CHAPTER TWO
NICHOLAS
The Ferrari 448GTB, in the obligatory red color, skids to a halt, and I’m out of the vehicle before the footman even has a chance to react. I throw him the keys and stomp into the house. I need coffee, preferably intravenously. I’ve got a herd of fucking elephants in my head along with a severe case of flashbacks to what was the best twenty-ninth birthday party, ever. Another one hits me when I shut my eyes and slump down into my favorite comfortable chair in the ostentatious room that my father calls the waiting room. It’s a blonde this time and a brunette. The blonde is riding my dick like a cowgirl while my friend, Prince John, is doing her up the ass. I’ve got the brunette on my face, and she’s bathing me in her cum. I love a woman’s orgasm — it’s the sweetest flavor in the world, especially when she’s soaking your chin. My dick gets hard again at the thought.
“Down boy,” I tell him. “Any more action for you, and you're going to end up with burns. We're taking the day off.” I’m sure he’s sulking in my pants.
“Lord Lullington.” I reluctantly open my bloodshot eyes to see my elderly butler standing over me with the ever-present stern expression on his face.
“This had better be good, Reggie, and it better come with coffee.”
“It comes with a bacon sandwich, My Lord.” He steps back to reveal the glorious delicacy placed on fine china and resting on my father’s sixteenth century, carved oak chest.
“You're sent from heaven.” I jump up and sink my teeth into the first juicy bite. “Hmm. Ketchup. This is the best.”
“You'll need the strength it gives you.” I finish the sandwich in a few bites and pick up the cup of steaming coffee. I know it’ll be the King’s blend, from Fortnum & Mason, because that’s the only one I'll drink since I discovered it at fourteen. I’m not a tea person, unlike the rest of my family.
“Are you going to tell me that my father wants me?”
“He’s been shouting obscenities and then your name since the sun rose. He says I’m to inform him the minute you return home.” I rub a hand over my unshaven chin and groan.
“I better go and find him before he has an aneurysm.”
“It would be wise, My Lord.”
Reginald coughs.
“What is it?” I ask, knowing the sudden frog in his throat means he wants to voice his opinion on something.
“May I speak without consequence?” He bows his head.
“Don’t you usually around me?” I chuckle and grab my head when it hurts.
“Only when I know you need a bit of fatherly advice.”
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t fight your father on this. You can’t stop what’s about to happen. It’s bigger than anything you know. It’s the future of your name and of what governs us.”
“Why does it have to be, though?” I sit back in the chair and place my head in my hands. My mahogany hair hasn’t been brushed and has a definite recently fucked look.
“History, Nicholas. It’s too ingrained in your family to change. To try now would destroy everything. You’re implicit in the crimes of the generations past. Blood stains your hands — it can never be cleaned off.”
I know that the old man, who’s been within my household since I can remember, is right. I have no choice, and I nod acceptance.
“To my death, I go.” I get back to my feet and leave him to clear up my empty plate while I search for the man who holds my future in his hands. No sooner do I think of the devil than he appears in front of me, from his office.
“Nicholas, finally. Where have you been?” He stares at me from behind dead eyes. No emotion belies the torture that he’s, likely, about to commit.
“My apologies, Your Grace.” I’ve never once called him Father. I was taught at an early age with a wooden cane that he would demand his title, even from his son. “I was enjoying the celebrations for my birthday. I knew it would be the last one I can enjoy as a free man — they may have gone on longer than I’d anticipated.”
“You mean that you were sticking your cock in as many women as possible.” He raises an eyebrow, which makes me feel like a ten-year-old boy about to get the cane again for stealing a sweet. I’m not, though, I’m a grown man of twenty-nine and should be able to make my own decisions.
“Only two women. My friends shared the other ones.”
“You're disgusting,” he scoffs.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t do the same when you were younger, or indeed that you wouldn’t do it still, given half the chance.” I go to walk away. I’ve had enough of this. I need a shit, shave, and shower before a long sleep.
“The difference is I do it with decorum and restraint. I don’t risk my male parts being posted all over social media with full commentary on how good I am in bed.”
“That was one time.” I stop and turn back to face him with my fists clenched.
“And it cost me a good million to silence the little bitch. We have a reputation to maintain, and you’re going to throw it all away.” My father stands up to my anger, but I’m so livid I’m not about to back down and act sensibly.
“No, we can’t damage your reputation as the leader of your little secret society, can we?”
“Jesus, Nicholas, will you grow up?”
“Why? What's the point?”
“Because by your next birthday, you’ll be married, the Duke of Oakfield, and the leader of my, ‘little secret society’, as you put it. This isn’t a bad thing I’m asking you to do. I’ve left you alone, to do as you please with your life, since you turned eighteen. That’s eleven years of fun. Do you not find it monotonous? All I’m asking is that you start to take on some responsibility.” My father lowers his voice from one full of disappointment and anguish to one I vaguely remember. The one that holds compassion and fondness in it. “You're my son, my heir. I want what’s best for you, and I know this is it.”
“But why this way?” I state.
“It’s the rules. Our forefathers signed the documents governing how we must prove that we’re worthy of the title. It’s not possible to change them.”
“It’s possible to change anything if you put your mind to it.”
“Not this, Nicholas. There’s too much at stake. Oakfield Hall for one.”
“This is our ancestors’ home since before the time of the society,” I protest. “They surely can’t take it.”
“It was written into the founding documents that all this can be taken from us. The money was needed when it fell into disrepair before your four times great-grandfather came into his inheritance. He was a brave man who was prepared to risk everything for the sake of protecting the name and estates. You can’t let him down.”
This founding document has been the bane of my life ever since I heard about it, for the first time, at the age of ten. That was when I found out how much my life was mapped out for me. My four times great grandfather needed funds to live. It was around the time that the cost of living went through the roof for the elite, and it became increasingly difficult for them to afford to run a stately home, like the one we now live in. It became even harder for them to pay their way at lavish court functions, which were a pre-requisite for those having a title such as Duke, whether it was a royal title or not. It was necessary to make an appearance, and if the King wanted money then it had to be given to him. Drugs, prostitution, high levels of alcohol consumption, it was all rife then. The elite had to be seen to be partaking. Along with some of the other title holders in the country, my ancestor formed a pact. They’d work together to be able to live the lifestyles they wanted, but in return they had to give up something. My ancestor was designated the leader as he was the highest ranked and also a close confidant of the King. It was decided that should he forfeit his position then Oakfield Hall and any other assets, owned by the Cavendish family, would be sold and distributed between the remaining members of the society. A pretty big forfeiture, considering that in addition he had no say on when or to whom he got married! Because every eldest son on his thirtieth birthday, going down in perpetuity, takes over the title and leadership of the society, on the proviso that he is married. I guess that the position means power and a casting vote in the way the organization’s run, but to me, it just takes away my free will.
“Nicholas!” my father shouts at me, and I realize that I’d disappeared into a dream world. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
“Sorry, Your Grace.”
“You’ve been training for this your entire life. You’ve known it was coming. Think of the power you’ll wield, this time next year. You'll be responsible for the business behind the scenes.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s something to be proud of.” I roll my eyes.
“It is if it keeps a roof over our heads.”
“Theft, murder, god knows what else.” My father’s face reddens as I speak, partly through anger, I think, but also through the embarrassment of knowing that he has the life he leads because of the hardship he puts others through. Actually, no, scrap that. It’s all anger because my father doesn’t think about anyone else but himself.
“I sometimes wonder what I did to raise such an ungrateful child. Hear me out, Nicholas, enough arguing. You'll shut that intolerable mouth of yours until you can learn to use it for something that’s actually important. You'll go to your quarters, and you’ll make yourself presentable rather than looking like you have just crawled off the street or out of a barrel of wine. If you don’t, you won’t like the consequences that I’ll be forced to bring down on you.” He’s seething. The whites of his eyes are showing as he stands face to face with me. My father’s a strong man. He may be sixty, but he keeps himself healthy. “The ladies are on their way, and you'll be ready to meet them. You'll show them what it means to be in Oakfield Hall, and you’ll embrace your birthright because if you don’t then I’ll make the decisions for you. I’ll make you sit back and watch, while I do your duty!”
My stomach turns — I wish I’d not drunk so much last night. I knew this was coming today, and I knew what I’d have to do. I don’t want to marry. I want to fuck my way around England, but my father’s right: I have a duty to my family name and my future. Last night was the end of my old life, and today is the first of my new one. I'll embrace the monster that I must become.