I’D NEVER BEEN so busy and yet done so little. What Lisa didn’t do for me, she had someone else who could. The next two days flew by in a flurry of rush and wait. The days were monopolized by fittings, primping, and beautification. My long, dark tresses were highlighted, not in shades of blonde as I’d imagined, but tints of chestnut and lowlights of mahogany. When sunlight hit my hair, the various shades came alive in a truly surprising array of color. My skin was moisturized, waxed, hydrated, and massaged. Cosmetologists spent hours applying and teaching me to apply just the right amount of makeup. With the guidance of Zhen, a cosmetologist, I became an expert at creating the most dramatic eyes.
The wedding dress that Lisa had chosen—yes, she said that she argued with Stewart and won, not allowing him to see it until the wedding—was stunning. Before my first fitting, it was close to my size. By Wednesday afternoon, it fit like a glove. The flowing chiffon and fitted bodice worked together to create the perfect look for a destination beach wedding.
I’d also learned a little more about my fiancé. Though his homes were in Miami, his hotels were all over the world, and thus he spent quite a bit of time traveling. He said there would be times he would travel alone but probably more times he’d want me to accompany him. Though he never truly demanded, the way he asked, the way he inquired, left me little room for debate.
Beginning Monday night at the Beach Club, I was introduced to his friends and associates. Never once did he hint that our union was anything other than what it appeared. We were the topic of conversation, not only in Miami, but also around the country. Even the television gossip programs talked at length about the unlikely pairing. Of course, pictures with my engagement ring went viral. News of the wedding had yet to hit the press, but Stewart had no doubt it would be front-page news by Friday morning. That was why he’d decided upon a Thursday evening wedding. Our nuptials would hit the wire before the weekend, making an impact before being lost in the end of the week drivel.
Though I’d kept my word and hadn’t begged for his cock, it was becoming increasingly difficult. Since Sunday night, I’d reached higher heights with Stewart than I knew existed. He’d gone down on me multiple times. It was everything he offered with his fingers and more. I didn’t fight to journey to the top of the mountain, because falling off was my reward for the hard-felt expedition. When his tongue and fingers worked together, no matter how hard my hips bucked or my thighs squeezed, I was helpless against the precipice that exploded and sent me falling, not in one piece, but in a million shards to a cushion of sedation. Though he liked to watch as I began the journey on my own, not once had I seen what lay beneath his slacks. Each time I reached for his hidden erection my curiosity grew, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I did as he’d predicted and begged. My goal was to make it to our wedding.
The night before our departure for Belize, Stewart came home from his office earlier than usual. Lisa was out and I was sitting by the pool with Susan, completing the final arrangements on another order of clothing. This one was a special selection of designer casual dresses, ones that Lisa proclaimed were a necessity for my everyday activities.
Stewart’s booming voice echoed across the rooftop pool as we both looked up to see him approach. Though he wore his custom suit and his blonde hair fell perfectly styled over his brow, the expression he wore was unlike one I’d ever seen. “Where the fuck is your phone?”
Susan’s eyes widened as I looked around the table, moving magazines and sketches, I replied, “I-I don’t know. In my room?”
Eyeing Susan, Stewart’s demeanor shifted. “Ms. Jennings, I believe your services are no longer required today. Please contact my wife after we arrive home from our honeymoon.”
“Yes, Mr. Harrington,” she replied, standing and collecting her material from the table.
“Victoria, come to my office, now.” With that, he was gone from the pool deck in a cloud of regal perfection and fury.
“Miss?” Susan inquired once we were alone, her eyes peeking questionably toward mine.
I wanted to assure her that everything was fine, yet I didn’t know. Nevertheless, I smiled and nodded encouragingly: perhaps in an attempt to reassure myself. “Thank you, Susan. I’ll see you in a week. Do you need me to see you out?”
She forced a smile. “No. If you have any last-minute concerns over this order, you have my number.”
“I’m pretty sure the order is just fine,” I replied.
I’d faced my parents’ wrath on more occasions than I could count; I could face Stewart’s. In some ways he’d been kinder to me than they ever had. Whatever was upsetting him, I believed I could handle. That, however, didn’t lessen the anxiety that grew with each step as I made my way toward his office. When I entered, I asked, “Stewart, what—”
He reeled at the sound of my voice. “Did you find your goddamn phone?”
“No.” My neck straightened. Though his clenched jaw and darkened expression filled me with dread, I was about to be his wife, and I didn’t appreciate his tone. “I came to your
goddamn
office. That’s what you said.”
He paced behind his desk. “I’ve been trying to reach you. What’s the fucking purpose of having a damn phone if you’re not going to have it near?”
“Stewart,” I slowed my rebuttal. “What happened? Why have you been trying to reach me?”
“I tried the apartment phone. I couldn’t even fucking reach anyone here. I finally got through to Ms. Madison, but as you know she is out and couldn’t reach you either.”
“You’re here now. What is it?”
His expression of anger morphed into one of uncertainty. “I paid the fucking money. I did it. Travis delivered it on Monday.”
What money?
My mind spun: so much had happened in such a short time.
“Victoria, your stepfather’s in the hospital.”
My knees gave way to a wave of nausea.
That money
. I hadn’t called Randall or my mother. I’d been too caught up and busy, and to be honest, I liked the idea of making them sweat. “Hospital? What happened?”
“I don’t know. Get your purse. We’re heading over to Memorial.”
Blankly, I nodded, trying with all my might to hide the fear rippling through me.
Oh my God. If he died, it would be another death on me.
On the way to Memorial, I checked my messages. There were multiple text messages and voicemails from Stewart, some from Val, and one voicemail from my mother. I listened, not putting it on speakerphone.
“Why? Why Victoria? Do you hate us this much? Randall’s at Memorial Hospital.”
I looked to Stewart. “My mother’s message doesn’t tell us anymore than you already know. She only said he’s at the hospital.”
He reached for my hand and held it as we walked through the corridors on our way to ICU. I spotted Val first. We hadn’t seen one another since Sunday afternoon. Until our eyes met, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed her: three days were suddenly a lifetime. Her puffy eyes met mine.
As soon as they did, our mother’s gaze followed Val’s, and Marilyn stood. Years of being a judgmental bitch came into practice. It took her only a second to scan me: my new clothes, hair, and engagement ring. Almost instantly, her neck straightened. I held tightly to Stewart’s hand, knowing without a doubt that he was the only thing keeping her from telling me exactly what she thought.
With more decorum than I knew she possessed, she took a step toward us. “Mr. Harrington, please allow me to speak to my daughter in private.”
He looked possessively in my direction. I didn’t want to let go of his hand, but I knew I should. Before I spoke, Stewart did. “Mrs. Sound, how is your husband?”
“He’s in critical condition. There isn’t anything they can do, but wait.”
“Mother?” I asked, “What happened?”
“It was a heart attack. The doctors believe it was brought on by stress.” Her last sentence dripped with accusation. Nevertheless, my lungs took in a much-needed breath as the tension left Stewart’s grip. It hadn’t been an accident. Nodding to Stewart, I let go of his hand and walked toward my mother. Abruptly, she turned and led me to a small family-consultation room. Once we were alone, she turned, striking like a viper.
“Are you happy? Is this what you wanted? Look at you, dressed like damn arm candy, with that giant rock on your finger. Do you think Randall told Mr. Harrington about you so you could reap the benefits and leave us out to dry? Where’s your sense of loyalty after all that Randall has done for you? You and your selfish ways did this! You can’t stand to see me happy, can you? You have to ruin every relationship I’ve ever had.”
Though her icy tone dripped with hatred and accusation, I tried for more information on Randall. “What’s his prognosis?”
“Do you even care?”
The fire in my veins melted the ice she sent my way. “Do I even care?”
“Maybe I should warn Mr. Harrington,” Mother said, her volume low and threatening. “I should warn him what a deadly bitch he’s dressing up for his arm. Everyone you touch dies: everyone who’s naïve enough to get close. Even his money won’t protect him from you.”
“Are you listening to yourself? You fucking
sold
me without so much as a warning or regret.”
“I should have known it would take something of more value to help us.”
I clenched my jaw and willed my tears to stay at bay. Beyond the glass panel of the closed door I spotted Stewart. He was standing in the perfect place, leaning against a wall, and looking directly at me. His presence gave me strength. I lowered my tone. “Randall’s debt is paid. It has been since Monday afternoon. His current crisis is the result of his fucking addiction and yours. You’ve made your decision. Don’t contact me again—ever.” My eyes left hers and found Stewart’s. He stood straight and walked in my direction.
Dumbfounded at my outburst, Marilyn Sound glared at me. As she collected her thoughts, Stewart opened the door causing her to spin, suddenly muted by his presence. Rallying my strength, I said, “Marilyn, this is Stewart Harrington. I believe you have something to say to him.”
Her eyes opened wide.
Turning toward Stewart, I continued, “Stewart, my mother would like to thank you for saving their asses.”
I had the choice to concentrate on her icy glare or his smirk. I chose his smirk.
Marilyn extended her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Harrington. From the rock on my daughter’s finger, I presume congratulations are in order.”
“Mrs. Sound, I expect you to heed my earlier warning, and as for congratulations, yes. We’re saddened that you and Dr. Sound will be unable to attend the festivities; however, it appears that your attention will be needed and welcomed elsewhere.” He reached out to me. “Victoria, I believe we need to leave.”
Reaching for Stewart’s hand, I looked toward my mother. “Give Randall my regards. Oh, and let him know I said
you’re welcome
.”
My emotions stayed in check until we made it to the car. At that point, everything bubbled out: years of humiliation, of being a disappointment, and of being unwanted. As I collapsed into Stewart’s embrace, I whispered, “Please, I’m begging.”
Pushing me slightly away, Stewart looked down into my tear-filled eyes. “Victoria?”
“Please take me home. I need you to make me forget. I need you inside of me.”
Raising his voice, he commanded, “Travis, take Miss Conway and me back to the apartment.”
I held tightly to his hand as he walked me to the master bedroom, on the first floor of the penthouse. It had the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the living room, filling the massive space with natural light. Pulling me close, Stewart demanded, “Say it. I need to hear it.”
“Please, please…” Unabashed, I fell to my knees. “I’m begging you to make me forget. I’m begging you for your cock. I need you inside of me.”
“Victoria?”
I looked up at the massive, powerful man before me. Offering me his hand, he said, “Stand up.”
I did, though on trembling knees.
“That, my darling, will be the first and the last time you’ll ever beg. Do you understand?”
I didn’t, though I nodded.
“Thursday, you’ll be Mrs. Stewart Harrington. No one—not your mother, your father, nor your stepfather—no one but me will ever again have the power over you.” He raised my chin. “Do you truly understand?”
“I do.”
“Are you confident of what you want?”
Reaching for Stewart’s belt, I said, “I am.”
He grasped my hand. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, darling, this is my area of expertise. Let me.”
Nodding, I released his belt, but rubbed his hidden erection.
Spinning me around, Stewart lowered the zipper of my dress and removed the straps from my shoulders. The soft fabric fluttered to the floor as his low hiss filled me with a much-needed semblance of power. With my back to him, he secured the waistband of my panties and reverently pulled them toward the floor.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” He turned my nude body to face him and gingerly kissed my lips, holding me close. The beat of his heart reverberated in his massive chest as his arms warmed and shielded me from the air-conditioned air. Taking my hand, he said, “Climb on our bed and show me your wet pussy. Spread those legs. I want more than your words—let me see your body beg.”
While I did as he said, Stewart removed his jacket, shirt, and belt. With each action, his eyes stayed fixed on me. Kicking off his shoes, he undid the button on his slacks and let them drop to the floor. His boxer shorts were incapable of hiding what I’d yet to see. Lying back upon my elbows, I brought my knees together and gasped. Never in all of my life had I seen anything so large. His penis stood erect, nearly touching his navel.
“Oh… I-I don’t know… if…”
Removing his boxer briefs, Stewart climbed onto the bed. His blue eyes shimmered with lust as his words reassured me. “I’ve wanted this since before you walked into my office. Tori, I’m going to make you forget everything. All you’ll be thinking about is the incredible stretching in your tight pussy.” His anticipation was evident as he asked, “Do you trust me?”