THE FUNERAL PASSED by in a blur. Though I appeared the mourning widow, in actuality I was listening, dissecting, and inhaling everyone around me. As I scanned the large crowd that overfilled the church, I wondered if the people Travis knew, the ones he believed were threatening me, were among the mourners. Were Stewart’s friends in attendance? Could they be wearing a mask of compassion, when in actuality they had other plans: plans that involved an extension on my personal hell?
My mother, Marcus, and Lyle were seated directly behind Val and me during the service. I hadn’t spoken to her since before Stewart’s death, though her sufficiently red eyes and blotchy face made for the perfect distraught mother-in-law. Why was I even surprised? I was sure she welcomed the chance to be seen at such a high-profile occasion, even if it did mean being seen in less than perfect condition. Marilyn nodded sympathetically as Val and I took our seats. My unsmiling-bitch-face worked as well as my smiling one.
During the service I wondered about Brody. Was he there as he’d promised? As I’d left the motel this morning, he was getting into the shower. Had he seen Travis with me outside the motel room? I hadn’t heard from him since I left. Perhaps he didn’t know that my bodyguard had practically accosted me. But then again, was it accosting when Travis claimed to be concerned about my best interests? Was it even possible that he had been protecting me all of these years? Or Stewart?
I refused to entertain the idea. Given my situation and the same opportunity, I’d do what I did. I’d place those pellets in his chair again. As I worried about the idea that my contract could go to anyone else, I wished I still had the pellets; however, from what I knew, their half-life had been exceeded. That meant they were no longer potent enough for therapeutic treatment. Of course, my use wasn’t therapeutic. All I could hope was that the chair was still radioactive. Perhaps if anyone else spent enough time there, they too would suffer Stewart’s fate.
After the service, Val led me by the elbow as we made our way out of the church and into the finally cooler autumn air. Thankfully, I’d been too lost in my own thoughts to listen to the eulogy. Instead of concentrating on Stewart Harrington’s stellar qualities, my mind was filled with questions.
Brody and I had only scratched the surface of the papers Parker wanted me to sign. They weren’t a request to bequeath my contract to Parker. It was a rephrasing of the original contract, one that gave Parker Craven dictatorial power over my activities described as payment in exchange for Stewart’s withholdings. Those debts were poorly defined, making repayment seem unattainable.
In essence, his new contract pulled me back into the role I’d played for too long with no hope of getting out. What neither Brody nor I could surmise from the new documents, was what I was supposed to reap? As I glanced into Val’s steel-gray eyes, I knew what I’d gained from the original contract. I’d lost my body and soul, but I’d secured my sister’s future, and together we’d helped thousands of people with more to come. Could any of that—Val, her work, the clinics—be at stake?
“Victoria, dear,” Marilyn Sound sighed, as she quickened her pace to walk beside me. I glanced first toward Val, who remained stoic. It was then that my gaze fell on Travis. I saw his first hint of humor as his brows arched and forehead furrowed. He’d just asked me an unspoken question, yet I heard it as plain as if he’d said it out loud: Mrs. Harrington, would you like me to escort Mrs. Sound away?
The slight grin that came to my lips was instantly misinterpreted by my mother as she reached her arm around my shoulder. “My dear, I know what it’s like to lose a husband. I’m here for you. I want you to know that.”
As we approached the limousine to ride to the cemetery, I fought the urge to tell her exactly what I thought about her timing. Though Stewart wasn’t being buried, the cemetery had vaults made of thick marble specially designed for urns. When my gaze met that of Travis, I ever so slightly nodded. Instead of speaking my mind, I whispered near her ear, careful to avoid the multitude of listeners who mingled nearby. “I believe there’s another car for you. Allow Travis to help you find it.”
“But, dear, I need to speak—”
I didn’t hear any more as Val and I moved into the car and Travis directed my mother away. Once the door was closed and we were alone, the cool, dark interior allowed me to remove my sunglasses.
“She probably wanted—” Val began.
“She hasn’t been able to talk with me in two weeks,” I interrupted. “She wants money, money for Marcus’ second semester tuition. The thing that she doesn’t realize is that I’ve already paid it. I’m sure she’s worried they’ll contact her and put her on the spot.”
Val shrugged. “She might want to offer you her support.”
“She might,” I conceded halfheartedly. “They say there’s a first time for everything.”
Just then, through the glass panel, I saw the passenger side door open and Travis get into the limousine. Exhaling, I leaned back against the soft leather seat, closed my eyes, and sighed.
“I’d be glad to prescribe something for you. Probably not too strong, but you could use a good night’s sleep.”
Remembering Brody, I said, “I had a good night’s sleep last night. I just want this to be over.”
She patted my hand. “It’s almost over.”
I didn’t respond, because I wasn’t sure. Was it almost over? The car began to move. It didn’t take long as we meandered toward the cemetery for me to miss Travis’ heavier accelerator foot. I figured, if he and the driver would switch places, we could have Stewart safely behind marble in half the time.
Should I feel guilty about Stewart’s death or the way he suffered?
I imagined him as I’d seen him hundreds of times over the past nine years. I imagined him sitting in that chair: his smug expression of pleasure and control when he’d finally allow me to remove the blindfold and headphones. From the very beginning, I knew that when he told me to take them off, my focus was supposed to be on him.
Rising from the chair, he walked toward me, his blue eyes glowing as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Tori, my Tori…” he cooed as the pad of his thumb wiped away my smeared mascara. “No tears. You’re fantastic. Our friend was extremely satisfied.”
I never knew what to say to that kind of praise. Good? Yippee? Or be honest. I don’t fucking care. I hated every second of it. There just wasn’t an appropriate response.
His hand dipped down to my sex: his fingers stroking my swollen lips and circling my clit. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come. You should’ve seen how aroused our friend was as you put on your little pre-show. He got hard before he ever touched you.”
I closed my eyes. The blindfold was a blessing. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t want to be any part of it.
“Look at me.”
With shame and hatred simmering in my chest, I opened my eyes.
“I’ve told you before to never be ashamed of your body’s reaction.”
Stewart’s hands roamed my naked body, stopping to caress my tender nipples. When he did, I involuntarily flinched. His mouth immediately covered one and then the other. Gently his lips and tongue stroked and sucked. Against my will, my nubs grew hard.
His breathing quickened. “Oh, fuck! You’re so responsive.” His blue eyes questioned. “Are your tits sore?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. It was the first word I’d uttered in over two hours.
“I’m sorry, darling. Our friend left the clamps on longer than either of us realized. He was just so preoccupied with other parts of you, like that fuckable pussy.” His large hands palmed each breast. “Let me make them feel better. Lie back on the bed. I’ll make you feel better.”
I didn’t want to lie back. I wanted to shower and leave. But that wasn’t Stewart’s plan. He enjoyed round two as much as round one. Despite his tender voice and concerned manner, I knew my place. As long as we were still at the warehouse, I had a role to play. I was his whore.
The word I’d said—yes—was only allowed because he asked me a direct question. If he hadn’t, no matter how painful my nipples were or how upset I was, I wasn’t allowed to speak. At home I could make advances or reach out to touch my husband. I could run my fingers across his broad chest or over his shoulders. I could wrap my legs around him as he pounded his cock deep into my core. At home, or when traveling, I could get out of bed and go to the bathroom to pee or clean myself. Not here.
Here, I waited for instruction.
Lying back as I’d been told, I left my arms at my side and prayed he’d let them stay there.
“That’s my girl. Now hold on to the bars.”
Obediently, I reached up, the ache in my shoulders replacing the soreness of my nipples.
“Hold on tight, my darling. Don’t close your eyes. I want you to see me, your husband. That’s what makes us so much more special than you and our friends. My Tori, we have our connection. Your gray eyes say so much more than your words. I want to see every emotion in those eyes.”
He reached for the nipple clamps and held them above my head. My eyes widened. What the fuck? That wasn’t going to make them feel better.
“Don’t do that,” Stewart reprimanded. “You don’t ever need to look at me with fear. I’m not going to put these back on, not today.” He sucked each nipple. “I’ll admit, once I realized the clamps hadn’t been removed, I wanted to see your eyes as he took them off. I wanted to know exactly what you were feeling. I miss that with your eyes covered. I miss seeing your thoughts.”
If he only fucking knew my thoughts.
Though he tenderly caressed my breasts, the soreness of my nipples rippled through me. I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out.
“That must feel invigorating, as the blood rushes back and your nipples fill.”
Invigorating? It hurt like hell. That was why my mascara was smeared. I could stop the tears from the humiliation—I’d learned to do that. However, sometimes stopping the tears from physical pain wasn’t possible.
The bed shifted as Stewart stood. “I’m so proud of you, baby. This was an important friend and he wants to visit again. You don’t know how happy that makes me. We want to keep our friends happy, don’t we?”
Was this a time he wanted an answer? Because if he did, my answer was fuck no! His friends can find their fucking happy place somewhere else.
As Stewart removed his clothes, he said, “I’m over dressed for my gorgeous wife. I mean look at you. Your pussy is still hungry. I love watching you come. You’re going to do it again, and this time when you do, you’re going to scream my fucking name. Will you do that for me, Tori? Will you scream your husband’s name?”
I fucking hate you! “Yes, Stewart, I’ll scream your name.”
He held his hard cock in both hands. Getting back on the bed, he kneeled near my face and ran one hand up and down the length. “Oh, darling, I’m going to fuck that wet pussy until you do just that, until you scream my name, but I’m not coming inside of you, not this time. I’m going to fucking come on those sexy tits of yours. Then I’m going to watch as you rub my come around those nipples.” He leaned closer, nuzzling his nose against my neck. “See, baby, I promised I’d make them feel better. There’s nothing like some of your husband’s come to cure all your pain. Isn’t that right?” He smeared the glistening fluid from the head of his cock over my lips. “Lick your lips, Tori, let me see that tongue.”
I did as he said. His unique, salty flavor helped me forget the taste of his special friend. I hated this, yet I wanted more—more to take away the friend. Stewart had done this to me, made me this way. I hated him, but somehow needed him.
“Oh, fuck,” he continued, “now I can’t decide if I want to fuck your mouth or your pussy. So many choices.” Again, he teased my lips. “Open wide, I’m going to start with your pretty little lips. You did a good job with our friend. Every time you swallow, I get hard.”
He knelt over my face and reached above me on the headboard. I opened my mouth and moved my chin upward, to accommodate his length.
“So fucking good.” He moved in and out; his familiar scent loosened my muscles and involuntarily caused my body to react. Wanting this over, I sucked harder.
“Baby, not so greedy. You don’t want to make me come yet. That pussy of yours wants a turn.”
“Vik?”
I opened my eyes and turned toward my sister. “What?”
“I was talking and you were totally zoned out.”
“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
No, I didn’t fucking feel bad that Stewart was dead or that he suffered. I didn’t give a damn what Travis said. Stewart deserved every minute of pain and agony. When the fucking door closes on this vault, I will secretly rejoice. And if there were people who thought they could get me back in that position, well, they didn’t know the real Victoria Harrington.
The real Victoria Harrington was not a whore. As I looked down at my black dress, black nylons, black shoes, and black purse, I straightened my shoulders and felt the weight of the large brimmed black hat. No, I was a fucking widow—a black widow—I wouldn’t go back without a fight.
Unconsciously, the corner of my lip rose. As it did, I caught Travis’ eyes in the rearview mirror. Did he know? He seemed to know so much. Did he know I was a killer?
“Vik? Hello?”
I looked toward my sister and sighed. “Val, I’m fine, really.”
“You’re not fine. You’re overwrought. I’m coming home with you. I don’t have to be back to the hospital until tomorrow evening. I’m staying. I’m also getting you a script for Ambien, the kind that not only helps you fall asleep but stay asleep.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want that. I wanted to talk to Parker. I needed to know why he possibly thought I’d sign those papers. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I huffed and tilted my head toward the front of the car. “I already have one and don’t forget Lisa and Kristina. I think the position is well covered.” I reached for her hand and squeezed. “I’d love to spend time with you, but I just want to go home and get away from all of these people.” The car turned into the cemetery and toward the columbarium.
“Are you going to stay at the penthouse, or go out to the estate?” she asked.
“Honestly, I haven’t given it that much thought. For now, I’ll be at the apartment.”
She put her hand on my knee. “I know it’s hard to think about the room where he died. Usually they recommend that you don’t do anything to it for a while.”
I shook my head. “I’ve already had it cleaned out. It smelled. The furniture is gone. His clothes are gone.” Val’s eyes widened as I spoke. “I’ve had a few things boxed, but honestly, I think there are charities that can benefit.” The car stopped.
“That’s nice, but you shouldn’t—”
This time I patted her knee. “Sis, I love you. I know you know what should be done. I’m doing what I need to do. If I regret it later, you can tell me I told you so.”
The door opened and the sunshine streamed in. Reaching for my dark sunglasses and securing my purse, I scooted toward the door. “Stay with me, Val. Please run interference with Mom. I can’t deal with her right now.”
Val nodded as we both stood. Under my black hat and dark glasses, my gray eyes shimmered with delight. I wanted to watch the vault close once and for all.
Stoically, we stood, Val, myself, and Travis, Mother, Marcus, and Lyle behind us as well as a few special mourners who’d been invited to this private ceremony. The minister offered more words of praise for the life lost too young. I even caught his mention of the reward in heaven for Stewart’s devoted wife. He was wrong. I would never see heaven, and my reward was the sound of the small door closing.
I’d done it. The evidence was gone and so was Stewart.
Walking back to the car, Marilyn reached for my arm and whispered. “Please, Victoria. I need to speak with you. Tell that goon to take Valerie to the other car with the boys. I need to speak to you alone.”
“Mother…” Val said.
I looked at Marilyn’s hand on my arm and slowly brought my eyes to hers. Through clenched teeth, I whispered, “This is hardly the time or the place for—”
With more spirit than she’d had since Randall’s death, since she’d truly become dependent on Stewart and me, she retaliated. “This isn’t about money. I know Marcus’ tuition is paid.”
My eyes widened. Money was our only topic of conversation. What the hell did she think I’d want to say to her? She misinterpreted my change of expression.
“Thank you for that, for the money.”
Those words of appreciation were spoken for Stewart, not for me. After the first few times of his demanding gratitude from her, she too learned her place, at least with him. The fact she’d just offered it to me was rather comical.
Her complexion paled as she leaned closer. I saw Travis approaching as her next words registered.
“You need to know something. There are things I never told you.”
Travis began to speak, but she hurriedly continued, “Your father—your biological father—was at the funeral. I saw him.”
The world went black.