Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (30 page)

“Faith, they will force it,” Ez warns. “When you get an opening to run and hide- do it. Because they will force us. Every month closer to my birthday, the pressure mounts. If it comes down to it, I’ll do it,” he promises. “I won’t hurt you like my mom was hurt. It broke her like the truth broke me. I won’t break you, too. I’ll come to you before they force it, and I’ll make love to you. Promise me you won’t fight me.”

“I promise,” I say in a childlike voice, one that still believes in miracles. And the
delusion vanishes in the beat of a heart when I realize that Ezra and I are standing in the very spot that I childishly gave Wil my virginity.

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

“I can’t believe you swindled me into this,” I say out the corner of my mouth to Ezra, so that Cort doesn’t overhear me. The three of us are acting like wallflowers in Whittenhower Estate’s majestic ballroom. Hundreds of the elite dance around and posture with each other- and it’s not just on the dance floor. It’s like watching a human behavioral experiment in the flesh. 

“They wanted you here, so Pearl set it up
, and I had to get you here.” Ez murmurs into my ear. Cort gives us a strange look. I don’t know what bullshit Ez and Boyd fed Cort, but he believed it. For the past few weeks, Cort’s been staring at us with increased interest, proving he’s not a complete idiot. But he trusts us when he shouldn’t.

“What are you guys whispering about? I feel like I’m at Hillbrook and you’re making fun of me to my face,” Cort complains.

Cortez really does hate not being the center of attention. He keeps flashing his pearly teeth and batting his eyelashes at socialites. He was wicked pissed that Regina was relegated to her rooms. He’s been trying to figure out an escape plan to go see her. I don’t have the heart to tell him that she isn’t here right now. She went to the movies with Kristal… and she probably doesn’t even know Cortez exists.

“We look ridiculous,” I growl, gesturing to my tux-clad escorts. “Seriously, I shouldn’t be here.” To be a brat, I’m in a pair of black leather pants and a red silk blouse that dips enough to show off a half dozen tattoos. I kept my piercings in
, too.

“It’s like a tiny Marilyn Manson flanked by two James Bond wannabees,” Cort teases. “
You’d think this was a costume party until you gaze out over the room and see girls in pink and white and men in black tie.” Cort gives me a once over with a sneer on his face. “You could’ve worn a dress. No one would have cared that it was black.” Cort hates that I wear pants- harder for him to get into. But I’ve pacified him by putting hugs and kisses back on the menu.

“I would’ve cared,” I snarl.
“Go locate Regina,” I order. Ezra gives me an impressed look, arrogant eyebrows rising. He knows Regina isn’t here.

“Yeah, go do that,” Ez encourages Cortez’s obsessive behavior. “
I think Grant’s room is on the third floor, south wing.”

Cort flashes us a wicked smirk, smoothes a hand over the front of his starched white shirt, and gives us a wave as he strides off.

“You’re so bad,” I say with a laugh.

“Hell, I should be the one that’s offended. My boyfriend is stalking a grown woman- a woman with a kid and a man,”
Ez whispers in his sharp voice. Ez winks so that I know he’s joking. “Got rid of him, didn’t it. You have a bunch of Elders waiting to meet you, chick. Be prepared.”

“I guess I should have cleaned up for it, then, huh?” I snidely hiss.

“Fuck no, they want you like this. I told Pearl about the referee idea. They may kowtow to The Meyers, but they want some control back. They love that you hate your family- they see you as their only hope.”

“How do you know all of this?” 

“Pearl took me to this week’s meeting. They sit around in Mitchell’s study drinking scotch and maneuvering their offspring into shitty positions. Your sister is such a coward that she just sits in the corner playing with her split ends. The bitch is supposed to be protecting you. It’s her job as the head of the Simpsons- worthless cunt,” he snarls. “So there Fate blankly sits while they talk about what they are going to do to you and Lara and she makes no moves to block them- just like your grandfather wants. Pearl’s been blocking you the best she can. By the way, Wil says hi,” Ezra maliciously bites out, gray eyes sparking with barely contained fury.

“Screw you, Ez,” I smack him in the chest. His
wince and my stinging hand says it hurt like hell.

“Wouldn’t you like to know how the meetings go down? The head sits there with their heir apparent and tells their enforcers what moves to make. Mitchell and Gwen
… and Wil, in case I was unclear about that. You should be there as Fate’s heir, but no one wants you there. You’re up for too many spots, so they fear you.”

“Who the hell is her…” I pissily point t
o my white-gowned sister chatting with Grant. “Who protects that idiot?”

“Kristal Harris,” Ezra says with a snicker. “She reminds me of you. I think that’s why Fate loves her so much. Now Kris, she gets pissed at these meetings. Last night your sister was slapped across the face
by her own enforcer when Fate didn’t protect you from something Henry has going down.”

“What the hell does Henry have against me?” I hiss.

“Boyd has his panties in a twist because you won’t talk to him. He’s chirping in his daddy’s ear. Be forewarned, Rex’s apartment won’t be available for lease.”

“What the fuck,” I snarl. “Why the hell not?”

“Boyd wants his sister in his house. With the trial starting soon, it will only be a few weeks before Lara and you are tossed on the street. Boyd assumes you’d go to him. What a twit- like you wouldn’t come here or to ShadowHaven first. Hell, you’d probably live in the gutter before you took a handout from Boyd.”

I glare at my brother and he looks
back at me like he heard every word we said. Boyd just shrugs his shoulders and continues on with the conversation he’s having with his father and another older gentleman. The set of those shoulders reminds me of Boyd’s, and that’s how I know who the hell that ancient man is.

“Tha
t’s granddaddy pimp, isn’t it?” I say, tipping my head in the elderly man’s direction.

“Yeah, that’s Mitchell Meyers. He’ll be over to talk to you shor
tly,” Ezra stops talking as soon as a little boy walks into his line of sight. “Whitt alert.”

“Hey, Ezra,” my little brother says in a voice that doesn’t fit a nine-year-old. He’s grown another dang inch, too. Big blue eyes stare at Ezra in wonder. His apple cheeks are pink with dimples denting them. Whitt is going to break some hearts.

“Kid, you are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ezra drawls, while shaking his head like he has to clear his mind. I thought Whitt would be offended, but he lights up even brighter.

“Not cute, I’d say he’s pretty,” I tease.

“Not pretty. I’m not a girl,” Whitt growls at me. His tiny scowl looks so much like mine that I start giggling.

“Fr
om now on, kid, I’m calling you Pretty Boy. And nothing about you is girly,” Ezra flirts, arching a sarcastic brow. I grab Ez’s chin and look him dead in the eyes to make sure that his younger half isn’t in control of the Ezes.

“No flirting,” I say into Ez’s face. “He’s a little boy,” I warn
- meaning
he’s my baby brother, back the hell off.
I know that Ez isn’t a sexual predator, but that twelve-year-old in him might be. He gives an exasperated sigh and blinks stormy gray eyes at me- I’ve pissed him off for thinking bad shit about him.

“
I was teasing,” Ezra lightly says so that Whitt doesn’t get more confused. “Get a grip, jeez. I won’t touch the kid.”

“Promise,” I demand.

“Fine,” Ez sighs. “I promise to not touch Daniel Whittenhower II until he is…”

“Twenty-four,” I cut in and Whitt smacks my arm.

“Odd choice,” Ezra purrs. “Fine, Pretty Boy is safe until he’s Twenty-four.” Ez twists his face up, puckering his lips like I’m the strange one. “Why that age?”

“I don’t know. It felt safer somehow,” I mumble.

“I’m still here, Faith,” Whitt nastily twists my name. “And I know what you’re talking about. It should be up to me. I like Ezra,” he whines.

“I know,” I drawl, “That’s the problem. You two are alike and you’re still a kid. So blush and look cute, but keep your hands to yourself.”

“You’re mean,” Whitt whines in defeat. “You can’t tell me what to do, you know that, right?”

“I know you better than you think,” I warn.

That poor boy is going to be a horny sonofabitch thanks to Gwen. I decide right here and now that I’m not going to let him date until I’m ready to deal with it- Boyd and his control freak ways filter in my mind- I tell myself this isn’t the same as when Boyd tells me what to do.

I exhaustedly say to my baby brother,
“I like you, Whitt, and I just want you to be a kid while you have the chance. I didn’t get to.”

“Too late,” Whitt grumbles
, and a second later he flashes me a dazzling smile. “Hey,” he tugs on my hand and he stares as if fascinate by my facial piercings. “I really like your rings- they’re sparkly. You should use diamonds instead.” I just stare the boy down- leave it to a mini-mogul to know I’m sporting cubic zirconia.

“I can’t afford real diamonds,” I murmur in his ear so that Ez doesn’t hear. I don’t want any impromptu gifts. “Don’t ever mar up your gorgeous face, kid. I’m not callin
g you girly, but you’re too pretty to be ruined by holes.”

My brother takes our conversation as an invitation to cuddle, proving he’s like our big brother. Whitt snuggles up under my arm as I stare wide-eyed into nothing. I gently put my arm down around his shoulders as he starts tracing the tattoos on my upper chest.

“I like these,” he dreamily says. “How many do you have? I really like to draw. How do you draw on skin?”

Ezra answers for me since my brain took a vacay the moment I got to hold my baby brother for the first time. “They’re called tattoos. You have a needle and ink. And it never washes off.”

“How do you learn how to do it? I think I’d be good at it,” Whitt eagerly says as he yanks my top farther down. I’d smack his hand away but the boy likes boys and I have a camisole on underneath my blouse. “Hey, those are my initials,” he excitedly says. “What does it stand for?”

“Um…”

“It was some stupid shit she fell for at Hillbrook. Faith has horrid taste in men,” Ezra teases for me. “When you’re older, maybe Faith could take you to her job to meet Rex,” Ezra prompts me since I still can’t speak.

“How old?” This time I grab Whitt’
s sneaky hand as it goes for my buttons. “Do you have some on your stomach?” Whitt sounds so fascinated that I have to step away from him. He’d undress me right in the middle of the ballroom if I’d let him.

“How about twelve?” Ez
helpfully offers. “I’ll take you if Faith doesn’t.”

“
Son,” a calm voice flows, “don’t molest the girl. I know that Faith is so unique that you can’t help yourself, but think of Regina. If you bother her friend, she will most certainly spank you,” Grant wryly says, flashing us a charming smile.

Whitt thinks about it, he really thinks about it. His fingers even twitch on my arm. He holds Grant’s eyes debating on what he can get away with- the look on Whitt’s face screams that he is a part of me- naughty and way too mature for his age.

“You’re such a perv,” Grant snorts, mussing up the kid’s hair while wearing a huge grin on his face. “I guess that was an incentive not a deterrent.”

Whitt doesn’t even blush.

“Ezra, could you please go get your aunt and tell her that Faith will be ready soon,” Grant politely says in the smoothest voice I’ve ever heard. “Whitt will go with you,” he firmly adds. “We’ll be in the study waiting.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Ezra’s voice warbles and it confuses me. I’ve known Grant since I was born. Recently
, I’ve slept here more than I have in my own house. Grant’s nice and polite and quiet. He teases and plays board games with us. Grant is very meek. I know why Pearl wants to speak with me, but why Grant?

“I’m good,” my voice is stronger than I feel inside. Ezra brushes a kiss to my lips like we do it all the time
, and it’s all for show. He nuzzles his nose behind my ear and sighs when I shiver.

“Grant is The Whittenhower,” Ez breathes in my ear as he pulls away.

I stand, frozen in shock at the revelation. Grant is as mild as Fate. Maybe he is a placeholder for my family- waiting for my baby brother to take over. Grant smiles sweetly, his dimples indenting his cheeks and his eyes shining with humor. Ezra takes Whitt’s hand and walks through the crowd in search of Pearl.

“Shall we,” Grant politely gestures towards the large entryway to the foyer.

~Chapter Twenty-Three~

“Don’t look at me like that, Faith,” Grant quietly warns as he shuts the double door to Whittenhower Estate’s cavernous study. “I’m not a monster,” is said when the lock clicks into place. The snick sound has me trembling with fear. Any bravado that I usually use to protect myself flees. Grant- I thought he was the good guy. Then a thought pops into my head- Ezra would never let me be hurt. It relaxes me some, but not enough.

“Why the lock?” I ask, walking backwards until my ass bumps into the huge desk that dominates the center of the room.
A herd of paperweights clatter and clank together, sounding like gunshots.

“Privacy,” is said in a way that is scary as
all hell. “I want to thank you, Faith,” the gratitude in Grant’s voice seizes the air in my lungs. My muscles tighten up, keeping me from falling to the floor.

“Why?” I meep out. “Are you like my sister?”

“I want to thank you for what I saw in the ballroom. We all- every single Elder saw you put Ezra in check and the expression on your face when you held my inquisitive son. You just saved the most important person in my life, and I will never be able to repay you for that.”

“What?”
My body gives up the fight- that ballroom was filled with them- the Elders, my enemies. Was my mother in there? Is anywhere safe? The mix of adrenaline, fear, and confusion makes me lightheaded and wobbly. Grant’s hand shoots out and catches me before I fall. He gives me a sad smile as he settles me on my feet.

“Please, have a seat,” Grant cal
mly murmurs. His soft hand encloses around my forearm as he leads me to a pair of chairs in front of a roaring fireplace. He politely offers me a seat as if he is the man of the house- I guess he is, being that Grant is The Whittenhower.

“I’m not a monster,” Grant
whispers again, as he settles into his chair, crossing his leg over his knee. Grant’s eyelashes shutter the brilliance of his blue eyes as he basks in the glowing warmth of the fire. He is finally at ease after the discomfort of the ballroom. Grant is the ultimate introvert- more so than me. Or maybe he is happy that they are all locked on the other side of the study doors and we are safe for a few minutes.

I believe him. I hope I’m not being naïve, but I believe Grant isn’t a monster. It’s the same feeling of communion I had walking down the snowy road on Christmas night with Ezra. Grant is trying to help me, push me with his influence, but I know he’s doing it for the right reasons.

“Did you know…” I trail off, not wanting to say her name but always needing to hear more about her. It’s a ridiculous obsession, really. I hate her. I don’t want to be like her. But I need to know about her so I can adjust my behavior and looks.

“Your mother,” Grant says with a shaky voice.
He closes his eyes tightly, as if pained from Gwen’s memory. “I didn’t know Gwen was what she was. I was a dumbass boy like Ezra or Cort- well, not Ezra, that boy is far from dumb. Same scenario: ten years ago for me as it is today for you. I was Gwen’s target- only difference for you and Ezra, is that you are each other’s targets. At least you both know the score. I was in love with your mom. I asked her to be my wife, and then I was told she killed herself.” Grant abruptly stops short, his handsome face contorting in agony, breath hitching a tortured sound.