28. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jacob
This stupid event is being held in the private dining room. Normally I'd avoid it like the plague, but Seb, who loves this sort of thing, warned me Kendrick would be pissed if I didn’t show. It’s celebrating the newest generation of Brothers, and as I am one, missing it will be seen as a snub.
At least I’ll have fun showing Quinn off. It’s embarrassing how much I like seeing her in that little crop top stamped with my name. I didn’t mean to say what I said about being bored with Suzy—I don’t have any plans to start bad-mouthing her to Quinn—but it’s one hundred percent the truth.
Owning Suzy would have been like keeping a well-behaved domestic pet. Owning Quinn is like riding a wild pony. I have to fight every day to keep her under control, or I’ll get kicked in the face. And fuck, I do love pushing her limits.
“I think we’ll move to the fourth of the gags tomorrow. You’re doing well. You can take it.”
Quinns lips thin, and she glares at me. She hates wearing the cock gags every day, but I think it has more to do with not being able to talk than it does with her gag reflex. As soon as I let her take it off, she vomits out every thought that’s run through her brain in the last two hours.
“I’ll choke to death.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“You try wearing the fucking thing, then.”
“I’m not planning on sucking a dick any time soon.”
She turns away with a huff and marches on. Too soon, we reach the venue. It’s a medium-sized gathering, maybe twenty people, and when I see the other Wards, I feel a bit guilty. They’re all dressed up in their evening wear, beautiful and classy. Maybe I should have let Quinn wear her dress.
She stabs an angry finger at the group. “See? Told you.”
“What? You look better than the lot of them put together. Not one single Ward in this Compound is half as beautiful as you, whatever you’re wearing.”
“Sure.”
It’s sarcastic, but little spots of color appear in her cheeks, and her lips twitch into a smile she fights to suppress. She loves it when I praise her, even though she makes out she doesn’t.
Seb spots us first and drifts over, champagne glass clasped in his hand. He eyes us critically. “Jacob, that’s the exact same outfit you wore to make your speech. The budget would have stretched to a fresh shirt, you know. I made three million in trades just today.”
Quinn’s eyes widen, and he turns his attention her way. “What the hell? Did you lose a bet?”
Bloody Seb.
She gestures dramatically to her outfit. “Yes, actually. And he wouldn’t let me wear the cute dress I had ready.”
Seb frowns at me. “Well, that’s just cruel. How could you?”
When Quinn looks elsewhere for a split second, he shoots me a smirk.
Gabriel and Eve join us. Quinn’s eyes shoot to Eve’s new cuffs, the twin of her own. Quinn grabs her arm. “Oh no. You’ve got them too!”
“Yes.” She glares at Gabriel, who shrugs, looking pleased with himself.
“They were a great idea, Jacob. Thanks for the suggestion.” Gabriel’s voice is perfectly innocent, but I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
Eve and Quinn both glare at me, eyes narrowed. Great. Now Eve is going to be grouchy with me on Monday in the lab. I hold up my hands. “Blame Gabriel, not me.”
“Oh, I blame him too.”
Gabriel’s amusement rolls off him in waves. I’m sure he’s been looking forward to this moment. He speaks in a mild, calm tone. “That’s not the way you go about earning an orgasm, is it, Eve?”
Poor Eve. Her face flushes bright crimson. She is so easy to embarrass, and Gabriel loves to do it. “Sh-shut up. All of you,” she stammers, then links her arm through Quinn’s. “We’re getting a drink.”
“Just one,” I call at their retreating backs.
Left alone with just the boys, I scan the room for Kendrick. “Where’s the boss?”
“Not here yet.” Seb checks his watch. “He won’t waste time mingling. You know what he’s like. He’ll arrive just in time to sit at the head of the table. I think he watches us from the shadows and waits for the perfect moment.”
Gabriel disappears long enough to grab three glasses of champagne and hands one to me. I sip it. Nice, but not as refreshing as a beer. Gabriel glances over at Quinn, who stands in a huddle of Wards. From the occasional outraged glances they all make in my direction, I’d guess they’re discussing her outfit. “How’s it going, then, with her? Eve really likes her. Says she’s fun.”
I snort. “That’s one way to put it. Hard fucking work is another.”
“Drop the act.” Seb eyes me shrewdly. He’s such a joker that it’s easy to forget how intelligent he is. “I’ve never seen you so happy. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“My work is really suffering. I’ve hardly put in twenty hours of lab time since she—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Seb shakes his head. “Just admit you got lucky. For once in your life, something happened that you didn’t plan, and it worked out perfectly.”
I don’t know why I keep feeling the need to deny it. Seb is right. As I watch, though, Quinn looks my way, whispers to Eve, and sidles up to the drinks table, snatching not one, but two glasses of champagne. She downs one like it’s a shot, sets the empty down, then sips the other daintily, pinkie finger held out like she’s at a fucking garden party.
She glances at me and wiggles her pinkie before turning back to Eve. It’s going to be one of those evenings, I can tell. I won’t say anything yet. Let her dig her own grave a bit deeper.
“I’m thinking of making that stamp her tattoo. The one on the T-shirt.”
The boys both pause to consider. Gabriel nods. “I like it. Nice and simple. Very you. And it looks like she could do with the reminder. I’m pretty sure she just did one of the vodka Jell-O shots.”
Fuck’s sake.
Just as I’m about to drag Quinn off for a serious conversation, a bloke dressed up like a butler rings a silver bell. One of the over-the-top affectations of this place, trying to make us feel like we’re old English country gentlemen and not a bunch of weirdos living in a Compound in the middle of the fucking woods.
Quinn approaches, her half-drunk flute of Champagne held in her delicate hand. She brandishes it at me. “See. Just one.”
I snatch it out of her fingers and down the lot. She scrabbles at my hand. “Hey!”
“I saw what you did. You’re going to pay for that later.”
We set off toward the private dining room that’s been set up just for us. It looks like a hunting lodge. Wood paneling, gilt-framed paintings of men on horseback, and even a few actual deer heads. Quinn squeals when she sees them and, before I can stop her, runs over to one.
She stands on her tiptoes, stretching to stroke the deer’s cheek. Christ, she looks good in that position. Her little crop top rides up, showing off the slim curve of her waist, and I can just see the bright pink knickers I made her wear under her skirt.
She twists, shooting me a grin. “I’ve never seen one of these things in real life before. It’s creepy. I love it. Can we get one for the bedroom?”
Not your bedroom. The bedroom, like it’s something we share. It’s a massive step in the right direction, and that pleading look she’s giving me is dangerous. I might even forget about punishing her if I’m not careful.
I hold out my hand, and she runs back over, grabbing it. “If you want deer heads, love, then you shall have them. A whole fucking wall of them, if you want.”
We find our allotted seats. At least whoever worked this thing out was nice enough to seat the group of us together—Seb to Quinn’s right, then Eve, then Gabriel. There are a few Brothers in the group who haven’t taken a Ward yet, so the classic man-woman-man pattern is interrupted in places.
I do a quick count. Only three solo Brothers remain, Seb and Hadrian being two of them. Seb is going to have to pull his finger out soon and choose a girl. He’s being cagey about it, which isn’t normal behavior for him. I make a mental note to interrogate him about it once everything settles down. I don’t think I’ll cope if he decides to leave it to the last bloody second like Gabriel did.
Exactly as predicted, Kendrick strides in once we’re all seated and takes up his place at the head of the heavy oak table. He’s dressed as he always is, in a classy but somber suit. Everyone falls quiet as he takes his place.
“Brothers! And your lovely Wards. I’m so happy to see you all here. It gives me great pleasure to see so many brilliant minds together at one table.”
There are murmurs of assent and raised glasses. By the looks of things, most of the group arrived earlier than Quinn and me and took advantage of the drinks. It has a feel of barely controlled rowdiness, like the speeches at a wedding.
“Please, relax. This isn’t a formal occasion. It's a chance for you all to enjoy each other’s company and some good food. To get to know each other better.”
He makes an almost imperceptible gesture with his head, and waiters appear with platters of food and drink. The room, and the old-fashioned service, gives the event a medieval feel. I’m half expecting a fucking jester to come out next.
I take orange juice for Quinn, much to her disgust, and a beer for myself. The food is fancy gourmet stuff, but there’s enough of it even I can't find anything to moan about. Seb shakes his head as I pile up my plate with a mixture of meats in sauces, three different types of potatoes, and three bread rolls. “Save some for the rest of us.”
I freeze, hand halfway to my mouth. “What? I’m bloody hungry.”
“I can see that.”
“Mind your own business.”
Quinn gives a very unladylike snort. “You’re like an old married couple. It’s so fucking cute.”
Seb’s eyebrows rise. “Cute. Your Ward thinks you’re cute, Jacob. Isn’t that nice.”
I glance at her. There’s color in her cheeks, and her eyes are bright. This is going to be a problem. I’ve kept her on a pretty short leash for the last week, with everything else that’s been happening. And when Quinn gets bored, she causes trouble.
I keep a close eye on her as the meal progresses, but she’s behaving herself—eating, making polite conversation with the boys, and leaning behind Seb’s back to gossip with Eve. It’s almost enough to convince me she’s not planning to show me up.
Once the first course is finished, people get up from their seats and start to circulate. The alcohol has shaken off the reserve brought on by the formal setting, and people’s voices are getting loud.
Hadrian makes a beeline for me and slips into the suddenly empty seat to my left. It’s nice to see him without Candice lurking in the background. He grins, looking a lot less miserable and fed up than he usually does.
“I can’t thank you enough, Jacob. The difference that girl has made…” He shakes his head. “It’s incredible. Having someone respond to them as if they’re real people has taken my creations to the next level. It’s saved me months of work.”
A warm glow of pride starts in my stomach and spreads through my bones. That’s my girl. Open-minded enough not to be creeped out by the CIs like I am. She really is something special.
“Jacob.” Gabriel’s voice shakes me out of my reverie. I turn to see Quinn has grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray and is downing it so fast little rivulets of it are running from the corners of her mouth. I go to grab it, but she’s ready and pushes back from the table so hard her chair tips, leaping out of my grasp.
I get to my feet. All conversation has screeched to a halt, like when a gunslinger walks into the tavern in an old Western. Kendrick’s mouth is set in a disapproving line. Of course. Of course she had to fucking play up in front of him yet again.
She grins as she backs up, lifting the remaining wine to her lips. I run at her, and she laughs, darting away. Around me, I hear a few suppressed laughs, and someone drunk yells, “Don’t let her get away!”
Fuck. What does she think is going to happen here? She sprints for the door, quick in her flat, chunky boots, but I’m faster. She’s still squealing and laughing as I wrap my arm around her waist and lift her up.
One of the best things about the Compound is that things that would get me put in prison anywhere else are acceptable here. Quinn knows this, but I don’t think she really appreciates what it means. I’ve punished her in public before but never in a situation like this and not since the first couple of days she was here.
Back then, everyone was strangers. Now, she’s in a room with people she considers friends. People she respects and will have to face day after day. She probably thinks I’m going to drag her back to our flat and have some fun with her.
Sorry, love. Not today.
I haul her back to where we were sitting, push the plates out of the way, and lie her face down on the table. Her legs hang off the end, and she squirms, kicking. “Jacob. No, don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Too late for that.”
I look up. The small group are all staring. Some look worried but most, amused. Kendrick gives a wry shake of his head. “I knew this one would be trouble. It’s a good thing she ended up with you.”
I acknowledge him with a nod, then seek out my friends. “Seb, hold her for me. Gabriel, get something to tie her legs, will you?”
“Sure thing, man.” Seb heads over without hesitation. Gabriel freezes for a second—he’s too nice for his own good; Quinn would have eaten him alive—then shrugs and follows suit.
I don’t need their help. But being held down by her friends will make this a million times worse for Quinn, and she needs to learn this lesson the hard way.
Her pleas get desperate. “No! That’s not fair. Please, I was only kidding. Don’t—”
They ignore her. Seb presses her small body flat against the table whilst Gabriel uses his belt to cinch her legs together. Unable to kick or wriggle, she starts to yell. “Seriously? You can’t fucking do this! You can’t—”
I tune out her shouting as I remove my own belt.
She screeches when I lift her skirt up, showing the whole room her pink knickers. When I pull them down to her ankles, her yells turn into sobs. “Stop! Please.”
I bend down, lips close to her ear. “You asked for this, love. I’m only giving you what you wanted.”
Then, I lay into her arse with the belt. Bright red welts appear, lined up in lovely symmetry on her pale skin. I don’t go easy, giving each blow serious force. It doesn’t take long before she’s crying, tears streaming down her face and dripping onto the table.
I lean in. “Are you counting the strokes? How many are we up to?”
She sniffles. “Fuck you.”
The little minx. “That’s another twenty, then.”