A Scotch for the Road - Part 13

[flighty_dreams]

TITLE: A Scotch for the Road - Part 13
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: Slavefic. NC-17.  F/m.
WORD COUNT: 2,994 (this chapter)/ story so far (over 30K)
SUMMARY: A slave enduring a party encounters more than he bargained for.
NOTES: Thanks to aurila for her assistance. Sorry for the delay between updates.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, even if it's just to say that you read it.

 

Part Thirteen

 

“Jenna, see sense!”

Her mother’s explosion was as irritating as expected. Fortunately, unlike her brother’s unannounced visit, Jenna had had time to decide how to deal with this encounter. She’d arrived prepared for battle, as she did before any crucial meeting at work.

Still, it was a little unnerving to sit across from her parents in their living room, both of them glaring at her with disapproval and anger. She was a little surprised her father had taken enough of an interest to insist on being here; usually he left such things to her mom. At least she had Brett’s comforting presence at her feet; she was glad now he’d asked to accompany her.

“Mother,” she said, keeping her tone even. She couldn’t afford to appear self-conscious in any way. “You’re overreacting.”

“No, you aren’t taking this seriously enough,” Serena Vanlean-Warren said, eyes narrowing. “Even if you’re smart enough now to have realized you could never actually love a slave, buying him at all was still a mistake.”

Jenna had reminded Brett on the way here not to take everything she said to her parents to heart. Her mother would better accept the situation for the moment if she mistakenly thought this was about whimsical impulses, not renewing a loving relationship that she believed had never existed in the first place. For Jenna’s part, she didn’t care what her mom thought, as long as she didn’t interfere. A vain hope, she knew.

Jenna shrugged, affecting a casual pose. “I bought a slave. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“It’s been four years, Mom.”

“That’s not the point! Time is meaningless when it comes to scandal,” her mother said, raking Brett with a scathing look.

As if any of this were his fault. Anger pulsed in Jenna’s chest, and she fought to hold it back. Becoming irrational would only impair her cause further. “There wasn’t a scandal,” she pointed out, “no one outside the family found out.”

“Jenna,” her father interjected, “don’t tell me you are so oblivious.”

Usually he was a hard man to understand, distant and reserved, but all of his children knew this particular expression:  disappointment laced with impatience.

“Well,” she corrected herself, “I suppose Donovan figured it out, but…”

Brett tensed against her leg upon hearing the bastard’s name, and she placed a soothing hand on him, uncaring of her parental audience. As much as part of her wanted to hunt down the asshole, she was afraid she’d end up in prison for whatever she did when she found him.

Her father gestured for her to continue. Damn. All this time, she had missed something obvious. She wet her lips. “What did he do?”

“Donovan was very eager to spread the news that my elder daughter fancied herself a slave’s wife,” her father said in the cold tone that had terrified her as a child. “And that is a much more polite version.”

She flushed, staring at the ominous expressions her parents wore. She could feel Brett’s fury on her behalf, but thankfully he was controlling himself.

“He’d no proof of anything,” Jenna told her dad, frustrated at how easily her parents always managed to put her on the defensive. Did parents take classes in such things?

Her father gave her that impatient look again, but it was her mother that spoke. “It would’ve started as a rumor, but when people remembered that you’d had him living with you all these months even though he belonged to Derrick… It would give credence to the rumor. And your obvious spoiling of him wouldn’t have helped matters any.”

Jenna stiffened; apparently treating a slave kindly was considered spoiling them? If only all slaves were ‘spoiled’ then. The rest of her mother’s words troubled her though. She could see how it would’ve been enough to throw suspicion on her, and damage her Family’s reputation.

Jenna focused on her father. “What did you do?”

“Paid him off, of course.”

Feeling impatient herself, she said, “I assumed that much. But you were paying him off even as we were ruining him?”

His satisfied smile showed teeth. “Yes. The payments continued even as his business unraveled. It threw him even more off track as to who was really behind his financial demise. And then once he was swamped in debt, forced to sell everything and no longer of social importance, the payments stopped.”

No one wanted her father for an enemy. But as his ruthlessness had provided for her family throughout her life, she was in no position to complain about it. And this was Donovan he was talking about, who she had zero sympathy for. “Very elegant.”

He smiled again, this time a rare pride in his eyes. “So were your actions. It takes a certain kind of person to artfully orchestrate a successful revenge without ever being tempted to reveal their identity to the target. Your brother is too impetuous; he would want his enemy to know who destroyed him.”

She shrugged, repeating words he’d said to her before. “The most successful revenge leaves the victim confused as well as miserable.”

Nodding, he said, “Less satisfying perhaps, but also less chance of being caught.”

It made sense, but she didn’t take nearly the amount of pride in revenge that her father did. She hadn’t entirely felt good about herself afterwards, but Donovan was an exception. And knowing now that he’d done much worse things to Brett than he’d ever done to her, the bastard deserved everything he got.

“I always wondered,” she asked her father now, “how did you get so many companies to turn down his proposals?” They’d been too numerous for it to be her father simply offering a sweeter deal.

“I had him investigated, and it turns out he wasn’t really a Donovan.”

Even Brett started. Although they’d lost their financial and political clout decades ago, the Donovan name still carried a certain importance as one of the founding Families. For someone to impersonate one of them…

If what her father had discovered was true—and since he only hired the best, it most certainly was—simply revealing that information could’ve ruined the man.

About to ask her dad why he hadn’t done so, she thought the situation over again. Not only would that takedown have been far too simple for her father’s tastes, but ‘Donovan’ also might have countered it with exposing her own secret publicly. Her father would’ve avoided that. Something else nagged at her, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“Enough,” her mother said, “how you ruined Donovan is of no consequence anymore. We’ve other things to deal with now.”

“Yes, we do.” The way her father’s lip curled as he glanced at Brett gave Jenna the urge to step between them, blocking Brett from his sight.

“I don’t see how Donovan—or whatever his name really was—knowing anything is an issue anymore,” Jenna pointed out.

“We ruined him, we didn’t kill him. And he is still just as ruthless and ambitious as ever,” her father told her.

That made her tense. “He’s gaining status back?”

“Not much, but he still has friends and connections. If you keep this slave, eventually he’ll hear about it. Then his currently worthless information becomes very valuable again. Don’t think he’ll pause for a second to sell it.”

No, she didn’t doubt that.

“Jenna, you are not keeping him.”

Victor Sr. was a man that people obeyed, especially when he used that voice. But she was twenty-seven, not ten, and ‘because I said so’ wasn’t reason enough to obey her father anymore. At least some of her stubbornness came from him, after all.

“Yes, I am.”

His face reddened with anger. “Doing so will put our company in danger!”

Ah there it was. Vanlean International had always been his first priority.

Sending him a frown, her mother added, “It will endanger the Family’s reputation, particularly yours, Jenna. I will not have my daughter be publicly embarrassed.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mom,” Jenna said, her voice softening, “but it’s my decision to make.”

“Not when it hurts other people as well!”

Mouth firming, Jenna said nothing. She couldn’t live her life on tiptoes just to avoid any risk to the Family.

“You had to spot him at that party,” her mother grumbled. She’d only been slightly mollified to hear that Jenna had found him by chance, not from actively searching.

“I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Jenna,” her mom said, fond exasperation in her voice, “give him to someone else. We’ll find a good home for him.”

Jenna glared at her. First Victor, now her mom. What was Brett, a puppy? As long as he had a ‘good’ owner, he should be happy?

Her mother was still talking. “Maybe your sister would like him. She’s never had a personal slave. It could be a good learning experience for her.”

Jenna dug her nails into her palm, using the pain to keep herself from truly seeing red. She didn’t even want to think about what her sister could learn from Brett.

“I can’t have him, but Stacy can?” she couldn’t help demanding.

“Stacy didn’t make a spectacle of herself four years ago,” her father said grimly.

She winced, just as he’d intended. Damn her father. “I am not giving him away.”

“If you don’t want your sister to have him, then we can arrange something else,” her mother said as if she hadn’t spoken, using her most reasonable tone.

Brett had gone rigid against her leg, no doubt terrified by all this talk of separation. She leaned down, speaking low enough for only him to hear. “I’ll never let them take you away, but I know this isn’t easy to listen to. You can wait outside if you like.”

He didn’t speak in front of her parents, but he slipped one hand around her ankle.

Straightening, she answered for both of them. “He stays with me.”

Her mother stared at her with a mix of shock and horror. “Did you just ask him what he wanted?”

“No,” Jenna said, giving her a calm look. “I don’t need to.”

Frustration tightened her features. “A slave does what he’s told.”

Jenna opened her mouth to argue, but she was interrupted.

Her always composed father actually slammed his hands on the coffee table, making Brett jump. “It’s bad enough for any father to fake a smile at the average jerk that’s screwing his daughter, but for you to be attached to trash like this,” he said, gesturing at Brett, “to the point of bringing scandal on your family, I don’t even have words for it.”

 “Dad!” she exclaimed, further mortified when it was more a squeal than a yell. But underneath her embarrassment was pure fury. It was with enormous effort that she modulated her voice. “My personal life is just that—mine. You have no say in it.”

He didn’t appreciate her attitude. “Jenna, four years ago the scandal would’ve been bad enough. But you aren’t simply a member of the Vanlean-Warren Family now, you also represent the company.”

Shit. She hadn’t considered that. “It doesn’t change my decision.”

“Then be prepared for the consequences,” he said, his face grim.

Her mother put a placating hand on his shoulder. “Let’s give Jenna some time to think. I’m sure she’ll see this can’t be.”

“She better.”

While annoyed by her parents’ patronizing words, Jenna knew an opening when she saw one. Rising to her feet, she said mildly, “Don’t be so sure.”

As she stepped away from the armchair she’d occupied, Brett stood as well. Giving her parents one last measuring look, she left.

 

 

Brett sighed with relief when they got home.

Her parents’ loathing was difficult enough to withstand, as were the terrible, infuriating things they’d said to her, but even worse was the guilt. He hated all the trouble he was causing Jenna. He’d not realized just how vicious such a scandal could get for his mistress until he’d heard her father quote Donovan’s words about her. They’d opened his imagination to how cruel the things said about her could potentially be.

I hear she only spreads her legs for slaves. Anyone else is too good for her.

No, he didn’t want her forced to endure such ugliness, and certainly not for him. Despite her objections, he knew he wasn’t worth such sacrifice.

But still shaken up from the dreadful meeting with her parents, he couldn’t resist going to her for comfort. When she sat down on the sofa, slumping in exhaustion, he knelt at her feet, his cheek against her thigh.

“Still too far, Brett,” she murmured, tugging on his arm. So he lay on the sofa instead, his head pillowed in her lap. She bent over, her hands curling around him in mutual reassurance.

A few minutes passed as he took strength from that embrace. Finally, he cleared his throat hesitantly. “Mistress?”

She kissed his hair. “Yeah, honey?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“I know, but it’s not your fault.” Her tone became encouraging. “We’ll get through this.”

His fingers tightened on her knee. “No, I mean…”

She waited him out, until he had the courage to say the difficult words. It was the last thing he wanted. “If it will keep you safe, then maybe we should separate.”

“What?”

Straightening, she turned his head to look him in the eye. “Brett, there is no way in hell separation will ever be an option. I don’t care about my reputation, not if it will keep me away from you.”

His cheeks burned; it was impossible not to be moved by her words. But he still didn’t think she should risk herself. “I’m not worth-”

“Brett,” she cut in, “don’t even finish that sentence.”

He sighed, knowing he’d never be able to change her opinion on his true value.

More thoughtfully she added, “Maybe if this were four years ago I would be more hesitant. Maybe I’d believe it would be okay if you were with someone else, as long as they treated you well, and that we’d both get over each other eventually.”

Her gaze bore down into his. “I know better now. And I am not letting you sacrifice yourself to protect me, leaving us both lonely and miserable.”

His chest was suddenly so tight it hurt. She was right; he hadn’t always been mistreated in the past four years, but he’d certainly never been happy. Truly, she’d ruined him for anyone else; it was hard to be content with scraps when you’d experienced feasts. And if she was going to be unhappy afterwards, what was the point of sparing her reputation? Better to get however much time with her that he could.

“And I’m certainly not handing you over to my sister,” she growled then, sounding more irritated than he’d ever heard her.

Unable to help it, he laughed. “I could see you didn’t like that idea, Mistress.”

Her arms tightened around him. “No, I did not.”

He pressed closer against her in response, wishing he could pause the moment and just stay like this with her. But like so many other things, it would never happen. So instead he asked quietly, “What are you going to do? I can’t stand the thought of the hurtful things they’ll say about you.”

Her fingers traced his face, a serious light in her eyes. “I doubt you’ve told me even half of what you’ve endured over the years.” It was true; he hadn’t revealed most of what Donovan had done, among others.

Determination firming her voice, she said, “It’s my turn to make some sacrifices.”

“But-”

“No, Brett.”

Words of denial clogged in his throat. He was the one who was supposed to make sacrifices, not her. He served her. It was what he’d been taught since childhood: serve your owner. She didn’t need to do this for him.

“Mistress…”

“You aren’t changing my mind on this.”

Frowning, he sat up, noting the stubborn set of her mouth. While she’d changed his mind on voluntarily offering to separate, that still wasn’t the same as letting her intentionally sacrifice herself. He didn’t have any ideas on what they could do instead, but please not this.

He backed off the couch, kneeling down on the floor again. His forehead pressed against his flattened hands, he begged, “Mistress, please don’t do this. Don’t let them hurt you.”

“Brett,” she said, her tone razor sharp. “Stop it.”

He froze, neither moving nor speaking.

“Sit up and look at me.”

He obeyed, although he wanted to duck his head in shame for angering her.

“Words are just words,” she said, her expression calm. “They can’t hurt me if I don’t let them.”

Brett knew better. There were some words too ugly to be easily dismissed, especially when they were mixed with truth. You might get over them eventually, but they still hurt. It wasn’t a lesson he would have ever wished for her to learn, but as usual, he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

He didn’t like her just allowing the scandal to happen. Anything that would lead to Jenna getting hurt was not a plan he could support. But as she’d pointed out, separating would cause her pain too. She seemed doomed to be hurt no matter what they did. He’d just have to be there, ready to provide whatever she needed.

He knelt up and put his head in her lap again. “I’m sorry, Mistress. It’s your decision.”

As she stroked his cheek, she sighed. “It should be our decision. If you have any other ideas, let me know. But no separating,” she warned him. “We stay together.”

“I agree,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her waist.

He heard the smile in her voice. “At least we agree on something.”

 Part Fourteen