Chain Reaction 2.87: Violets are Green

A/N: This chapter starts the evening of the wedding and pushes a couple of months into the future. The next one starts right where 86 leaves off. I just thought here would be the best place to put this chapter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Possibly NSFW

Drake

     I can't believe it. She did it.

     Dad is married to MY Emily. My dad snatched away my girlfriend and married her. He DID mean himself when he told Emily she 'could do better.'

      Sure. Their marriage could break up, but that will take time. I saw in her eyes how much she loves him.

      I could kill him. I could have him killed. But that would hurt Emily, and I want Dad to suffer. I sigh. It all feels so hopeless.

      "Cheer up, Drake," Mr. Franco tells me. "This isn't over unless you choose it to be. You're young. Anything could happen."

      I sigh again. "I know that, but it doesn't help how I feel right now." I get both furious and nauseated when I think about what the two of them could be doing right now. I wonder where he's taking her for their honeymoon. Oh, plum. Emily's on her honeymoon, and it's not with me! Emily is Mrs. Goth, but it's not with ME! I decide to be frank. "Think about it like this if you will, Mr. Franco. I'm in love with my step-mother." I was such an idiot. I should've treated her better. I shouldn't have assumed she'd come back to me. Dad snuggled up to her; I went nuts; and we broke up. In essence, I played right into Dad's hand.

      My hand covers my eyes before sliding down as I think, Honestly, it was an amateur up against a pro. Dad knew all the right things to do, and I was a jerk. What woman WOULDN'T choose him in those circumstances?

      Mr. Franco chuckles. "I'll admit that sounds odd when you don't take into account the background information. Your father stole her from you."

      I know what he's getting at. "And yes, I'm fully pondering how that happened, how to fix it, and how to prevent that from happening again--with anything." I'm a Goth, damn it. I know that means something, but I took it to mean that I could act like an entitled prick. I was wrong. I have to earn what it is that I want, and I'll do whatever it takes, crush whomever I must, to get it.

      "Don't get me wrong, sir. This isn't over." It just hurts like hell right now.

      "There it is! This is what's prompted me to take you under my wing. Your grandfather Mortimer Goth was like a mentor to me, so I'm eager to do the same with his grandson. You have that same tenacious spirit as he did that I so admired and strove to emulate."

       I've heard this story and the side stories to go with it. Mr. Franco was the younger son, but his brother proved to be a spineless weakling. So, he toppled him. His niece went against her own father and 'did away with' the only thing he had to give him strength, his best friend. She too saw her father as weak. He died a broken man. All of this was done at the advice of my grandfather, who, according to Mr. Franco, had a belief in creating good breeding and culling those members who weren't. He wanted Dad to marry Brielle. That's where this trips me up: Maker only knows what he saw in her.

     Violet interrupts my quickly-moving, wandering thoughts.

     "Hello, Romeo. How was the wedding?" She saunters in wearing a green dress. I'm so glad she gave up on the red. Green suits her better.

     Mr. Franco answers for me. "It was a charming little affair out of doors."

       She sits down next to me. "That must've been difficult to watch."

       It was. I don't vocally answer her. I know I'm pouting like a child, but I'd had what I thought was a foolproof plan to get Emily away from Dad and show her a better side of me, one I only knew I had after I lost her. I'm going to let myself pout for a little while, lick my wounds so they can heal before I go forward, trying to figure out what to do next.

      Again, Mr. Franco speaks for me.

      "But watch he did. And he can use that to fuel his next move."

      Violet merely glances at her uncle in a quietly understanding way. Then, she leans forward and poofs some drinks on the tray. She takes one and leans back. "Want one?"

      I let out a huff of a laugh. "No thanks."

      Over the next few weeks, I make a habit of staying over at the Francos' house, the reason being that Mr. Franco keeps late nights and early mornings. He operates on little sleep, much less than what I'm accustomed to. He doesn't mind at all that I've commandeered one of the guest bedrooms. It's the only way I can get enough sleep while I continue learning the ins and outs of what Mr. Franco does to run his 'business.'

     My dreams are a continuing reminder of my ultimate goal. Emily haunts them, often naked. This particular dream has us woohooing on one of the sofas in my house. I'm having a great time watching her body move against me.

     "Drake," she purrs into my ear, and I moan.

      She licks the edge of my ear and says my name again. Her hips moving against mine feel so good. I can really feel it this time, even though part of me knows it's a dream. I moan again. No. Please don't wake up now! Her hips press and rub against me, just enough to continue taunting me without any real satisfaction. I never get any real satisfaction from a dream, but this is still good.

     "Wake up, Romeo." Lips run from behind my ear down my jaw.

     I don't want to! Oh, f---, this is good. My hands reach up to grasp and squeeze her thighs, and in my half-conscious state, I realize I'm not grasping air but solid flesh.

      "Hello, loverboy," Violet Franco says when I open my eyes, and I wonder if I'm seeing things. She keeps moving her hips, toying with my morning wood. Maybe it's not actually morning. Doesn't matter if it's morning.

      My breathing sounds heavy, and yes, my hands are on her thighs like they were in my dream. Since they're already there, I squeeze again before I slowly rub up and down, pushing my thumbs inward. She keeps working those blessed hips of hers, continuing to drive me out of my mind with lust.

      My eyes ask her what she's doing here. Not that I want her to stop! No, my hands make that clear as they encourage her hips to keep going.

      "I was standing outside your bedroom door when I heard the moaning. I thought you might need this." Her breath smells sweet, like cherries.

      Well, if she's offering... I reach up to hold her head as I kiss her like a man starved. She puts more weight on my hips, driving me out of my mind.

      Pushing what's necessary out of the way, I watch as she takes me inside her and pleasures herself against my body. Her motions aren't what I'm used to experiencing, but it's good in a torturous way. Like in my dream, I enjoy watching her body move above me.

     She cries out when she reaches her point of satisfaction, but I'm still not satisfied. Demanding it now, I don't let her enjoy the aftermath as I push and pull her. She takes the hint and moves exactly like I need her to, driving me over the edge.

      The next few weeks have Violet as my frequent bedmate. I learn a lot about what women really like; she's a good teacher with an eager pupil. It's not long before I can really take over and drive her out of her mind. It occurs to me that I know what this woman likes. She's made me curious if it's the same with other women.

      For now, however, I don't have time to pursue that curiosity. Both Francos keep me busy, each in their own way.

       One evening, I make myself a drink and see what my mentor wants. I'd already completed the duties he'd assigned me for the day, and I'd started looking forward to having Violet again.

       I've often pondered about the way Mr. Franco has his office set up, as merely an alcove of his parlor. It sits in the corner, dark and removed. One might even miss it when scanning the room. When I asked him directly, he replied that it aids him in watching the world around him. When I inherit everything, I'll move the center of operations to my house. I much prefer my own, opulent office.

       "You had something else to tell me, sir?" I still address the man in a professional way. He may act fatherly toward me, but he also maintains that strict space.

       He also knows I'm banging his niece. I thought my mouth would drop through the floor when he casually mentioned it one day. And there I thought we were being so discreet and secretive. What was I thinking in thinking that I could hide something from this man? Today, I laugh about it to myself.

       "Yes. I have something greatly important to discuss with you." He looks up at me. One would think that looking up at everyone would make him smaller, but surprisingly, the opposite is true. When discussing things with him, the other person has to stand, putting them at a disadvantage while he sits comfortably.

       "Sure. Whatever you need."

     I owe this man a lot. It would've taken me decades to learn the backdoor maneuvers that he's taught me. Smiling at the thought of how far I've come, I drink some of my scotch.

     "I think it's time you officially join my family by marrying my niece."

      I cough, interrupting the flow of liquid going down my throat. It burns like it hasn't in weeks, and that just makes me cough harder. I'm gasping for air when I place the glass on the desk and lean against it.

      "What?" I have to be hearing things. Marry Violet? I mean sure, she's great in bed, but marriage? I take a breath. My throat still burns. "Sir..."

      He interrupts me. "No, Drake. You listen to me. I realize you are still in love with your step-mother," Why did he have to put it like that? "but this should be done, at least until you can win your love back. I've long thought joining our families would be mutually beneficial."

      "Is she aware of this?" I feel betrayed. Has the old man been planning this all along?

      "Not officially, no, but," he chuckles, "she's always been so good at predicting my movements. I'd recommend never playing chess with the woman. She would make you an excellent partner."

       Until she murders me. But... she'll wait until after we have a child, a son. Then you'll have everything you want, staying in power and having an heir of your own blood. ...Breeding. I can't hide my derisive snort. It's always been proven otherwise, but everyone really knows that Violet murders her lovers. I'd thought I was safe since our relationship is merely one of convenience.

       "It's not forever, Drake. And I'm sure Violet knows this. Do this for me as a way to repay everything I've taught you."

      And I thought of him as a father. I should've known he'd betray me in the end. Lesson learned: Don't. Trust. Anyone.

      He watches me with a shrewd expression, and I start hatching my own plan. I'm still a Goth, damn it. But let him go ahead and underestimate me.

     "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" I plant a smile on my face.

     The old man smiles like he just won the lottery. "Wonderful!" He pushes his chair back as he says, "And I think I'll join you in that drink."

      Sure, old man. I'll marry your niece, father a son for you to bequeath everything, and then murder you... myself if I have to. 

Click newer post to go to 2.88