Chapter 12 Mark
MARK
Auden’s office building blends into the cityscape like it was always there and not funded with Van Doren wealth.
It’s nineteen stories, sleek, and covered in black glass.
There’s a covering on the glass that reflects like a mirror, allowing everyone to see out but no one to see in.
The building itself is nondescript except for the big sign on the top that reads Van Doren Group.
He lets most of the bottom ten floors, but if I’m not mistaken, the top nine are Van Doren Group or used by Van Doren in some way.
Unsurprisingly, everyone knows Auden as soon as we walk into the building.
We’re stopped no less than eight times on the way to the elevator.
Auden asks the three people who join us in the elevator about their families.
Details. Like he knows these people personally.
One gets off on floor six, another on eleven, and the last on sixteen.
We climb to nineteen. You can’t expect the president of the Van Doren Group to have anything other than a penthouse office.
Not that his office is outrageous. It’s large, yes.
It has a fantastic view of the city. There’s an attached bathroom and closet.
A couch beside a fireplace with other seating.
A coffee station. The furniture is rich and beautiful.
I’m not selling the fact that he’s actually far more humbled than many CEOs I’ve met.
His office may be rich and beautiful, but it’s not the entire floor.
I couldn’t fit my house in it. I’m relatively certain that most of the bedrooms on the fourth floor of Jalon’s house are bigger than his office.
Which is saying something since Auden’s office is big.
Auden waves me on, telling me the door is likely open, but he needs to check in with Cynthia.
I incline my head and wander down the hall, peeking in open doors when I can.
Much like Jalon runs his office, most of the doors here are open.
Auden also believes in an open-door policy being literal.
Doors stay open, inviting people in if need be.
I push his door open and flick on the light. Unlike most offices, there isn’t an overhead light that flickers on with the switch, but a series of lamps throughout the room. It’s far more conducive to a comfortable, workable environment than bright, ugly overhead lights.
Setting my messenger bag on the couch, I stop at the coffee station for a refill of my water from the spigot. Not the faucet. The water-refill spigot probably has filtered water.
Setting my water on the table beside the couch, I lower myself to sit and then do an alarmed, awkward shuffle-fall until I’m plopped on the couch and wincing. There’s no one here to scowl at, but I really want to glare at Auden right now.
Walking around with a butt plug in is… interesting.
I’m constantly aware of my ass and the fact that I need to be mindful of something foreign there, so it doesn’t pop out when I squat or climb stairs.
Can you imagine if someone is behind you and the butt plug pops out? They’ll think you shit yourself!
I momentarily forgot about it… until I went to sit, and it suddenly felt like it was going to be pushed out. My ass is constantly engaged right now.
With a heavy exhale, I try to shove the thoughts concerning something being in my ass away.
I pull my laptop from my bag, the pediatrics medicine textbook, and my tablet with its electronic pencil.
While I wait for my laptop to boot up, connect to the internet, and the courses to load, I review my notes and open my book to where we were in the conversation.
I’m only slightly more than acquainted with OB-GYN and gestation medicine.
It’s never been necessary until recently.
At the moment, all the Van Dorens that I work closely with are in relationships where neither of them can get pregnant.
Except Myro. I’m not at all discounting Jessica’s health as being my priority, but I think it’ll be more important that I can take care of children once they’re in the world than while they’re growing for nine months.
I’ve talked about this with Jalon extensively.
I will absolutely further my education in growing babies if it were important to him, but we agreed that once the babies are here, that’s when it’s most important.
However, hospitals make him wary now since the situation he’d found himself in last year, so I have no doubt at all that he’s probably going to be opening a Van Doren Health Clinic on the property at some point.
I’m not even going to pretend to be surprised. I would be surprised if it didn’t open in time for the new school’s opening.
Once I have the conference lecture up—the one I’d been called away from and have restarted no less than a dozen times since leaving—I sit back with my earbuds in and listen to the first twenty minutes again.
It’s the only part I’ve heard—repeated—so I nearly have it memorized at this point.
There must be something in the air that says Mark has made it to the checkpoint and can be interrupted now.
There’s nothing to interrupt today. Rhodes and Bennett are at Auden’s house with the pack.
Bennett is doing very well. Rhodes is doing better.
The pack is supervising everything they do.
A smirk covers my face as I imagine coming home and Schnookums reporting what they did.
He prances and ‘talks’ that sounds a lot like tattling.
Even Rhodes glares at him as he’s telling me what they did that day.
I kind of wish I could understand wolf-dog speak. I wonder what it is he’s telling me.
Just as I’m getting into new material, I’m nearly lurching out of my seat. I barely manage to catch my laptop before it hits the floor. My book tumbles. My tablet lands with a thunk on the table. My teeth sink into the electronic pencil before I remember it’s there and spit it out.
The butt plug just came to life, sending a wave of sudden pleasure burning through me. It’s a light vibration. Nothing extravagant. But because of my sudden jolting, I’ve had to clench my ass to keep it in place. My grip on my laptop is strained as I move it to the side.
I barely have it secured before the vibration within me intensifies. My teeth clench as I grip my cock through my pants and my ass with my other hand. Fuck. Holy fuck. I’m going to come right here.
The door opens, and Auden steps into the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. He doesn’t look at me. If I thought something other than a moan would come out of my mouth, I’d unclench my jaws and tell him off.
As it is, he doesn’t look in my direction at all. He flicks on his computer, discards his jacket, sets his Van Doren Group travel mug on the desk, and stares out the window at the city.
I’m practically panting at this point as I force myself to breathe out of my nose. Fuck.
When he eventually turns, his eyes skim over me like I’m uninteresting. As he takes a seat, the vibration changes. I’m not sure how. Maybe it’s pulsing now. Maybe it’s intensified. I don’t know, but my body jerks again. I let my head fall back, eyes rolling as I try like fucking hell not to come.
The door pushes open, and my eyes go wide. The vibration suddenly stops, and I gasp loudly, fumbling blindly for my laptop to put it back in my lap, covering my raging-hard cock as it shoves against the crotch of my pants.
My glasses are askew, and I struggle to get my breathing under control as I blink through the fog of lingering arousal.
I recognize Rome easily enough. Rome the Third.
With him is Rome the Fifth. This youngest generation of Romes is fifteen, I believe.
While I’m loosely involved with most of the living generations of Van Dorens, I work more closely with some than I do others.
I met Rome the Fifth when he first joined the family three years ago.
Rome the Fourth and his wife had been trying to have kids for ages, and it simply wasn’t happening.
I was a little surprised that they decided on adoption as opposed to surrogacy.
I was even more surprised when they chose to adopt an older child instead of a young one.
Rome the Fifth, who was twelve, and the second child, a little girl of ten years, were brought home within weeks of each other.
I admire Rome the Fourth and his wife. They explained that the older kids are often moved around frequently between homes and rarely find the stability with a loving family that they deserve.
Everyone wants little kids, so the older kids are left feeling unwanted.
Rome Five has always been a quiet boy. Three years later is no different.
Rome Three looks at me with amused curiosity, no doubt trying to figure out what my problem is. I’m surprised he can’t tell. I feel like BUTT PLUG is loudly written on my forehead right now. Managing a demure smile with cheeks that are likely already flushed, I turn my attention back to my work.
“Rome,” Auden greets and comes around the desk. His smile is wide when he hugs Rome Three and then Rome Five. “What brings you out today? No school?”
Rome Five shrugs, shaking his head. “There’s always half a day on Wednesdays.”
“It’s nine in the morning. How is it already half a day?” Auden asks. He gestures to the coffee bar. “There’s tea and hot chocolate. Help yourself.”
Rome Five inclines his head and wanders to the coffee bar. He doesn’t look particularly interested in either, but he pokes around as Rome Three answers.
“They start ridiculously early. I keep trying to remember what time we started school,” Rome answers, shaking his head. “I don’t know, but Kiddy kept him out so he could hang with Gramps today.” He grins at Rome Five.
Rome Five smiles, though, like everything about this boy, it’s quiet. He doesn’t make tea or hot chocolate. He refills his water bottle and then sits in the chair perpendicular to the couch I’m on.
“What do you have planned?” Auden asks, taking his seat behind his desk. Rome Three sits across from him.
“We just had breakfast down the street, so we thought we’d stop in on you. See if you wanted to play hooky today. Maybe head to the Go Karts or paintball.” He turns to look at his grandson.
“What d’you want to do today, Five?”
Rome Five looks up and shrugs. “We don’t have to do anything special.” Even his voice is quiet.
“Are you saying that because you don’t want to do either?” Rome Three asks. “There’s no pressure, Rome.”
Rome Five shakes his head. “Both sound fun.”
I’ve heard whispers of speculation that Rome Five struggles to fit in. As if he’s a burden. As if this is temporary. I wonder how often he’d been shuffled around before Rome Four took him home. It hurts my heart.
Doesn’t he know that once you become a Van Doren, you never leave? This is home forever. You belong to something more than just a family. This is more than home. It’s a lifetime.
I wish I could reassure him without making him feel awkward and self-conscious.
When Rome Five turns his attention back to staring at the empty fireplace, Rome Three’s smile fades. I think the whispers are true, based on the sad, concerned look on Rome Three’s face as he watches his grandson.
“Actually, maybe just us today,” Rome Three says. “I’m excited to spend time with my grandson.”
Rome Five looks at him and smiles. That same small, quiet smile.
“Good idea,” Auden agrees. “I’m voting to start with Go Karts and then see what the day holds.”
Rome Three nods. “I like that. Five?”
Rome Five inclines his head.