Keeping Her Page 10

  "Will Rachel and I be allowed to have any input on the wedding?" I ask.

  "No. We will be hiring people."

  "You can't expect a bride to have no input on her wedding." I cringe, realizing that might've sounded too harsh. "What I mean is that not including her in the plans will cause her to ask questions. Questions I can't answer."

  "That's your problem to figure out. You'll have to find a way to explain it. But I suppose it would be problematic if the press questions her about the wedding plans and she's unable to answer them." He stops to think. "We will hire the wedding coordinators and they will provide the girl with regular updates regarding their plans."

  "Will I have input on who is invited?"

  "In order for this to look real, the girl's parents should be present, as should yours. The girl should also choose her bridesmaids. If a reporter decides to research who these girls are, they need to have a connection to her. Other than that, no, we will make the guest list."

  "When will my punishment be decided?"

  "That hasn't been determined. But when it is, you will not be told."

  "Why wouldn't I be told?"

  "When you married that girl, you went behind our backs and purposely deceived us. So now, we will do the same to you. You will be punished sometime in the future, but you will not know when or where or how."

  "How? So I won't know what the punishment is? Then how will I know when it's over?"

  "You won't. You'll have to live the rest of your life wondering." He pauses. "Perhaps now, you won't step out of line, Pearce." He pounds his gavel. "This concludes the sentencing. Pearce is dismissed. Please escort him out."

  What does this mean? I'll never know my punishment? Never know when it's over? So they want to torture me for the rest of my life?

  This had to be my father's idea. Making me wonder every day if something bad will happen? He would love that, so I know it was his idea. But I'm sure he's furious that they're letting my marriage continue.

  Royce's plan worked. The engagement announcement generated enough press that the organization doesn't want me backing out of the wedding. But now they're taking it over, turning it into a networking event that will connect our members with key people they're trying to do business with.

  To most people, it would seem odd that strangers would attend my wedding just to do business, but in my world it happens all the time. Wealthy people will go anywhere to connect with people who could make them even wealthier.

  Now I have to tell Rachel that she can't plan the wedding. She knows we'll have wedding planners but I told her she could have input. Now she can't. She won't be happy about that, but I'll blame my parents. She knows how unreasonable they are, so maybe I can convince her that they insisted on taking over the plans and that it would be easier to just let them do it than try to fight them.

  As for my punishment, I'll take whatever they want to do to me as long as it doesn't involve Rachel. I don't know why it would. If they're allowing me to stay married to her, and if they're making the wedding an even bigger, more publicized event, then they wouldn't want to harm her. We'll have the public's eye on us, and if something happens to either of us, reporters will start digging for answers.

  So does that mean Rachel is safe? I can't say for sure because I don't trust them and never will. I'll always be watching over her and protecting her, and not just because of Dunamis, but because my family has enemies, and just being wealthy attracts bad people.

  I check my watch. Rachel's flight arrives in an hour. I told my father I'd go into work, but I'm not going to. Instead I'm going to pick up my wife at the airport and take her home. Then I'll get the fireplace going, open a bottle of wine, and we'll have a nice relaxing dinner.

  Rachel won't know it, but to me, tonight is a celebration. I'm able to keep her in my life.

  This isn't the end for us. This is just the beginning.

  I don't care what they do to me now or in the future. The only thing that matters is that I still have Rachel.

  CHAPTER NINE

  9

  PEARCE

  It feels like home again now that Rachel's back at my loft. Our loft. I need to remember to refer to this place as ours, not mine. I want her to consider this her home. Or maybe we should move to a new place. A place that we pick out together. Now that I know I have a future with her, I want to start planning our life, starting with where we'll live. I like this loft, but it feels like a bachelor pad and I know Rachel would like a house.

  This morning, we both got up at six. I'm going into the office and she's going to campus to study. This is her last week of class and she has an exam to take today.

  Rachel's graduation is a week from Saturday and then we'll leave for Italy. I already have my travel agent planning our itinerary for the two weeks we'll be gone. My father will be angry that I'm missing that much work, but he needs to get over it. I haven't taken a vacation since I started working for him. Besides, the holidays are the best time to take off because things always slow down at the end of the year.

  I get to the office at seven. I keep my office locked, but when I use my key to open it, it doesn't work. The maintenance guy walks by as I try the key again.

  "Jerry," I call after him. He's an older man, bald, with a large protruding stomach.

  He stops and walks back to me. "Yes, Mr. Kensington."

  "Could you try this key for me?" I hand it to him. "It doesn't seem to be working. I think there's something wrong with the lock."

  He glances down at the key, rubbing his thumb over it. "Have you talked to your father?"

  "No. Why?"

  He hands the key back to me. "You should probably talk to him."

  I walk to my father's office, my coat still on, the key in my hand. I open his door and go in. He's at his desk, writing something down.

  I hold up the key. "Did you change the lock to my office?"

  His eyes remain on the pad of paper he's writing on. "It's not your office anymore."

  "I'm changing offices?"

  "You don't have an office. You're fired. Get out."

  "I'm fired? Are you joking?"

  He finally looks up at me. "Do I appear to be joking?"

  "Why are you firing me?"

  "Your performance isn't up to par."

  "You say that about everyone in the company." I don't know why I'm arguing with him about this. I should just leave and be happy I'm finally free of this place. But I remain where I am because I don't understand this. He knows I hate working here, so this is almost like a reward, and he doesn't give out rewards.

  "I'm tired of your insubordinate behavior," he says. "I told you to come into work yesterday and you didn't show up."

  "It was a Sunday and I had to pick up Rachel from the airport."

  He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair. "I assume you and the girl went to whatever flyover state she's from."

  "Her name is Rachel," I say, annoyed that he won't use her name. "And we went to Indiana."

  "You met her family?"

  "Yes. I met her parents. They were very nice."

  "Nice." He huffs. "Nice is just another word for ignorant. No one ever got anywhere by being nice."

  "Yes, well, I—"

  "You upset your mother."

  "What did I do now?"

  "Your absence from Thanksgiving dinner upset her. I had to endure her sulking all weekend."

  "I'm sure she wasn't sulking. She knew I would not be at dinner. And I will not be at Christmas either."

  "Fine," he says casually, as he picks up his pen and writes something on his notepad.

  "Are we done here?"

  Why do I ask? Why don't I just leave?

  "You are not to show up at the house again," he says, setting his pen in the metal holder.

  "And why is that?"

  He pushes his chair back and stands up, then goes around the desk to face me.

  "You are no longer part of this family. Your mother and I no longer consider y
ou to be our son. You are not welcome in our house, and if you show up there, you will be turned away. I have instructed the hired help that they are not to take your calls. Your mother and I have no interest in speaking to you."

  "Mother agrees with this?"

  "Goodbye, Pearce."

  "You're disowning me? Because I married Rachel?"

  He points to the door. "Get out. Now. Or I'll call security."

  I turn and walk out of his office and down the series of halls that lead to the parking garage. What the hell just happened? He fires me and disowns me all in one day? Why did he wait until now? Why didn't he do it when I told him I married her? Is it because of the organization's decision to allow my marriage? It has to be. He was sure they'd forbid it, and when they didn't, he was furious. His son married someone he doesn't approve of. Someone he didn't pick. Someone he thinks will tarnish the family name. And the only way he can deal with that is to declare that I am no longer his son.

  I drive away from the building. I should be happy. I'm free from this job. Free from my family. Free from all of it. So why don't I feel free? Why do I feel this heaviness, weighing me down, and this tightness in my chest, restricting my breathing?

  It's because of him. My father. He's playing mind games with me. Making me think I'm free when I'm really not. So what is he up to?

  Dammit! I can't live this way. Always waiting. Always wondering. Knowing something bad is coming but not knowing what it is. But I can't do anything about it. My father will never tell me what he's up to. So I'm just left waiting. Wondering.

  I need to talk to someone and find out what was said at the sentencing when they made me leave. Jack is at work, and if I went there, he wouldn't talk about this at the office. He might not talk to me at all about this. He's odd that way. He talks openly about some things and keeps other things hidden, like the fact that my father hired him to spy on me.

  Arlin Sinclair knows what happened, but he's also at work and he probably wouldn't tell me anything either. But his son would.

  I turn around and head the other direction toward Royce's townhouse. I haven't talked to him since our trip to Vegas. I'm not sure if he's home. If he is, he's probably still asleep. He usually doesn't get up before ten, and it's only eight, so there's a good chance he won't let me past the gate.

  When I get there, I wait as the security guard calls Royce. He must've agreed to see me because the guard nods and opens the gate.

  Royce answers the door wearing a suit. "Pearce."

  I walk in, giving him a strange look. "Are you going somewhere?"

  "I have to meet with my mentor in an hour and be lectured about my behavior."

  His mentor is Cecil Roth, the man my father went to Europe with a few weeks ago. Cecil is very much like my father. A disciplinarian. Always follows the rules. I assume that's why they paired him up with Royce. They think Cecil can keep Royce in line, but so far it's not working, probably because Cecil is never around. He's always away on business, so he only meets with Royce four or five times a year.

  "How are you feeling?" I ask, taking a seat on a chair in the living room.

  He unbuttons his suit jacket and sits across from me on the couch. "My father told you what happened?"

  "He came to see me and asked if I knew where you were."

  Royce rolls his eyes. "Stupid old man. He should mind his own business. I don't need him tracking me down."

  "He was worried. And he had reason to be. You were in the damn hospital."

  "I was fine. I could've made it home by myself. The jet was ready to leave as soon as I was discharged. I didn't need my father coming to get me."

  It's another example of Royce not realizing how good he has it. His father cares enough to fly out there to make sure his son gets home safely and Royce shows no appreciation.

  "So what happened out there?" I ask.

  He puts his arm up along the back of the couch. "Well, after your wedding I had sex with that showgirl. Then I invited her friends over for a party later, which led to more sex."

  "I wasn't referring to your sexual encounters. I was asking how you ended up overdosing. You usually stop before that happens."

  "I did." He picks a piece of lint off his suit. "But I think one of the hookers I was with slipped something in my drink."

  "Why would she do that?"

  He shrugs. "She thought I got too rough with her. So after we did it, I think she slipped me something to knock me out so I wouldn't do it again to one of her friends."

  "Royce, you need to stop this."

  "I've already cut way back. I haven't touched drugs for two days."

  "I'm not talking about the drugs. I'm talking about the girls. You can't abuse women like that, even prostitutes."

  "Don't start lecturing me, Pearce. If you do, I'll arrange another date with your little friend, Sophia." He smirks.

  "That's not funny. Don't you dare even think of doing that again."

  "How do you know that girl anyway? Have you been cheating on Rachel?"

  "No. Shel—I mean, Sophia, lives in Rachel's apartment building. They're neighbors."

  "What a coincidence." He laughs. "So does Rachel know?"

  "She knows Sophia and I have been together, but she doesn't know the circumstances." I give him a look of warning. "And it has to stay that way. You heard them at the meeting. She's never to know. About any of it."

  "What meeting?" He yawns. "Fuck, I'm tired."

  "The sentencing. You weren't there yesterday?"

  "No. Why? Who was the sentencing for?"

  "Me. For marrying Rachel."

  "Shit, that was fast." He leans forward, his forearms on his knees. "So what are they going to do to you?" His eyes widen and he grins. A big, wide, overly enthusiastic grin.

  "You do realize you appear psychotic when you act this excited about your so-called friend being punished."

  He chuckles. "I've been called worse. So what's your punishment?"

  "I don't know. That's why I came over here. I wanted to know what they talked about. They made me leave the room so they could discuss it, and when I came back they said they were going to make the higher level members decide."

  "Then I wouldn't know even if I'd been there."

  "Yes, but I'm sure various options were discussed and I need to know what those options were."

  "Well, I can't help you. I wasn't there."

  "Your father was there. Do you think he'd tell me anything?"

  "No. He worries too much about following the rules. Why don't you ask your own father?" He laughs. "I'm sure he offered up plenty of ideas for your punishment."

  I sigh. "You should not find this amusing in any way. They could have me killed."

  He stands up and buttons his jacket. "They wouldn't do that. They need someone to run your chemical company if your father ever dies."

  "I won't be running the company. He fired me."

  He laughs again. "Okay, now THAT is amusing. Your own father fired you? Good old Holton. Always filled with surprises. So he fired you for marrying Rachel?"

  "He didn't say that, but I'm assuming that's the reason."

  "They're letting you stay with her?"

  "Yes, but I had to agree to never tell her about the organization."

  He adjusts his tie. "So my plan worked."

  "It did. And thank you again for helping me."

  "When will you find out your punishment?" He walks to the mirror that's hanging on the wall and checks his appearance.

  "They're not going to tell me."

  "What do you mean? They have to tell you."

  "Part of my punishment is that I'm left wondering what they'll do to me and when it will be done. And I won't be told when it happens, so I'll never know if my punishment is over or if I'm still waiting for it."

  He turns back to face me. "That has Holton Kensington written all over it. You know that was his idea."

  "Unfortunately, that's probably true."

  "Your father's the psych
otic one. Not me."

  "I'll let you finish getting ready." I get up and walk to the door.

  Royce follows. "I was thinking the four of us should go out to dinner. You and Rachel with Victoria and me."

  "No. Rachel and Victoria would not get along."

  "Victoria doesn't get along with anyone. Come on. You can't hide Rachel forever. She'll have to go to social events with you, so eventually everyone will meet her."

  "I'll talk to Rachel about it. Goodbye, Royce."

  I drive back to the loft and when I go inside, Rachel's there. She runs up and gives me a hug. "I'm done with my test!"

  "How did it go?"

  "Good. It's such a great feeling to be done. And I turned in my papers early, so I'm officially done!"

  "You're not going to the last few lectures?"

  "Maybe. I haven't decided yet." She glances at the clock, then back at me. "What are you doing home? Did you forget something?"

  "I was fired." I go over to the leather couch and sink into it, putting my feet up.

  "Your father fired you?"

  "And disowned me. All in one day. I will say, he's efficient."

  I joke about it, but deep-down, part of me is hurt. The firing doesn't bother me, but being told my parents want nothing to do with me causes an uncomfortable twinge in my chest.

  "Pearce." Rachel sits next to me, gently rubbing my arm. "I'm sorry."

  "It's probably for the best. My father and I do nothing but fight. Now that won't be an issue since we're no longer speaking to each other."

  "What about your mother? I know you still want to talk to her."

  "She's upset with me. I'm sure she has no interest in making amends."

  "Why is she upset? Because we got married?"

  Now is my chance to bring up the wedding plans. I have to lie to her once again, but it has to be done.

  "My mother is upset that she wasn't able to attend the wedding, given that I'm her only child. To make it up to her, she wants me to let her plan our March wedding. She lives for planning these types of events. She wants to hire the wedding coordinators and work with them as they plan the various details. It's a lot of work and very time-consuming, but my mother has been rather bored lately, which explains why she was so excited about this. But I told her that you will be the one working with the wedding coordinators and she is not to be involved."