Rival by M.C. Cerny
Adam
“Nelson!” I hopped down the staircase like a naughty child calling for my jack-of-all trades house manager. The man was old enough to be my father, and surly enough that I was half tempted to put a bullet through him when he gave me a side-eye. He came with the property when I bought it, and he could’ve molded into the walls like that creepy Oz movie with no one being the wiser.
My dogs barked and trotted up to me. Three hounds of hell, perfect for the prince of darkness as my last lover implied. She was a rotten fuck, but nice to look at once her mouth was occupied. My boys, however, Beauregard, Bear, and Gus were my one joy. They gave me unconditional love, whatever the fuck that was, mixed with a good cocktail of drugs and alcohol to keep me sane. Since I had the means, I spared no expense to maintain my health; sadly, it was my mental state I’d never mastered.
“Aus! Platz! Braver hund.” I gave them the commands to stop and lay at my feet while praising them. Each had his own personality. Beau the most watchful, Bear the aggressive one of the three, and poor Gus craved undivided attention. While they all heeded my commands, it was Gus who wiggled the most, whining. Relentless snuggler which was why I had them kenneled outside the kitchen at night. I couldn’t stand contact of any kind when my night sweats plagued me.
Nelson approached as I rubbed my boys down and sent them back to the kitchen. He could let them outside to run once we were done here.
“Mr. Huntley.” He deferred to me under his hawkish gaze and greasy hair.
Good man that he was, I kept him around, well-supplied in aged scotch and pay to put up with my shit. He only took exception to the screaming during the last—well, it didn’t matter now. Chap cleaned up the mess rather nicely and saved me from having to buy a new carpet for the foyer to match the rest of the pretentious antiques in this mausoleum. Who knew he’d be a whiz at cleaning up blood?
Oxy Clean magic and we were good as new.
He pushed a new bottle of medication, a steaming green tea, and a packet of documents over the marble-topped side table between us. The pills were bullshit, and the documents could hold on for another day or so. I sipped my tea, hating the powdery taste as I chugged it down. I’d have given a year off my life for a cold soda. Something about antioxidants would prolong my suffering, and I needed all the time I could get right now.
I was bordering on giddy with my new acquisition just hours out of my reach. We didn’t speak about either item, and I preferred it that way. The pills would find a discrete way into the bathroom cabinet upstairs, and that suited me perfectly fine. The documents would be signed and delivered via courier tomorrow morning. Reminders of my mortality were not appreciated.
“Has the hospital called regarding my … ward?” I inquired.
Thinking about Elizabeth’s new role in my life excited me. Renewed the flagging sense that this would be over quicker than planned. Having drank my tea like a good boy, I switched to another one of my vices. I swirled the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler, watching it circle the cuts of glass. I loved alcohol. I loved the lads and ladies even more indiscriminately, but liquor was cheaper and quicker in taking the edge off my moods. It would certainly help while I waited for my ward to come of age.
If I had the time to wait that long.
Contingency plans be damned.
“Yes, sir. The hospital called, and she’s ready to be released.” Nelson clasped his hands over his middle, rocking back on his heels like he wanted to say more but held back.
I narrowed my gaze.
“The judge?” I took a slow draw of the scotch, letting it burn my esophagus pleasantly. It was a delicious heady feeling knowing I would be getting exactly what I wanted.
“Signed off on the guardianship papers which are on your desk.” He waved toward the office where the polished wood of my desktop faced the south lawn. It was where I did most of my thinking.
Plotting.
Planning.
Executing.
“And that green social worker who was making noise about it?”
“I believe Derrick took care of that. Something about the case being transferred,” Nelson added nonplussed.
I hummed my approval and finished the drink, letting the crystal clink on marble. I didn’t need the complication and she’d be a good distraction for my associate who pissed me off by laying his hands on Elizabeth without my permission. He still might lose a finger over it if my mood didn’t improve.
I grunted.
“Good. Petre should be arriving soon. He’ll take over Derrick’s duties, and I’ll leave in a moment to bring her home.” I didn’t want to hire more bodyguards, but Derrick was demoted for his recent behavior. I trusted Petre, and he’d finally get his chance to come to the US under legal means with a work visa I provided. That meant he’d also owe me, and it was good to have favors owed.
Nelson left me in peace, shutting the door to my office. The dark became my solitude as I contemplated the next steps in my plan. Every piece was slowly falling into place. Elizabeth had no idea how she fit into my puzzle, and I couldn’t have accounted for the strange perfection of her coming into my life. Another card in my stack I’d be able to use when the time was right.
I planned on teaching my ward what it was like to love someone and be unable to forgive them. Her brother was useless to me as was the girlfriend. Although, her nursing skills might prove handy down the road if I could get her to work for me. I was sure the right incentive could be found for a smart girl like Fiona. I would be the snake Elizabeth didn’t suspect, lurking in her garden and waiting to strike. I would fuel her anger and numb her with poison. Elizabeth would pay the consequences in full, with a pound of flesh.
The hospital was her temporary reprieve, the stay before her figurative execution of body and soul. Physically, she paid the consequences with the infection in her foot and the discomfort of the stitches. It seemed that stupidity, or at least bad decisions, could be painful after all. I visited her in her unmedicated delirium, crying out for her dead mother and pathetic father. She didn’t know I was there, watching her from the chair in her room, directing her care. My presence was known in every cringe she gifted me after. She would grow to see my touch like the plague. The GPS tracker implanted in her ankle would keep her tied to me. There was nowhere my lovely ward could go without my knowledge.
When her fever pitched, I watched her crawl on the floor to the bathroom nearly immobilized by the pain. I forbad the doctors from giving her any pain medication. I suspected she was skirting drug addiction from the pot in her system. I didn’t give a fuck about sloppy teenage recreational use, but I didn’t have time for someone who would medicate themselves from my punishments.
Frankly, it took the fun out of it.
Crutches were left in the closet, locked out of reach because the brat spit on me the second day. This was the beginning of teaching her valuable lessons of how her brave new world would operate with me at the helm. Shame and humiliation would complete the penance with a pretty red bow.
She would learn how insignificant she was to me. A pretty toy to be dressed up and ignored until it was time to take her off the shelf and out to play. A fragile doll fearing the crack in her porcelain shell. I wanted her to hate playtime. She could’ve been a squeaking dog in a purse for all I cared, lest she piss on my marble floors. If that was the game she wanted to play, I’d make her lick it up. I wanted her to crave hatred because it powered me as much as it depleted her. Her life was now ruled by my iron fist and her shiny new gilded cage. Pretty things had a cost, and consequences would become a new burden to bear.
It was so easy to fixate on my new obsession.
My drive to the hospital was quick, and my arrival was met with fanfare. Press photos blinding and shutters clicking with the savages looking for a story. Too bad it was only me; the poor boy from the ward who made it big with questionable riches. I was a fucking Barbara Walters special waiting to happen.
Ah, how we all hid behind our masks.
My beautiful Bentley was fixed and shiny to remind her of her recklessness. I showed her off like a show pony, glossy coat and ribbons. Nurses helped dress her in a sweet looking sundress with a pink poufy skirt and put a big, obnoxious matching bow in her shorn and styled curls. I hated bows, messy, complicated things that made her look like an overgrown ballerina or the next child bride of Jerry Lee Lewis. She didn’t need makeup because the shaming blush of her skin was enough to color my new pet project. Shame was my game, and I’d sell the media tickets like the goddamn Super Bowl.
She swung her legs on the edge of the bed, waiting for my arrival, and I wasn’t disappointed. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
She ignored me and kept her eyes focused on the wall behind me. Her silence would be dealt with later. Compliance was all I wanted until I could dump her ass at her new home far out of my reach until she reached an appropriate age for my plans. A racking shudder ripping through her body was the only response I got. She wasn’t mute. I knew that for a fact, and I wasn’t about to let her disrespect start.
I took in her bandaged hand, half mad and half alright with it. I didn’t like the conflicting emotions because she was a means to an end. Feelings weren’t supposed to surface; they had no part in this. I might have been weak from the cancer, but I refused to let her become my weakness too.
“Ah, I see you’ve made friends with Derrick already.” I touched her hand, watching silent tears flow down her cheeks. Elizabeth was suitably cowed for now, and this pleased me.
“You’ll adapt quickly, my shining pearl, my beautiful little bird.” I tapped her cheek with my palm. Any harder and she’d feel the sting of my slap, which she hadn’t earned today. “You’re a smart girl.”
It wasn’t complimentary. She was more like a problem I had yet to work out. Elizabeth didn’t want to be a problem, if she knew what was good for her. She probably didn’t want to be anything. Best yet, forgotten. Too bad I had other plans.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand, but she shrank away. “Tsk. Tsk. Already so defiant,” I said.
I picked her up, slinging her over my shoulder.
“No!” She tried to kick, and I slapped the back of her thighs hard.
“Defiance is not only punished; it’s crushed,” I reminded her.
“Let me go,” she whimpered, and I stopped short before exiting the room. I breathed in the acrid scent of hospital cleaner and lowered her into my arms.
“Do you yield?” I asked, indulging this last outburst.
Her lips trembled and she silently gave me an affirmative nod. I carried her easily to the car. The skirt poufed in candy lace layers, looking ridiculous, but that was her problem, not mine. No wheelchair despite the nurses’ protests. When the hospital doors opened up to show my shiny silver Bentley, I felt the heat of humiliation burning through her veins against my Italian wool suit.
“You’re an asshole,” she hissed in my ear.
Cameras flashed, taking our picture. I dumped her unceremoniously in the passenger seat before getting in on my side. One last benevolent smile for the cameras, and I buckled her in.
“So much better than having to carry you out kicking and screaming, huh?”
Gulping air and what I assumed was fear, she bowed her head and looked forward, avoiding the windows. I let my hand slip down to rest on her shaking knee, out of sight from the press. My hand slipped on her slick, sweaty skin. The gesture was innocent enough and appeared comforting to all those eyes watching us, but I was marking her with a twisted ownership unseen by the vultures of the paparazzi clicking and flashing in our faces.
“Relax, Elizabeth. I’m saving your spanking for when we get home,” I quipped humorlessly.
“Then what? You’ll try fucking me like a dirty uncle?”
Her words made me pause and actually turned my stomach sour. That was new and unexpected. A terrible man I was for sure, but I didn’t abuse children. Despite my experiences and inner darkness, I wasn’t wired that way. Interesting she thought I wanted her sexually. I did, but not the parts she was worried about, and definitely not for years. My plan didn’t permit me to punch through her sweet, tart cherry like I wanted; though, I didn’t see a reason to assure her of this. I wouldn’t wish my DNA on anyone.
I laughed out loud, continuing our show outside the bubble of the car windows as I revved the engine.
“Darling, I won’t be fucking you for a while.” I didn’t clarify what I’d be doing to her. That was for me to know and her to find out. All in good time. Torture was best served on the pinnacle of anxiety.
Elizabeth continued to ignore me, still as a statue biting her bottom lip and giving the world outside the tinted windows of the car the blankest stare I’d ever seen. It was absolute perfection in the steel of her spine. I needed her to be strong, so I could be crazy for the both of us.
“Why me?” she asked.
I turned at the question, a smirk on my face that said, why not you? Of course I could have anyone, take anyone, but she was the most suited. The one with nothing to lose and everything to gain if she behaved.
“Because you’re perfect,” I said it simply in response to her question, most likely leaving her with a hundred more unanswered ones.
I tossed her a small white velvet box, letting it land on her fluffy layers of tulle. She dug for it in the ridiculous ruffles.
She popped the box open.
“What is it?” she asked distastefully.
“Put it on.” I told her as she slipped the platinum band peppered with stones on her finger. The rush order cost me a fortune, but it was perfect.
“Sapphires?” she mumbled.
“Something like that,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road despite the asshole driving behind us, who was doing a shitty job concealing his tail three car lengths back. Good old Dad just couldn’t leave me be.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
I didn’t take her for a stupid girl. If her blood ran as cold as mine did, the metal band of the ring would never warm her up to the idea of being mine anyway. Pity. I only needed to plow one hole for my pleasure. No sense in bringing my evil into the world. I had a contingency for that when the time came, whether she liked it or not.
Again, her future problem, not my current one.
“It’s your promise ring, Elizabeth. Take it off, and I’ll remove the finger it should be on.”
She waited too, long, staring at it and making me burn.
I flicked my hand in the air, making her cringe. “Go on. I don’t have all day here.” The pain in my lower abdomen made sure of that.
Shaking hands slipped the ring on her left ring finger, and I beamed, continuing our drive.
“If you’re looking for appreciation, it won’t be forthcoming,” she spat under her breath.
“Now, my darling, you’re mine.” I grabbed her hand, squeezing so she felt the impact of metal and polished glass between our fingers. She winced in pain from the tiny cuts it left. I kissed the tips of her fingers, pleased, noting the tiny flecks of blood on her skirt. The ring would remind her often of who she belonged to and the obligation she now served.
Elizabeth stared out the window, blocking me out. Her silence was deafening, and I broke the quiet in the car, drawing her attention back to me.
“What is it now?” I growled, gripping the steering wheel.
Her shoulders shrugged up and down. The simple act ignited a fire within me.
“Let’s be clear on how this started.” I looked at her as she turned her head to look at me. I wouldn’t be swayed by the sadness pooling in her depths. “In this life, there are four things you can never get back. Do you know what they are?” I asked.
Her head shook no, and I grunted.
“It starts with the first stone thrown. You did that on the rooftop with the petulant look in your eyes. You might say wrong place, wrong time, but now you’re mine, and this is the life you’ve agreed to.” She didn’t ask me the other three things. That would come in time. For now, the thrown stone was a piece of rooftop glass binding her to me in a forever promise.
My car hugged the curve of the road, and I got lost in my own twisted head, full of plans I assumed for the future. This was only the beginning of her well-dressed and privileged nightmare. Even the straightest trees could have twisted roots under the surface. I was probably the gnarliest looking thing in the forest, scarred from within. Let the world think I was this wonderful patron, a benefactor to lost souls, all while defiling everything I touched behind closed doors. I reveled in this power.
Wasn’t this the legendary power of Pharaohs, Kings, and Presidents? Except, I had no parliament, no checks and balances to keep me from my pleasures. But, I did have one slave, and oh, it was glorious to revel in the world I created.