Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (14 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Emmy was sitting on the bar stool staring into her orange juice the next morning as Nathaniel walked in. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He walked over and kissed her on the head. “Good morning.” Leaning around, he gave her a stern look. “You don’t have to do this, Em. You can just let them go to the farm alone.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “But I know Mom and Ally want me there. So I’m going.” She stared at the glass. “Kinda wish there was champagne or vodka in this.”

“Your step-father is quite the dick,” Laurel spoke from her seat. Nathaniel and Emmy turned their heads to look at the girl. “Sorry, it’s just the truth. He is. He really thinks he’s entitled.”

“He does,” Emmy agreed, and shot-gunned the orange juice. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Did Victor go already?”

“Yes,” Joanne spoke up, emerging from the laundry room. “He said he wanted to do a sweep of the yard again this morning, and that he would meet Nathaniel at the office.”

“You don’t have to do this, Em,” he told her again.

“I’m going, Nathaniel,” she stated firmly. “I have to try and deal with him since it’s clear Mom has no intention of divorcing the asshole.”

“It’s just today,” he reminded her.

“He’s all yours tomorrow,” she said. “Trust me. He’ll love the tour of the stadium anyway. Infiltrating enemy territory, and all that.”

“Damn Patriots fans.” Joanne laughed, and walked into the laundry room.

“At least I get to go shopping again tomorrow,” Emmy chirrped, standing up and heading to the stairs. “I need to shower.”

Nathaniel followed her to the stairs and put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, while you’re in Macy’s you can wander over to the jewelry cases. Take a look. Explore your options.”

“Nathaniel,” she started.

“No, no.” He put his hands up in defense. “I know. I just want you to think about it. And I’m hoping staring at diamonds will work in my favor.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Go. Shower. I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

Emmy smiled at him and walked up the stairs to their room. She wandered slowly down to the door and opened it. She walked in, and the room was welcoming.

Marry me.

Didn’t expect that. No way.

She walked into the bathroom, and peeled off her robe while she started the water in the shower. The bathroom was insanely gorgeous, with brown and white tile, an enormous shower stall that had about fourteen shower heads with a master control and enough room for four people in it. The tub was a two person extra-large Jacuzzi which she’d made use of, often. There were two sinks, two mirrors and two floor to ceiling linen and medicine cabinets.

The bathroom in her apartment at Heinz was nice. This blew it out of the water. It was the size of her second bedroom.

Emmy turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. Panty-less, as usual. She couldn’t seem to keep those on around Nathaniel and was seriously thinking commando was the way to go. A pale cream satin bra, full coverage cups.

If you marry him, you’re going to have to show him.

Marry him.

Holy shit. He had really asked! She was just so messed up in the head right now with Sean around, there was no way she could answer him. She adored Nathaniel, this life was everything she dreamed as a little girl, but all she could see right at the moment was how miserable and tired and beaten, literally beaten, her mother was.

She turned away from the mirror and unclasped her bra. She hung it on the hook and stepped into the shower, the hot water coursing over her. She didn’t need to be unknotted like she had the first night Sean had been there. That had been an hour in the bath and a thirty minute shower and she still felt tight. And filthy in some way.

The hot water felt good, and she wet her hair to wash it. Concentrating on the sensations of shampooing, she tried to block out all the other thoughts she had swimming around. Well, okay. Not all the other thoughts. Just one.

Nathaniel Walsh had asked her to marry him.

Out of nowhere. They had never talked about it. She was still getting used to the idea of living with him. She still had her apartment she was paying for. They had really only known each other for three and a half months. She was a BDSM Mistress. She was one of the first employees at Imperial. She was his brother’s admin.

And she was completely in love with him. Utterly and completely head-over-heels in love.

She was also terrified that everything they had, everything they were was going to fall apart. Dr. Mueller had told her, more than once, that was what life was. Nothing was permanent. You just have to grab on and hold on and hope it all went well.

She wanted to say yes, but she had to talk to someone who knew the whole deal. Franz was out; he was a good friend, but he would never be objective. He would only see her though the lens of their relationship, six years over. So, she would have to call Chantal. Maybe have lunch with her. Chew on the idea a bit. Though, only after Sean had left. Staring at her mother’s horrible, crumbled relationship wasn’t something she wanted to do while trying to decide on her own future.

God, what had brought her to that? Alyssa had walked away from her father because she wasn’t in love with him anymore. And walked into this clusterfuck of a relationship. Sean treated her like shit. Emmy refused to think this was her fault in any way.

Just as she had walked out of the house, so could her mother. Alyssa knew she was always welcome to stay with Emmy. Allison was also welcome. She couldn’t believe her mother had let it get this way. What did Sean have that made her stay? He had no redeeming qualities. The only reason he was on disability was because he lied about his back. He lied because he didn’t want to work anymore. He was due something.

A boot in his ass, maybe. Emmy sighed and rinsed her hair.

Before she realized what was going on, she found herself on the floor of the shower leaning against the tile, big fat tears falling from her eyes. Nathaniel had been right; she shouldn’t be spending the day with the fucking asshole who had ruined her life. All she was going to see was the snake-oil salesman ignoring her, spoiling Allison beyond reason—even
Allison’s
reason—and watching her mother shrivel up against being near him for those hours.

Older, wiser, she wished she’d had the guts to call the cops before she left. She wished she could have pressed charges against him.

She found herself wishing she’d taken him out. At sixteen, she figured it would have been a juvvy offense and justifiable homicide. There would have been nothing on her record, and they would have all been free of him. Her, Alyssa and Allison. It would have been wonderful, all of them free to go to Uncle Charlie’s and start over. What a horrible way to think—freedom through murder.

Of course, if her mother had just stood up to Sean, they could have escaped without all that. She laughed through the tears. Her mother with a backbone. She couldn’t even imagine it. She never even wondered why her twelve-year-old daughter never stopped crying. Four years after her father died, Emmy had still been crying, and Alyssa never asked why.

She lifted her face to the hot water, and stood. She grabbed the pouf, and loaded it with soap and started scrubbing. Fingers, hands, forearm, elbow, arm, shoulder, rinse, repeat. Do it again on the other side. And back to the first arm, then back to the other arm. Then down to her feet. Up her legs. Her whole hideous chest. Repeat. Repeat. She loaded the pouf again and again, cranking the hot water up. There was no water hot enough, no soap strong enough, no washcloth stiff and brittle enough to really clean her. She got to her vulva, and started scrubbing. Everything between her legs, hard and mercilessly. She scrubbed hard and long until the pain from the cleaning was unbearable.

The water was a faint pink as it traveled to the drain.

She had taken off at least a layer of skin. She put a hand to herself and pulled it away, spots of blood clear on the palm of her hand—she had scrubbed herself bloody. All over her body were little spots of blood where she had scrubbed through the skin.

She couldn’t ever feel clean enough. She couldn’t get the filth off her skin.

~*~*~

Emmy jerked her head up at the gasp. Joanne was in the door way, and swept into the room, grabbing the robe. She shut off the water, and wrapped the robe around Emmy.

“Oh my God, child, did you fall?” Emmy shook her head, unable to form a real sound. “Your skin is raw from that hot water! You’ve been in there over an hour!”

“Never clean enough,” she mumbled.

“You’re pruny,” Joanne observed. “I think you’re clean enough.” She helped Emmy to her feet, and walked her out of the shower and into the bedroom. She grabbed the robe and pulled it off her shoulders in an attempt to put it on correctly.

Emmy gasped and wrapped her arms around her breasts. “No bra!” She pulled the robe closed.

“It’s on the hook,” Joanne spoke slowly.

“Please,” Emmy managed. “Turn around so I can put the robe on?” Joanne nodded and turned her back. Emmy slipped into the wet robe and wrapped around her tightly. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be,” Joanne whispered. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Modesty returns, and I’ll assume you’re somewhat okay, then. What happened?”

“I have too much on my mind,” she explained.

“Nathaniel left word that if this was too much, he’d come home.” She gave Emmy the message.

“No, I need time…” Emmy said. She looked at Joanne. “He asked me to marry him.”

Joanne gasped and the delight leapt into her eyes as she put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Emmy, really? What did you say?”

“I can’t give him an answer.” She shook her head quickly. “Not right now.”

“Not with Sean here.” Joanne finished. “You don’t have to go, Emmy. This isn’t even because Nathaniel left word. I’m telling you, you don’t have to go. I see how he affects you. You’re a mess and that silly man should have waited to propose until this bastard step-father of yours was gone.”

Emmy smiled. “I think it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“Men don’t think.” Joanne laughed. “Now, your sister and mother have been downstairs for about half an hour, which is why I came up. I’m going to leave them with breakfast and head to the store. I need to do some shopping for the house and make sure all the accounts are set up for Saturday night. Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be,” she said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Take it easy, child,” she ordered. “Walk away if you have to.”

Emmy nodded, very grateful it was Joanne who had come up and not her mother or sister. She eyeballed the bottle of Xanax she had put on the dresser, and for a moment, though about taking one. She was going to have call Doc Mueller and tell him what had just happened; no question about that. But she had come so far from those reactions, she was able to just accept that sometimes, she had to freak out.

She took a moment to take some deep cleansing breaths, and found her center again. She skipped the Xanax and got dressed quickly. Her mother and Allison were waiting downstairs, and they were going to the winery.

She had been to the winery ages ago, with her college friends. They were wine tasting and basically were just hell-bent on getting drunk. She was actually tasting the wine, and not getting smashed. Emmy would’ve had a good time if she hadn’t been surrounded by drunk idiots.

Alyssa and Allison were sitting at the breakfast bar and Emmy could hear Sean in the den. She walked into the kitchen. They were eating something Joanne had left on the warmers for them. Emmy loved the sight. “Good morning.”

Ally and Alyssa looked up and they smiled at her, then Alyssa’s face fell. “Emmy! What’s wrong with your skin?”

She looked down. Shit. Her arms were covered in little red dots, where the raw spots were scabbing over. “Oh. Ha. I must have grabbed the wrong soap. I’m allergic to the soap Nathaniel likes.”

“He shouldn’t use it then,” Alyssa said.

“We’re still settling in, Mom. It was just an accident. Doesn’t hurt.”

Alyssa nodded and her smile came back. “Joanne is an excellent cook.”

“Yup,” Emmy agreed, walking over. “She’s a great housekeeper and she does everything to keep this ginormous place running. She left?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Ally reported.

“Are you guys up for another shopping trip tomorrow?” Emmy asked. “We need to get dresses for the party on Saturday.”

“No more buying stuff,” Alyssa insisted. “We don’t need them.”

“You need a dress for the party.” Emmy was insistent. “It’s a fancy barbeque in your honor.”

“In our honor?” Alyssa gasped.

“Yes,” she answered. “So, let me buy you the dress.”

Alyssa smiled, and finally nodded. She studied her a moment. “You seem so happy here, Emmy. So complete and settled. Are you happy?”

“I have been for a long time,” Emmy shared.

“I’m glad.” She sighed. “I miss you, but I know you need to be happy.”

“That was really cool last night, Em,” Ally told her. “I didn’t know serving at a soup kitchen could be that much fun. I felt like I really did something good there.”

“You did,” Emmy said.

“No!” Ally screamed.

Emmy was confused for just a moment before she felt the pain blossom in the back of her head. She realized she was falling forward, face heading for the tiled floor. She managed to pull her hands in front of her face and not nail the tile with her nose.

A hand grabbed her and rolled her over. “You fucking bitch. You are nothing but a fucking bitch.” Sean’s face was red and she actually thought he was going to spit on her.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing against him.

“You took my daughter to that shit pit and made her serve people who have more than she does,” he growled, grabbing Emmy’s arm. “Do you think my girl is a slave?!”

“Daddy, stop!” Ally screamed, pulling his arm off her sister. “Stop!”

“Go sit in the den, Allison,” he snapped. “Now!”

Emmy tried to pull her hand away so she could get away across the floor. Sean grabbed her arm again as he looked over at Alyssa. “Get your daughter into the other room right now.”

“Sean—”

“Get your ass out of here!”

“Sean, please...”

Emmy heard no conviction in her mother’s voice. Alyssa wasn’t going to stop him from hurting her again. Just like before. Just like every fucking time this had happened before. Just like every time she saw what the fucker did to her. She yanked her hand out of his grip and managed to start to crawl away.