Page 60 of Nineteen Eighty

That Fontaine man had been his first kill to protect himself. He thought of it as a gift, but it didn’t matter, it was his favorite one yet, because he’d done it to satisfy his own self, not correct the wrongdoing against a loved one. He’d drawn it out, way out, enjoying thoroughly the fear and confusion in the man’s eyes as Charles choked him hard enough to pull him away from the world, but not hard enough to do it quickly and with mercy. His cock grew hard even thinking of it.

When he’d eventually released Fontaine—whose first name he’d never bothered to remember—the man’s bloodshot eyes protruded so far they no longer closed. Charles tried to close them, because he didn’t like that red-eyed look the old foreman kept giving him, but no dice. They were burst like an overripe grape. Probably a closed casket, unless the funeral home had better luck.

Angelique’s letter lay crumpled on his desk. He had half a mind to burn it and send it back to her, but he feared any response would only incite her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it when he was fucking her into oblivion, but the woman was completely certifiable, in a way that scared him senseless. She continued her threats. Continued pleading for him to make her his wife and bring her to Ophélie. God’s pajamas! None of the other women he’d fucked had ever dreamed so big, or dared so loudly. Because they knew better. They knew their place and knew his. They knew what it was and what it wasn’t.

But not Angelique. He’d increased the checks, and she’d only upped her demands. She had a son, and now a child on the way, and Charles had a responsibility. So, Charles set up a goddamn college fund for the Jesse kid, who wasn’t even his, and another for the unborn child who was. He increased the payments once more. He wondered why she still lived in a shack, when she had over half a million dollars of his money. He had no idea what she wanted.

Same as you. Power.

Charles didn’t know where that errant thought had come from, but he pushed it back, as he did with all uncomfortable truths.

But he had his own truth now. There would soon be at least two children out in the world, bearing his genetics. Only he could stem this tide. Just as it had been his decision to kick the coke, it had to be his to put aside his addiction with women. He didn’t need them now, anyway, did he? They were all the same. They bored him. What didn’t bore him was his newfound interest in business. There was always something new to learn, to discover. That hopefulness he’d had with women had been replaced, and now, thanks to Angelique, killed. He’d always been a protector, but his means of doing so had shifted. That’s all.

An empire. He’d take their billionaire status and double it. Triple it. What came after billions? He’d do that.

“Ah, there you are,” Cordelia said, stepping only into the doorway of his third floor office. She waved her hand around. “How long have you been in here? I’m surprised the fire alarm hasn’t gone off.”

“Funny,” he muttered, stubbing out what was left of his smoke. “Did you need something?”

“We haven’t finished our Christmas shopping this year.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about that stuff. What do you even give people who already have everything? Don’t we usually give the meaningless gift of money, anyway?”

“The children, Charles. They’re little. They don’t care about money. They still enjoy the mountains of presents under the tree.”

Despite his wealth, Charles hadn’t experienced that. His mother was careful not to indulge them, despite his father’s inclination to do exactly that. “Well, I don’t know, what do other kids love right now? Uh, yeah, those weird cabbage dolls. Get them that.”

“They already have Cabbage Patch Dolls. And I already bought everything on their list for them.”

Charles shook another cigarette from the pack and lit it. “So, what’s the problem then?”

“Don’t you want to be a part of these years, Charles? Don’t you want to pick something out, so when they open it, you can say you saw it and thought of them?”

“Why would I do that?”

Cordelia sighed. “All right. I’ve got it covered, then.”

“Don’t sigh like that at me. Like I’ve disappointed you or something.”

“Not me,” Cordelia said.

“I’m building a future for them! Isn’t that enough?”

“One day, maybe,” she said. “Right now, they don’t understand. All they know is their father is away all the time. Nicolas is the only one who gets regular affection, and it took us shipping him to New Orleans to get it.” Cordelia smiled, seemingly to herself. “I know my weaknesses, too, darling. I know what I’m good at and not. But I am trying, with your girls. Don’t ask me why… I don’t know. Maybe because I was terrible to their mother, or maybe it’s penance, or maybe… it doesn’t matter. But I’m not their mother. They know this. And I’m definitely not their father.”

“Well, you are a bit mannish.”

“Charles.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’ll be happy to know I’ve given up women.”

“Why would that make me happy, exactly?” She nodded at the paper. “It was that crazy bitch in Abbeville, wasn’t it? Well, someone like her was bound to come along at some point and humble you.”

“Not just her,” Charles said. “Women are a distraction. I have goals now. Real ones.”

“I see,” Cordelia said. “Well, here’s a goal for you, Charles. One you should take to heart.”

He looked at her.

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