Page 93 of Stutter

My wife (of course) looks beautiful. You’d be an idiot not to think she’s gorgeous. She’s a wet dream… with a small hickey on her collarbone.

Aren’t I a lucky motherfucker… Raven is five seats almost caddy corner away from me.

Clarissa comes back with more than one plate of food, another thing she’s been doing – eating more than usual. At first, I believe she’s brought me a few things to snack on, and it may seem like that to others – but she brought a bowl of strawberries. That’s fine, I won’t be kissing or fucking her, so it doesn’t matter. But then the dumb bitch tries to feed me a grape.

She makes a spectacle and excuses herself and I get the waiter’s attention and have him take away the bowls of fruit she brought. What a fucking waste of human space. The conversation continues around me, but I watch as Jonas dotes on Raven, feeding her grapes and bits of strawberries and whatever else is in front of her. For God sake’s shemute, not invalid. She tries to shove him off, but he feeds her anyway, not partaking in the conversation unless he’s asked a question and has to.

A part of me is a little jealous, another is slightly happy for him, and the rest of me, a major part of me, is fucking sick at the disgusting display of affection. Jonas finally ceases to feed her and drinks from his champagne and his water when the lights go down.

With all of the attention on Coach Sutton, I can look at Raven, see the silver stripe of hair on her temple, the scar she tries to hide but can’t. Instead, Jonas is watching me. I incline my head and force myself to listen to the different Coach’s speech. Awards are given out and yadda-yadda-yadda… Jonas wins the MVP award, and Clarissa comes back to the table in time to watch him receive it.

Of course he did. He deserves it, honestly. Stepping up for Chase and Riordan. I heard great things from my father when he would speak to the coaches over the phone.

After accepting his award, he steps off the dais and returns to the table only to kiss his mother on the temple, practically scoop Raven up into his arms and they leave.

“It must be nice,” my wife says as she watches the duo, “to be loved so fiercely.”

Elena, Jonas’ adoptive mother, just grins.

Three Days Prior…

“Has Clarissa RSVP’d to the Monroe Holiday party?” My father asks, settling in the chair before my desk. I look up from the next merger we’re working on for the Mikaelson’s, which is what we specialize in.

“I believe she has.”

He nods. “Good. Your mother and I won’t be able to attend.”

I blink up at him. “Because?” I trail off.

He stares at me. “Your mother’s sister is in hospice as of this morning, so we’ll be with her.”

“You know, for a big CEO, you sure do take a lot of days off.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “When you have your son as COO, you’ll be able to do the same.”

This boils my blood. “Not funny,” I growl.

“Breed, son. When the time comes, raise the child through financial means and then bring the child forth when it comes of age to take your place.”

“Our world doesn’t constitute of less than quality half-breeds. Just look at Stephen. Having his hiding in the shadows only being called upon as a Watcher.”

Father clasps his hands together and rests them on his stomach. Still flat with exposed ridges even in his old age. I would know. I work out with him five to six days a week downstairs in our facility’s gym. I may be biased but we have great genetics. If my darling little wife didn’t have a fucked womb… we could have probably negotiated later on to get more powerful within the Syndicate. With Clarissa and my children, it should have been Tyler and Raven’s offspring but… you know.

My father has been quite for too long just staring at me, I think he’s having a brain aneurism. But I don’t blink and neither does he. “Go to the party. Try to have a good time, and we’ll reconvene when I get back. The hospice nurse that spoke to your mother said it could be any day now. So we’ll probably be back before you even remember we were gone.”

“Have a good Christmas, dad.”

He gets up, fixing the sides of his suit jacket. “Come, let’s go to lunch. I had your assistant make us reservations at Fulmine.”

Present Day

You know that feeling when you’re doing something you know you probably shouldn’t be doing, like your body is forewarning younotto enter the abandoned home that’s dilapidated and barely hanging on or enter the dark tunnel to see if you come out at the end?

Driving to the Monroe estate feels just like that. I decided for us to stay at our familial estate just fifteen minutes away. Where all mytrophiesare. I’ll be able to reminisce while my useless wife sleeps. Or slips out to cheat on me while I sleep.

The valet person comes to take my keys as we slip out of my Aston Martin, freshly detailed, washed and waxed. She’s a beauty. One of the only things I’m proud of owning. Sleek and shiny.

“Watch your tongue tonight.” I say to my wife as I grab her elbow and reach the front doors. “What did we talk about earlier?”

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