Knots (Club Imperial Book 4) (6 page)

“We're still on for Thursday night?”

“Of course,” she said. “I'll book the room when I check out. Just the evening, right?”

He nodded. “I have a lot of research to do and... well. I didn't get a lot done yesterday. I was, ah, distracted.”

“Happily so, I'd guess.”

“You know me better than I know myself, sometimes, Mistress.” He smiled.

“You never answered my question. Do you need me to put on more cream?”

“I'm fine.”

“You're sure?”

“You are such an enigma, Frances. He laughed. “I'm fine. You really do forget that I want this. I ask for it. If it hurts a little bit the next day, well... I just get to remember what went on.” He cut a piece of the sausage off and chewed thoughtfully. “I sought this for a long time, and you're so good at it. I think that even if I found someone else, I would want this to continue. With her permission of course. And yours.”

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it,” Cece said. “I would be sad if we had to part ways, but I will not interfere if you find someone who can take my place.” She looked up at him. “You really are a good friend, Ev. It’s more than just these scenes and the sex, which don’t get me wrong, is fantastic. I feel like you’re the only person who I grew up with who gets me.”

“But now you have all these Imperial friends showing up now.” He smiled.

Cece laughed. “True., but my statement still stands.”

“I feel the same way, Cece.” He cleared his throat. “Now don’t go getting all mushy on me, Mistress. I like the hard side of the paddle.”

~*~*~

Cece shut her computer down and sighed. Six o’clock, and she wished it wasn't. She shut the light off on the desk and just sat for a moment. She wasn’t in the mood for this evening’s plans, but this was the better of the plans: have dinner with the parents at their house, or have to deal with them in her cottage when they invaded, trying to find out where she was.

Worse, risk Chas showing up. Chas in her personal space.
Dear God.

Cece steeled herself and stood, grabbing her purse. This had to happen, and it was best to get it over and done. She finished tidying up the few stray papers and locked the desk, grabbing her coat. It was getting cold in Pittsburgh and she had being cold.

She walked out of the library and to her car- one of the few extravagance she let herself have- an Audi A8 L W12. It was a gorgeous, over the top vehicle with a pearlescent blue color, and soft black leather interior. Cece had walked into the dealer to buy something far more understated, but once she had the W12 on the road, she was completely enchanted. She wanted it; she so rarely wanted something as ridiculously priced as something like this, and just decided to tap the bank account this once. She never regretted the purchase.

Cece drove the car through the oddly light traffic out to the Indianola estate that she had been raised on. She pulled the car around the rotary drive and aimed it back down the drive so she could get the hell out once they were done.

She looked up at the semi-imposing faux-Center Hall Colonial entrance. She hated this place. Formal rooms, and formal dinners and fancy guests-- never anything genuine. Everything was breakable and nothing was real. If someone touched something it would shatter. As soon as she received her acceptance letter from UPitt, she was out and gone. She moved into an apartment, and then as soon as she could, she’d bought the cottage. All with the money she made at Club Imperial.

Cece walked to the front door, and rang once. She had the key, but she never let herself in. This wasn’t her home; it had never been a home. It had always been a house where she lived. The cottage was home. Cozy, small with all kinds of
her
in it.

Her heart dropped to her feet when the door swung open. Cece stared at the face there for a long, hard minute before either of them spoke.

“Frances.” She heard the fear in his voice.

“Gordon.” Her own voice shook. He stepped out of the way, and Cece glanced around, walking in. “I thought you weren’t working for my parents anymore?”

“I left,” he said. “But they asked me back last year. I guess…we just haven’t crossed paths.”

“Entirely possible since I avoid the place.” He closed the door as Cece looked through the hall to see if anyone was around, or waiting for her.

Gordon considered he a moment. “Understandable.”

She gave up. Cece stepped in to him, pulling him into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Sir.”

“It’s good to see you too, Dusty,” he whispered in her ear. They quickly pulled away from each other knowing that Chas and her parents would have a fit about a member of the house hugging the help. Never mind that Gordon had inducted her into the lifestyle, just that she hugged the help.

“I would like to have coffee with you, Sir. It’s been so long.”

“I would like that very much, Dusty,” he smiled. “But you must stop calling me ‘sir’. Or I’ll be forced to start calling you mistress.”

Cece laughed-- they’d always had an easy rapport. “Of course. Donny.”

“Thank you, Cece.” He motioned her into the house. “I believe that your family is waiting in the den for you, and Mister Robbe is pouring.”

“He’s going to be pouring a big one for me.” Gordon choked back a laugh as she walked down the hall to the den.

She couldn't believe that Gordon was back at her parents house. He had been her saving grace when she lived there. He was her confidant – nearly a parent - right up until the day she came home, hysterical, because she'd made the mistake of losing her virginity to Miller Harrington. He became far more than a confident at that moment.

Cece stopped dead.
Oh no.

She turned around and ran back to where Gordon had been. He was gone. Cece looked around desperately, then still herself. There was no reason to panic right this instant; if there was something wrong she was sure that Gordon would find her and tell her. They were slated for coffee anyway. She could give Sir—Donny the third degree then.

She nodded to herself and turned back to face her family. She walked into the den where her father was indeed leaning against the bar with a scotch in his hand. Charles was sitting in the Queen Anne chair, looking very much like he was holding court, with mother and Hannah on the couch across from him.

“Frances, darling!” Mother popped off the couch and rushed over. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you!” She offered air kisses lest she smudge her make-up, which Cece noted was more akin to spackle now than Cover Girl. “You are such a rarity around here now, my dear! Whatever keeps you away?”

Oh the list.
Cece just smiled indulgently. “Work, mom. I have a bit of swing schedule and it’s hard to just get up and leave. And there are always things to do around the house.”

“Frances, won’t you at least hire a maid?” Her father tossed the question at her from the bar. She looked over and could see that it was not his first scotch of the evening. “For God’s sake, girl, you’re a Robbe. You shouldn’t be cleaning the fucking toilets.”

“Roger!” Mother chastised him. “You need to watch your mouth.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Marjorie.” He swished his scotch in the air. “She’s been to college. She knows the word.”

“You need to stop encouraging that college talk, dad,” Chas said from his throne. Chair. “Cece really needs to come back and take her place in society.”

“In high society,” Cece corrected. “I already am in society, brother dear. I have a very respectable place in it, in fact, as a researcher, student, homeowner, librarian. I’m sorry you can’t deal with the fact that your sister has ambitions beyond being a bauble on a man’s arm.”

“You will still make an excellent wife, you know.” Chas stared at her hard. “Your school work will certainly give you the ability to understand your more intelligent husband.”

Cece stared at Chas. Of all the people in the world, she didn’t know that a person could hate their brother most of all. She imagined tying him up in one of the rope creations, naked, and leaving him somewhere nice a public so everyone could see him. A little humiliation went a long way, and she wasn’t even thinking in terms of her lifestyle. Just in terms of getting the asshole to leave her alone. She was ready to give him what for when there was a hand on her arm.

She looked over and Hannah had walked over and was facing away from their brother. “Please don’t,” she whispered. “Please, Ce. Just let it go. You don’t have to deal with him when you’re gone. I do.”

Cece looked over at Hannah, and had a burning desire to go get Gordon and squeeze the truth out of him about what was going on in the house. For the moment though, she smiled at her sister, sending her a look of understanding. She really hoped Hannah was alright.

The cook, Mrs Perkins, popped her head into the room. “Dinner’s served, Mister Robbe.”

Roger lifted his glass in acknowledgement and Charles rose from his chair. They led the way into the dining room and Cece had to check herself. It was just dinner, she’d be able to leave very soon after, and she wouldn’t have to come back for a week.

Roger took his place at the head of the table, and Charles sat to his right. Hannah sat next to him, Marjorie at the other end of the table, and Cece alone on the remaining side. Figured. The black sheep. She just wished that Hannah had sat on her side.

Mrs. Perkins and two of the other staff members brought dinner out, already plated. Cece wanted to roll her eyes. Even when she had gone to Nathaniel and Emmy’s, Joanne had severed everyone family style. Nathaniel Walsh had more money than the Robbes and four other families; he wasn’t too good to pass the potatoes. She looked down at the plate in front of her. Mother’s portions: about half of a cup of potatoes, three ounces of the Chicken Marsala, half a cup of green beans, five baby carrots and one half of a candied pear. The last of which she hated.

She looked over at Hannah’s plate and saw basically the same thing. Her mother’s plate had even less of everything. But glancing at her father’s and brother, the food was heaped on the plate. Looked as though she’d be stopping on the way home for a snack. And perhaps she should take Hannah with her. Wendy’s was open late.

Once Mrs. Perkins and the two other staff retreated, Cece reached for her knife and fork.

“Frances.” Charles one word carried the contempt of a thousand parents. She looked up at him and saw that he had his hands folded in front of him in prayer. Hannah, Roger and Marjorie had as well. Mother and father weren’t looking at her, Hannah had pleading in her eyes. Chas was just pissed.

“You are kidding me.” Cece put down her silverware and dropped her hands into her lap.

“We say grace.” Chas stared at her hard.

“You say grace. I’ll wait.”

“We all say grace.”

“So? Say grace. I'm not digging in, I'm waiting for you.”

“Why aren't your hands on the table in prayer?”

“Because---” Cece cut herself off. Her comment about fingering herself under the table was way beyond the pale. “Because I say my own prayers in my own time.”

Marjorie gasped. “Oh, no. You haven't joined one of those store front religions!?”

“Did you know there are two things that you should never talk about in polite company?” Cece bore her gaze into Chas. “Politics and religion. Say your prayers, Charles, before we all waste away.” She left her hands in her lap, desperately biting her tongue from any further comments.

Charles stared right back her for another minute, then bowed his head. He said the short prayer that fell completely inauthenticly from his lips. “Dear Lord, please bless the meal before us. We are grateful for your bounty and for your generosity. Continue to heap your grace upon us. Amen.”

Cece waited until her brother picked up the utensils. She picked up her own and carefully cut into her delicate portions.

“So, Frannie” Roger’s voice boomed through large space fueled by his scotch. “Why can't you make it on Mondays?”

“I have a standing meeting at the library and I can't miss it.” True, not a lie. They just didn't need to know what that meeting was. “I have the chance to move up here and I need to be at that meeting every week.”

“You know your husband won’t approve of your working,” Marjorie said, and smiled at her husband. Roger didn’t even see it. He was busy cutting up his overly large portion of dinner. “You should really think about your future, Cece.”

“I’m not getting married right now, mom” Cece stabbed a carrot. “I need to pay the bills for the house.”

“Your father and I think it’s high time you quit that job and moved back home.” Marjorie was ignoring her again, and listening to herself talk. “You’ll never get a husband if you’re so… so… independent.”

“You say that as if it were a bad thing.”

“Darling, independence never won a husband.”

Cece closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s not contest, mom. I’ll find a husband when I find one.”

“You’re twenty-six! When I was your age--”

“You were already pregnant with me, yes I know.” Cece tried not to react, just cutting into her chicken carefully. “Things are different now, mom. I don’t have to race down the aisle and have kids before I’m thirty. It’s okay. I mean, Chas isn’t married.”