Chapter 5
Aron
“You see what that fucker does? He burned down a warehouse yard filled with supplies that were meant for your Maria.”
I hold my daughter close—finally able to hold her, free from the chains!—while Dad bitches about Matt’s latest attack on his resources.
Our resources, I guess, now that I’m on Dad’s side.
I can’t believe Matt was there the whole time … I had no clue he’d found me, no clue that he was coming. I should’ve known, though. Matt would never leave me like that.
If I’d known, things might’ve been different. I might not have broken, might not have given in. I might not have told the guard that I relented, that I wanted to join Dad’s Empire and be with Emily and Maria.
Those chains, though … the humiliation, the despair … them dangling my daughter in front of me like a carrot … I had to get free.
Even if that means a different kind of prison.
We’re in Dad’s new penthouse, purchased with stolen Syndicate funds, where Emily’s apparently got her own suite of rooms. That means I’ll be living here, too.
Part of the agreement for my freedom was that I’d take on the role that Matt had with Tito, the role of next in line.
I have to live here, work here, pretty much stay here day and night until Dad trusts me enough to grant me a place of my own.
“Dad, all that crap couldn’t have been just for Maria. It was too much for any one kid.”
Dad’s face gets even redder, and he slams a fist onto the table in front of him, startling several guards and making Maria whine. “My granddaughter deserves the best! She deserves to have any toy she wants.”
I kiss Maria’s forehead and start rocking her to calm her. “Which is fine, but it doesn’t mean you have to hoard the shit. And quit making loud noises around the baby. You’re scaring her.”
He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “She needs to toughen up.”
“She’s not even a month old!”
“She’s plenty old enough. You were playing with knives at her age.”
Rolling my eyes at his exaggeration, I sit in a nearby easy chair and pick up a stuffed bear, shaking it in front of Maria’s sapphire blue eyes just to see the wonder in them. I could stare at her forever and never get tired of the sight.
While I play with Maria, Emily comes over and starts to rub my shoulders. I’ve needed a massage these past few days, but it feels wrong to have Emily do it. It should be Matt touching me.
I fear Matt might never touch me again.
“You know, baby, we could go to bed. Let your father seethe until he wears himself out.”
Emily’s whispered words seem innocent enough, but I know the hidden meaning behind them. Another term of my conditional release from that hellish kitchen was for me to resume my supposed “husbandly duties.”
I know what she wants.
I tolerate her kiss on my cheek, then turn my head and force myself to kiss her lips. “That sounds wonderful.”
We excuse ourselves from Dad’s office, and I let Emily guide me to our suite. It’s at the back of the penthouse, a protected location that seems more in line with where Dad should be staying. I guess Emily earned some privileges while I was with Matt.
The rooms are tastefully decorated, thank God, no evidence of the kitschy fifties vibe of that awful kitchen. Clean lines, sharp contrasts, and plush surfaces all speak of luxury, not lunacy.
When the door closes behind us, Emily turns around and puts a stern hand on her hip. “Okay, Dad, you’ve had enough time with her for now. I need to feed her, and then it’s bedtime for the three of us.”
“Do we have a bottle? Maybe I can feed her tonight.” I don’t want to let Maria go. Sure, Emily’s been safe enough with her so far, but I don’t trust her yet.
“Nonsense!” Emily holds out her hands, and I regretfully hand Maria to her. “She needs her mother’s milk, and besides, it’ll give you time to shower. You refused to let me sponge you off the past few days, so you definitely are due.”
Not that I have any place to argue, but she can’t honestly blame me for that. Why would I let her give me a sponge bath while I was chained in front of a dining table? It’s absurd.
I kiss Emily’s cheek and Maria’s forehead before going off to find the bathroom. The suite is massive, almost reminiscent of Matt’s manor in the woods, and for some damn reason nothing’s in a convenient place. Why are the bathroom and master bedroom way back in the back?
As I strip out of my clothes for a shower, Emily sits at the foot of the bed to feed Maria.
I notice she’s sitting at just the right spot to watch me shower, and I get the sudden impression that closing the bathroom door is forbidden now.
Privacy doesn’t seem to be high on Dad’s list of privileges to restore, and Emily’s been weirdly possessive since she returned to the land of the living.
Almost on cue, like she could hear my thoughts, Emily smiles and says, “Keep the door open, honey. You’ve had a few bad days lately, and I need to be able to watch you in case you pass out. That way I can call for help faster.”
Yep. Knew it.
“Good point. Thanks for looking out, babe.” I almost choke on the word “babe,” but I have to play nice. She’s got my daughter.
Just when I think it couldn’t get more uncomfortable, I turn in the shower stall to see Emily sitting there, feeding Maria—
—Completely naked.
Now, I know I’m a first-time dad, and I’ve been somewhat preoccupied the past few days since learning that Emily and Maria were alive, but as far as I’m aware, total nudity is not required for breastfeeding. One exposed boob should be enough.
The realization that Emily might be trying to seduce me turns my stomach, and I have to swallow back bile or risk puking in the shower.
What am I going to do? I can’t exactly turn her down.
I’d be setting myself up for extra scrutiny from Dad and his Empire minions.
I bet they all expect me to plow her right away, especially since I was under the impression that she was dead for so long.
In fact, I’d also wager that the room is bugged.
They’re probably all listening in, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of sex.
Hell, there’s probably a camera in there somewhere.
Once I finish in the shower, I towel off and stride leisurely into the bedroom, eyes alert for any signs of surveillance. My experienced gaze finds three listening devices and two cameras just at first glance, but there might be more. I can’t look too carefully, or Emily might get suspicious.
Great. Now I have to put on a convincing show.
Emily finishes the feeding and puts Maria to her shoulder, patting her tiny back gently to burp her. I barely get the towel on her in time to catch the spit-up, but Emily just beams up at me.
“Oh, thank you, sweetie! I forget sometimes.”
“Do you nurse her naked every time? You weren’t doing that back in—back at the warehouse.”
Her lids droop lazily, and she looks up at me through her long lashes.
“No, silly. That was just for you. I wanted you to see what you’ve missed all this time.
” She stands up and sashays over to the crib, arching her back a bit more than necessary while she puts Maria to bed.
“I’ve been lonely at night without you, Aron. ”
Can I do this? I’ve watched her die—or thought I did—mourned her, and moved on with Matt. Can I just … go backwards? It feels wrong.
It feels like cheating.
Emily turns back around and grins up at me. “Well, well, well … Look at us. Both naked, and the baby’s asleep. I wonder what we should do now?”
Showtime.
I do my best to put on a loving face as I pull Emily close. “I can think of a thing or two.”
That seems to satisfy her. She leans in for a kiss, and I oblige, tugging her gently backwards until we fall onto the bed with her on top of me. Maybe if I let her do most of the work, I won’t feel as guilty about this.
There’s just one major hurdle left to this farce: I have to be able to perform, even if Emily’s doing most of the movement.
I have to get hard.
Emily’s face used to be enough for me. Her body should definitely be enough. Granted, there are a few more stretch marks, some extra weight left over from the pregnancy, but not much. If anything, it adds to her already attractive curves. So why am I as limp as can be?
One thing will get me up for sure, but it’s risky. If she ever finds out, if Dad ever finds out, it’ll be the end for me.
I have to think of Matt.
For once in my marriage, I let go of the struggle to keep Emily’s face in my mind when I look into her eyes. I let Matt’s face take over, let his image superimpose over her.
It’s not perfect. She’s not Matt, and she never could be. But maybe, just maybe, this will be enough to let me fake it. I just have to forget her betrayal, forget the heartache I get when I see her, forget everything except the phantom Matt.
The charm finally works, and Emily positions herself over my cock. I reach out to grab her breasts, her hips, anything that looks sexual to the cameras that I know are on us.
At first, I fumble. I’ve forgotten what Emily likes, how she moves. It takes several moments to get the rhythm right, and I can tell from the frustrated expression on her face that she notices. I have to find a way to cover for this before anyone watching figures it out.
“I-I’m sorry, Em. It’s … It’s difficult when I’ve been chained to a chair for days on end. I haven’t moved so much in so long … Everything’s cramping up.”
Suspicion edges her features before morphing into sympathy. “It’s okay, Aron. Let me do the work.”
And she does, to my utter relief. I allow myself to relax a bit, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the Matt-Emily image before me. I just know the fuckers watching this will catch on that I’m thinking about Matt if I close my eyes.
A few minutes later, my cock fills her full of cum while I picture Matt on top of me.
God help me, I finished.