Succession (16 page)

“What?” I demand, furious. “Absolutely not. I’ll cut ties with him. Fuck his support, fuck his money, we don’t need—”

“I told him about Abriel,” Sascha says, stopping me mid-sentence. “He needed some sort of leverage; he knew we’d back out. I gave him what he wanted.”

I sigh. “Christ, Sascha. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I thought I did,” he reminds me. “I didn’t know you had spoken to anyone else; from the way he made it sound, you were in there alone, cut off from everyone. I needed you. I wanted you out. It was my decision. I chose your safety over Abriel’s.”

He chose my safety over his own, too, and he’s acting like I won’t notice it. I run my hand through his hair. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

He looks up at me, nervous. “You’re not mad?”

I shake my head. “Not at you. I appreciate you so much. And I’ll do whatever I can to keep you as safe as possible.”

We get dressed quickly, collecting Syrus from his room as we pass. He’s awake, neatly dressed, and looking ready to take on anything.

“Oliver Torenze is coming over in a few minutes,” I inform him. “He’s the one who bailed me out of prison, and he’s one of the few people I hate anywhere near as much as I hate my mother. I assume you’re familiar with him, with his history with me and Sascha and my mother?”

“Yes, sir,” Sy replies. “I know his role in the industry as well. His association with the Argova family and with you. That was what drew me to Sascha.”

At least Oliver has been good for one thing. I fill Sy in quickly, giving him a little more on the long history behind me and Oliver, the part that his industry ties probably don’t cover, the part where he borrowed and tortured Sascha a few months ago. I don’t give him all the details about that; I’ll let Sascha discuss it if he wants to. To his credit, Sy listens attentively, and if it really is a look of rage that I see in his eyes when I describe the condition he left Sascha in last time, he hides it before I can really tell. I’m uncomfortable telling someone else this much about my life and my business arrangements, but if Sascha has already told him almost everything, the best plan is to fill him in completely.

“What would you like me to do when he visits today, master?” he asks, once I’m finished.

“Official business. You’re there as my bodyguard. Act the part.”

Sy nods, and we make our way to the dining room. Sascha and I sit while Sy stands, ever attentive. He really does play his role well.

Oliver arrives shortly, trailed by a young male slave with a round baby face and a slight limp. The rate at which he goes through slaves is appalling.

He sets the boy to cleaning my house as if he owns it, ordering him to pick up and stack anything neatly, to dust, to clean toilets and bathrooms, and to finish in the kitchen. The slave seems grateful for the task, and Oliver seems jovial as he joins Sascha and me at the table. Syrus stands a few feet away, even more quiet and professional than usual. It’s a nice touch.

“Where’d you get that one?” Oliver asks, eyeing up Syrus. “Doesn’t match your set.”

“Souvenir from the detention facility,” I answer, not bothering to explain. I’m pleased when he doesn’t seem to recognize my newest acquisition. “With the state of things, I thought a bodyguard might be necessary.”

Oliver nods, then addresses Sy directly. “All your paperwork in order, big boy? A bodyguard needs to protect its master. Something like you even looks at a free man without the proper documentation and you’ll be put down.”

“You’ll need to ask my master about that, sir,” Sy replies, a bored look on his face. But I can see him watching everything, positioning himself between me and Sascha.

“I haven’t gotten it taken care of yet, no,” I answer. “Before we’re out in public I will.”

“No point having a guard dog that can’t bite,” Oliver says before turning his attention to Sascha. “Nice to see you made it out of that detention facility in one piece.”

Sascha nods and waits. I’m surprised that he’s joined us at the table; he comes looking like a free man prepared to do business. Then again, he and Oliver already did business behind my back. I’m certain he and Oliver both know what messages they’re sending to one another.

“Where are we with business?” I ask, hoping to direct the conversation away from my slaves. “Have you heard anything new? I spoke to my lawyer at the bail hearing, she said things were about the same.”

Oliver huffs. “I haven’t heard a word from the woman. Not sure where you found her, anyway. I don’t appreciate casting my support for you and getting nothing in return.”

“I’m sorry, she was quite busy getting me out of prison,” I remind him. Actually, I asked her to avoid speaking with Oliver more than necessary. He wavered when he should have been supporting me. “Besides, she came highly recommended.”

“What would you know about that?” Oliver challenges. “For all anyone else is supposed to know you’re an overpaid financial advisor. It’s not like you have any contacts. That’s what you needed me for.”

“I do still need you, Oliver,” I pacify him. “But prison is a great way to meet people with experience in legal matters. The lawyer knows about the progress of my research, the start of our partnership, but she’s not directly involved. Trust me, I’m in good hands.”

I like the idea of keeping Oliver out of this process, and Edson had agreed when I suggested it to her. Oliver might have been my connection to the Argova family, but it’s not him they want to build a relationship with.

“I’ve taken over while you were gone,” Oliver informs me. “I’ve been coordinating with the data analyzer you hired. He was a little spooked at first, but I convinced him that he was a valuable part of Michaud & Torenze. We need to get these results out before the state does whatever they’re going to do with the data. The preliminary results that Sascha released are strong, but too obviously biased. And if it gets out that you had a slave do it? You’ll lose all credibility.”

I nod. It wasn’t a risk we had anticipated; the results were supposed to be in well before the information became public. My mother ruined that. “Do you know if they’re moving on it? I don’t think they even got all of the data. There was so little of it stored here, they probably didn’t find much when they raided the place.”

Oliver smiles. “Nobody thought to investigate what I’m holding for you. Your information is safe with me, my boy. As soon as it’s analyzed, we can release it to investors. Get the right sorts of people behind this project.”

In spite of everything Oliver has done to me and Sascha, I’m relieved to have him on our side. My new friends might have connections, but I know Oliver. In a strange way, I trust him, at least with business.

“And Kristine Miller?” Sascha asks, surprising both me and Oliver. “How does she play into all of this? Has she been a problem?”

“She’s always a problem,” Oliver reminds us. “She’s doing everything she can to interfere. For every news venue that tries to release the information, she’s finding some way to shut them down, to accuse them of spreading lies. She’s got people watching us—you, me, anyone we’re associated with. I doubt she’ll try anything as direct as what she did last time, but she’s playing her game well. The Miller System won’t go down without a fight. We need to destroy her. Take her down. Find anything we can to discredit her. Sascha, I know you’re skilled with research. Do you know about her history, what she’s done, anything she’s tried to hide or blatantly disregarded? The Miller System has to have some flaws. We have to expose them.”

“I’m certain I could find some things,” Sascha agrees. I see the excited look in his eye; clearly, he’s eager to have another project to work on.

“Do that.” Oliver considers me for a moment. “You’re probably best letting Sascha handle that part of the research, the business part. You should consider more personal history. I know you’ve been estranged for a number of years, but you should be able to find something on her. The state wants this mess to be blamed on someone—if it isn’t you, it will be her.”

I nod, fully approving of the idea. I hadn’t meant to make it personal, but it has become that way. My mother would do the same.

We discuss the details further, brainstorming a list of likely sponsors, a tentative timeline, and ways to defend ourselves against my mother. I’m glad to have help with this, and the fact that he’s including Sascha is surprising, but pleasant.

Of course, the pleasantries end the moment we’re finished discussing the project.

“Has Sascha informed you about the other terms of our agreement?” Oliver asks, a smile on his face that would be friendly coming from anyone else.

“Yes,” I mutter, trying not to look too angry. Sascha reaches over and places his hand on my leg under the table, reminding me to stay civil. We need Oliver, at least for now. “I’ll give my consent, but you can’t bring him back like you did last time. I need him functioning. That shit you pulled, the water, the injuries… no.”

Oliver gives me an amused look. “Well, then, by all means. What would your limits be?”

I haven’t had the time to think about it, or the desire. “Nothing that could cause actual medical harm,” I stipulate. “No forcing him to drink. No hitting him in soft spots. No broken skin. Nothing on the face.”

Oliver sighs. “You just don’t like to have fun, do you?”

I wait, hoping he doesn’t reject the offer.

He looks at Sascha instead. “Pity that you hadn’t negotiated better the first time around,” he teases, but he’s not saying no, yet. “Seems your master doesn’t want his pretty little pet to get hurt.”

“You can hurt me,” Sascha points out. “Just not like you did last time. I’m certain a man with your talents can come up with something.”

I see Oliver’s arm pull back to strike, but before I can do anything, Syrus is there, placing himself in front of Sascha. Oliver stops, laughing at the spectacle he’s caused.

“How about this? Send the big one over and I’ll meet your terms.”

Sascha is saying “no” as I’m saying “yes.”

“This was between you and me!” Sascha reminds Oliver, a furious look on his face. Somehow, his words seem less offensive since he’s hiding behind another slave.

“Oh, it will stay between you and me, darling,” Oliver says, a smile spreading across his face. “I just want him to watch. You have my word; I won’t put a hand on him. Or an object. I’ll even let him wear his suit and tie. After all, he is guarding that body of yours. I want him to see exactly what I do to it.”

I wait, letting Sascha decide. As I watch, Sy takes a step back, giving Sascha a stern look and a nod. I expect him to protest, but he defers to Sy with only a defeated look.

“Done,” he agrees.

“I like working with you, Sascha,” Oliver comments. “You’re smart, but you’re an easy little whore.”

We set a date a few weeks from now, and while Sascha doesn’t look pleased, he is the one promoting this arrangement. I go along, but I can’t feel comfortable until Oliver finally leaves, taking his slave along with him.

I glance at Sascha and Syrus, who look as relieved as I do.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” Sascha mumbles, looking at Sy with guilt in his eyes. “This was my deal, my problem. I told him about my brother; I’m the one who should suffer.”

Sy sits next to Sascha and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will be. I just hope it’s not worse because I’m there.”

Sascha shakes his head. “I don’t mind the extra support. I mean… I don’t really like to talk about it, but you can probably imagine the things he’s done. You’ve told me the things you’ve been made to do. It was nothing permanent, just humiliating. Survival, right?”

“I’d like it if you kept an eye on him,” I ask Sy. “Make sure Oliver doesn’t go too far.”

“Of course,” Sy agrees. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to him. I’ve been doing that for a while now.”

I try not to be bothered by the comment, but I am. Being reminded of my failures, no matter how well-intentioned, never sits well.

But I can’t exactly lash out at Syrus for something I’m grateful for. Instead, I fix Sascha with a hard look. “No more making deals without consulting me,” I order.

Sascha pulls back, closer to Sy, and he frowns at me. “I needed to do something,” he points out. “Torenze was our only option. Again.”

“I appreciate it,” I admit. “But I found another way that didn’t involve risking you. I know you weren’t aware of that; I wasn’t able to communicate with you. But you did it in the detention facility, and you and Syrus just did it here, again. It can’t become a habit.”

I’m waiting for him to apologize, to concede, to defer to me like he did to Sy, but he doesn’t.

“Fine, next time you’re stuck in prison, I’ll let you handle it on your own,” he replies, flippant.

“Sascha, I appreciated your help!” I snap at him, because I do want him to back down. “But if you keep doing shit like this, it will come out in public.”

“Because I’m not capable of playing the part when I need to? Why don’t you ask your mother how well I can play up your image? Maybe she can invite one of my rapists, or maybe she can have you beat me again. I guess I could use some practice.”

I’m silent. I have no way of responding that won’t make everything worse, and I’m not sure if I’m being irrational or if Sascha is. All I want is to make sure he’s safe. Letting him take the consequences for my actions isn’t something I plan on allowing ever again.

He stands. “I’m going to go get started on some research or something. See how well Torenze’s slave cleaned up the house.”

I don’t protest, I just sit there fuming. Sascha stalks out, and I’m left sitting with Syrus.

“He’s upset about what he’s going to have to do, sir,” Sy points out. “He was snappy all day after that man visited him in the detention facility.”

“Wait until he spends a whole day with him. You’ll get to watch it all.”

“Yes,” Sy agrees.

I was hoping to anger him with the statement, but he’s still calm.

“Do you enjoy having sex with men?” I challenge him. I need to think about something other than the fate I’ve allowed Sascha to submit to.

Sy gives me a questioning look, but he responds quickly. “Yes, sir.”