Number Thirteen (18 page)

“So, you’re interested?”

Anger bubbles in my chest, but I squash it down. “You’re my friend, Number Twelve. I care about you. I care about what we’ve lived through here. I need you to stop asking me about this. I cannot control what goes down, and I will not compete with you over a man that quite frankly, will do as he pleases.”

She stares at me, and her eyes soften after a moment. “I’m sorry; you’re right.”

I give her a weak smile, and then I turn and continue on with what I’m doing.

Things are getting to me. I can feel my patience breaking.

I hate that I’m letting myself feel so weak today.

“T
hey are here,” George advises, coming into the library where I’m reading just as the evening falls.

My entire body stiffens. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this. I love my brother, hell, I love my mother, but my father...it never seems to go well when we’re in the same room together. I don’t know how today will go; I don’t know if he will put a face on because Momma is around. I can only hope he will. My patience with that man is really, really small.

I follow George out of the room, and down the halls. We reach the front door, and my family is already inside, staring around my home. They rarely come out here; why would they? They have no reason to visit me. I let my eyes settle on my tiny, fragile mother, and my heart aches for her. She’s so broken. She always struggled to deal with stress, but when I was hurt, it destroyed her.

She’s spent a lot of time with doctors since then.

She turns her gaze to me, and I give her my best smile. She looks more frail now, her salt-and-pepper hair seems wispy and thin. She has a set of square glasses on, but they don’t take away from the stunning blue of her eyes. She’s tiny, only five-foot two or three, and she’s as petite as they come. I see her eyes fill with unshed tears as she walks over to me.

“Hey Momma,” I murmur.

“William, my son, you look so well.”

She wraps her arms around me, and I let her. I hold onto her for a moment, and I catch my father’s glare over her head.
Happy as always
. I let her go, and look down at her. “You look well too, Momma.”

She gives me a wobbly smile, and stares around the house. “Your home is quite lovely.”

She says that every time she’s here. It’s like she forgets she’s seen it before. I nod, and turn my attention to Ben. He grins at me, and walks over, clapping me on the shoulder. “Thanks for this. It smells great in here.at s a221;

“The food will be ready soon, so come in, and we’ll take a seat.”

“Aren’t you even going to acknowledge your father,
Will
?” Dad grunts.

I clench my jaw, and turn to him. “Hello
Peter
,” I say in a gravelly tone.

“Please,” my mother pleads. “Can we just have a nice day.”

I turn to her, and I lose my scowl. “Of course, Momma. Sorry.”

I turn and walk off before he manages to get another word in. We walk through the halls, and I can feel them staring at my home as we move. I know he’s judging me, looking for something to have a go at me about. That’s the way he works; he enjoys getting to me, he enjoys breaking down my barriers and embarrassing me in front of people, especially the other members of my family.

We reach the dining room, and I show them to their seats, then I nod to George to let him know we are ready to eat. I turn to Ben as soon as we’ve sat down. “Did you get the figures I sent?”

He nods, taking a glass of iced water. “Yeah, I got them.”

“Have enough respect to not talk about business at my birthday dinner,” my father grunts.

I glare at him for a long moment, before turning and looking at my mother.

“What have you been up to, Momma?”

She smiles. “I’ve been knitting.”

“And how is that going for you?”

“It’s going well. I made a scarf the other day.”

I give her another smile. “I’m glad.”

“So, where is our dinner? I’m hungry. I thought you would have had it all ready,” my father asks.

I ignore him, and stare at the door for a second. Come on, girls, come out here and finish this for me. I just want this over and done with. I can’t deal with him here for more than an hour.

I
’m the first to serve, and the moment I step out and see William’s family, my curiosity sparks. Ben grins at me, and I can’t help but flush. He’s got a very charismatic personality. I let my eyes travel over the other man at the table. He’s shorter and rounder than the boys, with greying hair and blue eyes. He doesn’t even look at me.

I settle my gaze on the woman, who looks so tiny at the table it’s almost hard to see her. She also looks very fragile. She’s fumbling her hands together, and her eyes are flickering around the room rather frantically. I watch her, and see where William and Ben get their good looks. I imagine in her day she was extremely stunning.

“Emelyn, good to see you again.”

I turn to Ben, and then I look over my shoulder to see who he is speaking to. He’s looking right at me. Is he confused? Emelyn isn’t my name. Well, at least I don’t think it is. I hear William clear his throat, and I turn to him. He’s watching me, and then he nods at my handful of bread sticks and butter.

Right.

I place the tray down on the table, accidentally knocking a glass of water over as I go. I’m distracted; for some reason the name Emelyn is shoving at something in my mind. I hear a loud curse, and I straighten to see I’ve knocked the glass onto William’s fathers lap. He gets up, shoving at his pants, growling angrily.

“I’m so sorry,” I say frantically.

“If you?I>~*;re going to hire staff, Will,” he snarls at his son, “then at least get smart ones.”

“It was an accident, and my name is William.” William grates out.

“I’m sorry, it was my fault. I didn’t mean to,” I begin lifting a handful of napkins to hand to him.

“Shut up!” his father barks, causing my mouth to snap closed and my hand to drop to my side.

“Don’t speak to my staff like that,” William says, standing.

“Your staff are useless, but it shouldn’t surprise me. Everything you do is half-assed and pointless.”

My mouth drops open. He’s being awful to William because of a spilt glass of water? The fact that anyone could speak to his or her own child like that has my blood boiling. How dare he? William went to so much effort to make this nice, and he’s speaking to him like he’s a dog.

“Go back to the kitchen,” William says to me. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” his father barks as I turn and hurry off.

I get into the kitchen and press myself against the wall, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Number Seven asks.

“Yes, I just spilt a drink on his father’s lap. And that man is awful.”

Number Seven is holding their entrees, and at my comment her face pales a little.

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t speak to him.”

She nods, swallows, and then walks out. I prepare the main meals onto plates, feeling my heart pounding. Something is swimming in my mind, desperate to get out, and that, crossed with my mistake of spilling that drink, has me feeling completely on edge. I try to focus on what I’m doing, knowing I don’t have time to worry right now.

By the time mains are ready, I have managed to calm myself a little. I lift the plates, and Number Twelve takes some too. We walk out into the dining room, and place them down. Ben smiles at me when I put his down, and I can’t help but smile back. I place William’s fathers down, and he grunts angrily.

“Is this beef?” he mutters.

“Yes,” William says.

“You know I don’t prefer beef, William.”

Number Twelve scurries back into the kitchen, but I find myself frozen to the ground, my anger bubbling. This man is an ungrateful pig, and he certainly doesn’t deserve the effort that’s been made here today. I look over to William, and I can see the anger in his expression. I can see that, but I can also see hurt. His father is hurting him.

“You haven’t even tried it,” he says with fake calm.

His father huffs. “I don’t need to try it, I don’t like it. I should have never come here. I should have just gone to the restaurant and had a decent meal, not this...slop.”

My anger rises even more.

“Dad,” Ben says, “he’s made a big effort.”

“This isn’t effort,” his father says, waving his hand over the table. “This is a forced dinner. I never wanted to come here, Benjamin. If you had listened to my requests, instead of trying to include...
him...
then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Him?

He can’t even speak properly to his own child.

I clench my fists, feeling my heart beginning to pound as I struggle to hold back my anger.

“
He
is your son, and this is a chance for us all to mend a broken relationship,” Ben growls.

“He isn’t my son. Just because I’m his father doesn’t mean he matters.”

“Peter!” William’s mom cries, pressing her hands over her eyes.

“Enough,” William roars, slamming his hand on the table. “If you’re so horrified, then get the hell out of my house.”

Peter stands, throwing his napkin down. “Gladly. I never wanted to come here. In fact, if it weren’t for your mother’s pity, I wouldn’t have you working for me. You’re a disappointment William. I don’t know how you call yourself a man.”

That’s it for me.

“He’s more of a man than you,” I say. My voice icy.

Peter turns, his expression horrified. He jerks his head back, like he can’t believe I have spoken.

“I beg your pardon?” he snaps.

“You heard me,” I growl. “He’s more of a man than you. He’s successful, he’s loving, and he’s a good person. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a coward. What kind of man comes in to his own child’s house and speaks to him like that? What kind of man makes his own wife cry because he cares about no one but himself? That man,” I yell, pointing to William, “is amazing, and beautiful, and all the things you aren’t.”

“How dare you?” his father roars.

“You should leave,” I snarl. “People like you are weak. People like you pick on others because it makes you feel better. He doesn’t need someone like you in his life. You’re the kind of man that will die old and alone, because you will shove everyone away. Eventually, they’ll stop fighting to make it better.”

“Are you allowing your staff to speak to me like this?” Peter bellows, turning to William.

William is watching me, and there’s something in his eyes. Something intense. He turns to his father. “Yes, I am. You know where the door is.”

Peter turns to William’s mom. “Jane?”

She sobs into her hands, and then looks to her son. “He’s your son, too, Peter, and he never did anything wrong.”

He turns to Ben next. “Benjamin?”

“You should leave, Dad. William made an effort here, and you completely ruined it. If you want to go to that nice restaurant, then away you go. Only you’ll be going alone.”

“You can all go to hell,” Peter yells, and then takes his jacket before storming out of the room.

I look over to William’s mom who is crying; she’s a complete mess. I walk over to her, and I kneel down. “Would you like me to take you to the bathroom so you can clean up?”

She lifts her head, and her eyes are puffy and red. “Yes, please.”

I help her up and lead her from the room. I take her down the hall to the bathroom, and I gather her some fresh towels. She runs the cool water over them and turns to me, giving me probably the weakest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’ve never heard anyone speak to him like that before.”

My cheeks heat. “I’m sorry, it was disrespectful, I understand but...”

“No,” she croaks. “He deserves it.”

I stare at her. “You just stay and enjoy your sons. You deserve that.”

“I miss them. It’s not often I get to see them together.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Thank you,” she breathe1; em. s, and slightly straightens her shoulders.

“Are you ready to go back out?”

She nods, and I open the bathroom door, leading her out. The minute we get out, we run into William.

“Momma, are you okay?”

She nods, and smiles weakly up at him. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Go and sit down. We’ll finish dinner and spend some time together.”

She nods, and thanks me once more before walking away. I turn to William, certain he’s going to punish me for speaking like that to his father.

“I’m sorry, William, I know it wasn’t my place to speak to him like that, and—”

Suddenly his hands are in my hair, and he’s leaning down, capturing my mouth with his. Oh, my. He pushes me into the wall, and he kisses me so hard my lips begin to ache. He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I open to him, enjoying this new, exciting feeling. His hands slide down my body, cupping my backside. He lifts me, literally, bringing my body up against this. I can feel his arousal pushing against my belly.

I gasp, and reach up, tangling my hands into his long, thick hair.

He pulls his mouth off mine, and stares down at me with an intense, lusty stare. “That was
...incredible
.”

“You’re not mad?” I whisper.

“No one has ever defended me like that before.”

I give him a wobbly smile. “No one deserves to be treated like that.”

He runs his fingertip down the side of my face. “I’m going to finish dinner, but tonight...come to me, Number Thirteen.”

Come to him? My entire body sparks to life.

“To your room?” I whisper.

He nods, and presses his lips against mine again. Then he pulls back and begins to turn away, before looking over his shoulder and murmuring, “It’s time I made you mine.”

Oh.

He gives me one more look, and then he’s gone.

His...I become his.

Do I want to be his?