| Subject: Chapter 261 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, November 01, 07:11:20am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (258>?) continued" on Monday, October 23, 07:10:30am
Extra warning: There are a few bad words and ugly thoughts here. I'll rate it 16 and above, just to be safe.
Dreams in the Dark (261/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It wasn't at all satisfactory, every moment of the last few weeks only making him more irate. For not at all the first time, his daughter seemed to be defying him. And there was no way that he would let such a situation continue for long.
There were very few, outwardly obvious, ways that such a rebellion against Mr. Jones showed in his unacknowledged daughter, but the businessman had his own set of rules which he expected the world to live by. While it was one of his men who had originally frightened Nikita out of her home, he saw no real connection to her desertion, his mind working in very different directions. To him, the fact that the girl had returned to her grandmother's--however benighted that woman might otherwise be--was only right. It showed that she might finally be starting to accept that her choice had been mistaken, that she should never have fallen low enough to be seduced--and, especially, to marry her seducer. That a man would try such a thing was understandable, but it was a woman's duty not to give in. Every right-thinking female on earth knew that.
That it was his own daughter who had failed to recognize this very obvious fact astounded him yet again--perhaps even more so lately. After all, whatever sort of psychological or sexual hold the man might once have had on her had been missing for over a month, Samuelle very far away--hopefully suffering intensely. He had given into Adrian's demented and puerile arguments to protect the actor only because of this hope. That the girl had continued to desire her ill-gotten husband even after such a lapse . . .
It was this perversity--what the world would, quite mistakenly, term "faithfulness"--which irritated him the most; he leaned back slightly in his desk's chair, trying not to become paralyzed with rage. Still, her flight to her grandmother's house had seemed such a hopeful sign, for awhile. To know that she was now back at home, with two new aides brought in to help her, was utterly unacceptable.
These basic facts were almost the least of his reasons for fury now. Knowing the background of these particular helpers could only make the rage that much worse, Adrian's evil at work again. At least when that fool Volker had found the couple a bodyguard, Nikita's father had been able to find a way in, had known how to use him. But with two workers who were linked so very closely to Murrin and his men . . .
He hated thinking about this truth, loathed the woman for her infernal interference. Anyone else, he would cross in a heartbeat. But some rules were clear. If either he or Murrin were to tamper with those under the other's protection, they were asking for a battle; there was nearly a snort. And a war over pawns as meaningless as this would be taking even his own, understandable rancor a bit too far.
He tried to remind himself of this fact, tried to remain calm--but it was impossible. Their connection to Murrin aside, the choice of aides was still infuriating. Kessler's daughter seemed an absolutely intentional slap in the face--the man so closely entwined with Jamie's downfall. Even if the boy's undoing had been due entirely his own stupidity--the tragic fact of his mother's less-calculating side coming out in him--and even if Jones were actually rather indebted to the man for silencing some of his own, less-than-trustworthy elements in prison, it was still disgusting. The girl was probably as far from him as it was possible to be--women rarely half so canny as men--but this was no satisfaction. Had she been more like her father, he might have been able to make a deal; the snort returned. It only enraged him more that this seemed entirely impossible now.
However appalling, there was no use in pondering such links any further--a perusal of Fredericks' weaknesses less than inspiring. There were idealistic, squeaky-clean boy scouts who were more profane and corrupt; his head shook. How such a child could be gotten out of such a decent worker as his father was entirely impossible to comprehend.
It was this choice which made all his anger that much more frustrating. It didn't even seem likely that there would be a reasonable ending to the arrangement. Hollywood--at least, any part of it which knew of the couple's presence in Nikita's home or bothered to care about it--appeared to have accepted the change. Only the most intensive smear campaign would work against them--and there was Murrin who worked as its roadblock every time.
This thought encouraged him no further, making him shift slightly in his chair, annoyed all the more over his utter lack of options. True, the pair were eminently easy to attack--both on terms of their parentage and their lack of a true marriage--but he was only asking for unnecessary trouble, if he did. That was the Hell of working against Adrian. She brought in her infernal connections against him every single time.
He was disgusted by these truths but realistic enough to accept them. His enemy had blocked most of his possible moves, before he had even thought of them. There was only one real option he could find. He would have to address his objections directly to Nikita. Maybe her conscience would finally take over.
This didn't seem entirely likely, since it had so singularly failed to do so up till now, but it was still worth the attempt; little else was working. He found a pen and paper, deciding on this less-direct method of address. If he brought her here, it would be kicking and screaming, would raise a terrible alarm--one too bothersome to court. To simply contact her via mail seemed more reliable. It wasn't as though the girl would be ignoring her mailbox lately. Her damnable husband would be writing to her all too frequently for that.
He began, then, glowering all the while:
Nikita,
Once again, I'm quite disappointed in your behavior. I had hoped to separate your husband from you so that you would have the time to rethink the affair. Now that you've had a few weeks to do so, you should be seeing, far more clearly, the damage he's done to you. The fact that you've lowered yourself to the point of carrying his child shows that all too deeply.
Still, from what I can gather, none of this has happened. I had thought that your return to your grandmother's house might signal a change, some maturing of intellect, but I suppose I was wrong. How very foolish you've become.
I can't express to you how disappointed I am; I'm certain Roberta would be, as well. Does the sexual nature of your connection to Michael truly mean that much? Are you willing to bear his brats and wait for months or years for his return--all while, no doubt, he's busy examining under the skirts of every woman in Canada? There's so little reason for you to continue to wait.
What a fool you are. He's never cared about you, not in any of the senses you imagine. His desire for you is purely physical--and will wane quickly with childbirth and age. Look at his rapid disposal of Elena and her child, if you doubt me. Men such as he never take any affair seriously for long.
I know that you feel--or should feel--that I should be ready to write you off as a total loss to me. I am, however, prepared to actually give you another chance. Should you desire, I am here. I will find you a far better, and more suitable, partner, one who might even accept the presence of your bastard child. All you have to do is ask, and we will begin the proceedings which will expunge Michael from your life forever. Then, you won't have to wait until he returns to realize your very grave mistake.
What more love can a father have for his daughter than this? All of your sins and mistakes will be forgiven, if you only ask for my help. Even the public mind can be changed, with a little effort. You can even keep that meaningless job, if you wish it. All it takes is that you ask.
You know where to find me, if you choose to. The address is included here, as well. Simply reply with an apology and a request, and I'll be as generous as you could expect of someone as rudely used as myself. It would take so little to mend your life completely.
Please heed this message. You truly need the help.
Your Father
He let out a long sigh, as he finished up his missive, content that he had at least done what he could. It wasn't enough, wouldn't separate her from her husband permanently--unless it worked as he prayed it might and helped bring her to her senses--but there was still room to hope. His daughter--unlike his son, he had seen more than once--had inherited his own intelligence. Whatever her godforsaken willfulness, a hangover from Roberta's benighted mother, no doubt, she would come around in time.
His only hope was that the time it would take the girl to come to her senses would be brief. He wasn't certain how much he could give. Already, watching and thinking about her took up too much of his time, made him forget his priorities. She had already taken one of his best men from him--had forced his son to act entirely inappropriately. The least she could do was to finally see the error of her ways.
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