“Oh congratulations! Am delighted for you. Anyone I know?” Dean was still reeling from the deal they had just made.
“Doubt it. Her name is Ellen. I told you about her before, remember?”
“Not really. Sorry,” he replied absently.
“Well, a recap. She has all the contacts I need, all the money and wealth, titles, estates, masses of land and property in various countries. Typical aristocrat, so up her own arse in tradition, and naivety, that she is easy pickings. Tell you what, I will put lots of business your way once I have control of everything she owns. Spending others’ money is always better than spending your own.”
“Hmm, suppose so.” Dean said unconvinced. Matt Laughed.
“I knew when we met, that we would see eye to eye.” He laughed again. Dean stood up.
“Well if you are meeting her I had better go. I have my own plans too.”
“Hey no. Stay. Meet her. You can give her the once over, and let me have your opinion. No stealing her, mind. I found her first.” Dean paused as Matt continued to talk. “She’s not much in the looks department. I am used to top models, and prefer blondes, but she is a thorough bred, so I am prepared to overlook that for now. Besides, once I have control of everything, I can have even more money to carry on with the models, afterwards. Keep her at home tending to the gardeners needs if she gets bored. At the moment, she is useless in bed. Lies there like an ironing board, has no technique, nothing. Hasn’t a clue. She was a virgin, until I took her, you know? I have never met a virgin her age before. I haven’t been able to break her in at all. Talk about generations of sexual repression.” Dean sat down, as Matt looked up, and spotted Ellen entering the room.
“There she is. Play your cards right, and I may see if she has a friend for you. We could have a foursome.”
Dean looked up to get a first glance of Matt’s woman, and saw Ellen who was winding her way through the tables towards them. His blood froze. His eyes narrowed in shock. It was his Ellen. Ellen looked as shocked as he was, and stumbled when she saw him.
“Dean Montalban Smythe, meet Ellen Woodward.”
Dean looked at her with a mix of such emotions. He didn’t know whether to hate her, or feel sorry for her. She had found herself a true cad and blackguard. She had chosen Matt over him.
“Pleased to meet you Miss Woodward.” He signaled to Ellen with his eyes to not reveal they knew each other, and she, whilst puzzled, followed suit and politely shook his hand.
“Dean, do join us for dinner.” Matt smiled with such charm.
“No. No. I had better finalize the contracts. I shall talk to you in the morning. I had better leave. A pleasure to meet you.” He looked and nodded seriously at Ellen, who blushed furiously.
Dean walked out of the Ritz in a state of shock. He was unable to say anything to Ellen at this point, because his whole business rested upon the deal going through with Matt. He was horrified at the knowledge he had on Matt, and what Matt really thought of Ellen. How he was going to use her and bleed her dry. Only a few days ago, she had been saying she wasn’t ready for a relationship, and yet here she was, bonking some greasy French guy with no class, no breeding and even less money than he had. He didn’t have a good family name, or a line of ancestors to be proud of. He may as well have been an onion seller off the market. He was a trumped up ex-racing driver, who was putting more than a million pounds sterling of business his way. At this moment in time, he had to remember what was more important to him, the money, his business, or a woman who had already chosen someone else, over him.
His blood boiled and he raged within. There was no choice. She had already rejected him. She would have to lie in the bed she had made for herself and he would be there when she came to him for help. Until then, she was on her own. She had made her choice and much as it tortured him to say it, it wasn’t him. Dean buttoned his jacket and put his hand in his pocket to see if he had the cab fare to the station to catch his train home. Until the money came in to his account at the end of the week, he was literally living off fumes.
Finding only enough money for the train, he pulled up his collar and walked briskly across the road to Green Park tube station.
Chapter Seven - Veronique
She awoke to the feeling of a hand on her breast. She opened her eyes as Matt bent down to kiss her fervently. He felt her stiffen. She had inadvertently fallen asleep when he was out.
“Come on now. That is no way to greet your brother!” He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her head back. She tensed against him, her eyes full of hatred. His lips met hers, they seared into her flesh, and he nipped her lips and tore the delicate skin. Blood started to seep from the small tear. He licked it and tasted the salty sweet richness. His passion inflamed with the speed of a match to kerosene and he was instantly hard. His hand moved up her thigh and lifted the silky material of her skimpy negligee, the negligee he made her wear, for his pleasure. A negligee she hated, almost as much as him. Her skin was smooth, and warm to his touch. She closed her eyes and tried to block him out.
How many years had he brainwashed her to be his, to never disobey, and to please him?
All her life, and he controlled her mind, utterly. He was all she had known. The only love she had and she didn’t know how to escape. He had done a programming of her mind, that went so deep and so far into her past that it would take years for a psychiatrist to find it, undo it, and for her to even think of escape.
“Look at me, dear sister. You know I like your eyes. I need to see your eyes looking at me at all times. You know this.” She reluctantly opened her eyes and he smiled at her. “You only have eyes for me, don’t you? Only me.”
Grabbing the flesh of her mound he pinched her hard, and then slipped his fingers inside her. She was dry to his touch, but that didn’t bother him, he would get her going shortly. He knew her body better than his own. He owned her. Her eyes stared blankly at him, until he tut tutted to gain her attention.
“Pay attention dear, you don’t want me to punish you, do you? Be a good girl and open your legs a little more for me. That’s a good girl. Now you are getting it.” She slowly gyrated her pussy on his fingers as he had trained her to. The power he felt when he controlled her in this way, was often as good as the taboo incestuous sex they shared. He felt his pulse quicken at the thought of causing her pain, just a little to start, then he would work his way up. He leant forward and smelled along her neck, smelling her delicate skin, savoring her perfume like a diner at a Michelin restaurant. She smelled of her, her own scent, and the scent he had loved over these years. The scent that had become his elixir for life. The intoxicating scent that drove him on, deeper into her. He came alive when he was inside her. She completed him.
Veronique knew she had to be completely emotionless, as any sign of emotion would cause him greater sexual pleasure. She imagined a far off empty beach, just her, sitting calmly by the ebbing and flowing clear blue ocean. She remained silent, knowing that fear would excite him, pain would excite him, and any sound or look, would excite him. If she could just go to her safe place in her mind, it would all be over soon. Mentally, she had already left, and her body was sleeping on the beach in the warm sun, bees were buzzing by, clouds were floating lazily in the sky, birds called to each other and there was the sound of the ocean; the sound of the ocean made it all bearable. In her mind, she was all alone. There was no shame, no guilt, and no disgust here. If Marie had touched her, she would be in a frenzied wild desire, but Matt’s touch left her cold. She hated him.
Matt knelt between her legs, and began to kiss from her knees up to her pussy. He tongued her roughly, grunting as he tried to get his tongue deeper inside her.
Suddenly he stopped, he paused for a moment, tasted the musky saltiness of another man’s semen, and then in a rage he screamed at her and then reached up and crushed his fist hard around her head. Veronique was dragged back from her reverie.
“You fucking whore!” Matt slapped her so hard, that her
ear started ringing. “You are nothing, but a dirty little whore. You have been whoring yourself out with another man.” He hit her again, then pulled her off the bed, and started throwing her around the room. She felt onto the marble floor, and banged her head, with such force, that she was momentarily stunned. He picked her up with one hand, and slapped her again with the other hand causing her to see stars.
“Who is he?” He dragged her onto the balcony by her hair, and still, she was silent. He punched her in the stomach with his full force, and she doubled over in pain. He pulled her up by the hair, and undid his trousers He rammed his penis into her mouth. He looked down. He didn’t like to see her face all bruised like that, it ruined her perfection, but this was all her fault. She had asked for it by her behavior.
“Suck it, you fucking bitch!” He thrust himself into her swollen and bleeding mouth. Her lip was all torn and her eye was blackening and bruised, a swelling around a cut on her cheek. In a way, he felt a perverse pride that he made her look like this. He knew her face would be sore, and throbbing, and that was all he needed, to empty his balls into her. He came hard and held her head fast, as he pumped his seed into her mouth and down her throat, then withdrew and let several strings of come hit her open eyes, her hair and her face. He grunted loudly.
“I told you, look at me when I speak to you.” He held her face and looked at her, eye to eye, his face close to hers. He spat at her with his full force. The saliva trickled down her bruises, but she showed no reaction, no emotion, and her one good, non-swollen, eye was glazed and lifeless.
“Say thank you.” She was quiet, as though she hadn’t heard him, and he slapped her hard again. “I said, say thank you.”
Veronique tried to enunciate the words, but her jaw was sore and stiff and she was unable to speak due to the pain. He grabbed her face again, and opened her mouth, then rammed his flaccid penis inside.
“Suck, you bitch.” As she began to suck weakly, he began to urinate in her mouth, the hot amber liquid streaming so much that she began to choke. Matt started to laugh as it ran in torrents down her bruised chin, and down her breasts to the floor. Matt stopped as quickly as he started, then wiped his penis on her hair. He stroked her tenderly; oblivious now to her bleeding cuts and bruises.
“Now pretty yourself up. We have things to discuss. I’ll be back later.”
When he left the room, Veronique painfully stood up and staggered over to her bathroom. She felt sick. Her skin was crawling with revulsion and her head was aching from where she had hit the floor. She looked in the mirror at the reflected stranger. Nobody would ever believe that this happened to her, and by her brother of all people. It was a family secret, her dirty little secret. How could she tell people that he had done this to her, every day since she was five? She was a grown woman, a successful professional woman, things like this didn’t happen to people like her. They happened to victims, weak people, not people like her. Outwardly everyone thought she was the luckiest person alive, from a once wealthy family. She had everything she had ever wanted. A doting mother, an even more doting and protective brother; everything was idyllic. Idyllic until her mother had left to marry a man who didn’t want kids. She had arranged for her older brother to care for her and would send money home for him to do so, more money than they needed. Since that time, Matt had taken his hatred of women out on Veronique. Every pain and suffering he had, he made sure she had too; both perceived and real.
***
Now standing looking at her reflection in the mirror, a grown woman, her hair disheveled, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and various cuts, her left eye swelling shut and bruised, the smell of his urine on her, she spat into the sink and wondered what she had done to deserve this? How had she upset him? What had she done wrong this time?
She spat into the sink; the saliva was tinged with blood. She watched it move slowly towards the plughole. Turning on the tap to wash it away, she started the regular chore of washing and then hiding her injuries.
That evening, after dinner, Matt sat outside on the terrace beside the pool. It was a lovely evening. The sun had set in the distance; the sea was a deep red where the sun was disappearing over the horizon. Matt sat in the fading light waiting for Veronique to join him. She had excused herself. She was behaving oddly; as if hiding a secret. Maybe, she had a lover, something he had forbidden. She was to have no one, but himself. He would have to get her to tell him the truth, whoever the guy was; he would find him and beat him to a pulp. Kill him if necessary. Matt’s anger was rising. How dare she keep him waiting like this? It was almost dark and Veronique had still not returned to his side. How dare she make him wait? After all he had done for her. The ungrateful bitch. He would teach her a lesson. He smiled, as he mentally saw her on her knees to him, begging him to stop. His eyes turned to the house as he heard a noise.
Veronique was coming through the patio doors. She walked along the edge of the patio by the pool. Her beautiful delicate form reflected in the mirror still water, lights inside the house reflected back at her, lighting her body and features as she knelt and felt the temperature. Her hair fell forward and the light behind her shone through the wispy strands. A breeze formed small ripples along the surface of the pool. Veronique stood up, suddenly sensing she was being watched. She had goose pimples on her arms, and she shivered involuntarily. She was unaware of his presence as he sat in the now dark terrace.
“Good evening, Veronique.” She froze at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t see him, but she turned to where the voice came from. He spoke again.
“Who is he?”
“Who?”
“Your lover?”
“I don’t have a lover.”
“Wrong!” He came out of the darkness that had hidden him, and stood before her; his eyes full of dark rage. “Now try again.”
“I...I...don’t have a lover...” He started to smile.
“I know you. I know when you lie. I know all about you. Everything. You are lying now.” A slow grin spread across his face, and before she even realized what was happening she felt his hand on her face. A loud stinging slap that caught her already sore bruises, and caused her ears to ring. She fell to the ground as he raised his fist again, she curled into a fetal position, and he grabbed her from the floor by the hair. He pulled her towards the edge of the pool. In the split second that she looked up, she saw him laughing, his eyes filled with a maniacal glow. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, twisting her arm behind her back in the process. She screamed, a muffled scream to her still ringing ears.
“I said... who...is... he?” He was shouting right by her ear, but his voice sounded so far away, and although the ringing was fading, she still couldn’t hear him. “Who? It’s a simple enough question. Now answer me.” His voice bellowed out of control. He had never been like this before, so angry. His eyes were wild with fury, his grip on her wrists causing her, even more, excruciating pain.
“Honestly, I swear it. I don’t have a lover.” He laughed, the moment she said it.
“If you think I am going to believe that!”
“It’s true, it's true.” She began to sob.
He roared with rage and hit her, a punch landing on the side of her head. It threw her sideways. Losing her balance, she fell straight into the cool waters of the pool. She felt relief and softness, just before she passed out. Everything suddenly became black, totally dark and almost comforting.
When she opened her eyes she was looking at the stars twinkling against the dark sky. She was enveloped in perfect comfort, her whole body soothed and relaxed. Her temple throbbed, her mouth and jaw were sore but apart from this, she felt ok. She moved and suddenly she was no longer floating; she realized she was in the pool and she was floating fully dressed. She moved across to the side and walked up the stairs. Now the water was no longer supporting her, there was not a bone or muscle in her body that didn’t hurt or ache. She rubbed her sore wrist, felt her throbbing temple and sat on the edge of the stai
rs leading into the water. Her shoes were still on her feet and under the water. Her head was spinning, so she stayed there. She murmured a silent prayer.
“Help me, God.” Without help, she didn’t think she would ever be able to escape him. Matt was totally obsessed. He loved her and yet he could only love her when he hurt her. How long before he loved her so much, that he killed her? As her headache started to ease, she felt her will strengthening and a plan formulating on the outer edges of her mind. If she could change everything about herself, her name, her looks, her job, go far away, everything. She had a chance of living, but nobody, nobody that presently knew her must know of this, nor of who she was to become. No one must lead him to her. A sharp pain flooded her senses, and she blacked out once more, but not before a sense of purposes had stirred within her.
***
Marie hadn’t seen Veronique since her own return to the ship, and now almost an hour after sailing, Veronique hadn’t even phoned to tell her she was back. Locking the glass door of the shop, Marie slipped the keys into her pocket and walked briskly towards the stairs. The staff deck, several decks below those of the passengers, was quiet and so Marie went directly to Veronique’s cabin instead of returning to her own. She tapped lightly at the door. There was no reply and so she took her own spare key and opened the door.
Inside, the room was in utter chaos. Clothes were scattered on the bed and torn stockings were draped over the back of the chair. Marie looked around and surveyed the untidiness before her. Hearing the shower in the bathroom, she walked over to the door. Steam filled the room and Marie tapped lightly to announce her arrival. Water was hitting the glass panel and splashing back. In the corner, on the floor and crouched in a fetal position, was Veronique. Water was cascading around her and swirling down the plug.
To Murder Matt Page 9
