BOOK ONE β’ PART FOUR
Author's Note:
Thank you to everyone who has engaged with this story already! Your comments, feedback, favourites and ratings are wonderful and most welcome. Please enjoy this next part and leave a 5-star rating if you are so inclined, and let me know what you think through the feedback portal on my page, or in the comments.
I'm always open to hearing your input!
All sexual activity is between characters that are 18 or older. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places or events is purely coincidental. The below is not intended to serve as a template for real life sexual encounters or relationships, nor should it be regarded as such. Stay safe, happy and healthy! :-)
P.S. Because someone asked, and I realise it's a unique name, Tecla is pronounced 'Tech-la' or 'Tek-la'. So, treat the C as you would in 'capitalism' or 'construction.'
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33 β’ Sardonis
Edward Sardonis sneaked out of the ice-cold bedroom to get some sunlight. The woman he'd been with was fast asleep, not giving a damn about the temperature. He hated that about her -- much like he hated a dozen other things about her... Things as simple as her name and complex as the way she held a pen. But, he was old and prostitutes were only fun when he felt violent... He knew he was vile, and it made him grin happily.
There was a man out there who had damaging secrets at his finger-tips. A man who had to die.
When the little London operation failed, it was a massive surprise. After all, Sardonis new Orwell's exact plans for the night -- word-for-word. Yet, the gangsters chosen for the job fucked up. Edward should have never trusted something so important to street thugs. They were of a type that had failed him before, back when the killing was done for king and country.
Yes, it was always better to hire professionals, which is exactly what Sardonis was going to do next.
The thought of killing the kid who would've once been his 'son' put a smile on his face. Wickedness was fun for him -- murder was easy. At first, it was just business, but he started enjoying it after the third or fourth man he killed. He only wished he could do Oliver Orwell's elimination with his own two hands...
β’ β’ β’
The decision to attend the tennis in Melbourne seemed like a great idea to Alicia. Her upbringing on a farm in South Africa meant she craved summers in the Southern Hemisphere, and moving around was a good idea in general. That's how she'd survived the last time there was a man who wanted her dead... Her father.
In her mind, the Orwell's would be totally secure as long as they kept hopping from one country to the next.
Fortunately, the twins loved tennis and their brother inherited a place nearby, so a quick trip made everyone happy. Another perk of all the travel was that he got to see his whole property portfolio before deciding what to do with the thing. Alicia knew he wanted to sell most of the houses, believing that a man should have no more than perhaps two homes. One for work and one for play, or something like that.
The other benefit of being in a new city was the chance to observe Natasha Orwell in new light...
As soon as they arrived, the former nurse turned PA wanted to visit a park in town. She picked the place herself, wandering through while keeping an eye on her security detail. Alicia had joined personally and she watched as Natasha anxiously tried to side-step her keepers. She was paranoid; frightened of getting caught.
Taking a seat at a concrete table, her cheeks turned red as she began... Fiddling. Alicia took a few steps closer, emerging from a blindspot beyond her mark's peripheral vision. Now, she could see clearly: Natasha was searching for something underneath the table! She panicked -- her movements becoming faster as she feared that what she was looking for wasn't there. Then, relief and ease followed as she laid her hands on it... Whatever
it
was.
Alicia could either let her go and observe further, or she could confront her. It was now or never, she thought.
Now or never!
It was time for the truth.
Picking up her pace, the baby-faced head of security made sure she straightened her back, looking tall. She was ready for a runner and ready for a fight as she stood over Natasha; the boss's cousin filling with dread as she realised the game was up.
"Ma'am, could you please show me what you have there?"
"No! You work for me!"
"I work for Mr Orwell," Alicia shot back, grabbing Natasha's forearm and twisting it until she could see what the woman was hiding. "Oh... Oh my god."
Natasha looked utterly defeated as her secret was revealed. She let Alicia take the plastic bag, stuffed with pills, from her limp hand. They came in all shapes and sizes; colours and compositions.
"Ma'am... I'm... I'm going to have to tell your cousin."
Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes as she was finally caught out. She would've begged for Alicia to keep her secret, but she knew it wouldn't get her anywhere. No, her cousin's head of security was fiercely loyal, and nothing could stop her from telling him what she'd found...
34 β’ Prescription
It was a cloudy day, just outside Melbourne.
The revelation was still sinking in as I reached for a tumbler of whiskey, only to put it back down.
My father was a drunk. His niece, a drug-addict.
I wasn't going to succumb to our family tendency. No, I wouldn't go looking for comfort in a bottle. I'd crawl to Alicia, to Skylar... I wouldn't tell my sisters because it was my job to shield them from these realities of life. I wanted to phone Isabelle, or simply sit in a quiet room, alone with my own thoughts.
Those were the glasses I'd drink from and the booze I'd use to soothe this pain and confusion. So, I set the whiskey aside.
My Australian residence was about an hour's drive from the state capital of Victoria. Ultra-modern and refined, wooden features in the architecture gave the place a Scandinavian feeling. It was large, spacious, well-appointed... Yet, I'd feel claustrophobic in Buckingham Palace with the news I'd just heard.
We were meeting in a small sitting room, off the formal dining. Skylar and Alicia joining Natasha and myself as we tried to... I don't know.
I had no clue what we were trying to do.
The pills they caught Natasha with ranged from anxiety medication to diet supplements. It was an irrational mix that seemed to cover any 'symptom' she could ever wish to self-medicate.
I was stunned, aside from saying, "I don't understand?"
My cousin didn't try to explain. She was avoiding my eyes and keeping a distance; mentally drawing a circle around herself and edging to the corner of the couch as she tried her best to make herself small.
I repeated my bafflement and told her I wanted to understand.
I wanted to help her.
After a few false starts, Natasha began telling us about a doctor she met at work. She explained that he helped her get different pills for her personal use.