Broken Toys

By Manda Dunlan

Theo Mezler was born into a life of wealth and privilege. He did the unthinkable by marrying historian Nyssa Bellingham, a virtual nobody by the standards of his status. Now, under orders by The Powers That Be, Theo must bring Nyssa into the lifestyle; partake in parties of utter debauchery for reasons of blackmail, of human trafficking hidden as art exhibits, of rape and terror the likes few have seen or survived.

Nyssa loved her husband once upon a time. But that time has passed and he won't let her go; not even after she escaped his brand of abuse and hid with ex Special Forces soldier who taught her all sorts of survival techniques. Now, with a time-limit ticking away, Theo's life opens up in the most unexpected way. Can Nyssa swim with the sharks and survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manda Dunlan
• Release date: Sep 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463055182

Manda Dunlan

Manda Dunlan is a resident of Northern California (but nowhere near the beach) and lover of the outdoors.Married, spawned, divorced, she is now the mother of two. A self-confessed autodidact, she loves reading, learning, and will take a documentary over a Hollywood blockbuster.She enjoys shows such as: Game of Thrones, The Venture Bros, Bones, and Horrible Histories.Sapphire mining, gold panning, gardening and other forms of playing in the dirt are also enjoyed.A huge fan of history, she enjoys dropping tidbits of information one can take as a research thread and explore themselves. Also a fan of the Q phenomenon, the only LARP that tells people to do their own research and come to their own conclusions. Oh, the horror!If you enjoy stoney awesomeness, you can find her wire-wrapped crystal pendants in her Etsy shop, Starseed Tarot and Gem.

Book preview

Cast of Players in this Drama

THE FAMILY

Nyssa Caitlin (Bellengam) Mezler - Our intrepid protagonist

Theodorus Mezler - Wealthy oil magnate with troubled past and passion for race horses

Thaddeus and Eva Mezler - Uncle and Aunt who adopted and raised Theo

Erasmus Mezler - Cousin to Theo

Leda Mezler - Theo’s cousin, little sister to Erasmus

Hank Bellengam - Uncle of Nyssa, her father figure

THE HELP AT THE REDMOND HOUSE AND FARM

Tobie Gaerloch - Theo’s bodyguard and minion

Maisie Ent - Housekeeper and cook for Theo and Nyssa

Parker Madison - Mezborough Farm Manager

Sivvy Buskin

Charles Rabicano - Grooms at Mezborough Farms

Jennet Palloosa

Robert Kelly - In-house Veterinarian at Mezborough Stables

Jimmy Ent - Maisie’s younger brother

THE OTHERS

Janna Berry - Nyssa’s best friend

Hans Rivi - An old friend of Nyssa’s

Blake Reede - Business rival to Theo

Kimi Draper - Theo’s office assistant

Nadja Ivanova - Theo’s business partner

Dr. Christof Davidson - Therapist

THE CELTIC VIKINGS

Ivar McThorkell - Ex-brother-in-law to Gaerloch

Iain O'Mhaille - Maternal cousin to Ivar

THE POLITICOS

Chelsea Lowelling

Colin Schaffer

Myra Fallard

THE HELP AT SHADOW WOLF RANCH

Daniel Tairen – An old friend of Ivar

Mina Galleg – Skilled with plants

Grant Cary – Woodworker par none

Jake Fex - A skilled metal worker

THE WIFE

| ONE |

THEO

Vancouver's skyline disappeared as we gained altitude, with a southerly heading in the chopper. Another weekend over, and all departed from the farm. It belonged to the family of my companion and boyhood friend, Colly. He was everything I wasn't; he possessed the type of self-assurance that comes with a legacy ensured. He spoke up, breaking the figurative silence-- if the sound of whirling rotors and engines could be deemed silent-- and asked, So why haven't you brought the missus to our shindigs?

Shindigs. Such a quaint way to look at the monthly socializing between those in the one percent. Decadence, depravity, elegance, blackmail. Somehow, I don't think my newly acquired wife would blend in with the crowd. She's not one of us. She’s solidly middle class in upbringing, morality, and ethics. I cracked a smile as my hands tightened on the cyclic stick. The entertainment would probably have her running out of there. Dozens of writhing bodies, candle-lit interludes and debauchery while covert cameras rolled. Hell, I haven't told her the truth about me. I don't know if I can do so. Don't know how she'd handle it.

Die Spinne. German for The Spider. It was an organization formed by high-ranking Nazis and headed by Martin Bormann to get Hitler out of Berlin at the tail end of World War II. While the Russians claimed they had the skull of Adolf Hitler, they were wrong. So very wrong. They had it forensically examined a while back and it was determined to belong to a woman. That woman wasn’t Eva Braun.

My ancestry involves genetics from those saved via the ratlines and monasteries in Spain, who then fled in U Boats from Cadiz to Tangiers, and then South America, going on to flourish, and work toward a particular goal of a single world power. Our power. We were over five hundred thousand strong. How could I tell my wife that? How could I tell her my grandfather was branded a Nazi war criminal that escaped so-called justice from the Nuremberg Trials, and almost got caught by Mossad twenty years later? Only escaping from one of many SS-populated colonies in Chile with help from friends in high places, did he make his way to America and set up a new life; a life of privilege I get to enjoy and am expected to pass on to yet another generation. Somehow, I think my prissy historian wife would not be okay with that, and it could damage everything I worked for and cherished.

"You could have married any woman, Theo, not some nobody from the sticks. An heiress, or aristocracy; someone from a bloodlined family. Or, if you felt like slumming, a model from Fashion Week. Anyone else. You've skipped out on a few of our gatherings... wasn't sure if your new spouse was to blame." A warning hung in his voice.

I shrugged. No, she doesn't know my 'business out of town' means hobnobbing. And you know I don't like my dating pool so shallow. New blood is required every now and again to ensure survival of the species. She’s unlike anyone I know, Colly. I'm trying to ease her into the lifestyle, so when the time is right she can join in guilt free. As it is, I tell her I'm on a business trip, and she buys it. And so she will believe until I deem otherwise. I did not look forward to that conversation. She'd huff and puff and try to blow my pleasure house down. But getting her drunk and showing her a good time would fix what ailed her.

Jezi, Chelsea, Myra... they all want to meet your wife and bring her into the fold. Although I think Jezi wants to meet her just to gauge how cute your kids are going to be. Chelsea met her at the wedding, and wants to get to know her better.

Oh, I bet they do. They'd sink their teeth into my wife and never let go, figuratively speaking. Especially Chelsea. But no. They must be deprived for the now. But I'd make it up to them, some day. "That may be, but it'll have to wait. I want to gently acclimate Nyssa before throwing her in the deep end. Although I’d love to know what she'd think of you."

Me? He jolted against the harness lashing him to the seat, before turning to me in surprise.

Act like you don't know what I mean. Hell, I'm not sure I should tell her it was your idea to get her new bling. I don’t think I’ll tell her my closest friend chose the rubies and diamonds. How would she feel if she knew that? Could be considered creepy despite the intention behind it; the intention of making her one of us.

Despite not wanting it to be so, Colly and I looked so damn alike. Both of us were six foot two and around two hundred pounds. Both with light brown eyes and tawny hair. At our monthly parties, we made it a rule not to mingle next to each other. But he was the son of a former president, and I, the adopted child of a publishing magnate and his wife, a high-profile psychiatrist. Would Nyssa do a double take if she saw us standing next to each other?

Then tell her you picked it out all by your lonesome. And the dress. Do you think she'll like it? Jezi suggested the shop. Gotta admit from what I saw, it's stunning. Hope it fits her. They made do with her wedding dress measurements and a photo.

Yeah, although I've never seen Nyssa in that shade of red before. It's not really her style. She erred on the side of conservative librarian, so I can't say I didn't want to see her in something more revealing and loving it. It'd be like a fuzzy caterpillar waking up as a Fabergé bejeweled butterfly. I just wanted her to give some sparkly wings a try.

You guys going to the wedding tomorrow? Have her wear it then. It'd be the perfect occasion to show her off. I imagine Erasmus is going to have a highbrow wedding reception. Plenty of people to impress and mingle among. And then there's the after party, and the after-after party...

She is not going to the after party. Or the after-after party. Last thing I want her to do is get hammered and grab your ass instead of mine. I don't think Ras' bride-to-be has been introduced to the lifestyle yet, either. All things considered, I can't blame him.

"Well, fear not. I'm not going to be there. But you should flaunt her at the after party. Everybody loves fresh meat and everyone is looking to meet her."

They were jaded from the same faces, no doubt. Same people all life long, families marrying into families, and keeping wealth centralized by making sure the family tree doesn't fork too much. And when it does? Always into the same strata, the same kind of people-- the kind of people who view marriage as a business arrangement meant to benefit both families. Love is secondary, always and without exception. That is what mistresses were for, after all.

And I diverged from that track, shocking friends and family. They expected me to make a sensible match, a high society girl, a girl with all the right connections. Marry someone who knew the ropes because they had been born or adopted into privilege. Nyssa with her smart mouth and laughing eyes did what paraded debutantes couldn't; she stole my heart. She was a breath of fresh air after a lifetime of staleness. I had hoped Colly understood, but no. I kept my romance a secret as best I could. Stopped with certain societal obligations, which was very much noticed by my peers. People began asking questions. And so, before Colly could confront me, I told him. He felt betrayed and didn’t come to our wedding. And since then, it's been a slow reconciliation. Me bringing my wife fully into the loop was the only way he deemed my lapse of judgment remedied.

"I'm not offering my wife as a sacrificial lamb to the company of wolves I keep. Not yet. I'm too jealous of a man."

He barked a laugh and then put his serious face on for my benefit. "You don't get that choice. It's either bring her into the fold or consider yourself ruined. It's been agreed on by The Powers That Be. Like I said, you should have married anybody else."

Shit. How long do I have? Because the last thing anyone wants is for her to jump ship as soon as she sees the reality of the situation.

Six months.

That's all? Just six months? Tried not to grit my teeth and focused on my breathing.

You've had time, Theo. You're giving the impression of breaking away and we both know that can't happen. There's too much at risk for you to leave a loose end.

"How do you do it, Colly? How the hell do you tell someone you adore that anyone in power is a Nazi descendent or benefactor, and that includes you? That publicly is one mask and privately is another and they can’t be reconciled? I don't know how to tell her... and let's face it. To the average person, that's not considered a huge turn-on. My wife is a museum historian. She's not going to let that slide."

Then get a new wife. The way he said it so matter of fact, angered me. As if it was that easy. "Keep her as a mistress if you can't say goodbye. Or lock her ass in the attic and get a better wife. Make her disappear. You do realize you have options, right?"

God, you're a dick, Colly.

He smirked. "That's only one of my charms. But seriously. Either get her to conform or ditch the bitch. If you want a happy life, you aren't going to ignore this decree from up high. And I don't want to see you wrecked financially over a woman. You worked hard to distance yourself from your family's money. I can respect that. But you can't cut all ties. Your bloodline matters more than you want to admit, and by default, that means your children, too. Get your shit together and get your head back in the game. There are a lot of people depending on you. That dress for her wasn’t acquired for shits and giggles. Accept it and assimilate. You know what it means."

I sighed.

Red.

The color of a sacrifice who would survive their ordeal…if they didn’t fight.

A fleeting thought of aiming the helicopter straight into the ocean skipped through my brain. Not an option. I have a wife. I know. And I'll do my best. Because if I didn't do my best, everything I worked for would be stripped. Scandals-- real or imagined-- would execute me in the court of public opinion. Lawsuits I could never win would engulf all my enterprises. State government and IRS sicced upon me like hounds after a rabbit. And worse? They'd submit my name to the FISA court, claiming I am working for foreign governments. From there, my name passed along to the Washington State Fusion Center, where a team of douchebags would be assigned and federally funded to make my life a living hell. Break-ins, tampering of medications. Gangstalking. A level of surveillance one cannot truly grasp; one that is kept hush-hush because of how invasive it is. And then an even larger effort to destabilize my personality. It's amazing what WIFI and electromagnetic fields can accomplish when it comes to manipulating the human body, especially the brain. Telecommunication companies get big kickbacks for their compliance with using their equipment for secondary purposes. Get the frequency and hertz just right, and a person can be influenced toward certain self-destructive behaviors. Teamed with gangstalkers armed with military-grade directed energy weaponry which causes anything from adrenaline surges to excruciating pain in the form of non-stop migraines and jacked up blood pressure, one can be tortured into compliance of the Fusion Center's wants. If it came to that, there'd be no coming back. The goal would be incarceration; either in prison or a psyche ward to be drugged into oblivion. I'd be targeted. A Non-Investigative Subject, handling code 4. Watchlisted but never investigated since that list was meant for slow kill victims. Seen it happen to others who went against The Powers That Be; it was watched as entertainment, like a bullfight. There may be a grand show, but nine point nine times out of ten, that bull dies after a shitton of torment, to the applause of the audience.

I could not let that happen to me or mine.

My whole life was built on a lie. A cover story for the Nazi gold my grandfather left me. Before he died, he hammered into my head that our wealth was not up for discussion, ever, especially to outsiders. They’d never understand, couldn’t understand. How could I tell my wife that? And everything else?

Had to do my very best; Nyssa depended on me. I couldn't leave her unprotected in a world populated by two-legged sharks; they would eat her alive and enjoy her screams all the while. I knew it deep in my bones.

I needed help. Nadja. Could ask her to meet at Ras' wedding. She could get a bead on Nyssa, and tell me what to do. If anyone could do it, it'd be Nadja.

| TWO |

NYSSA

Nyssa, are you ready? Theo’s voice echoed through the second floor of our Redmond Washington home. Despite the open airiness of the design, a deeply oppressive atmosphere filled its walls.

I called out, "Yes. Are you sure you want me to wear this to your cousin’s wedding?" I felt indecently exposed wearing the skin-tight dress my husband chose. The dress I wanted got deemed ‘too matronly’ and from God-knows-where in the giant walk-in closet, my husband pulled out the slick number I’ve got on now. The dress consisted of a full-length, figure-hugging Chianti-red chiffon sheath covered in scarlet and gold lace, flaring out just below the knees. The bodice came up into a sweetheart neckline, which went from lace into sheer red chiffon, which formed the cap sleeves. Beading highlighted my breasts. Ruby strappy stilettos completed my ensemble. While I was thrilled to have a figure that could pull off the dress hand sewn from Madame D’Brau’s Paris shop, I didn’t feel comfortable in it, not in the least. Especially since the bride, Janna, knew what I had picked out and approved of it already. Not wanting to anger either my husband or my best friend, I strove to find a way to placate each.

Might as well try moving mountains while I’m at it, because it’s all about the same amount of effectiveness on my part.

Theo came into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the California King bed, sinking into the fluffy black duvet. "Yes. You must wear that. Approval shone in his voice. You look amazing. He reached for me, pulling me close. His eyes closed as he breathed deep of my perfume. You are near perfection tonight."

Janna already saw the gown I was going to wear. This… this doesn’t have her approval. She was trying for a uniformed look for stunning photos, and I am on board with helping her achieve it, Theo. I pulled away to look in the tri-fold mirror that sat at the end of our bed, between the two mahogany dressers. Men were to be in black tuxes, women were to wear shades of blue. Strove for diplomacy as I tried dancing around my husband’s whims. I could feel a knot growing in my throat in anxiety. Theo wouldn’t like my opinion, I knew that before I even opened my mouth. This is a lovely gown, but I think it’s inappropriate for your cousin’s wedding.

He flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his tux’s sleeve before slicking back his dark blond hair with the same hand. "You will wear that dress. If Janna or Ras have any problems with it, we’ll just come home. Problem solved." Smug certainty hung in the air.

I felt my jaw drop. "You’d bail on your brother from another mother's wedding because you won’t let me wear the dress I chose and the bride already approved?" Upset filled my being from his stubbornness regarding my clothing. Why the hell was he trying to dictate something that really didn’t involve his input? Why foist his will upon me? Deep breaths helped me from exploding from the frustration I felt pooling inside.

Theo arose from the bed and stood behind me. In the mirror’s silvered reflection, I could see him raise his hands and put them on my shoulders. His amber eyes gleamed with pride, and his honey-blond hair, neatly brushed away from his forehead. Truth was, my husband is gorgeous in the same way Michelangelo’s David is stunning; cold perfection ruled supreme. "Nyssa, you are beautiful. I’m proud that I have a gorgeous wife, and you shouldn’t feel bad for wearing something chosen and made just for you. I realize it’s not what you would have picked, but surely you’ll indulge me this one time, won’t you? I love that dress on you. Removing his hands from me, he opened the top drawer to his dresser and pulled out a flat, white velvet box. He opened it, and twinkling from within, a necklace of large tear-drop shaped rubies and shimmering baguette diamonds. Inside the circle of the necklace, lay a matching bracelet and earrings. Breath left my body at the extravagant display, while he murmured, I had this commissioned at the same time I ordered that dress. I hope you don’t mind that I want to spoil you madly."

I took a lung-filling breath of air to try and clear my thoughts. By now I’ve learned that any jewelry came with a cost; rubies and diamonds are the bartering price for my compliance of his whims. The gems were fabulous, but they represented capitulation; that if I wore them with this dress, he essentially bought my cooperation, and that thought pissed me off indelibly. But he couldn’t know that so I opted for diplomacy. I’m touched, Theo. Really, I am. I just wish you consulted me or at least asked my opinion first, especially when it comes to my clothing. The dress is gorgeous, and the jewelry lovely. I’m simply not used to wearing real gemstones and you know of my anxiety at the thought of losing a stone or an earring. It’s why I was glad we opted for plain bands for our wedding rings. Thank you, Theo, for everything. Just… My voice disappeared as I sought to tell my mercurial husband that I’m not his doll so he can play dress up, and knowing that no matter how it’s phrased, he’ll get angry. Please give me the ability to choose for myself, okay? Frustration echoed throughout my veins and I took several deep breaths to keep tears of anger from filling my eyes.

Some men hated tears. Some don’t. To this day, I’m still not sure which category my husband qualified.

His smile withered and he snapped the jewelry case closed. So you don’t like it? He threw it back into the open drawer before slamming it shut with enough force to rock the heavy dresser.

I turned and put a hand on his arm, willing him to mellow out a bit. "If the dress were any shade of blue, my love, it’d be much less an issue. I’ll be the only person there in a non-sanctioned color. I don’t want attention on me like that, let alone at Janna’s wedding. She’s as close as a sister I have, I don’t want to upset her, most especially today." Was it really that hard for him to understand my hesitation at going with his wants tonight? In a sea of blue, I’d be a buoy of bad taste. No thanks.

His voice invoked his inner god of assholes. "You didn’t tell me what the bride had planned! Don’t blame me for this! Really Nyssa, do you have to blow this out of proportion? It’s just a wedding and I wanted to do something nice for you, wanted to make you shine like the star you are. I’m sorry you don’t like my choices, or the fact that I care how you present yourself to others. Damn it, you’re beautiful, you should dress like it instead of some wallflower. Besides, you’re covered from neck to floor. You aren’t inappropriate… just tempting. I want to make all the other men jealous, knowing they can never have you. Especially Ras. He had the hots for you when we first met. Janna was his backup plan."

Hated when he pulled this kind of shit on me. Didn’t like the idea of flaunting myself before the groom, let alone my best friend’s husband-to-be. Just didn’t seem right on so many levels. Can I take the dress I chose, if Janna has an issue with this one? And I’m pretty fucking sure she’d rightfully take issue to its presence. I could duck away into the bathroom and change, thereby ensuring that Theo wouldn’t miss out on Ras’ wedding and create drama within his family. Especially today, on Janna’s big day. While Theo and Ras were raised together, Janna Berry and I were college roommates and besties since ninth grade. When Theo and I met during a university charity event, Janna and Ras made eye contact and haven’t been separated since then. She was my Maid of Honor, and while I declined a role in Janna’s wedding at Theo’s behest, I wanted to support her best I could on her big day. I knew this dress would freak her out and that’s the last damned thing she needs.

Theo heaved a deep sigh. Sure. Put it in the trunk. But we need to go. It’s going to be a half-hour drive and I don’t want to be late. He checked his watch. We’d be on time if we left five minutes ago.

Yes, Theo. The submissive tone I chose seemed to release the tension from his body. Ready when you are. I gathered my back-up dress, still on its hanger and covered in protective plastic, slung it over my arm, before reaching for my black T-strap heels.

With a smile, he offered me his elbow like a southern gent and we walked together down the stairs. At the front entryway, Theo’s ‘bodyguard’ stood, the Bugatti’s keys in his outstretched hand. That was Tobias Gaerloch’s official title, but at Theo’s behest, he tended to keep a wide berth and adapted the role of errand boy and go-fer.

Sir, it’s fueled up and checked over. Tall, good looking in craggy, austere kind of way, Gaerloch’s grey-blue eyes sparkled. Pretty sure he got his cheap thrills by driving my husband’s sports car to the gas station and back. I know I’d get an adrenaline high if permitted such a task. His clean-shaved head wouldn’t show whether there was a need for speed or not.

Snatching the keys from Gaerloch, Theo replied, Excellent. You have the night off. And out we went. The Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport was Theo’s favorite car. Sleek and decidedly not American, the Sang Bleu edition had been featured in an automotive enthusiast magazine spread when Theo bought it. Guess that’s a perk of being ungodly wealthy.

Oil will do that to one. I married into a wealthy family whose main product revolved around petroleum and publishing, and because of that, they could readily afford a lifestyle one can only imagine about. Raised lower-middle class the way I was, I didn’t really understand what that kind of wealth meant. Custom made, hand sewn dresses from France? Jewelry with real gemstones, expensive sports cars running on jet fuel? Race horse stud farms? Trips around the world? Everything and more. Having those kinds of funds doesn’t mean one buys things, but buys a lifestyle. Eight months married, and I’m still learning the ropes. When I met Theo, the money meant nothing to me; I found it distasteful that a flash of a credit card could cure a plethora of issues, rather than addressing them head on and using the experience as a character building exercise. All he had to do was make a call and anything could be delivered, fixed, disappeared, taken care of, and/or solved. Sure, convenient. But when one is raised on the mantra Pull Yourself Up By The Bootstraps, most of the time, in that situation, a grandiose sense of self entitlement isn’t going to help. After a while, I started to view my husband’s wealth as a third participant in our marriage. It was always there, and always dictated what we were doing. There was no ignoring it because that would only lead to issues.

My job kept me sane. The Fyre Art Museum hired me to do research on the incoming Holbein exhibit. While I don’t have an art background, Tudor research is my forte, and one cannot study the Court of Henry VIII without learning about his love of Holbein. Henry Rex still adored and forgave when the artist disappointed him with his Anne of Cleaves miniature. The king fell in love with the serene lady depicted skillfully in oil paint. Holbein is said to have captured the spirit of the German girl well, but not so much her likeness. His job was to immortalize the wealthy with a flattering painting, so photo-realism was out of his purview. And when that German girl met the king for the first time, so disappointed was the king, that he immediately sought a way out of the impending marriage. Anne wasn’t stupid, though. She gracefully gave him a divorce and managed to outlive the king and endear herself to his children. Out of his six wives, only two outlasted him. The other one, Katherine Parr, didn’t have a happy ending. She died in childbirth during her third marriage to the man who molested her step-daughter.

We hopped into the convertible and as it revved to life, Theo began stroking my thigh. Nothing got him hotter than showing me and his car off, and his cousin’s wedding seemed the perfect excuse for both. You really do look amazing, Nyssa. Be proud.

I stifled a sigh. Hate to tell you, Theo, but I’m far more proud of putting myself through college than I am of my looks. I offered a small smile to soften my murder of his unwanted compliment. I worked two and a half jobs to fund my education. Didn’t want to take out loans if I didn’t have to; and thank God for the Pell Grant.

He scoffed. You really think a degree in history is impressive?

Turning my head so I looked out the door’s window, he couldn’t see me roll my eyes, frustrated at his obtuse nature. Not nearly as impressive as working and paying for my own education, thank you very much. Unlike him, I didn’t grow up with a trust fund to suckle dry.

Theo’s stroking of my thigh intensified as his hand wandered to my apex through lace and chiffon. "Very well. My wife is a hard worker who values her education. We won’t discuss how I passed the bar when I was your age. Now I want you to think about something else. Men are going to lust for you, Nyssa. Just enjoy the sensation of being a sensation."

I changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the fact I’ll stick out like a pus-oozing sore thumb. Can’t believe Janna chose the Seattle Aquarium for the wedding venue! I bet it’ll be amazing.

"Our wedding at Moet et Chandon was amazing. This will be merely interesting." Theo’s self-assurance grated on my nerves, although he had a point— our wedding had been spectacular. We married in France, flew all two hundred of our guests out to join us, said our vows at the Chateau de Saran, and had our reception in the Napoleon Cellar. It pleased him to no end to dine where his personal hero once stood, listening to period music Bonaparte would have listened to as well.

The journey on 520 over the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge was made in quiet, with Theo pressing his thumb against my mound and trying to rub an orgasm out of me. I wasn’t in the mood though.

Stop, Theo. Not now. I swatted his hand away as gently as I could; too much force and he’d respond in kind.

He replied, "No. I want to hear you cum for me."

I’m not a dog and I don’t come on command. Tried wiggling my hips away from him, which seemed to make him think that they were moving in arousal instead. I faked breathing heavy and moaned low. Felt like a harlot, but I had to play the role he wanted. Did not need to bait him into even more callous behavior on an important day. With a deep, shuddering breath, I moaned again and jerked my hips against the seat belt in fake completion.

That’s a good girl. He reached over, grabbed my hand and placed it on his burgeoning crotch. I could feel the steady throb of his erection beneath the cloth, and on one hand, I enjoyed the feeling, but on the other, his timing is deplorable and added to my already growing irritation. I caressed him as it was expected of me, and he bucked against my hand for a moment before hissing, Stop! This was going to be a very interesting wedding, no doubt, with Theo showing me off as his arm candy and he in perma-arousal.

We made our way to the Seattle Aquarium. Valets waited to take the keys and we were ushered inside and along a path to the Elliot Bay patio. Faux leafless trees in glazed pots, hung with candles in tiny globes from the branches. It created a dreamy backdrop for the nuptial festivities. Row after row of white chairs festooned with red zinnias and white jasmine, with each row marked by a very large vase filled with more crimson zinnias. Upon each seat, a cushion topped with a tiny bottle of bubbles. I wasn’t sure what side to sit on— Janna being my best friend versus Ras being related to my husband. Turned out, I didn’t need to make a choice, as Theo wrapped his arm possessively and led me to where his Aunt Eva and Uncle Thaddeus sat, with their daughter Leda. While Theo spoke with his uncle, I moved over to sit closer to Eva and Leda.

I smiled at Leda and said, Looks like you’re next in line. Her honey-blond hair was bound into a loose chignon, highlighting her model-grade cheekbones and imp-like eyes of teal. Imp-like, because Leda fed on mischief, and those eyes of hers always twinkled. Her gown, a sea foam blue taffeta sleeveless tea-length confection.

She laughed. "That’s only if I catch the bouquet. I’m going to make sure to avoid it and the cooties it carries. Leda turned to her mom and said, You’d think being Ras’ sister would mean I’d be in the wedding. He didn’t want a Best Woman, though. Said he didn’t want to make Janna jealous."

You turned Janna’s offer of being a bridesmaid down, dear. Eva Mezler had a deep velvety voice, seeming at odds with her waif-like frame. A clinical psychiatrist, she found her work engrossing. In her fifties, she could still pass as a Vogue cover girl, with her wavy ash-blonde hair, large green eyes, and perfectly sculpted cheekbones. My dress caught her gaze. Thought the bride asked for subdued colors?

Theo had it made for me. Wanted me to wear it. I have the dress Janna approved in the car, that way if she would prefer me in something subtle, I can easily accommodate. I was of half a mind to slip out and go change before the wedding started, but I didn’t want to risk Theo making a scene because my apparel changed without his knowledge. It’s stupid, I know, and I resented the fact that my life had become such an autonomy-free zone.

Eva shook her head and said low, He didn’t give you much of a choice, did he?

I nodded and whispered back, He suggested that if anyone had an issue with it, we’d just go home. Out of all the people in the Mezler family, Eva and Leda were my favorites. The matriarch, ever intuitive, ever supportive; her daughter being a handful of fun and tended to see the brighter side of things, thus countering my meh attitude.

Eva sighed. Well, at least you brought backup. Erasmus is nervous enough as is. If he thought Theodorus would make a scene, he’d probably elope.

I laughed. Well, here’s to keeping the wedding on for all involved. Silently, I cursed my husband’s stubbornness.

My laughter caught Theo’s attention and he moved to sit next to me, with me sandwiched next to Leda. What’s so funny?

I smirked. I helped deprive your cousin of an elopement.

Theo’s brow furrowed and he turned his attention to our surroundings. This is better than I expected.

Nodding, I agreed. I like the set up. I can almost blend into the flowers. I gave a wry smile to hide my frustration of not blending in with the rest of the guests and silently kicking myself in the ass for giving in to my husband.

He didn’t think it was funny. Yeah, it’s a lot redder than I anticipated.

Janna’s mom grew up in India, and red is an auspicious color for celebrations there. Pretty sure Janna will work red into her gown, somehow. The daughter of a ginger Scotsman and an English-Indian woman, Janna straddled international culture like none other, although I couldn’t picture her in a sari. Saw a tux-clad Ras take his place before the candle-lit trees as dusk fell upon us. His hair was a shade darker than his mother’s, while he had his father’s whiskey-colored eyes. His hair, slicked back instead of tumbling over his forehead, as seemed his norm. With hands clasped before him, he waited nervously, turning to talk to the tall elderly man in heather-gray standing next to him who clasped a little book in his hands. The black suit Ras wore, stark against the pinkish blue-streaked sky and ocean filled background.

As the seats on the patio filled, the sound of waves crashing and sea gulls calling filled my ears. A gentle summer breeze blew, and before too long, the strains of Greensleeves played on strings just as stars appeared in the heavens. Guests quieted and looked around in search of the bridal party.

A little dark- haired girl skipped down the aisle, tossing white rose petals like a pixie would fairy dust. A little boy in formal knickers and short coat carried a pillow with the two rings tied with a ribbon upon its center. He looked very uncomfortable. Then came eight men and ladies walking down the aisle, hand in hand. The gents all wore black, with a white rose and jasmine boutonniere. The ladies all wore pastel teal corseted bodices flowing into matching tulle skirts, embroidered with black scrollwork. They carried white roses, jasmine, and fern pomanders.

Then came Janna on her kilted father’s arm, wearing a white organza ball-gown, trimmed in a deep scarlet silk with black scroll embroidery matching that of her bridesmaids. The deep, square neckline had a wide scarlet band across the bust before melding into white organza, with a noticeable dip in the center, just this side of being a sweetheart neckline. The ends of the scarlet band helped form the train cascading down from her shoulders, just above wide cap sleeves. A very striking gown, it showed off her curves beautifully. With her dark auburn hair styled into a wild array of curls held up with jeweled pins, she was a prissy Princess Merida, and she was striking.

As a bonus for all the politically connected people gathered, this made for a fabulous photo op in red, white, and blue.

Janna walked down the aisle with a grin on her face. I know for a fact she dreamed of her wedding since she was old enough to know what a wedding dress was for. Ras smiled wide, and when she reached him, she handed off her bouquet to the Maid of Honor. She then reached for Ras, and they held hands while the pastor began the service.

They each proudly proclaimed their love before us all, and no one felt the need to speak now or forever hold their peace. The wedding ended with a long kiss, and we were lead back inside the aquarium, to the hall midst a cloud of bubbles blown by the guests. Large glass windows held the sea life at bay, while a great many tables surrounded a dance floor. Pop music played at a discreet level, as men in white dress coats and black trousers passed trays of appetizers around the mingling folk.

Theo wouldn’t let me off his arm, and anytime an acquaintance stopped by us to speak, my husband would tighten his arm around me or let his hand slide down to my ass to discretely caress. I tried to make my way over to Janna to wish her congratulations, but as soon as I stepped away, Theo snaked his hand out to quickly grasp my arm. Where are you going?

Resisted the urge to display the frown I felt. To speak to our new sister-in-law.

She’s looking daggers at you. He nodded in her direction and I followed his gaze. He was right. Janna had a fake smile plastered to her face while she spoke to her new parents-in-law, while looking straight at me. I offered an apologetic smile to the bride and she turned to give her full attention to Thad and Eva.

"Let me go apologize to her, then I can go change into what I should have been wearing all along." Softened the words with a tiny smile at my husband.

Theo let go of my arm. Fine. I didn’t like the tone he used. While he gave verbal indication that things were peachy, I knew there’d be a price for my independence.

With a deep sigh filling my lungs I wove through the throng of people, to where Janna stood. Hey. You look gorgeous! Congrats on the wedding and welcome to the Matrimony Club. I smiled.

She turned to me, her eyes radiating anger. "That’s not the dress you said you’d wear."

I cringed, knowing that she’d feel upset that I wasn’t blending in so she could stand out. "I know. Theo had it made for me and wouldn’t let me wear the one I showed you. I brought it though, because my alternative would be to go home and stay there. I’m sorry, Janna, I didn’t mean to ruin your wedding."

She looked at my dress. "Well, it’s not ruined, but damn woman, that is one way to upstage the bride! Janna smiled at me, before engulfing me in a huge embrace, her musky perfume wrapping around me. Thank you! I’m glad you brought the other one, because we still have to do pictures. Since you couldn’t be in the wedding party, you are so going to be in oodles of photos. Bridal demand, there is no negotiation. Best accept it with quiet dignity."

With a smile, I replied, Seems silly in a way. I get to be the one changing for the reception!

Janna laughed as Theo walked up to me. Turning to him, I said, Told you. Now I’m going to change.

He frowned. Want me to go get the dress?

Our new in-law chimed an answer. Sure, would you? I’d love to ask Nyssa’s opinion on some of the arrangements.

With a curt nod, Theo stalked off. Pretty sure he anticipated me turning him down and fetching the navy blue silk gown myself.

I still don’t like him. Janna spoke in hushed tones so Eva and Thad wouldn’t hear.

"I know. But we’re trying. And you married into the family, so that officially makes him kinda-sorta your problem, too."

With a little frown, the bride stated, "You were supposed to be my Maid of Honor. Why did he make you decline? My sister was supposed to be a last resort. I so did not want her planning the bachelorette party. If that party were a horse, it would have needed a gunshot to the head to put it out of its misery. It was that bad. I wanted male strippers and got Bible verses on fidelity instead."

He didn’t like me having much girl time anymore. He’s jealous like that. I’m trying to mellow him out about it and then I’ll make it up to you big time.

She picked a tandoori chicken skewer off the tray of a passing waiter and nibbled. How’s that working?

With a sigh and a smidgen of sarcasm I replied, You tell me. But before that, please note that he volunteered to fetch my dress and left me to talk to you. Can we call that improvement?

With a scoff, Janna replied, Don’t know why you even try. Ever since she first met him, Janna has hated him with a ferocity usually reserved for abusers and child molesters. I couldn’t place my finger directly on what it was about him that brought out her cat claws, but he always made her spidey-senses tingle.

Because I love him. He has his good points, too. He didn’t grumble under his breath when you sent him off like a servant. Which, you know, is a vast improvement in regards to his disposition. And while my husband could be incredibly bossy, stubborn, irritating and callous, he also possessed an incredibly sweet side that loves indulging me. When I told him my idea of a dream vacation was to backpack through Europe, hitting a bunch of ancient sites, he made that a reality for our honeymoon. We didn’t stay in hostels, but four star hotels which seemed incredibly silly to me being that we were scruffy and carried nothing but the packs on our backs as we checked into these swanky places. No, Theo isn’t perfect, but he does have his good parts.

"Humility could do him good. Just saying. Ooh, wait until you taste the cake! Cacao and mocha butter cream, sprinkled with cacao nibs. It’s delish, just saying. Umm, who is that?" Janna pointed to a pale woman standing near the hall’s entrance, garbed in a long black, ancient Grecian style gown, held together at the shoulders with round, blood-red gemstone brooches. Her hair, dark as her gown, was cut in a severe bob just below her ears. Vamp style bangs seemed to emphasize her sky blue eyes. She stood on the fringes, seeming to scan the throng of people for someone in particular.

I shook my head. I don’t know. Hey, Leda? I addressed my cousin-in-law, hoping she could shed light on the situation.

Ras’ sister turned at the mention of her name. Yes?

Janna spoke up. "Do you know who that woman is? The one looking all meh and uninvited?" With a nod of her head, she indicated the woman in black.

"Oh shit. What is she doing here? Mom! Leda called out to Eva, standing a few feet away. Mom! We have to go intercept. Right now."

What’s going on? Eva sounded bewildered.

"Nadja is here." It was uttered with a hint of shock.

I asked Leda, Who is Nadja? My husband’s cousin generally wasn’t the type to make a scene without a good reason and her statement of running an interception kicked on my curiosity generator.

Her mouth opened into a perfect O of surprise. Theo never mentioned her? She look bewildered for a moment. "Did he invite her?"

I shook my head, bewildered by the reactions of Leda and Eva in regards to this mystery woman. "No, he never mentioned her to me. Who is she?"

Leda stood next to me and whispered in my ear, "When Theo was a kid, he started mowing the lawn of the widow next door. Couple years later, she and he ended up getting caught naked in the hot tub by her boyfriend. The boyfriend left, Theo and Nadja end up bumping uglies and getting caught by the police— who the boyfriend called. People were bought off, things hushed up. But once Theo turned eighteen and got his trust fund to spend, he called her up, asked her advice. Went prospecting for oil in Alaska. Found the strike that made his personal fortune, and took her on as a business partner out of respect for her helping him succeed when everyone else thought he was nuts. When he got into race horses, she was there, telling him how to run his stud farm. Now she runs a spa and salon, which he bought her. Once or twice a month they go to some swanky party to hobnob with the jet set."

I had no idea she worked with Theo. Can’t believe she’d show up, unless she was invited. Can’t lie, it upset me that Theo kept this all from me and I learned about this facet of his secret life at a damn wedding, as gossip. I’m not sure what pissed me off more: the thought that my husband’s childhood molester was here, or that my husband still socialized with his childhood rapist.

Eva already stalked over to Nadja and looked to be having civil words with her. Then entered Theo, my gown and shoes in hand. He gave his business partner a brief smile before walking my way. When he arrived by my side, he held out my replacement clothing. Here it is.

What’s your mom telling that woman? I asked, curious to know if he picked up on the bad vibe.

With a huge frown, he replied to us, She was asking her to leave.

You’ve never mentioned Nadja to me. I felt an irrational anger that the woman who seduced a kid would have any sort of power over my husband, and I found it unnerving that they ‘worked’ together still.

He shrugged his shoulders in a blatant, I