That was me.”

  “That was not you!”

  “How do you know?”

  I just stare at him. “I know.”

  He moves my hand to the bulge between his legs and presses it. “Tell me how you know.”

  I yank my hand away and step back. “You were watching us. You had cameras. Something. But that was not you. And I’ll tell you how I know. Because even though James made it very clear I belong to him, he does not treat me like property. He respects me.”