Beautiful Affliction Page 12

  "I don't think you're crazy," I assure her. "But I'm sure these were prescribed for a reason."

  "I'm bipolar. I know that. I'm just tired of it, I don't want to deal with it anymore."

  "I get it," I murmur, wondering what else I should do. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

  She shakes her head. "I'm not hungry."

  "I know. Will you eat something anyway? Toast?" She pauses, then nods her head. I stand and move to the doorway.

  "Cora, are you going to tell?"

  "I… Let's talk about it later," I finally say. She nods and I head back downstairs, my calm from last night gone. I understand her not wanting me to tell her mother, but if I don't tell Mr. Redmond and he finds out, I could definitely see him firing me, regardless of our extracurricular nighttime activities. More importantly, I'm worried about her, and I know I'm not equipped to help her. She could be a danger to herself, or even to others. A knot forms in my stomach as I wonder if Whitney's illness could ever cause her to become violent. I don't believe she ever would be, if she weren't sick, but I don't know enough about it. Another reason to tell Mr. Redmond.

  I head back upstairs with the toast and a glass of orange juice on a tray. I place it on her bedside table and turn on the lamp. She sits up a little and reluctantly takes a bit of toast and begins to gnaw on it.

  "I won't tell your mother," I say, starting with the good news. "But I have to tell your brother."

  "No! He's already so worried about the police stuff and everything," she protests, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  "I know, but he can handle it, I promise. He'll be happy to know now, while you're here and safe." She shrugs helplessly, which I take as somewhat of an agreement. "One thing I could help you with before he comes home, is to just make a doctor's appointment for you, OK? So then he'll know you're already working on getting better. That would be nice for him, right?" She nods again. "Is this your regular doctor on here?" I ask, taking the pill bottle out from my pocket.

  "Yeah."

  "You'll feel a lot better soon," I tell her. "Maybe this wasn't the right medication for you," I suggest.

  "You talk about it like you know," she says, her eyes registering a little life.

  "Well, I know about pain, and I know about sisters," I say with a sad smile and stand up. "I'll bring you some more food in a little, and I'll ask Brent to come up and see you when he gets home from work." I turn to the door.

  "You called him Brent," I hear her say, and turn around with a blush. She has just the faintest trace of a smile creasing her pale cheeks.

  "Well, now it's your turn to keep a secret," I reply with a grin, and head downstairs.

  "How is she?" I ask, as Mr. Redmond lets himself into my room that night. He spoke to Whitney before dinner, but I haven't been alone with him since then to ask him about her.

  "In a depression, but I've seen her worse," he says, sitting on the bed as I lay down my book.

  "I didn't want to burden you, but I thought you should know, and she really didn't want me to tell your mom."

  "No, you did the right thing. And she said you already made a doctor's appointment for her?"

  "For tomorrow afternoon."

  "I'll have Aaron come back to drive her," he says. "It's strange. I think, based on all that's going on, I should feel like everything's falling apart, but I don't. And I think that it's because of you."

  "Brent…" I murmur, squirming.

  "Sorry, sorry, I know a compliment is your worst nightmare. But you did just call me Brent," he says with a smile. He turns his body and leans one arm on each side of me on the bed. "What if I order you, as your dominant, to accept a compliment?"

  "I don't think that's how it works…"

  "How do you know? You've never been a submissive before," he points out, his light eyes boring into mine. He leans forward slightly and I find it difficult to keep breathing. "Cora, I order you to realize that you're kind. I order you to realize that you are intelligent, that you're talented, brave—"

  "I don't like this…" I protest, leaning back and away from him.

  "Cora…" he sighs, reaching for me.

  "If I'm your submissive, and I disobey you, then aren't you supposed to punish me?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

  "Yes," he admits, a small smile crossing his lips as he stares back at me. He reaches up slowly toward my mouth, running his thumb over my lips. Suddenly he grabs me by the shoulders and throws me over his knee, as I shriek in surprise. I feel him yank down the back of my pants to below my ass and rub his palm over me. "Sore from last night?" he asks.

  "Only a little," I whisper.

  "Ten," he says, quoting me the number of times he'll hit me, as he always does. I gasp as he brings his hand down, my skin stinging against his. "One," he begins. Each slap is a little harder than the one before it, and by the end I'm limp over his legs, feeling wetness trickle out of me even as my ass smarts with pain. "Up," he orders me, tugging my pants back over me. "I just realized I haven't had you in the shower yet."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I try to wipe the scowl off of my face as I bring a tray of drinks out to the group gathered in the living room. The elusive Becca, who Kristine tried to set up with Mr. Redmond last month, is sitting in the winged armchair in a gorgeous ball gown. Apparently, she is his date for a gala tonight. I feel an intense jealousy as I set down her flute of champagne on the side table next to the beautiful blonde.

  "I can't believe he's so late," Mrs. Redmond says, clicking her tongue. "Especially on a Saturday."

  "I told him to take some time off work. I guess he didn't listen," Mark says.

  "I'm surprised he wanted to go at all," Kristine comments from Mark's side.

  "It's good. We need to show everyone that we're not hiding. Besides, he's the museum's biggest donor—what would they do without him?" Mrs. Redmond contributes as I set down her glass. "Thank you, Cora." I nod, and cross back down the hallway.

  "I'm going to use the restroom," Mark says. I hear his footsteps behind me and am surprised to feel him placing his hand on my arm. "Could I have a word?" he asks, pulling me into the parlor.

  "Um, sure…" I reply as he closes the door behind us.

  "Look, I…how is he? Really?" he asks me.

  "Mr. Scanlon, I really don't think it would be appropriate for me to talk about—"

  "I know, I know. I'm just fucking worried about him," he says, stepping away from me and running his hand through his hair. "He said he'd take some time away from the office, delegate a little more, but when he's there, he just shuts himself up in his office. He's barely even taking meetings."

  "OK," I reply, unsure as to why he isn't confiding these concerns to Kristine.

  "I thought…I thought maybe you could talk to him," he says, turning back to me.

  "Absolutely not," I reply flatly, shocked he would even refer to our relationship.

  "I think he would listen to you," he protests.

  "It's not that. I would never take it upon myself to suggest he change his…I don't even know, his work hours?" I reply. "I think I just heard a car pull up the driveway. I better go."

  I pull the door open and walk back down toward the foyer. Sure enough, Mr. Redmond and Aaron are hurrying in. Mr. Redmond tosses his coat toward me, and I turn to put it in the closet as he heads for the stairs.

  "Brent, you're—" his mother starts.

  "I know, sorry! Give me two minutes!" he says as he rushes upstairs.

  "Cora, would you help him?" his mother asks with a resigned sigh. I hurry up the stairs after him, seeing Becca stand and sweep her hands over her long, pale blue dress. As I walk down the hallway, I see his bedroom door open and can hear him clumping around. I close the door behind me, watching him try to take off all his clothes at once.

  "Wait, wait," I say. "Sit down," I instruct him, pointing to the armchair. He grins at me like a little boy and obediently follows instructions. I unlace his shoes and slip them off, then head for the garmen
t bag I left hanging on the back of his closet door. I unzip it, taking out the tuxedo shirt, and turn around to see him standing up and dropping his pants.

  "You look beautiful tonight," he says, meeting me in the middle of the large room and smoothing his index finger over my cheek.

  "Turn around," I tell him, slipping the shirt up his arms.

  "What's wrong?" he asks, buttoning up as I turn to grab the pants from the hanger.

  "Nothing. It just seemed inappropriate considering you have a date waiting for you downstairs," I say calmly as I kneel to hold the pants open for him to step into.

  "You're jealous," he says slyly, grabbing my hand as I stand up.

  "I am not," I scoff.

  "Good. Because if you were, I'd remind you that you were the one who didn't want to do any 'relationship' stuff."

  "Well, I'm not, so you don't have to."

  "Perfect."

  "Yep," I reply as I fasten his cummerbund over his suspenders. I hold his jacket out for him and he pauses from tying his bow tie to extend his arms back. As he finishes, I take his cufflinks from the dresser and place his black dress shoes on the floor in front of him. As he slips his feet into them, I lace them up and he fastens his cufflinks. I step back and nod.

  "Good?" he asks, holding out his arms. I swallow. Fuck, he looks amazing in a tux. There's something about the contrast between his wide, athletic shoulders and the sophistication of the tux that just gets me. "Don't wait up," he adds with a devilish grin as he walks around me to the door.

  My jaw drops. That dick. I walk after him and get to the top of the stairs as he reaches the bottom. The rest of the party is waiting there and I hurry down to fetch his jacket back out of the closet.

  "Becca," he says, kissing the woman's cheek. "So glad to finally meet you."

  "Me too," she squeaks back.

  "Car's out front," Mrs. Redmond says as I hold up his jacket. He takes it from me instead of putting it on without making eye contact.

  "It's warm for April, don't you think, Brent?" Becca asks as they make their way out to the waiting car.

  "You know, I was just thinking that, Becca," I hear Mr. Redmond say as I shut the door behind them. I turn around with a scowl and take a deep breath to calm myself before I walk back toward the kitchen. Ms. Mueller greets me with a smile that's quite friendly, for her.

  "Just the two of us," she says as she sets silverware on the table. "I made a light couscous salad and some chicken since it's finally starting to feel like spring." I watch her curiously as she takes the salad out of the fridge. She has such an unusual bounce in her step.

  "You seem…different," I finally comment as we sit down at the table and she begins to carve the chicken.

  "I spoke to an old friend today," she replies. "One that I hadn't talked to for a while."

  "Oh?"

  "Did you know the police interviewed me this week?" she asks.

  "No, I didn't realize."

  "They're very different nowadays, the police," she says, as she takes a bite of the salad. I stay quiet, not wanting to halt this sudden flow of conversation from her. "My husband was a police officer, actually."

  "I didn't know that," I say with a smile. "I used to date one of those detectives, you know. The younger one."

  "To be honest, I don't know if I could see you two together."

  "Neither could I," I reply. She falls silent for a while, and I worry that I said too much.

  "You asked me before if I'd ever been involved in a police investigation," she begins slowly. "And I said I hadn't been, which wasn't true. My husband wasn't a nice man. You know what I mean…" she says, asking me with her eyes. I can see in them a sudden vastness of pain, and I nod. "One night, when he was very drunk, I killed him in self-defense. He was going to kill me, but I managed to get his service revolver and kill him first." I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth as I listen in shock. "The district attorney cleared me, but I was scared of the other officers retaliating in some way, so I ran away and changed my name. It was easier then, without the internet to track everyone, and luckily Mr. Redmond, senior I mean, prided himself on reading people based on their handshake, so I was able to get a job."

  "So…so you told the police all that?"

  She nods. "I didn't think I could keep it hidden any longer…it felt like such a relief to tell them. They didn't react like I thought they would. There was a lot of corruption in my husband's precinct, and it was such a boy's club."

  "And you talked to one of your old friends today?"

  "The wife of an officer in my husband's precinct. Her husband passed a few years ago, actually. We used to be quite close." She takes another bite of salad. "I thought I could start telling people now. It felt so good to tell the detectives."

  "Do you still want me to call you Ms. Mueller?"

  She smiles. "Yes. I chose that name, and it's led to better things." She takes a deep breath. "You remind me of myself when I was younger. It does feel good to come clean, Cora," she tells me, and it almost sounds like a warning. "Secrets have a way of keeping you from getting close to anyone. Just look at me. They really wear on you." I swallow, knowing now that she's most definitely warning me, but thankfully she lets me off the hook. "More chicken?"

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I stare at the clock, willing myself to go to sleep. It's almost 1:30 in the morning, and I don't even feel tired. I know it's because Mr. Redmond isn't home yet. Maybe he's not coming home, maybe he's sleeping at her place, a nasty voice inside my head chimes in. Or, even worse, what if he brings her here? They'd be in the next bedroom, and I'd have to serve her breakfast.

  Ugh. I flop over onto my back. I know I told him I didn't want relationship stuff, but does he have to bring his dates here? Well, it is his house. I ball my fists up and bring them back down on the mattress.

  I hear footsteps just outside my door and turn over quickly, shutting my eyes to pretend I'm sleeping. I hear the door open and shut, and then footsteps walking over. I can smell Mr. Redmond as he kneels beside my bed and turns on the bedside lamp.

  "Faker," he whispers. "Your eyelids twitch when you sleep."

  I blush and open my eyes. He's grinning at me and I jump forward, surprising him and tackling him to the ground as he guffaws.

  "You watch me sleep?" I ask as I attempt to wrestle his arms down.

  "You waiting up for me?" he teases me back.

  "I have insomnia!"

  "Not when you sleep with me, you don't," he counters, and it's enough to make me pause. He uses the moment to flip me over onto my back.

  "Thought maybe you were staying at her place," I murmur as he lowers himself onto me.

  "No need. We had a quickie in the museum bathroom."

  I gasp and he bursts out laughing. "You're so gullible! Why can't you just admit it?"

  "Admit what?"

  "You know."

  I roll my eyes. "Fine. I was a little jealous tonight, OK? It's not a big deal."

  "Thank you, and she was just a date. A favor to Kristine and Mark." He grins triumphantly and stands. "You know, I liked very much when you helped me put my tux on tonight. And now, I'd like it very much if you'd take it off."

  "Sir," I reply obligingly, and stand next to him. I run my hands up his taut chest muscles and under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, then walk behind him and take it all the way off. After I place the expensive garment carefully on the back of the chair by the desk, I return and begin unbuttoning his shirt. I lean forward, intending on kissing his chest, but remember that I'm only supposed to do what he tells me. I glance up at him with a questioning look, and he nods at me, so I continue forward, softly running my lips over the small patch of wiry chest hair in front of me.

  My fingers continue down until I reach his cummerbund. I reach behind him and unfasten it, tossing it toward the desk as it falls. I untuck his shirt, quickly undo the last buttons, and walk over to drape it on the chair.

  "You're very careful with my clothe
s," he observes with a wry smile.

  "This tux is probably worth more than all of my possessions put together," I murmur.

  "I think we should try something tonight," he says, walking over to me and taking my hands.

  "Whatever you'd like, sir," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his trunk of a torso.

  "Actually, no. Whatever you'd like. Why don't you try being the dominant tonight."

  "What? I can't order you around!"

  He grins. "Sure you can."

  "I can't spank you," I reply, raising my eyebrows at him incredulously.

  "OK, that I can't picture, so no…I'll just have to obey everything you tell me so it doesn't come to that."

  "Why do you want to do this?" I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at him.

  "You already have more power over me than you know," he says, bending over me until his lips are just millimeters above mine. "Try exercising it." He teases me, brushing his lips across mine without pressing down.

  I consider his idea. This bear of a man, under my control? I can't help but be intrigued.

  "Stop," I suddenly whisper. He grins, his mouth freezing above mine. "You can't call me ma'am or Mrs. MacAuliffe or anything, though, OK? I mean, I'm ordering you not to. You have to still call me Cora, otherwise I'll feel old."

  "Yes, Cora," he replies.

  "Um, OK, well," I murmur as I step back, thinking. "Take off the rest of your clothes, please. I mean, not please." He laughs softly as he reaches down to untie his shoes. "No laughing!" He obediently stops, untying his shoelaces in silence before reaching up to unbuckle his belt. He pulls it off and then unzips his pants, bending down after he steps out of them and carelessly tossing them aside. He stays down to pull off his socks, then straightens up, hooking his fingers under the sides of his boxers and pulling them off.

  I swallow as I look at the naked man in front of me. Mr. Redmond, Brent, is looking back at me expectantly. His posture is so calm and relaxed, even though his erection is standing ready and waiting. I watch his abs move in and out as his breath moves through him. I could look at this body forever.