Wicked Steps (14 page)

“Maybe I need all of the above,” I replied with a frown.

“Good fucking luck with that. Your boy is too much work. He might be wealthy, but admirable…? Don’t make me laugh. He’s evil incarnate. The only thing that separates him from Satan is location.”

“He uses the name Wicked as his alter ego for his art. I wonder if he sincerely understands the concept. He’s pushed me too far, and since I can’t prosecute his ass, I guess I’ll have to come up with an alternative plan. Something that will give an entirely new definition to wicked stepmother.”

Kieran

I’ve always known when to abandon ship, so to speak. I knew Ellery would be unconscious for sometime, so that allowed me to slip out early in the morning. Landy was miffed because I called her a cab the night before. I think she had some grand idea we were having a sleepover. The fact was she served her purpose. As usual, I was bored with her now. I was fixated on the prize, which would be my stepmother. Yeah, I could have fucked her last night, but that would have been too simple, and a threesome didn’t appeal to me. I was already irritated by the fact that Landy had gotten to taste what was mine. I loathed sloppy seconds.

I also needed to prepare myself that she would be fuming. I assumed by now she’d figured out I’d drugged her, and prior to that, she found the jewelry. I would have loved to be in the house when that discovery was made, but personally, I valued my balls.

There was no logical reasoning behind it. It had been more of an afterthought. Hell, I didn’t even get to watch. Landy had a friend, a professional piercer, who did the job for a thousand bucks. He squawked about her being passed out, but when I flashed him a grand in cash, his objections went bye-bye. As the guy snapped on rubber gloves, I chose a petite fourteen-karat ring. I licked my lips in expectation of seeing it dangle from her sweet cunt. He booted me out but allowed Landy to stay. It was over in fifteen minutes, and I began to wonder whether it would be worth her fury or if I would even get to see it.

She sent me a text in the late afternoon, not a word regarding her new accessory. Maybe she liked it. Fat chance. Ellery was too straight-laced to realize the virtues of a hood piercing. The message read she planned to stay in Soho with Coco for a few days. The gallery had just received new acquisitions, and there was too much to do. She’d be back on the weekend. A few—that was almost a week. I suddenly felt like a child who wasn’t getting candy. What was I going to do for five fucking days?

I decided to utilize “me” time with painting. I’d started an abstract of her, but now I wanted to do a straight portrait. There must be some photographs of her lying around. Many times, I could sketch from memory, but I wanted to capture every single detail. I dug through her room, finding it odd she kept no photos of her and my father. I strolled downstairs to the library. The old man must have kept some mementos.

My hands shook as I held their wedding picture. It had been tucked in the back of my father’s desk. Not framed and on display, but stashed away like some vulgar sacrament. My fingers dusted over Ellery’s face, and I wondered if there had ever been actual affection between them. She portrayed picturesque happiness, but the melancholy in her eyes gave it away. This wasn’t a bride celebrating a joyous occasion. Maybe what Preston revealed to me had been the truth.

It didn’t matter. She got what she deserved because she married him in hopes of a substantial payday.

I hated myself for wanting Ellery. It had been all about revenge in the beginning, but I’d dropped the ball. I let that woman needle her way under my skin. Watching her last night with Landy had been
glaçage sur le gateau
, and I wanted to lick that frosting. I had masturbated again thinking of her. I’d witnessed ecstasy as another woman made her come and she watched as I spilled into someone else’s mouth. I needed to be deep inside her. I wanted to touch every part of her. Lick the salt from her skin. Inhale the scent of her hair. Bite her lips. Make her scream my name as she came. Have her suck me until she drained everything, including my hatred.

The woman had hexed me. I was unable to concentrate on anything but her. Maybe she was doing all of this to even the score. After all, I callously blamed her for my father’s wrongdoings. Even though, deep down, I knew she wasn’t the woman responsible for my family crumbling. It hadn’t been her who caused my mother to give up, which led to her demise. None of this had been her fault. But like a spiteful and undisciplined child, I knew all that and it didn’t matter. Because in the end, I needed to punish someone, and I had chosen her. I’d spent too many years dreaming about getting even. My entire reason for getting up in the morning was revenge. My father had taken away that opportunity by dying before I could exact it.

Ellery assumed I’d take pity on her. But I’d come too far and thought about this too long. According to Preston, it had been a fake marriage. Still, even if all of that were true, she would be the surrogate recipient of my vengeance. I wanted
someone
to pay. It might as well be her.

I’d already put the scheme in motion. Yeah, I’d deviated slightly from the plan by wanting her sexually. But in reality, it had been her fault. The woman was supposed to be old and nondescript. Even though I knew my father had discriminating tastes ten years ago, I’d assumed she would be aged and emotionally battered. I was sure living with that bastard would wear anyone down.

But what I never expected was her. She was distinctive, rare. My brain refused to comprehend why this kind of woman would choose to marry a dying old man. Of course money—the lack of—could make you hungry enough to do even the most distasteful acts. I’m sure she promised undying love to my father and stood by him through all the dark days. I’d shed a tear if I fucking cared.

Unquestionably, she was clever; of that I was sure. She knew the ropes of his business, and even though she feigned virtue, I sensed a nuance when it came to men. Her impersonation of an innocent and misunderstood woman was performance worthy. She’d tried outplaying the player. But what eluded her was I’d spent countless years developing my retaliation. She was dealing with a master. It didn’t matter that my father abandoned me at an early age, because his ruthless blood had coursed through my veins since birth.

Among the snow-white portrayal, she played the part of a virtuous seductress well. I had no doubt it was one of her many characteristics that garnered much of my father’s attention. I almost felt as though I should reward her for being the one who had the fucking pleasure to witness the old man perish. She was like any other woman when it came to wealth, a calculating and conniving cunt. And regardless of how he deserved to be taken and used by this woman, his punishment had been
mine
to inflict. I wanted the satisfaction of not forgiving him on his death bed while he begged for it.

I laughed because my father would never be capable of begging for anything. He wanted. He took. Everything that touched him had been a disposable commodity.

I was entitled to justice, to seek restitution for my mother.

A tear trickled down my face because that fucking woman had taken away my opportunity to inflict pain on my father. I wanted him to realize how it felt to be abandoned and rejected. Just knowing he’d been racked in agony as a slow disease consumed his brain should have been enough, but not being able to observe it left me dissatisfied. I wanted tangible payback.

Ellery thought this was a battle of wills. It had been only weeks since I showed up. She never even knew I existed. She believed what was going on between us was just a skirmish. She hadn’t a clue. When I argued, I always won. This wasn’t a dispute. It was more of a shit storm. And when the dust finally settled, she would realize the actual war hadn’t even begun yet.

Ellery

I struggled during the week. I was able to block out Kieran during the day because work occupied me, but when night fell, it was tough. Conflict overwhelmed my every thought. As my memories gradually came back in segments, and I began to recall certain things, Coco and I realized it wasn’t Rohypnol or any of the other “date rape” drugs I’d been given. We’d scoured the internet looking for answers. After a couple days of research, we were convinced it was either a tranquilizer or pain pill. Combining any of those medications with alcohol would intensify its effect.

I remembered a woman with him but couldn’t recall her name. I cringed because I recollected some of the events that had transpired. I tried to suppress those images and planned to tell no one. No sex had transpired between him and me. But one thing was clear. I’d let him watch as I had an erotic rendezvous with her.

Champagne. He’d subdued me with drugs and champagne. I knew I hadn’t gotten myself drunk because I recalled only taking a couple shots of vodka before going to meet with him. I had planned for us to have sex. I’d gone to his room voluntary.

So what was his agenda? Humiliation. Submission. And what about this ring he’d pierced me with? I couldn’t fathom his justification. It was still hazy, but I knew he carried me back to my room. I could remember his hard-bodied chest and his distinctive scent as he delivered me to my bed. But he’d left just as I passed out. Did he come back? Or had that son of a bitch hired someone else do the deed. My face turned red with degradation just thinking some stranger had been rummaging around my nether region.

He thought he was some wicked momentous player. But I had age on my side. My years made me wiser and more experienced. True, I wasn’t a deviant, but I could be unscrupulous if necessary. I had five days to devise my scheme so I could finally put a nail in his coffin. He wanted retribution so badly.
Well, be careful what you ask for, baby. Because two can play at this game.
And if nothing else, Hartman had taught me a few tricks. Luckily for Kieran, homicide was off the table. Both Coco and I decided the prick wasn’t worth lifetime incarceration.

Suddenly, vindictiveness rose up inside me, and for the first time, I knew the feeling of true power.

He had pushed me too far. I could have forgiven him for anesthetizing me during his version of a bizarre ménage à trois, but not for the piercing. He intensely and purposely humiliated me. He possibly allowed another person to violate me while I was unconscious. He was unconscionable and contemptible. Did he honestly believe I would adorn something so distasteful without my knowledge or consent? I wanted it removed. I tried myself, but it was too small and I disliked pain. I would never have asked Coco to do it. Having her inspect my crotch was bad enough. Asking her to handle my pussy—not a chance.

Bo had worked for me for almost three years. I knew he was well acquainted with tattoos and piercings, because he had many. Our conversation took place in confidence, and I kept the details to a minimum. He was in shock and disbelief that someone had done this to me without my permission. His boyfriend worked at a tattoo studio that did piercing as well as branding. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing it could have been worse and that asshole could have permanently burned his name into my ass. Bo sensed my reluctance to show up at a tattoo shop, so his significant other came to Coco’s home that evening.

Embarrassment racked my entire being as Cliff proceeded to remove the ring. It took maybe thirty seconds, but the shame would last years. A sigh of relief left me as he handed me the gold circle. Even though I knew he was gay and probably looked at pussy all day, I was humiliated because, evidently, quite a few had viewed my private parts recently. Maybe I should have it bronzed and displayed at the gallery.

As I rolled the ring between my fingers, my hatred for Kieran grew. Cliff wrote down aftercare instructions, letting me know the area would heal very quickly. Thank God, because I had big plans, and they included the use of my pussy. That asshole had promised me sex, and he was not going to renege on our deal.

Coco’s eyes went wide with surprise as I discussed my idea with her. She was on board with most of it. I think she had concerns this plan was less about revenge and more about me wanting to fuck my stepson. She attempted to talk me out of it. She wanted me to let it go until we figured another way.

“I’m all for you getting back at him, but I’m worried… not about him, but you. You do understand, technicality or not, he
is
your stepson. Stop… Don’t interrupt. You and Hartman did not divorce. He died. And I think there lies the difference. You know me. I don’t care about trivial details, but I do know you. You’re emotionally blinded by whatever this man means to you. You say you hate him, but you know the old saying. There’s a fine line between love and hate. Well, sweetie, that line, when it comes to you and him, appears quite ethereal. Eventually, when you return to the actual world, I’m afraid the realization of you’ve done and allowed will crush you. I won’t stand by and be a witness while you get your heart broken.”

I adamantly shook my head. “I’m having sex with him so we can be done with each other. The gallery will be ours. I’m doing it my way because I want that asshat to know what it’s like to have someone else in control. I’m tired of being his victim. My plans for him have nothing to do with emotional attachments. You’re worried for nothing. He might have the body of a man, but his temperament is that of an overindulged hellion. He’s had the upper hand since the first night. I’m tired of letting the Wick men run over me and allowing myself to be emotionally enslaved. I’ve put up with enough of their bullshit. I need him to realize I’m not some weak-ass woman who will bend to his every command. Kieran needs to know I have had enough”

“Uh-huh. Very convincing speech. Did everything you just spouted work for you? Because it didn’t do jack for me,” she mused.

I hated when Coco called me out. She’d always been able to see right through me. I earnestly did mean what I’d said. But there was some odd emotional attachment. He had me the first night. I’d never been able to stop thinking about him. I thought in the beginning I was just flattered by the attention. I hoped all this agreement and contract stuff was his way of getting me in bed. But when he drugged me and coerced me into doing things I would never do sober, I knew. I had bits of memory from that night where he’d briefly shown a gentler side. But I knew, deep down inside, he was a bitter, out-of-control artist bent on self-destruction, not giving a damn who got hit by the debris.

“Tell me, dear God. Elle, are you in love with him? Is that what this is all about—is it already too late?” I could hear the distress in her voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Are you crazy? No, I don’t love him. How in the hell did you conclude that from all that has happened? He’s a little boy, for God’s sake, and—as you pointed out—my stepson.”

Her eyes squinted at me with a disapproving look as I headed to the guest room. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” she yelled after me.

I turned briefly. “No more talking. The time for conversation has ended. I need to implement the plan. The quicker it’s executed, the faster all of this ends. See you in the morning,” I said as I closed the door.

There was a huge difference between love and lust. I’d never felt either, not really. I had sympathy for Hartman that eventually turned into revulsion. I would have liked to feel empathy for Kieran, but so many people had bad parents. Just because your childhood was less than stellar, you didn’t make it your mission to destroy everyone around you. It was time he man up.

No one had a perfect life. We all carried baggage, some more horrendous than others, but he had accomplished so much without Hartman. He had everything. He was talented, one of Europe’s best. He had wealth and beauty. But he was consumed by the past. He allowed his father’s behavior to eat away at him. It had been up to him to break the cycle. My biggest concern was he would
become
Hartman. I knew I shouldn’t care, but the thought plagued me. There were similarities between the two. He was young enough to change, but I sensed he needed a reason.

I wished I could know more about his mother. I knew Preston had loved her and it had been unrequited—at least until the end of her life, from what I could piece together. I could see the pain in both men’s eyes when they spoke of her. She must have been a remarkable woman. I wondered how he would have turned out if she had lived. I think the past seven years without Darcea had turned her son into a monster.

I sensed Preston trying to be Kieran’s savor and wanting him to find salvation. But you have to be willing. I knew somewhere inside him must be a good man. But how the hell did I get the job to bring it to the surface? He made me that person when he first touched me. He corrupted my values and seared himself into my soul.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one that needed therapy. His father had damaged me, too. Neither of us had chosen to share our pain, only bits and pieces. I was concerned that if he truly knew what I’d gone through, his hatred would deepen. But that would require Kieran having feelings for me, and to him, I was only a vessel of revenge. There was no kindness when he touched me, and that one kiss we’d had was forceful and cruel. I wished I could be the one to rescue him from this life of malice he had created.

I laughed as I internally chastised myself for being such an idiot. I had nothing to offer him. He had hundreds of beautiful young women waiting in the wings. There wasn’t a chance I could compete with them or the life he’d created in Paris. What would he want with me anyway? I was the one person he despised because I’d married his father for money and any pain I had suffered was earned and justified.

The best years were ahead of him, but only if he left all this emotional garbage behind. I couldn’t reason why he couldn’t just say, “FUCK IT.” His father had paid the ultimate price. His death didn’t come swiftly with serenity. He’d lived in agony for many years, the last months being the worst. The pain was so intense not even morphine could calm his discomfort. Whatever he’d inflicted on his son and Darcea— that debt was now paid in full.

Kieran was too young to comprehend the act of forgiveness. You never forget, but you have to forgive. I had long ago learned absolution isn’t for others; it’s for you. I needed to find a way to put Hartman and my years with him in the past. I knew I wouldn’t be able to find peace until I did, and neither would he.

I tossed and turned as my legs tangled in the sheets. Even in the darkness, his face haunted my thoughts. I was scared of my own feelings. My worst fear was I had allowed Hartman to dominate me in the bedroom and I would always expect it from men. Was the attraction I had to Kieran because of his oppressive nature? Would the feelings I had inside, gnawing at me, finally diminish when we had sex, or would all those emotions escalate past the point of my ability to control them?

I could just leave. Turn tail and run. Leave this life and the gallery behind. Because was everything I planned to do worth my sanity? Coco had been right about
this
not ending well.

I thought I was already well acquainted with guilt and shame. I was a survivor. I had endured the last five years with Hartman. That alone should have made me battle ready for his son. But during that time, I built a wall around me. I only persevered because I let myself become immune to what he was doing. I locked away my emotions so they could stay dormant.

Then he showed up. The moment I saw Kieran, I let down my guard. Only for a few moments, but it had been long enough for him to unleash his carnal intentions and make me desire again. And because life is never fair and I was still paying penitence, that one single pleasurable moment given to me by a man that turned out to be my stepson became another cruel joke wielded by Hartman and fate.