Jacob
The feel of Ella’s hand in my own is bliss. There’s no doubt she knows what I’m offering her when I asked her to escape with me. Her hand in mine is all the consent I need. Tugging her against me, I wrap my free arm around her waist and guide her from the dance floor.
Now that it’s been decided, I want her out of this room and away from these people. They are vultures to her innocent dove. As bad of a man as it makes me, I’m more than ready to soil her.
“Sir.” That cold tone makes my upper lip curl back over my teeth as one of my father’s security men stops me at the edge of the crowd. Withdrawing a key from my pocket, I turn and press it into Ella’s hand.
“Second floor,” I whisper. “Third room to the right. I’ll meet you there.”
With that, I nudge her onward, waiting only a brief moment to see if she’ll follow the command.
She stumbles on her feet a bit and it takes everything in me not to reach out and help her.
No doubt that’s an action the guard would report back on in an instant.
Thankfully, she rights herself and disappears out the doors a second later.
“What is it?” I demand, turning back to the man. He’s tall, with a buzz cut, like most ex-military men after their years of service.
“Your father wishes to have a word with you.” His face is impassive, and not by the flicker of a single eyelash does he give away the subject for which Victor Colton has called upon me.
With a scowl, I don’t bother to ask him and simply reenter the party and make my way to where a large crowd has gathered. I always know where to find my father, simply by following the leeches that can’t help but cling to him.
To no surprise, my mother is gone from his side—no doubt having retired early now that enough time has passed.
She’s done her duty and earned her keep so to speak and therefore will hesitate at nothing to get herself away from the man she’s bound herself to and refuses to leave, not because she loves him—surely not—but because she loves what he can provide.
Now, my father is holding court amongst those I recognize as local businessmen and women and he is relishing in his role as King of the Court.
A rather voluptuous redhead hangs against him, pressing her massive tits into his arm as they sit ridiculously high in the tight dress that’s practically painted on her body.
On Ella, the low neckline seemed enticing.
On this woman, it wreaks of desperation.
“Father,” I call after him and as soon as he hears my voice, Victor Colton’s head lifts. His eyes meet mine and immediately, he holds a hand up, halting all further attempts to draw him into conversation.
“Thank you so much for your well wishes, everyone. If you’ll excuse me,” he says. “My son and I would like to catch up.”
The disappointment of the congregation that’s gathered around him is palpable, but Victor Colton is nothing if not the commander of those that wish to worship at his altar and a few more words are all they need to disperse.
Several seconds tick by as I wait for them all to leave his side.
Seconds that I could be upstairs, undressing the lovely Ella and unraveling all of the secrets she holds.
With a smile painted on his face, my father comes over and claps me on the back.
A show of paternal love as we turn and make our way toward a set of glass doors that lead outside and into a courtyard full of statues and carefully trimmed hedges.
The second we’re out of ear and eyeshot, the hand on my back recedes and my father stomps past me, withdrawing a cigar from the inside of his suit jacket and putting the dull end between his teeth.
I remain silent as I watch him storm over to a bubbling, three-tiered fountain and using a cigar cutter, snip off the other end of the roll.
His hand delves back into his coat and returns with a lighter.
A whoosh and flare and the red end of the cigar flames to life.
He drags in a deep inhale and slowly releases a cloud of smoke.
“Fucking parasites,” he mutters, annoyance in his tone. “Goddamn sycophants.” He stomps a shoe over the snipped end of his cigar and releases another curse.
More than the kind charitable businessman, more than the smiling party host—this is the real him.
I should have expected him to call me out here before the night was through.
My foot begins tapping. I want to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone and check the time, but doing so would only piss him off more.
“They’re asking for more money,” he snaps. “What the fuck happened to the hundreds of thousands I’ve already given them? Where the fuck is all of that money going?” He takes another inhale. “The shitter, that’s where.” More smoke.
Unable to help myself, I slip my hands into my trouser pockets.
My phone knocks against my knuckles. I don’t withdraw it.
Instead, I watch my father stomp back and forth across the cobblestone walkway of the courtyard, cursing as he unleashes all of the anger that’s been building throughout the night.
With little warning—when is there ever any?
—he turns and backhands me. My head snaps to the side and the ricochet of pain hits me as if from a great distance.
My mask skews to the side, nearly coming off completely.
“Stop all of that fucking fidgeting,” he growls as if that’s the reason for his sudden bout of violence. It’s not.
This is the real reason he’s called me. To take out all of his anger on me so that he can go back inside and continue to keep up the facade.
I find that I don’t mind because I know as soon as he’s done, he’ll command me to leave the party—if only to keep others from seeing the redness of my face and guess the reason behind it, because we both know that no mask will hide the evidence of his wrath.
Not that anyone would truly believe Victor Colton capable of physical abuse. No, of course not. Why would the paragon of society ever feel the need to lift a hand to his own son?
The fact is he doesn’t need a reason. I’m just someone that’s always been here.
Someone that’s been convenient as his whipping boy, as historians would call my position in this family.
Whenever something annoys him, he calls for me.
I deal with his anger and then he can go back to society with a smile plastered to his face and keep up the act.
Slowly, I turn back to face him and wait for the next strike.
It hits a few seconds later, this time on the other cheek.
Blood fills my mouth as I accidentally bite down on the inside of my cheek at the action.
The mask is barely hanging on at this point and with a frustrated growl, I rip the damn thing off.
Once this is over with, I’ll go and wash up and find the woman waiting for me.
I pray that his tantrum doesn’t last much longer.
Whether this old man realizes it or not, his day of reckoning is coming for him.
Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but soon …
I’ll have this bastard by the throat and he’ll have nowhere to run.
I just need to play my part until that day comes.
“You have it so fucking easy, you know that?” he snaps.
“You chose to go into that ridiculous career of yours—education? For fuck’s sake.
” He takes his cigar between two fingers and unlatches his mouth from the thing to talk.
Using the cigar, he points it at me. “Your time is coming, son,” he warns me. “It’s coming.”
“The contract is already signed,” I say. “I still have another year left.”
He laughs, the sound harsh and anything but amused.
“I don’t know why you insist on teaching.
” He says the word as if it’s the most disgusting insult one could possibly voice.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Doing so would only lead to another greeting with the back of his hand, or perhaps a fist. “It will end soon, though.” He straightens his coat and nods. “Yes, it will end soon enough.”
I frown. “What do you—”
He doesn’t allow me the opportunity to finish my question before he’s in front of me, hand snapping out and wrapping around my throat. My back hits the spikey green walls of a hedge. “They’ve been asking about you,” he says.
Ah, so that’s why he’s brought up my choice of career, I realize. There’s no faster way to get under his skin than for people to question him and those supposedly under his command.
“I’ve allowed this rebellion of yours to go on long enough,” he continues, squeezing harder.
I reach up but then let my hand fall back to my side.
I could break his wrist, but to do so would cause more issues and I want this over with quickly.
I want to be somewhere else—upstairs in bed with my Ella.
Stripping her bare, unleashing my cock to take her throat and see if she still looks innocent with those petal pink lips of hers wrapped around my base.
“When this year is through,” my father snaps, recapturing my attention. “You will take your rightful place at my side. I want all questions squashed. You are my heir, Jacob. You will start to fucking act like it. What do you say?”
At first, I don’t say a goddamn thing. Then, as his hand contracts, I grit my teeth and respond. “Yes, sir.”
He releases me and drops the unfinished cigar against the cobblestone walkway, stamping it out with the toe of his shoe.
“Go,” he orders, jerking his chin to the side where we both know an exit that will lead away from the party is hidden behind a pair of hedges.
“Clean yourself up. I don’t wish to see you at the party again. ”
This time, it’s much easier to bow my head and answer him. “Yes, sir.”