XX
Syn
I ’ve underestimated Victoria Reynolds, and it pains me to admit it.
But at the same time, to give her credit, I am somewhat impressed.
She’s the only woman I know who hasn’t greedily accepted a gift given to her, and I feel when she leaves here, she will do so without taking any of this with her.
Her initiation and the contract may be done, but games are still being played. And she’s the one playing them.
Dropping her towel in front of me was a test—a way for her to try to prove to me who she thinks has the power here. To test me.
I have never said she’s unattractive. Her figure is far from perfection, and while I think she would benefit from a breast enlargement, what she does have is… satisfactory. Even now, I find myself getting aroused.
But something has changed.
She has changed.
And I don’t mean the bruises, that are more prevalent on her upper back and arms, and one of her hips, that are now starting to yellow.
She pulls a black thong out of the drawer, then she bends over, almost in half, to step into it before she slowly pulls up the skimpy fabric, putting on a show. Instead of putting a bra on, she closes the drawer. She leaves the dress she’s chosen hanging on a hook, and instead, walks over to the vanity unit and sits down in front of it.
There’s something about the way the thong emerges from her ass and accentuates her curves that has me licking my lips. From where I’m standing, I also have an unrestricted view of her tits in the mirror.
Pretending she’s unaware that I’m watching, she reaches for the brush and a couple of hair products and starts to style her hair. Pretending because this room is far from cold, but her rosy nipples are as hard as my dick is getting.
My mother clearly doesn’t recognize Victoria. Given my father’s strict instructions to get her removed from James Keyingham University, he knows who she is, and if he doesn’t instantly recognize her, he will figure it out quickly.
For the last week, I’ve been trying to devise the perfect plan. Thinking through every possible scenario. Partly because I still find it difficult to believe that what really happened to JP was something other than what I’d been led to believe is the truth. But the more I think about it, the more I find it hard to disprove what Victoria’s claimed.
Especially after Salaway tried to kill her.
My father will be a harder man to convince than me that it wasn’t Cole Reynolds who murdered JP. Going to him too soon, without any evidence, will be a waste of time. The signs point to du Pont being behind Salaway’s actions, because if the XVII wants Victoria dead, that’s what my father would have told me to do.
The bigger question is if du Pont knows why things don’t add up, or if he wants Victoria dead because he wants revenge like I did.
Either way, if we try to go directly to du Pont, he’ll make sure we never get an audience with him. We need him to come to us, and he’s already confirmed his attendance to the gala.
Staying at Denali House was always the first choice to keep Victoria safe. Much as she’d be happier staying at a hotel, that’s one of the most unsafe places for her to be. Too many people with access, and enough unexplained deaths to hide hers amongst them.
Sure, she could have stayed with Royal or Gemini…
Maybe Royal…
She’s made it very clear how she feels about us—not that I care. I just feel more comfortable having her where I can see her.
Plus, we agreed her contract was null and void. If it were Royal watching her coat her lips in the deep pink lipstick she’s chosen instead of me, he’d be walking over there, spinning her around, and messing up the hair she’s just styled as he makes her swallow his whole length to leave a lipstick ring at the base of his cock.
I’d rather watch that than imagine it, and if I’m going to watch it, I want to do it from behind her while my own dick is buried deep inside her cunt.
The thought makes me moan, and as I can’t do any of that, I want to at least take matters into my own hands.
With her lips still in the shape of an O, her hand pauses, and with a soft blink, Victoria looks at me.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and so do I.
My pants remain fastened.
Her attention returns to her make-up, and she goes back to pretending I’m not there as she finishes up.
Even though I’ve stood here watching the whole process, she doesn’t look like she’s wearing that much make-up. The bruises on her face have faded the most, and while she decided to put something over them before we left campus, they’ve never truly been hidden. Now, it’s almost impossible to see them.
The red line around her neck is fading but still visible. Instead of making any effort to cover it, she puts the make-up down and stands. Still pretending like I’m not here, she walks back to where she left the dress hanging up and takes it off the hanger.
As we left campus earlier, I called ahead to ensure half of my closet would be filled with a suitable selection of garments and shoes. Clothing I will also ensure is delivered to her home when she leaves. Whether she chooses to wear them, sell them, or donate them is up to her.
While she was bathing, I inspected the selection and was pleased to discover that my instructions were followed sufficiently.
People who claim your appearance and how you present yourself isn’t important are always the ones who make the least amount of effort with that aspect of themselves. The truth, even if they’re unwilling to admit it, is that it’s always the first thing you’re judged on. I’m sure there’s a time and a place for the things in Victoria’s suitcases, but that isn’t in this house.
I’ve fucked many women, but I’ve never brought a single one of them home. And of those that I have fucked, I haven’t called any of them my girlfriend.
With the way my future has been planned out, my parents would never expect me to bring a girl home. Which meant also ensuring there was a very expensive diamond ring waiting for me with the doorman.
Whether she picked that dress at random, or it was the one she liked the most, it’s also the one that I was drawn to. The two layers of fabric slide down her body like liquid.
The dress is modest. Something that my mother will approve of.
Or one she should approve of…
There’s a second layer to the dress; delicate mesh with embroidered flowers and sparkling jewels in the same blue as the silky fabric beneath it. A layer that barely hides Victoria’s hard nipples.
Victoria walks over to the floor-to-ceiling display of shoes and plucks a pair off the shelf. She bends over to set them on the floor, causing fabric to stretch across her ass as she puts them on. Then she finally turns to face me.
Once again, I realize how much I continue to underestimate Victoria Reynolds.
Even with her blue hair, all dressed up like this, there’s something quite extraordinary about her.
“Shall we get this over and done with, or do you need to go deal with that first?” Her gaze drops to my erection.
Two can play this game.
I walk over to her, stopping when we’re close enough that that my erection is almost touching her. I lean forward to bring my mouth close to her ear, my hard dick pushing up into her.
“By the time we get downstairs, this will be gone. But I hope that thong you chose to wear works its way between the lips of your pussy, so that every time that you move, it rubs against your clit, and then all you can think of is how you could have simply bent over, clutched the edge of that dressing table, and with your dress around your waist and your thong pulled to the side, I could have buried my cock deep into your pussy and fucked you so good to work up an appetite for the dinner you’ll be eating.”
Pulling back quickly, I’m able to catch Victoria licking her lips.
With her eyes locked on me, she starts to raise the bottom of her dress. Then she quickly pulls her thong down her legs, stepping out of it before she picks it up. She straightens, tossing the underwear at me, which I catch at the last second.
“I can’t say I’ve ever had a problem with a thong riding up and making me want to come—that sounds more like a you problem than a me problem—but thanks for the warning. Crisis averted.”
And without stopping to put different panties on, she walks out of the dressing room.
I can’t stop my smirk as I toss the thong over onto the dresser.
Well played, Victoria Reynolds.