I hated myself for it.
My cock, however, was not remorseful. Matter of fact, at the mere thought of her and the way she’d screamed out my name a half hour ago, he wanted to climb right back in bed with her.
Mate, it's five fucking forty-four in the morning. Go back to bed. Matter of fact, get back inside Emma.
Wasn’t that why he didn't get a vote? He didn't use any brain cells. He kicked again in my shorts as if in annoyance.
Well, it was what it was.
In another room, where it didn't fucking smell like Emma and her jasmine shampoo, I shoved on a pair of black athletic shorts and a T-shirt and headed downstairs for a workout.
The Van Linsteds, who had occupied the mansion before the power was passed to Ben, had upgraded the estate exactly how they saw fit. There were several swimming pools, a track, a basketball court, a squash court, a tennis court and a gym with all the latest machines. There was even a polo court on the grounds.
I kept it simple. I needed to run as far away from Emma as I could.
Normally, I went running with the lads on Tuesdays. It was the one time all four of us could get together outside of work. But I needed to punish myself in the fresh air right now, or I was going to do something foolish like climb back into bed with my wife.
I jogged down the stairs and found one of the guards at the foot of the staircase, alert and on his watch. He turned when he saw me. "Good morning, sir. Will you be needing an escort? I think Becket is outside. If you want, he can change quickly, or I can. I run marathons too."
I shook my head. "No, it's fine, John. I'm not the one who needs guarding. Make sure that no one gets in or out. No one makes it up or down the stairs. The other staircase is blocked, so she'd have to come down this way."
"Yes, sir. Of course."
I headed straight out the front door knowing freedom was calling.
As kids when we were in the Pops at Eton, we'd come here to train. Hell, even before then. Little did we know at the time that we were being groomed to become the best and brightest in the world. We'd been invited here for sporting events. Squash, basketball, tennis, all of it. Just to test our athletic ability. We were told they were special study trips. Only those with the best marks got the opportunity.
I’d had no fucking idea what it really was or what they were really doing. They were picking us out, grooming us for the Elite. The best and the brightest.
The whole time, our fathers had been watching. I hadn't realized at the time that Toby and Emma's father was the primary counselor at Eton. So he had access to all of us, including his own son, to assess, judge, guide, and to speak to the headmaster about.
We'd all come to these grounds and been tortured a little. Occasionally, fights had broken out, which they’d allowed. But we'd also been taught about politics and legacy and all that bullshit.
As I ran out onto the grounds now, the same grounds I'd been made to run on barefoot at times, this time I had clarity. This time, I had calm. Because this time, I had control. I had power. I wasn't the scared kid begging for someone to accept me or give me their approval. I was a grown-ass man.
Still scared and still looking for approval.
Fuck.
I pushed myself, forcing my body to go faster. The trails I had run as a kid, I wanted to do them faster, more efficiently than I had ever done before. Goddamn it. How had I ended up here?
All because of a woman.
Maybe you should talk to her and find out why she talked to your father?
I didn't need to talk to her.
Okay, see how that turns out for you.
I didn't want to think about it. Seeing her with him, with his hand on her shoulder… Just the thought of it made me wince in horror.
After I had done the six-mile loop, my legs were burning, my lungs were pumping, and blood was rushing through my veins, and I made my way back toward the house. I wound around the the gravel drive as I cooled down, making crunching sounds under my trainers. My phone rang, and I checked it. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Who the hell was this?
When I answered, I was in no kind of mood. "What?"
The man who replied had a refined voice. Easily, he could be any of the Elite, but I didn't recognize the voice immediately. "Mr. Edgerton, this is Wilton Burks, III. I'm with Burks and Associates, solicitor for Lord Edgerton’s estate.”
I was about to hang up, but the man on the other end of the line was quick to stop me. "Sir, we've been trying to reach you. Your thirtieth birthday is in less than a month. There's paperwork that you—"
"You are the first to call me. Let me explain something to you. I want nothing to do with my father's estate. Nothing. I don't even want to mention it. I want none of this legacy. I want nothing. He could die tomorrow, and you could give it all to charity for all I give a fuck about it."
Burks hesitated for a moment. "Sir, this isn't about your father's legacy. This is about the late Lord Edgerton, your grandfather."
My brow furrowed. I hadn't known my grandfather that well. The little I did remember since he passed away when I was eight was that he'd been a nice, kindly sort of type.
Every summer, I'd go there for a week. It was the place in Hertfordshire. He taught me to hunt, shoot, and fish. He wasn't a man of many words, but he'd been nice enough giving me books to read. And then he would fuck off out of my and my mum's lives for another fifty-one weeks of the year until it was time to see him again.
At first, I'd loved it and asked him why I couldn't see him more often. He used to tell me he was so busy but he'd love to make time for me. Bullshit. If he had actually given a fuck about me, he would have made time to see me more often. This was about legacy. "Listen, I don't want anything from him either. Nothing from the fucking Edgertons, do you understand? There's nothing he has that I want."
"Sir, but you don't seem to under—"
I didn't bother listening to him anymore. I hung up.
I had enough trouble with my father. I didn't want my grandfather's legacy rearing its ugly head too. Besides, I had a wife to go wrangle and a mess to clean up. I'd deal with my father after this Middleton mess was at rest.
Seven
Emma
When I woke up, I wasn't handcuffed anymore. And my pussy was humming. I’d passed out after that wake-up call. Unfortunately, I could still also remember the look on his face afterward. Angry, stricken, closed off.
The bed next to me was empty and cool. I quickly patted around, looking for him, but he wasn't there.
I was free. Holy shit. I sat up quickly, only then noticing my phone was on the bedside table.
I also noticed that in the closet across the way there were suitcases. Suitcases full of my things that I'd taken to Bridge's house.
So he’d had all my things brought in. But Jesus Christ, how deep had I been sleeping? A quick glance at the bedside clock told me it was 7:00 a.m. Where the hell was he?
Are you going to look a gift horse in the mouth?
No, no I was not. I grabbed my phone and then sent a quick text.
Emma: SOS. Bridge has got me locked up at Elite headquarters. Who wants to launch a rescue?
While I waited for the girls to text back, I quickly pulled up my browser and started a search to verify what Bridge's father had said.