Joseph Fallen (The Estate Series) (9 page)

He moved into the interior of the hall, the large size of
his body blocking the light from the iron chandelier behind him, casting a
shadow over hers.
 
When she finally
turned to look at him, she found that his features had softened, that pity
weighed heavily on his heart.

“And I do not want to be the man who allowed Joseph’s wife
to leave him.”

Arianna stripped off her clothes, dropping them along the
floor in her path to the sunken shower in the large bathroom of her suite.
 
Her eyes flicked to the open windows,
seeking out any movement or signs of the presence of the men watching from
outside.
 
Moving to the window, she
drew the curtains closed with such force, she almost ripped them from the rods.

Tears trailed down her cheeks, her stomach knotting over
itself from the mixture of the lack of food and desperate grief.
  
Stepping into the shower with
heavy and weighted steps, each jolt against the floor resonated through her
bones.
 
She flicked the water on and
stood back waiting for it to become warm.

“Tell me who owns you
Arianna…”

A flash of black hair, the water running in rivulets down
the face of a man she thought she’d known – the one that she still loved,
despite what he’d done.
 
Memories
overtaking her from the day they’d first moved into the mansion, she stepped
underneath the spray, watched as it streamed across her skin.
 
Her muscles ached and were crippled by
the emotional pain that had sprung within her, an avalanche from which she
could not run or escape.

“You are the most
beautiful sight I’ve ever seen – and to think that you are mine, always…”

Her lips parted, the water sliding along her lips and tongue
when she responded to the phantom of her husband.

“And forever.”

Resignation settled over her, but she wouldn’t allow
self-pity.
 
She’d been foolish not
to have noticed the signs of her husband’s actions:
 
the late nights, the fitful sleep, the
obsessive mannerisms – but mostly, the way his moods bounced between
anger and happiness – the former eventually smothering the latter.

But, she’d done nothing.

Shutting off the water, she stepped out, solemnly drying
herself with a towel before moving into her large, walk-in closet and choosing
a casual pair of pants and a t-shirt to wear.
 
She knew Joseph preferred her to be
dressed up, to appear as if she was the wealthiest woman around, but she could
no longer play into the illusion of grandeur that had become his obsession
– one that led him directly into the arms of a life rooted in crime.

After dressing, she laid down on the bed, pulling Joseph’s
pillow to her face and breathing his scent in deeply.
 
She loved him, but the knowledge that
she couldn’t accept the life he’d chosen forced tears from her eyes once more.

Minutes passed quietly by while her mind wandered over the
few years they’d lived in the mansion.
 
Sleep crept up on her like a silent companion, but she was instantly
awakened by the quick rap of knuckles against her bedroom door.
 
She sat up, her eyes coming back into
focus after being ripped back from a numb place.

She made two attempts to stand in her emotionally weakened
state before giving up and answering, “Come in.”

The green eyed man opened the door but did not move past the
doorway.
 
His expression carried a
hint of concern, but it was fleeting in its duration.
 
“Joseph has requested that I escort you
to an event in the ballroom in an hour.
 
He also requested that you dress up.”
 
His eyes traveled quickly over the pants
and shirt she wore that were now wrinkled from her attempt at sleep.

She sighed.
 
“And
my
husband
couldn’t have come to make
the request himself?
 
Have I become
nothing more than a servant who is to answer only when he calls?”
 
Bitter and aggrieved, her words were
spoken with a harsh tone she’d not intended.

“Mrs. Carmichael…”

“My name is Arianna.
 
If you are to be my jailor, you might as well use my name.”

He smiled slightly, the dimples embedded in his cheeks once
again showing through the shadow of stubble.
 
“And mine is Connor, however, given that
you are Joseph’s wife, I’ll prefer calling you by your married name.”

A humorless laugh escaping her lips, she threw her hands up
in defeat.
 
“Of course…”
 
Looking up at him, her expression
carried more of a pleading quality than she’d wanted.
 
“I’ve been delegated to an object that
is owned, nothing more.”

Connor’s features remained blank, but the slight tension to
his posture gave away just a bit of the thoughts that raced through his
head.
 
“He asked that you dress for
a formal event.
 
I’ll be in the
living room when you are ready to be escorted to the ballroom.”

“And if I’m never ready?
 
I’m not sure I want to know what my
husband has planned for the evening…or that I want to see him.”
 
The last words trailed off quietly, an
inner thought spoken aloud.

Nodding his head in her direction, Connor answered, “It’s
not your decision to make.
 
I’ll be
in the living room.”

After the light click of the lock, Arianna was left to
dutifully follow Joseph’s instructions.

. . .

Joseph sat in a large chair, positioned purposefully in the
center of the small stage that stood in the front of the ballroom.
 
To his side was a second chair intended
for Arianna.
 
He’d had tables
arranged throughout the room, a touch of class required for an event worthy of
his presence.
 
The steel grey of his
eyes moved over the room.
 
Men
shuffled in dressed in suit and ties, each one undoubtedly armed heavily.
 
His eyes kept flicking over to the doors
to the right wing. He was nervous to have his wife in attendance and he knew
she’d object to the violence that was to take place, but he hoped that if she witnessed
the control, the power, that he’d obtained over the network, the fear he’d seen
darken her eyes that morning would dissipate.

While surveying the men as they filled the tables before
him, he smiled slightly, pleased about the organization he’d created.
 
These men weren’t thugs.
 
They weren’t common criminals that ran
the streets, desperately working to draw an income.
 
No – these men were well-educated,
influential characters who directed those less powerful, who sat back disguised
and unnoticed while their underlings dirtied their hands with the work on the
street.
 
It was Joseph’s diligence
in his selection of the units’ leaders that made The Estate so successful.
 
Instead of multiple areas of crime fighting
amongst each other in their efforts to gain ground, they worked together.
 
It was a simple idea, one that not only
increased the profit for Joseph, but also each unit involved.
  
And now that the authorities were
bought and paid for, there was no person to become inquisitive in their activities
or muddy up the criminal dealings of those who were part of The Estate.

After the men had settled, Joseph heard the latch of the
right wing doors; the groan of wood as the doors were pulled back announcing
the arrival of Arianna.
 
His eyes
shot to the right and he watched as she entered the room, a sight to behold in
a simple red gown that shimmered magnificently under the light cast by the
large chandelier in the room.
 
Her
shoulders were held back, her chin set straight, and her stride carried a
strength to it that Joseph had never before seen.
 
His eyes narrowed from his attempt to
discern why Arianna now appeared to march when she’d always before appeared to
glide.

Connor entered behind her, a warrior as usual, dressed for
combat rather than a formal affair.
 
His boots fell heavily against the stone floor, the sound echoing off
the walls when the room had fallen silent in response to the appearance of
Joseph’s wife.

She quickly climbed the stairs before moving across the
stage to take her place at Joseph’s side.
 
Emory and Connor took their positions behind Joseph and Arianna and a
hush fell across the room once more.
 
Before speaking, Joseph looked to his wife seeking approval, but finding
instead the expression of a woman scorned.

His eyes darkened and his head swiveled back to look over
the audience.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming this evening and on such
short notice.”
 
His voice bellowed
throughout the room, strong and dignified while addressing his men.
 
“As you all know, I’ve worked very hard
to create The Estate.
 
It is an
organization unlike any other, and I’m gratified that my selection of your
groups has turned out favorably.
 
We
are a collective that benefits not only ourselves, but each other and we have
all grown exponentially as a result.”

He paused.

“That being said, I must now inform you about an incident
that took place yesterday outside of my home; one that will not be tolerated
and one that will require punishment as a result.”

He heard a slight gasp from Arianna, before noticing out of
his peripheral vision that she squirmed in her seat.
 
Ignoring her obvious discomfort, he
continued.

“Eleven men from one of the Estate’s units believed they
were more powerful than me – than
us
– as a collective.
 
While
walking yesterday, my wife…”
 
He
turned slightly to motion towards the woman who now had a look of absolute
hatred written across her face.
 
“…was attacked.
 
I’ll not
detail the attacker’s intent, because the only fact that is of importance is that
it was attempted.”
 
Pausing again,
he took a moment to look into the eyes of each man in the room.
 
He observed their mannerisms, the slight
furrow to their brow, or the movement of their body behind the table where they
were seated.
 
His search to determine
if any others had been involved delivered no firm answers, but he was pleased
to believe that each man in the room had found it a surprise to hear about the
occurrence.

Standing suddenly, he walked towards the front of the stage
and raised his hand to motion Emory to his side.
 
Once Emory had crossed the short expanse
of the stage and taken his place, Joseph stated, “Gentlemen – I wish to
make it abundantly clear just how thorough and swift my reach is within this
network.
 
The man who attacked my
wife was executed on sight, however, I am not stupid enough to believe he acted
alone.
 
Within less than twenty-four
hours of the attack, I not only discovered the identities of his
co-conspirators, but apprehended them as well.”
  
A sly smile slithered across his
face when the room grew deathly quiet.
 
Once Emory had made his way off the stage and was positioned by the
doors to the west wing, Joseph looked away from the audience to nod towards
Emory and indicate that it was time to open the doors.

Arianna straightened in her seat almost immediately when
Joseph began speaking.
 
Recognition
slapping her across the face, she was reminded of another speech Joseph had
given – years ago and in a different ballroom.
 
It was the tone of his voice that
chilled her so thoroughly; an apathetic severance from emotion and a lethal
edge to his words that were spoken so eloquently, most would not detect the
threat.
 
It was that other side to
her husband; the one that had remained hidden to her except for in those
moments where he’d lost himself and hurt or scared her as a result.
 

Her eyes looked over the audience and followed the path of
their attention and stares to the doors leading to Joseph’s wing.
 
Like a suffocating blanket, she held her
breath, anticipation and dread assaulting her thoughts from not knowing what
was hidden behind those large, wooden doors.

The loud clatter of the wrought iron handles sounded just
before a slow creak reverberated through the room.
 
As the doors parted and as light was
allowed to filter in from the large hallway behind those doors, Arianna’s eyes
widened to see ten men, chained and hooded, being led single file into the
ballroom.
 
Three men, dressed in
head to toe black, directed the line of chained men.
 
When they’d reached
 
the center of the ballroom, they were
stopped and made to stand facing the stage.
 
One by one, their hoods were removed
revealing disfiguring injuries to their faces.

With his hands clasped tight behind his back and his feet
held slightly apart, Joseph stood quietly above them.
 
“Welcome, gentlemen.
 
How nice of you to join us this evening.”
 

Nothing.
 
No
emotion to his words at the sight of ten men who looked to have already been
brutalized before being led into the room.
 
Each man swayed on his feet, their eyes were swollen closed and blood
and dirt was smeared across their exposed skin.

“Turn around.”
 

Another chill brushed down Arianna’s spine from the ice cold
manner in which Joseph had given that instruction.

The men rotated slowly around until they faced the audience;
murmurs and gratified grunts sounded when the members of that audience were
faced with the brutality already executed against the men.
 
Joseph didn’t move and didn’t speak
while he waited for the audience to calm back to a point of attentive silence.

From the corner of her eye, Arianna noticed Connor move out
from behind where she sat.
 
He
stepped towards the front of the stage, but stopped suddenly to bend down and
whisper, “Close your eyes if you can.”

Her eyes shot to his.
 
He looked her over for only a second, before straightening and moving to
descend the stairs and take a position behind the chained men.

Once Connor had taken his position, Joseph spoke again.
 
“I want every man here tonight to look
at the faces of ten men who attempted to attack not only me, but also the
network that has made the rest of you more powerful for just being part of
it.
  
I was going to quietly do
away with these men, however, I remembered that we are a collective and as
such, their punishment should be decided upon by The Estate as a whole.”
 
Joseph took a few steps, his head
turning as if he was eyeing each man that sat in the room.

“There are only two options – death or
imprisonment.
 
Therefore, in order
to let your voice and your decision be known, I ask this:
 
for those who want death, stand up, and
for those who want imprisonment, remain seated.”

Her gut churning painfully over itself, Arianna’s muscles
tensed when she saw how every audience member slowly rose from their seat.
 
Hurriedly looking over their faces only
terrified her more to notice how, like Joseph, these men displayed no
expressions of horror or disgust at what Joseph was intending to do; but
instead looked disinterested and bored as they voted for the death of the
chained men.
 
After each man had
stood, Joseph stepped back from the front of the stage and sat down in his seat.
  
Out of desperation to stop the
impending slaughter, she reached over to him and placed her hand on his
arm.
 
He twisted to look in her
direction and smiled.
 
His voice
kept low and with insanity alight in his eyes, he asked, “Do you see, Arianna
– do you see what becomes of any man who threatens our home?”

Shock washed over her allowing tears to fall helplessly from
her eyes.
  
Not appearing to
notice or care, Joseph looked back towards the audience.
 
A smile curling the corners of his
sculpted lips, he ordered, “Kill them.”

“On your knees.”
 
Connor’s voice rang out as he walked to the first chained man to the
right and lifted his gun.
 
Surprised
by the blast, Arianna fell back when the first gunshot sounded.
 
The noise was deafening and her horrified
eyes were locked tight to the blood that burst from the man’s head just before
his body fell unceremoniously to the stone tiled floor below.

Close your eyes if you
can…

He’d known what would be done to the men - he’d known what
the members of the network would choose.
 
It was a warning and when the second gunshot sounded, she listened to
his advice.
 
Clenching her eyes shut
tightly against the horror being carried out before her, she raised her hands
up to cover her ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound of murder and
death.

One more shot
 
-
then another – and another; until ten shots had announced the death of
ten men; slowly, methodically, and without reluctance or remorse.

Her head fell back against her chair just before she bent
forward, folding in over herself in an effort to escape. Her mind swimming in
adrenaline brought about by panic, she didn’t dare open her eyes and she
wouldn’t remove her hands from her ears.
 
Muffled sounds occurred around her; shuffling noises mingling with the
highs and lows of male voices as the people in the room reacted to what had
just occurred.
 
Arianna felt alone,
lost and exposed to the lunacy of her surroundings.
 
When it felt like she would slide out of
her chair despite how her muscles were locked across her bones, she felt hands
grip her arms to pull her back up before her hands were forced from her ears so
that someone could whisper to her.

“Arianna, open your eyes and look at me.”

When she shook her head in refusal, Joseph demanded again,
“Open your eyes, Arianna.”

But still, she refused.

Forcefully, Joseph pulled her forward until he could wrap
one arm around her back and one underneath her legs.
 
After he’d lifted her from the chair,
she felt him descend the stairs of the stage and quickly stride out of the
ballroom.
 
She heard the doors open
and latch closed and then silence overtook her, except for the rhythmic pound
of two sets of feet.

Joseph only slowed when they’d reached her suite and she
assumed another man moved to open the doors once she heard the familiar creak
of the hinges.
 
Joseph entered the
suite, immediately turning in the direction of their bedroom.
 
Finally placing her down on the bed, his
hand moved over her hair as if to soothe her.

When he spoke, she noticed how his voice and overall
demeanor changed now that he was outside of view of the other members of his
organization.
 
“Arianna –
speak to me, open yours eyes at least.”

She obeyed, allowing the clear blue to peak out from beneath
her lashes to look into the cool, yet concerned color of steel.
 
Joseph stared at her for a few moments;
the wrinkle to his brow and the sides of his eyes the only thing that betrayed
his inner thoughts.
 
She thought she
saw a hint of compassion, of regret; but when he finally spoke, the only
emotion that erupted from him was rage.

“How dare you?
 
How dare you embarrass me like that in front of my men?!
 
Why are you acting like this?”
 
He sat back, only giving her enough room
that she no longer felt the heat of his breath roll across her face.
 
“Answer me!”

She cried out in fear at his raised voice and attempted to
break free of his grasp.
 
When she
flinched at his tightened grip, he smiled again, but the black veins that
dimmed the light grey of his eyes warned her that it wasn’t humor or happiness
he felt.

When he finally let go of her arm, he did so in a way that
caused her to fall back on the bed, like nothing more than a doll thrown
carelessly across the mattress.
 
He
stood up, took a few steps back, but never unlocked his eyes from her face.

“Are you going to answer me, Arianna, or do I need to force
you?”

Her words were choked off by the sobs caught in her throat
when she responded, “How did you expect me to act?
 
You just had ten men killed in front of
me.
 
What did you think I would do?”

He snorted and an arrogant mask fell over his features, a
sardonic look of concern and pity.
 
“How about appreciating a husband who not only found, but ELIMINATED a
threat against his wife.
 
But
instead, INSTEAD, you acted like a hysterical female!”

“That threat wouldn’t have existed in the first place if it
wasn’t for you!”
 

Joseph seemed to flinch at the volume of her answer.
 
His face twisted, multiple emotions
rushing across the beauty of his features one after the other.
 
When he stepped in her direction, she
moved back, not sure how far her husband would go in his anger towards
her.
 
But he stopped short, his hand
reaching up to tear through his hair, before he turned away from her entirely.

Looking past his shoulder, Arianna saw Connor in the
doorway.
 
As usual, he stood
motionless;
 
his green eyes jumping
between her and Joseph, his entire body tensed as if he waited for something
that would cause him to react.

In a calmer tone, Joseph said, “I need to return to the
ballroom.
 
When the meeting
concludes, I’ll return to deal with you.”
 
He didn’t look back when he walked briskly from the room and disappeared
into the shadow of the corridor.
 
Arianna expected Connor to follow, but instead, he stepped inside the
room and shut the door behind him once they could no longer hear the sound of
Joseph’s retreating footsteps.

Her eyes locked with his and she was surprised to find the
compassion she’d hoped to find in her husband.
 
He didn’t move near her; his hand never
leaving the handle of the door, he asked softly, “Are you okay?”

A humorless laugh escaped her - of course, she wasn’t
okay.
  
She’d just been witness
to slaughter and now she was locked in a room with the man who’d been the one
to carry out the act.

Straightening out her dress, she calmed herself while
keeping her eyes trained to the material.
 
“Please leave.”
 
It was a
quiet request, one that lacked strength or force; but it was one that caused
Connor to push down on the handle of the door and let himself out into the
hall.

Before completely exiting the room, he paused without
turning to look at her.
 
“I’m sorry
you saw what you did.
 
You should
never have been there.”

The soft click of metal and Arianna was left alone, a
quivering heap sitting weakly in the center of her bed.