| Subject: Chapter 203 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, October 03, 07:37:17am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (203 > )" on Monday, October 03, 07:35:40am
Extra warning: There are a few unpleasant words, and certainly some unpleasant thoughts, in this section. I don't know that it really needs the warning, but I'll rate it 16 and above, nonetheless.
Dreams in the Dark (203/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It had been a long day, an even longer night--every part of it rather a torment. From the simple trial of watching his daughter's marriage to her seducer made official, to the more interesting, and vexing, questions of the possible impact of new world events upon his business, it had all been a bit difficult. Still, now he did have a few answers--and they would soon lead him to a solution he could live with.
Mr. Jones was comfortable in the chair in his office, had made this center of power his own long ago. And the questions, the frustrations, which the day had presented him weren't much greater than any other, if he allowed himself to realize it. He had known that Nikita's more public union with the fool who had ruined her was inevitable, that it was the first, necessary step in their combatants' plans, would allow the showdown he wanted; his sigh was a bit terse. It was just proving a little more difficult to take in its reality, now that it had finally arrived.
He was trying to cope with this annoyance, forcibly reconciling himself to the idea that he was related, by marriage at least, with the idiot his daughter had been low enough to be tricked by--but it wasn't easy. To know, should Hillinger and his cohorts be unsuccessful in their raid upon the pair, that he might someday share grandchildren with the actor's tainted blood was sickening; his head shook. He really would have thought that his daughter would have more sense.
It was this last, galling truth which ate away at him the most, regardless of how many times he tried to force himself to accept it. He had certainly known that the couple were legally paired for sometime. Still, to know that they would now be living together . . .
His head shook slightly, trying to throw off the paternal disdain which threatened to swamp him; even without it, he was disgusted enough. While it was true that he had only met Nikita twice, he had seen much of her mother in her--even, if he allowed himself to admit it, her grandmother. The fierce intelligence which had shone in Bobbie's eyes could also blaze in his daughter's; she was a fighter, could take on the world, as her mother often had. That she had willfully entangled herself with a man such as Samuelle, then, was goading in the extreme.
This was an impossible truth to accept; his breath was slightly shaky, his rage at the thought only barely suppressed once more. No matter how long he had been forced to face this turn of events, it was impossible. It just wasn't right that his daughter should be so warped as to have chosen a lover before she was wed.
He listened to his own thoughts for a second, a small snort emerging. Anyone who had heard them, given their piousness, might have believed him to be an utter innocent. He was anything but; the ironic smile vanished. But all the experience in the world couldn't reconcile him to the facts before him now.
This truth faced him like an enemy, had him by the throat--but he never gave in. Still, he couldn't deny that he was disappointed in her. When he had given Bobbie the money to get away, he had hoped that his daughter would be spared the immoral pap about a woman having her own say about sex that Hollywood had been so rife with at the time. True, it hadn't always made its way into its films--not particularly overtly, anyway--but there were few in the town, of the female persuasion, who didn't seem to believe it. He had hoped that by being removed from such influences--as well as from the decidedly questionable proclivities of his daughter's grandfather, which Adrian had so thoroughly failed to protect her own child from--Nikita would grow up to be a true woman; his sadness rose. But that long-wished-for turn of events hadn't come his way at all.
He still failed to understand this backsliding, as often as he had told himself not to bother questioning. He was convinced that it was in no way carried down from himself. The women in his family had always understood how to behave, knew in their hearts that their purity was sacred, was a gift for their husband alone to take. They hadn't even, as far as he could tell, been debased enough to believe themselves in possession of real desire--which was certainly a male trait alone. Those women who did have it had invariably been tampered with in some way, as had his own Bobbie. Those who hadn't been, and who still claimed such a thing, were simply immoral sluts who were there for the using. But, regardless of any evidence to the contrary, he refused to lump his daughter into this latter category completely.
He did love the girl enough to see the best in her, then, simply couldn't force himself to believe that she was that inherently vile; his eyes grew almost misty. But this led him to a conclusion he didn't wish to entertain. He simply didn't want to think that Roberta had been so terribly lax as to allow the men she had lowered herself to be with to have her daughter too.
This thought was terrible, was only allowed to stand for a few seconds. No, he wouldn't believe it. Perhaps Adrian had been so unfeminine as to allow her career to distract her from her true focus--her need to protect her daughter from George's unpleasant little peccadillos--but he couldn't think the same of his own love. She had been maddened in those last days, it was true, but she was more woman than that; she knew her place. Whatever had become of her own life, her job was to raise a pure child. Any mother with even an ounce of morality understood that.
He refused to entertain this thought any further, but the closure of this pathway did lead him to other problems. If Nikita's error couldn't be explained through this sort of past, this could mean that the defect was internal, innate. He supposed he could blame it on Adrian's influence in the woman's blood--her own past decidedly tainted--but he disliked the idea of blaming the girl alone. Still, this left only one more option. If his daughter couldn't be seen to be liable for this grave failing, the censure belonged in only one obvious place--and the person at whom it was directed had married her today.
His heart was beating faster, this thought goading in the extreme. Even knowing that Mr. Hillinger would soon threaten the man's life wasn't enough; his fist clenched. He wanted revenge for reasons which were very much his own.
He had to take a deep breath to calm himself, trying to find something like equilibrium--trying not to take his rage too far. After all, he had somewhat promised that he would leave them alone, had allowed the ridiculous pair to sort out their own fate; the feeling of revulsion grew stronger. But he was finding that, the closer that fate drew, the less settled he was on any outcome they might receive.
It was this truth which had been simmering in him for most of the day, this which made the marriage impossible to wholly accept. How could any father? His little girl was now officially wedded to--was undoubtedly currently practicing some sort of perverse sexual acts with--the man who had seduced her, the one who had had the gall to say he "loved" her; the rage simmered. A man who had allowed himself to grieve over some Chinese whore's death, who had once fathered a child by some ridiculous little Jewess, would now be the father of *his* grandchildren? He nearly shook. It was insupportable, his gaze flaring. And, if he could do anything about it, he wouldn't let the man live to see it come true.
He had to close his eyes for a moment, the effects of his fury too deep. As little as he enjoyed the fact, he was no longer a strong man; his gaze returned, glare remaining. He had to keep his rage cold in order to survive to see it through.
It was with ideas of this sort that he had been dallying all day--even the news from the greater world affecting him little. Wars meant soldiers, after all--and soldiers needed companions, when they were allowed them. The houses he ran were in little danger, then, of being deserted for long.
This thought said nothing of a greater public's needs during a war, but even that was quite acceptable. Many of those left behind found it difficult to cope with the losses, the separations. His organization had aids for them, as well; he almost laughed. And it wasn't like the movie business was in any danger of change.
His business future was secure, therefore, no worries too great. Even if the government tended to become a bit more dictatorial during such conflicts, it would have little effect on him--the services he provided quite secure. All he had to do was wait for the fighting to start--and then his profits were guaranteed to bloom.
These concerns were meaningless, then, requiring little attention--his true focus still elsewhere, still simmering. But his course of action was difficult, vexing him to comprehend it. If he took out Samuelle himself, as he was dearly tempted to, he would leave his daughter open to the machinations of Hillinger, Madeline, the lot of them--all without true benefit. But to leave the girl in the hands of the man who had lowered her originally . . . no, that was insupportable. His sigh went deep. He had to find some way to end the relationship, if he didn't wish to test his sanity.
He had no desire to endure such a trial, was focused instead on his options--but only one path seemed likely. If he acted too soon, he doomed the girl, no protector in sight. To take out all of her enemies himself was troublesome, too, seemed greatly unnecessary. Still, to allow her to live with her seducer, unbothered by all? No. There was only one way. He would just have to allow his subordinate to test Samuelle first.
He nodded, seeing the benefits of this outcome quite clearly. Even if a test of strength, a sign of the actor's willingness to kill for her, was no longer enough for him, Nikita's father wanted to watch the contest--from his usual distance, anyway. Given the rougher aspects of Michael's character--his extreme childishness in holding onto the girl, his greed in taking her long before any decent woman would give in--it seemed unlikely he would lose the battle. Hillinger was tough, certainly--could even be called rather vulgar in his methods--but the less-focused aspects of his mind were his inevitable downfall. Whatever the previous perversions of his new son-in-law, the actor was capable of the same cold focus as Jones himself; the businessman respected him for it, if for nothing else. Given any sort of marginally fair fight, Michael would probably win. He did grant him that much honor, at least.
This admission did nothing to dim the man's desire to see Nikita's husband dead, however; he wasn't certain anything could. He was also more than willing to sacrifice his subordinate--would have to do so himself, if no one else took care of the man first. After the battle was the best time, then; he almost smiled. It was only too easy to explain an extra body when there had already been an attack.
This plan was clearly in place, only Madeline left to worry about. But his thoughts didn't focus here for long. The woman wasn't willing to soil her hands in the matter, would only work through others. She would no doubt be a torment--if Nikita were idiotic enough to stay in the business she ran for very long after Michael's death--but Premier's unnamed head was unlikely to try such an approach again; it would be too obvious. And no one with any sense could say that any of the woman's failings was a lack of subtlety.
This area of concern didn't last for long, therefore, his mind turning--but there were no other problems which he saw. While Nikita might be foolish enough to mourn her husband's passing, it would be good for her, in the long run. Perhaps with enough time for grief and reflection, she would come to recognize the hideous stain to her soul which her early dalliance with him had given her. It was for the best. Only with this realization could she become something like a proper woman at last.
There was a soft knock on his door at that moment, and, as though the course of his thoughts had led him there, a subordinate opened it to announce that his guest had arrived. It was just the person he wanted to see, his smile growing. Now, his plans to rid Nikita of the pathetic incubus she had married could finally begin.
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