D/D Celebration week fic: A Leisurely Repentance
Title: A Leisurely Repentance
Author: Morgan72uk
Rating: R
Word Count - longer than I intended
Disclaimer: About the whole not belonging to me thing...
Authors Note: Yeah. Well, I freely admit that this was supposed to be a crack fic! How could it be anything else given the plot - but then Rossum, Adelle and Dominic made it seem only too plausible and before I knew where I was I had a plot that worked, one that allowed me to combine some decidedly sappy ideas with a darker motif. That's my story and I am sticking to it. Thanks to ladyvivien and Rogoblue who both provided input at very necessary moments. It's definitely my fault though.
A Leisurely Repentance
Mandatory Marital Regulation No 1
Adelle DeWitt read the title of the email from Rossum Corporate and arched an eyebrow in disbelief. Was it 1 April, she wondered? Once she had established that it was not in fact All Fools Day, she scanned the rest of the message with rising disbelief, murmuring, “oh for heaven’s sake.” She only hoped that whoever was responsible for this rather distasteful joke was tracked down and punished accordingly. With any luck it was a junior level functionary in Tuscon and no one associated with her House. As a prank it reeked of Topher, but she was fairly sure he had a more highly developed sense of self-preservation.
“Something wrong ma’am?” She turned in her chair to look across the room to where her Head of Security stood. His stance was, as usual, a perfect balance between control and aggression and set off by a pale grey suit cut to allow for movement. She was always impressed by the way his clothing managed to combine elegance with functionality.
“One of those rather tedious joke emails,” she said. “There was a memo from the IT department suggesting they were making changes to the firewall.”
“Clearly the changes haven’t been successful. I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you,” always so efficient. “Shall we begin?” Their regular morning security briefing was conducted as smoothly as ever. They worked well together, notwithstanding occasional disagreements over Echo.
Her preference was to discuss her domain whilst strolling though it and as always Mr Dominic’s stride matched hers perfectly as they discussed a high risk engagement, a new client who’d raised a security flag and the arrangements for finding Sierra a new handler.
She was relieved that the awkwardness that had crept into their interactions following the incident where they had been drugged by one of Rossum’s experiments gone awry and as a result succumbed to an outburst of childishness, had dissipated. The smooth functioning of the House had to be maintained at all costs and there was no doubt that Mr Dominic was one of the reasons that things ran so well. He was good at his job, he showed no sign of scheming against her in order to climb the Rossum ladder and that alone made him distinctive from his counterparts. He led from the front, demanding loyalty from his own personnel and respect from his colleagues. He appeared to take their recent run of bad luck as seriously as she did and reassuringly shared her determination to turn that particular tide.
Content that all was as it should be they stepped into the lift together and returned to her office. Judith was waiting when they emerged, looking uncharacteristically tense. “Ms DeWitt there are a number of messages.” Her assistant handed over a sheaf of messages and she flicked through them quickly - wondering what could have occasioned so many of her peers to have called her. “And we’ve had a message to say that Mr Ambrose is on his way - he’ll be here later this afternoon.”
“I wonder what we’ve done to deserve that particular pleasure.” Clive wasn’t one of her favourite people, but he’d been showering her with attention recently. There had been an invitation to dinner which she’d declined, citing the demands of the House, and only the day before a large and expensive bouquet had been delivered with his regards.
“Something is going on,” she observed as she headed to her own office, still leafing through the messages. She was slightly relieved to discover that at least one of her callers was someone she could face having a conversation with.
A few deft strokes on the control panel and the large screen was set up for a video conference. She waited, not entirely patiently, for the head of the Sydney Dollhouse to be found and managed a small smile of greeting when she eventually came into view.
“Do you know what time it is here?” The not so amused woman grumbled; running a hand through short chestnut curls. Adelle raised an eyebrow but didn’t feel the need to apologise.
“You weren’t asleep Randi - you left a message for me half an hour ago.”
“You’re right - I was on the phone with Louis. He’s desperately amused by the drama and loving the fact that it doesn’t affect him. He’s waiting to see who’ll have the most interesting reaction, I suspect he’s planning to run a betting pool - I can probably get decent odds for your ending up hitched to dear Clive. Tell me all Adelle, how many proposals have there been so far?” She disliked the feeling of being in the dark and it seemed unlikely that a head of House could have gone quietly insane - though knowing Rossum it wasn't impossible.
“What on earth are you talking about Miranda?”
“You have read the memo from corporate?”
“I thought it was a joke.”
“Sadly we aren’t that fortunate. Rumour has it a few of our esteemed peers have been caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. The higher ups are not amused by the staff borrowing the actives.” Adelle worked very hard to keep her expression neutral while making a mental note to cancel all future Ms Lonelyheart engagements. “It’s an over reaction of course, completely mad if you ask me. But our lords and masters do like to remind us that they own us body and soul. So, if they decide that all Heads of Dollhouses and Senior staff within Corporate need to be married - then that is exactly what is going to happen, in an indecent scramble. Nevermind that it probably won’t do anything to address the problem they are apparently so concerned about.
Adelle was completely without words. She supposed there was a horrible and somewhat medieval logic at play here. Though she agreed with Miranda that this was a reminder that to rise so high they had sold themselves just as much as the actives had - without any of the attendant oblivion. She doubted there was a clause that allowed for a polite refusal and she couldn't imagine she would be permitted to consult an attorney and take her employer to court for its unreasonable demands.
“What are you planning to do?” She was genuinely interested - Miranda skirted the line between forthright and blunt on a regular basis and made many of their colleagues uncomfortable. But she ran a tight ship, turned a considerable profit and her clients seemed to appreciate her.
“Well, shockingly I haven’t been overwhelmed with offers from my beloved colleagues so - unless you would like to test our employers tolerance for same sex unions, I am marrying our head chef.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Just as well Guy and I sealed the deal a little while ago. His cooking is divine and I might just be able to persuade Rossum to let him set up a place of his own. A little something to do in my retirement.” There was no doubt that Miranda was an eminently sensible woman and what she was describing sounded like a good business deal. As much as she admired her robust good sense Adelle wasn’t sure that she could emulate it. After everything she was still a romantic at heart.
“Clive Ambrose is on his way,” she admitted, “and I have messages from Stewart, Andre, Crispin and Rene.”
“Well compared to those four, Clive is almost eligible,” Miranda commented. “Be careful Adelle, you’ve been raising your head above the parapet lately.”
“Not by choice,” she agreed grimly. “Congratulations on your engagement Miranda - he’s a lucky man.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”
After ending the conversation Adelle decided that, in this instance, it definitely wasn’t too early for a drink. She crossed to the drinks tray and poured herself a glass of vodka.
“Clive Ambrose is going to ask you to marry him,” a voice said from across the room, “and you’re thinking of accepting.” She had forgotten that Mr Dominic was still present - she hadn’t been aware of him during her conversation with Miranda but clearly he had heard and his interpretation wasn’t incorrect.
****
Laurence Dominic didn’t know why he was surprised at this latest twist. In the last three years he thought he’d become accustomed to the insanity that was Rossum. After all, when you were in the business of programming people to order everything else became pedestrian. But just when he thought he’d seen everything the brilliant minds of Rossum corporate had managed to come up with yet another curve ball.
“What does the memo say, exactly?” He asked.
“All Heads of Dollhouses, plus corporate personnel about a certain level are required to be married. The preference is for their spouses to also be Rossum employees and if not, they need to be vetted thoroughly.” He wasn’t surprised she’d assumed the email was a hoax. “Don’t worry Mr Dominic, it doesn’t say anything about Heads of Security.” He ignored that jibe, ascribing it to the circumstances and considering it a mild reaction.
“You remember the escape route we discussed a few weeks ago ma’am?”
“There hasn’t been a great deal of time for packing.” She looked over at him, managing a rueful smile before crossing to her desk and pressing the intercom. “Judith - work a little of your magic and see if you can get a more specific time of arrival for Mr Ambrose.”
“Yes Ms DeWitt,” with that accomplished she settled back into her chair and pressed a hand to her forehead, mind running through options and scenarios. She could fabricate a pre-existing marriage but fooling Rossum would not be easy. Programming an active to take on the role was definitely not an option and given the alacrity of Clive Ambrose’s response she had a feeling that appealing to her superiors would not help.
A powerful husband from within the organisation would bring her prestige and power, even a measure of safety as long as she could convince him that she actually had feelings other than repulsion for him. She had already sold her soul, was her body really so sacrosanct?
“You could marry someone else employed by Rossum,” Dominic pointed out, “it’s what Miranda is doing.”
“I could,” she agreed, “but if Clive really is on his way here to ask me to marry him, I doubt he’d appreciate being usurped.”
“He might be forgiving if he were convinced that there was a pre-existing relationship.” His focus on trying to solve the problem was reassuring, but he wasn’t the one who was faced with the prospect of marrying a man she despised.
****
The Head of the Rome House, Andre Giometti, had a penchant for young boys - it was said that the young men he recruited as Actives were more beautiful than the women. Rene Caudwell, the Head of the Miami House was as heterosexual as they came and had already slept his way through most of his female employees and rumour had it he’d moved onto the Actives. Crispin Smythe, of the Brussels House was pushing 65 - obese and yet convinced he was almost irresistible to women and more that capable of harrassing those forced to endure his company. Stewart Lipman in DC was powerful as well as repellent and Dominic had watched him mentally undress Adelle DeWitt every time they had been in the same room.
For the repulsive and power hungry men on that list she was a veritable wet dream and the thought of any of them anywhere near her turned his stomach. Her options were limited and he had little doubt that failure to co-operate would result in more trouble than they really wanted to contemplate.
Arguably getting close to the Head of the LA Dollhouse was part of his mission - he was definitely supposed to gain her trust and confidence. What he was considering right now was pushing that a little far but it still just about fit the mission parameters. He ignored the voice in his head that sounded a lot like his handler, the one protesting vehemently that the mission was Rossum, the technology and not Adelle DeWitt.
He could, perhaps should, let her marry Ambrose. It would connect her to the very highest levels within Rossum - which would only help his mission. But doing so would endanger her even more, entangling her in Rossum’s machinations to the extent that he doubted that even her undoubted ingenuity would be enough to ensure her safety.
He’d been telling himself for months now that when it all went to hell he was going to find a way to get her out. It was the only way he could look himself in the eye as he deceived her but he was also convinced that she was their best chance for bringing down Rossum from within.
“I think I need to wait and see what Clive has to say when he gets here. He may want something quite different.” Dominic looked over at the expensive bouquet on her desk - a gift from the man in question. There seemed little doubt about what he wanted, or how this situation had been engineered to provide it. Right now it appeared there was only one way out.
“Marry me,” he said firmly.
****
Adelle was so shocked she put her glass down abruptly and the liquid splashed out onto her desk. He looked tense and she did him the courtesy of not making a joke out of the offer.
She got to her feet and stalked towards him, coming to a halt just within touching distance. He did look very like a man who had just proposed; as though he was vaguely nauseous and nervously awaiting her answer - yet the scenario was all wrong.
He didn’t blink, gazing back at her and she admired his restraint; he evidently didn’t think any explanation was necessary. He was correct in his assumption since her own ability to strategise had taken over and despite herself she was calculating just how they could make this work. They were used to spending time together, the rumours and innuendo that had swirled around their relationship over the years, though unfounded, could be made to work to their advantage.
“I’ve never proposed to anyone before,” he said at last. He was still trying to process the fact that the words had actually left his mouth and since she hadn’t said no that she must actually be considering it. Either that or she was trying to decide how to have him killed for his presumption.
“I’d never have guessed.”
He knew her and he had no doubt that she was considering whether it would be a better strategy to marry Clive. Three years by her side and he still couldn’t work out entirely what motivated her, what her angle was, whether she even had one. Did she really believe in what the technology could do, believe that it’s occasional benefit meant the crossing of moral boundaries was acceptable? Had she convinced herself that excellent performance here would lead to a promotion? Did she actually believe that Rossum would allow her to leave all of this behind some day? They never relinquished control once they had it and he doubted that they would ever allow someone who did this as well as she did to escape.
Never would she have expected to be in this position - considering the unexpected offer of assistance, weighing it up alongside a potential proposal from Clive Ambrose.
“I don’t make the offer lightly,” faint annoyance had crept into his tone, a reminder that he was respectful but no push-over.
“I’m surprised you made the offer at all,” she turned away only to have her movement halted when his hand fastened around her wrist. The surge of electricity at his touch forced her eyes back to his and from his expression she knew he’d felt it too. There it was, the elephant in the room, the attraction they had both chosen not to acknowledge rearing its head now to remind them why this was complicated.
In the middle of this ridiculous situation how did she come to be facing a choice that felt taut and real and powerful? How had the riskier option managed to convey a sense of security while the path that should augur safety was rife with danger?
She looked down to where his hand still clasped her wrist - his grip was firm but she knew he would allow her to pull away. That he’d let go and stand by while she gave herself to Ambrose - sank just a little deeper into the mire. And for what? For the greater good? For her own ambition? To secure a place of safety that she was no longer certain existed? The salient fact was how little she wanted to pull away. In the end it came down to such simple things - who could she bear to be in close proximity to, who did she trust.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word lingering in the air between them like a living thing given flight.
****
If he were honest, that was the point at which things became a bit of a blur - though if he’d ever doubted that Adelle DeWitt was like no other woman of his experience she proved in conclusively by planning a wedding in about 30 minutes.
Speed was of the essence since Judith brought news that Ambrose was expected by mid afternoon - his private jet due to touch down by 2pm. But while he was still processing her acceptance Adelle had rearranged her afternoon appointments, placed a call to the Mayor (one of their best customers) and sent Judith down to their wardrobe department to procure a selection of wedding rings.
Judith’s bright smile and enthusiastic congratulations were a surprise - even though she’d sobered considerably when the circumstances surrounding their sudden engagement had been explained. But she’d demonstrated herself to be every inch the perfect assistant by taking responsibility for organising the rest of the event and when she had turned her attention to his clothing it had finally hit home that in a couple of hours he was getting married.
****
“You’re going to have to start calling me Adelle.” They were seated together in the back of one of the company vehicles, returning to the House from their excursion to City Hall.
He was wearing a darker suit, with a pale pink tie and his, companion, had changed into a dark blue dress that clung and draped in an alluring manner without ever crossing the line from elegance. The wedding band on his finger felt tight and unfamiliar, but not necessarily uncomfortable.
“Are you going to start calling me Laurence?”
“I am, although I quite like the idea of continuing to call you Mr Dominic when there are other people present.”
Their ‘cover story’ had been discussed and agreed in the car on their way to City Hall. It had felt strangely truthful, or perhaps that wasn’t so strange - since it needed to be convincing. They were to confess that there had been a longstanding attraction between them, which had resolutely and reluctantly been set aside for professional reasons for all of these years. The unexpected change in policy from Rossum had presented an opportunity that they couldn’t fail to take advantage of. They would have to ensure that Ambrose believed their feelings were genuine and that amongst all the unions hastily created to satisfy the requirements of the new regulation, this marriage was different.
That the Mayor had been convinced, was a surprise. He’d jovially offered congratulations and teased them both about the office romance they had succumbed to; claiming he had always known there was something going on between them.
The ceremony itself had been short and business-like, they’d exchanged rings and he thought his decision to wear his had surprised the woman he wasn’t ready to start thinking of as Adelle, let alone as his wife. The only awkward moment had come at the end, when the Mayor had suggested a kiss and they had stared at each other in surprise until he’d leaned forward to brush his lips to her cheek - inhaling perfume that had made his senses swim.
“Laurence,” his attention had wavered a little, giving her the opportunity to try speaking his name aloud. She liked the way it sounded and appreciated the way it drew his eyes back to hers. She shifted closer to him and took his hand, “in order for this work our behaviour will need to be compatible with our cover story. Since we will be maintaining that we weren’t involved before a certain amount of, restraint, will be plausible. But we will need to touch, to stand close together, to kiss.”
“And?” Her husband was stubborn. She was experimenting with the word, with the unfathomable concept behind it; she had already known that about her Head of Security.
“We don’t exactly find each other unattractive.” Something changed in his expression, he relaxed a little, a smile threatening to escape him though he seemed reluctant to allow the lapse of control. “I’m not telling you anything you aren’t aware of.”
“I’m used to pretending not to be aware of it.”
“I’m glad,” when his expression telegraphed surprise she added, “it will make it easier that it’s mutual.”
It would make it more difficult as well, blurring the boundary between professional and personal - although they’d done that already. Now she realised that there had been a whole host of things that hadn’t been clarified before their, wedding. It was unlike her to proceed without tying up loose ends, but here they were.
As much as she thought the main reason she had chosen to create an imprint was to assuage her loneliness there was no denying that the other remedy she had considered was seducing the man sitting beside her now. Ironically, given their current circumstances, she had dismissed that option as altogether too complicated, too risky and far too real.
“Is this convincing?” He murmured, brushing his fingertips carefully over her cheek. Her breath stuttered and her eyes fluttered closed; her reaction surprising and pleasing him.
“It’s a start.”
For a moment he’d thought she’d been questioning his ability to act, to pull off this deception. As though he wasn’t used to doing just that, knew more about it than most people. But she didn’t know that about him and it was a salient reminder that all he’d really done was add more layers to his deception of the woman he had just married.
“I’ll endeavour to do better,” he told her - meaning it.
“You could start with something simple, like my name.” He was tempted to answer by calling her Ms DeWitt, just to see what she would do.
“I’ll endeavour to do better, Adelle.” She raised an eyebrow in approval and he lifted their clasped hands it to his lips and pressed a gentle and careful kiss to the back of hers.
“Fast learner,” she commented.
****
She had hoped they could step back into the House as though nothing had changed, but of course that wasn’t possible. Something very fundamental had changed and the question was how she responded to it. Everything was different and the surreal feeling was only reinforced by the weight of the hand resting on the small of her back - surely it was only imagination that meant she could feel the cool metal of his ring through the cloth of her dress.
She should be deciding how this was going to work and then communicating that to him, setting parameters, putting the boundaries firmly in place. But they had just stepped blithely over boundaries that had existed for years and, once dismantled, it wasn’t so simple to restore them.
Safely ensconced in the elevator she took a breath and turned towards him, “Ready?”
“You think Judith’s spread the word?”
“I’ll be extremely disappointed if she hasn’t.”
“Tell me it isn’t true!” Topher demanded as soon as they stepped out of the elevator.
He wasn’t the only person waiting for them and it didn’t take much effort to read the uncertain body language of their reception committee. Dominic assumed the outrage was a reaction to Rossum’s absurd regulation, but he should have known better. “Tell me you didn’t turn down a Nobel nominee and the third richest man in the country for a catalogue model who knows how to shoot?” His expression as he faced Adelle was horrified and Dominic didn’t have the restraint not to respond. He lifted his hand to show the wedding ring - not even attempting to hide his smirk. “Oh God,” their programmer whined, “it’s like Felicia Day married Matt Damon.”
Dominic glanced over at Adelle, who was looking mystified by the pop culture reference. “Do we really need him?” He asked. “Rossum must have other programmers?”
“I was actually just wondering if Bennett Halverson might appreciate a change in climate,” she said, fixing Topher with a look that made him gulp and flail.
“He’s pleased really,” Ivy stepped forward, drawing attention away from her boss, “he just isn’t expressing it very well.” Topher’s wild nod was even more alarming than his hostility. “We all wanted to say congratulations and we hope you’ll be happy - despite the, circumstances.”
“Thank you.” Adelle was graciousness personified and Judith’s announcement that there was a little champagne on ice got them past the rest of the awkward moment.
****
It was almost too easy. On one hand she was unsettled that no one seemed to doubt that Rossum's Regulation had persuaded her to give into a long suppressed passion for her Head of Security. But, on the other hand, the whole point of this exercise was to have a convincing cover story.
Perhaps her staff were all so inured to the strange happenings that went with a job at the Dollhouse that this barely registered as unusual. Or perhaps they were more perceptive than she'd realised.
There were certainly a lot of sly remarks embedded in the congratulations - a little champagne making her subordinates brave enough to let her know that her preference for one subordinate in particular had come as no great surprise.
It wasn't anyone's idea of a wedding reception. There were no friends or family to offer congratulations and in their place were work colleagues who didn't quite know how to react to this development. Hell, he didn't know how to react it and he had about 45 minutes before Clive Ambrose descended upon them to work it out.
“Did she make you do this?” He had been lurking on the outskirts of the group, trying to avoid any too effusive congratulations and clearly Langton wasn't offering any.
“I proposed to her,” he responded gruffly. The man was good enough at what he did but he was far too invested in Echo for Dominic to ever feel comfortable with him.
“That's not an answer.”
“You seriously believe she forced me to marry her?”
Langton looked at him for a long moment. “Forced no. Manipulated, maybe. She's going to thwart Clive Ambrose and use you to assist her. It's a high risk strategy and you're the one taking the risk.”
“You think I'm not getting something out of this?”
“That's what I'm trying to work out.”
“Well, do me a favour and stop. Concentrate on keeping Echo on track.”
As he crossed the room Judith beckoned to him, after their short conversation he resumed his path to Adelle's side, where Topher was in full flow. “Seriously you should think about it, DeWitt-Dominic, Dominic-Dewitt.” At her expression he shrugged, “OK, so you'll definitely be coming first but...”
“Topher wants to know if we're going to double-barrel,” she said, glancing over at him and raising an eyebrow.
“Are we?” He asked - apparently genuinely interested in her answer.
“I think I'd miss calling you Mr Dominic.”
“But I'd still be able to call you ma'am.” He let a little of the smile show through - or perhaps she had a better vantage point from which to interpret his amusement. He was certainly standing closer to her than he had ever done before and she could just see Topher’s start of surprise at their flirtation.
“Clive is on his way,” he murmured - leaning closer still. “We have about 5 minutes.” Although she was tempted to allow their visitor to arrive mid celebration - she was wise enough to recognise that publicly humiliating him wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead she raised her voice slightly, collecting the attention of everyone in the room.
“When I started work this morning I didn’t expect that a few hours later I would be celebrating my wedding. The day is about to get a little more interesting as I understand Clive Ambrose is going to be paying us a visit in the next few minutes. I’m sure none of us want a senior Rossum official to think that we have let our attention wander from the business at hand. Laurence and I very much appreciate your good wishes - but now it’s time to return to your posts.”
His hand had settled on her waist as she spoke and as she turned her head towards him she became aware of just how close he was. “Adelle,” he murmured and though she could have commented that he was finding it easier to use her name, she didn’t. Instead she focussed on the way he was holding himself - tension and intensity a vibrant and compelling combination. He looked as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to kiss her here and now; she wasn’t sure either but everyone expected it of them - even she expected it.
For all of that it was a gentle careful kiss, edged with the hint of longing that couldn’t help but define them. But the second time was infinitely easier and the third time was effortless - he simply eased back, looked at her and kissed her again, manfully ignoring the sound she made at the back of her throat when he stroked his tongue into her mouth.
When they parted properly they were completely alone. “That’s one way to clear a room,” he said. She stepped back from him; hand raised to her forehead.
“I didn’t mean for this to become so complicated,” she offered quietly.
“We can forget that just happened,” he said, making no attempt to follow her when she retreated behind her desk. “We can decide that this is a business arrangement, pretend only as much as we have to and get a quiet annulment when Rossum loses interest. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Before he could answer the phone on her desk rang and she answered, listening for a moment before replacing the receiver and heading to the door. He could tell by her expression that they were out of time and the sound of the elevator doors opening announced the arrival of their visitor.
“Clive, how lovely to see you.”
“Adelle,” he was carrying a large bouquet of flowers, which he handed over with a flourish, “beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you,” she said - referring both to the compliment and to the gift, turning her hand so he didn’t see the elegant ring that now adorned her finger.
“Dominic,” Clive Ambrose just about offered a greeting, without looking in his direction. Instead he kept his attention firmly focused on Adelle.
“Mr Ambrose.”
“That will be all, Mr Dominic.” The dismissal was clear and he nodded and withdrew without so much as a backward glance. She was sure he understood that she had to face this alone.
“Well trained staff,” Clive commented as the door closed and they were left alone.
“I wasn’t expecting a return visit so soon,” she said as she looked up from arranging the flowers.
“It wasn’t easy to stay away.” He oozed oleaginous charm and she forced herself to smile.
“I'm sure that isn't true, a man with responsibilities as great as yours must have many demands on his time.”
“I do, so you should infer something from my presence. I know you've seen the Regulation Adelle, don't pretend not to know what I am doing here. I half expected to find the trail to your office door littered by the corpses of disappointed suitors, maybe a few of your peers. Instead, there are signs of a celebration.”
The suspicion was there, underneath the veneer of civility - but not too far beneath. “Did you think I wouldn't follow an order from the highest levels of Rossum?”
“I suppose I assumed you would give me the courtesy of a hearing.”
“Clive,” she stepped carefully towards him and lifted her hand to display the ring Laurence had chosen from the stock they kept downstairs to be used when an engagement required it. “I am flattered, but my answer would have been 'no' even if I had waited to speak to you.”
She looked away, trying to summon the right expression and then stopped trying. The feelings were real even if she was practiced at pretending otherwise; she had no need to fake anything. “There is someone who I... nothing ever happened of course. We agreed that our jobs had to come first. He works for Rossum as well and when the Regulation arrived we thought...”
“That you should take advantage of the opportunity.” Clive's expression had become blank but she sensed his annoyance - not a man much accustomed to failure. “Have I met the lucky man?” Her gaze shifted to the place where Laurence had been standing earlier and of course he took her point at once. “Keeping things in house I see. I hope you know what you're doing Adelle? It isn't like you to make a decision based on emotion.”
Her reputation as an ice queen was well earned and while it might not be a completely accurate representation of her character she was keeping that knowledge to herself. “If ever there was a decision to be made on emotional grounds, surely this was it?” She said, her tone mild. “We both understood that it wasn't possible for us to be together, we set our feelings aside and concentrated on our jobs. Surely amidst all the hasty matches the order will occasion there is room for one based on genuine emotions.”
“I doubt it will cause too much surprise,” he told her. “You and your Head of Security have been a subject of some, speculation over the years. I won't stay, I'm sure there are other things you'd rather be doing.” She followed him to the lift, uncertain how to respond. “I hope for both of your sakes this doesn't raise questions about where Dominic's loyalties lie. Conflicts of interest can be dangerous things.”
“Of course they can,” she agreed, “when there is in fact a conflict of interest.”
“Things change,” he said, but then he smiled - cold and calculating, like a crocodile barring his teeth. “Your peers will be surprised that you passed up an opportunity to make an advantageous alliance. Perhaps we've all misjudged you.” He pressed the button to the elevator and stepped into it.
“Where to now?” She asked - interested to see who was second choice.
“Rio, I think.” It was as illustrative as she had expected. The Head of the Rio House had the body and face of the supermodel she had once been and the mind of a teenager who had spent her time at school smoking and chasing boys. Valentina would look fabulous on his arm - but she lacked the depth to exploit their relationship. He'd chosen well for himself, though she felt rather sorry for the future Mrs Ambrose. Unless she too had already found someone else to marry.
“Be careful Adelle,” he said as the lift doors closed, “you know what they say about marrying in haste.”
Left alone in her office she shivered, the encounter had been as difficult as she had expected it to be and she was extremely grateful that she'd had an excuse to turn him down, that she hadn't decided that her ambition or her sense of survival would be best served by accepting him.
“Drink this,” when she looked up Laurence stood before her, holding a glass of brandy. She took it from him without comment, draining it in a single gulp.
“He wasn't terribly happy to hear the news,” she said finally. “We need to be careful.”
“We're always careful,” she managed a smile in acknowledgment of his point. “Did he believe you?”
“He seemed to,” she thought about another drink, but dismissed the idea since she had work to do still. “Does it bother you at all that no one seemed to doubt that there was something between us?”
“No,” her lifted eyebrow dared him to elaborate. “It means we'll be convincing.” Well, there was that she supposed, though apparently they had also been convincing before they had even been trying.
“I didn't answer your question earlier.”
“You don't have to, at least not right now.” She nodded, wanting to believe he was right.
“Everyone will be expecting us to leave together tonight.”
“Then we shouldn't disappoint everyone, we wouldn't want an adverse rumours to reach Clive.” She looked at him for a moment longer and then stepped away, aware that the sway of her hips had drawn his eye.
“I think a little normality would be welcomed right now,” she said as she settled behind her desk.
“Business as usual then,” he nodded, “I'll see to it.” She had no doubt that he would be as good as his word.
****
It was surprisingly easy to focus his mind on his actual job for the rest of the afternoon, but then he was motivated by the fact that he had a great many things he didn't want to think about.
He put several of his security teams through their paces and pretended not to hear the whispered remarks about honeymoons. Everyone who worked for him knew that steps out of line were not tolerated and tended to be swiftly and painfully dealt with. He understood that he needed to inspire a healthy dose of fear, underscored by respect. But there were colleagues whose opinions he listened to, they tended to be people who had been with him the longest, who'd proven themselves reliable and discrete. So from them he took a couple of remarks along the lines of, “Christ Dom, do you know what you're doing?” Though none of them seemed to question the idea that he had long been carrying a careful and discrete torch for Adelle DeWitt.
Despite what she had said to Laurence, it wasn't so simple to just concentrate on business. The effect of the Regulation had rippled across all of the Houses and for the rest of the day she was drawn into its aftermath whether she liked it or not.
Her decision occasioned much comment, especially since many people seemed to know about Clive's arrival and subsequent departure. At some point she had realised that Rossum's intention had not merely been to exercise control, but also to observe the choices they made and calculate what they revealed. It wasn't a comfortable feeling to know that she might have exposed something about herself she would sooner kept a secret.
“Are you ready to leave?” He'd never been much good at sitting around and waiting. He could have tried to contact his handler, update the NSA about this development, but he imagined that conversation would lead to his involvement in this mission being questioned.
In all honesty, it should be questioned. For months now he'd been trying to pretend otherwise but events had placed him in a situation which confronted all that he had been trying to avoid. It was almost as though this situation had been engineered to test where his loyalty really lay. If that were the case only a lunatic would try to have his cake and eat it. But then Adelle hadn't tested his loyalty, she'd torn it to shreds.
Adelle knew she was exhausted and she wasn't sure that she was achieving much by staying. Of course she was also avoiding having to decide what going home would lead to - but now he was standing here and she still didn't know what she wanted to do.
“Actually, I think that would be a very good idea. Let me finish up here.”
He waited as she cleared her desk away and locked up. As she stood he offered her coat, holding the arms so she could slip into it. As she turned his clean, light scent that made her think of the ocean and she was sure they both realised that she hadn't moved away. If anything she had eased more fully into his embrace and when he pressed his lips to the spot on her throat where her pulse raced, her decision was made.
Adelle sighed with relief when the car doors were closed and the only scrutiny she had to worry about was that of her husband. She rested her hand on her chin as she looked at him, smiling slightly, at peace with the decision she had made. When she crossed her legs his eyes tracked the movement before his mouth twisted into a smile as he realised he'd been caught.
“You do understand I won't be your faithful and obedient Head of Security out of the office?” There had always been a hint of steel about him, she found him respectful not obsequious and of course he had disobeyed her on occasion.
“What will you be?” she mused, seeing his jaw clench with tension and reaching out to smooth his frown away. “I look forward to finding out.”
When they reached their destination, he offered his hand to help her out of the car and wasn't surprised that she immediately noticed the two vans outside her house.
“I ordered a security sweep,” he told her, nodding to one of his subordinates as he emerged and started to give orders to the team. “In case Clive doesn't handle rejection well.”
“I'm quite sure he doesn't.” She stepped a little closer and added, “is this your idea of what a considerate bridegroom does on his wedding night?” Her tone was low and teasing, but her eyes watched the movements of the security personnel and he wasn't certain she appreciated the initiative.
“I'm trying to ensure that our evening is as peaceful as possible - no untoward disturbances.”
She didn't reply, looking past him to where the team leader stood. “I assume Mr Hamilton is waiting for me to provide the alarm code?”
“The sooner you do, the sooner they will be on their way.” He came very close to adding ma'am and from the mirth in her eyes he suspected she knew as much.
She retreated into the car as soon as the front door was open and though he was tempted to join her instead he opted to stand outside the vehicle and watch the efficient and economical movements of the team he'd hand-picked for this task.
Twenty minutes later he was watching their departure, though he waited until the vans were pulling away before opening the car door and offering his hand once more. “Finally alone,” she quipped as she stepped past him towards the house. “I take it we haven't been left any embarrassing wedding presents?”
“It's all clear,” he retrieved an overnight bag from their driver, staring the man down when he seemed about to make some glib remark.
She paused just inside the doorway and watched him intimidate the driver. “Should I carry you over the threshold,” he asked as he approached.
“That won't be necessary.”
****
He closed the door behind him, letting the expensive electronic lock activate and then reaching for her. He opened his mouth to tell her that the situation Rossum had placed them in had created no expectations as far as he was concerned. But that wasn't true exactly; it wasn't Rossum, or even the marriage that had created the expectations. They'd been there all along.
A better man wouldn't have taken advantage, especially knowing what he was really doing here and her likely reaction to the truth. But he wasn't a better man and she'd compromised him as easily as she persuaded people to put their lives into her hands.
Rather than think about that he backed her against a nearby wall. She gave no sign that his sudden aggression was unwelcome, her movements and her body language invited him closer. The arch of her body was only too tempting, a breath away from surrender, a heartbeat too close to abandon. He didn't resist that particular temptation and his body pressed firmly against hers as they watched each other - eyes communicating desires never to be spoken aloud.
“We got married,” he tried to hide his surprise but it was evident in his voice and his expression.
“I was there,” she pointed out, before adding, “twelve hours ago you were my Head of Security - and now look at us.”
“What do you want Adelle?” Well, that was a question. She wanted a great many things, things that she knew she couldn't have. Until today he had been on that list.
“Kiss me.” Nothing about the words was a command, but he obeyed anyway.
It was gentle, even reverent for a second or two - but she didn't allow that to persist. She tugged him closer, already trying to remove his rather lovely jacket. He released her for long enough to allow her to pull it from him and then reached for her again, letting his hands slide down her body, skimming the sides of her breasts. His mouth plundered hers and she caught his desperation, magnifying it - hips moving against his until he lifted her up and slammed her back into the wall. Making the point that he could and would carry her to bed if need be.
When they parted to catch their breath she smiled lazily up at him, carefully unfastening his tie as she told him, “top of the stairs, third door on the left.” She doubted she needed to explain that she was telling him how to get to her bedroom.
In the end he carried her half way - stopping in the middle of the staircase for more of the desperate kissing, before stumbling the rest of the distance, discarding footwear and various pieces of clothing in their urgency.
If their marriage had been in haste, then the foreplay was significantly slower, if still purposeful. Neither of them was much in the mood to tease or play games and she appreciated that he saved all his control for when he was buried inside her and she was begging him to move faster or harder. On this occasion his disobedience was definitely forgiven - though the bite mark she left on his shoulder was a reminder of the price he'd paid. Her lovers didn't usually inspire her to perpetrate such violence.
He understood about silk and steel when she touched him and succumbed to fire and ice when she pushed him far beyond his limits. Strong, supple limbs wrapped around him - panting and pressing, sighing and stroking; every sinuous movement an invitation to a culmination. He grasped her hips - uncertain whether he was holding her in place or pressing her forward until she sighed a ‘yes’ and begged for harder and faster.
Her orgasm was intense - leaving her limp and trembling beneath his equally exhausted and hopefully replete body. He'd groaned her name at the crucial moment and now he lifted his head from her shoulder and shifted his body so they both winced. “Christ,” he said as he collapsed at her side.
She considered a short trip downstairs to find something to drink, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead she pushed a hand through her hair, still trying to catch her breath and turned on her side to look at him, sliding one of her legs between his, refusing to question the urge to maintain physical contact.
“We scarcely know anything about each other,” she mused “and that's not something I expected to be saying to the man I recently married. I do feel as though we know each other though and not just intimately.”
“We've worked together for three years,” he pointed out, “you hired me - I provided a resume.”
“But we've never really talked about ourselves. I know the salient facts, the ones you chose to tell me and very little more.” She propped herself up on one elbow and ran her fingertip along his chest, “I have to inform you Mr Dominic that your, curriculum vitae was less than comprehensive. There were definitely indications of artfully concealed work for the Government, perhaps with a military flavour. That would certainly explain some of your useful contacts.”
“Do you believe husbands and wives should have no secrets from each other?” He inquired.
“I suppose that depends on the secrets.”
He tried to pretend that his racing heart was caused by the way she was gently stroking his chest - but that wasn't it. Though she was a significant part of what was causing his agitation.
He'd slept with women because an undercover role required it but this time he couldn't hide behind that excuse. Laurence had done this, not Agent Dominic and as a result of his uncharacteristically quixotic behaviour he was lying here wanting to touch her, wanting to make her cry out again in rapture and instead feeling as though his insides were being ripped out. If ever there was a woman who deserved to be termed devastating it was Adelle DeWitt.
“Some things are secret for a reason,” he told her gruffly - hoping to give the impression that his past hid violent, black op missions, probably sanctioned by the Government. “I really don't want to talk about what I did and why.”
“Would you do it again? Work for the Government I mean?” God he wanted her to stop asking questions.
“Well, not for the money. The private sector definitely pays better.”
“And you have expensive tastes,” she teased.
“Including in women.” She smiled, but wasn't distracted - watching him, waiting for his answer. He wanted to believe that she was curious, not suspicious, but he didn't know any more. “I suppose I might, if the cause was right. Or if I had no choice.”
“You see, we're learning things about each other now.” He arrested her roaming hand as it dipped below his waist, pressing it into his hip, wishing he could stop her digging beneath the surface of his identity so easily.
“My turn,” she raised an eyebrow and he found himself desperately wanting to hear her answer to the question. “If you could run away, cash in everything you owned and just disappear - where would you go, what would you do?”
“Are you by any chance entertaining fantasies that I'll tell you that I want to run a bar on a beach somewhere exotic, with no clocks, or phones or computers. Just cool local beers and dogs that wander in from playing on the beach?” Suddenly all of her playfulness had disappeared and in its place he could see something that looked a lot like anguish. “It's pointless my answering Laurence, it can't happen.”
He cursed himself for being thoughtless - the only reason they were lying here was because Rossum had demonstrated that it owned her, body and soul. She scarcely needed him to remind her.
He'd only seen fleeting glimpses behind her defences before and he understood what it meant that she had revealed so much to him now. This was more intimate even than the sex had been. He reached for her, pulling her into an embrace and whispering an apology into her hair as she held onto him. Eventually the embrace led to a desperate kiss which, in turn, became another bout of love-making, one laced with her unhappiness and his fear.
****
Adelle woke up alone, the covers tucked carefully around her. It was still early and as she sat up she tried to reconcile herself to the fear that Laurence might have left, although the man's shoe in the middle of the bedroom floor seemed to indicate that he was still somewhere in her house.
She wasn’t sorry to be alone, she needed a little time to repair the emotional distance their night together had eroded. The idea of running away wasn’t something she could allow herself to contemplate - it was all too clear that there was no such escape route. Rossum would put a bullet in her brain before she’d crossed a border or if she was very unlucky they’d send her to the attic so they could prolong the punishment.
She rested her head on her knees, taking slow careful breaths - almost as though she was on the brink of panic. As much as she didn’t wanted to admit it she had put Laurence at more risk - allowed him to become a target, someone Clive Ambrose might want to punish for her sins. She knew he could take care of himself, but he’d been unexpectedly gentle and careful with her last night. He’d already demonstrated the capacity to go out on a limb for her sake. There were few things left that she had a conscience about and he could easily become one of them.
Dominic hadn’t slept. His head felt as though it was going to explode and the feel of Adelle’s body curved around his had been a salutary reminder of what he had done. Having her sleep in his arms had been overpowering and almost terrifying. He’d watched her for hours, absorbed by the elegant lines of her cheekbones, the sweep of her brows and dark hair against porcelain skin. He’d known then that this could only end in destruction.
Now he stood on her balcony, looking out across the ocean and trying to prepare himself for what he had to do.
“Laurence?” She stood in the doorway, wrapped on a pale silk robe, looking gorgeous and slightly disappointed that he was mostly dressed. Her smile died when he turned more fully towards her and she saw the gun in his hand. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to tell you about the artfully concealed gaps in my resume.”
“At gun point?”
“It’s the only way I can get a hearing.” He lifted the gun, training it on her, “please listen Adelle, I’m going to tell you who I really am.”
The End
OK - so it's not actually the end...
week
Author: Morgan72uk
Rating: R
Word Count - longer than I intended
Disclaimer: About the whole not belonging to me thing...
Authors Note: Yeah. Well, I freely admit that this was supposed to be a crack fic! How could it be anything else given the plot - but then Rossum, Adelle and Dominic made it seem only too plausible and before I knew where I was I had a plot that worked, one that allowed me to combine some decidedly sappy ideas with a darker motif. That's my story and I am sticking to it. Thanks to ladyvivien and Rogoblue who both provided input at very necessary moments. It's definitely my fault though.
A Leisurely Repentance
Mandatory Marital Regulation No 1
Adelle DeWitt read the title of the email from Rossum Corporate and arched an eyebrow in disbelief. Was it 1 April, she wondered? Once she had established that it was not in fact All Fools Day, she scanned the rest of the message with rising disbelief, murmuring, “oh for heaven’s sake.” She only hoped that whoever was responsible for this rather distasteful joke was tracked down and punished accordingly. With any luck it was a junior level functionary in Tuscon and no one associated with her House. As a prank it reeked of Topher, but she was fairly sure he had a more highly developed sense of self-preservation.
“Something wrong ma’am?” She turned in her chair to look across the room to where her Head of Security stood. His stance was, as usual, a perfect balance between control and aggression and set off by a pale grey suit cut to allow for movement. She was always impressed by the way his clothing managed to combine elegance with functionality.
“One of those rather tedious joke emails,” she said. “There was a memo from the IT department suggesting they were making changes to the firewall.”
“Clearly the changes haven’t been successful. I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you,” always so efficient. “Shall we begin?” Their regular morning security briefing was conducted as smoothly as ever. They worked well together, notwithstanding occasional disagreements over Echo.
Her preference was to discuss her domain whilst strolling though it and as always Mr Dominic’s stride matched hers perfectly as they discussed a high risk engagement, a new client who’d raised a security flag and the arrangements for finding Sierra a new handler.
She was relieved that the awkwardness that had crept into their interactions following the incident where they had been drugged by one of Rossum’s experiments gone awry and as a result succumbed to an outburst of childishness, had dissipated. The smooth functioning of the House had to be maintained at all costs and there was no doubt that Mr Dominic was one of the reasons that things ran so well. He was good at his job, he showed no sign of scheming against her in order to climb the Rossum ladder and that alone made him distinctive from his counterparts. He led from the front, demanding loyalty from his own personnel and respect from his colleagues. He appeared to take their recent run of bad luck as seriously as she did and reassuringly shared her determination to turn that particular tide.
Content that all was as it should be they stepped into the lift together and returned to her office. Judith was waiting when they emerged, looking uncharacteristically tense. “Ms DeWitt there are a number of messages.” Her assistant handed over a sheaf of messages and she flicked through them quickly - wondering what could have occasioned so many of her peers to have called her. “And we’ve had a message to say that Mr Ambrose is on his way - he’ll be here later this afternoon.”
“I wonder what we’ve done to deserve that particular pleasure.” Clive wasn’t one of her favourite people, but he’d been showering her with attention recently. There had been an invitation to dinner which she’d declined, citing the demands of the House, and only the day before a large and expensive bouquet had been delivered with his regards.
“Something is going on,” she observed as she headed to her own office, still leafing through the messages. She was slightly relieved to discover that at least one of her callers was someone she could face having a conversation with.
A few deft strokes on the control panel and the large screen was set up for a video conference. She waited, not entirely patiently, for the head of the Sydney Dollhouse to be found and managed a small smile of greeting when she eventually came into view.
“Do you know what time it is here?” The not so amused woman grumbled; running a hand through short chestnut curls. Adelle raised an eyebrow but didn’t feel the need to apologise.
“You weren’t asleep Randi - you left a message for me half an hour ago.”
“You’re right - I was on the phone with Louis. He’s desperately amused by the drama and loving the fact that it doesn’t affect him. He’s waiting to see who’ll have the most interesting reaction, I suspect he’s planning to run a betting pool - I can probably get decent odds for your ending up hitched to dear Clive. Tell me all Adelle, how many proposals have there been so far?” She disliked the feeling of being in the dark and it seemed unlikely that a head of House could have gone quietly insane - though knowing Rossum it wasn't impossible.
“What on earth are you talking about Miranda?”
“You have read the memo from corporate?”
“I thought it was a joke.”
“Sadly we aren’t that fortunate. Rumour has it a few of our esteemed peers have been caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. The higher ups are not amused by the staff borrowing the actives.” Adelle worked very hard to keep her expression neutral while making a mental note to cancel all future Ms Lonelyheart engagements. “It’s an over reaction of course, completely mad if you ask me. But our lords and masters do like to remind us that they own us body and soul. So, if they decide that all Heads of Dollhouses and Senior staff within Corporate need to be married - then that is exactly what is going to happen, in an indecent scramble. Nevermind that it probably won’t do anything to address the problem they are apparently so concerned about.
Adelle was completely without words. She supposed there was a horrible and somewhat medieval logic at play here. Though she agreed with Miranda that this was a reminder that to rise so high they had sold themselves just as much as the actives had - without any of the attendant oblivion. She doubted there was a clause that allowed for a polite refusal and she couldn't imagine she would be permitted to consult an attorney and take her employer to court for its unreasonable demands.
“What are you planning to do?” She was genuinely interested - Miranda skirted the line between forthright and blunt on a regular basis and made many of their colleagues uncomfortable. But she ran a tight ship, turned a considerable profit and her clients seemed to appreciate her.
“Well, shockingly I haven’t been overwhelmed with offers from my beloved colleagues so - unless you would like to test our employers tolerance for same sex unions, I am marrying our head chef.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Just as well Guy and I sealed the deal a little while ago. His cooking is divine and I might just be able to persuade Rossum to let him set up a place of his own. A little something to do in my retirement.” There was no doubt that Miranda was an eminently sensible woman and what she was describing sounded like a good business deal. As much as she admired her robust good sense Adelle wasn’t sure that she could emulate it. After everything she was still a romantic at heart.
“Clive Ambrose is on his way,” she admitted, “and I have messages from Stewart, Andre, Crispin and Rene.”
“Well compared to those four, Clive is almost eligible,” Miranda commented. “Be careful Adelle, you’ve been raising your head above the parapet lately.”
“Not by choice,” she agreed grimly. “Congratulations on your engagement Miranda - he’s a lucky man.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”
After ending the conversation Adelle decided that, in this instance, it definitely wasn’t too early for a drink. She crossed to the drinks tray and poured herself a glass of vodka.
“Clive Ambrose is going to ask you to marry him,” a voice said from across the room, “and you’re thinking of accepting.” She had forgotten that Mr Dominic was still present - she hadn’t been aware of him during her conversation with Miranda but clearly he had heard and his interpretation wasn’t incorrect.
****
Laurence Dominic didn’t know why he was surprised at this latest twist. In the last three years he thought he’d become accustomed to the insanity that was Rossum. After all, when you were in the business of programming people to order everything else became pedestrian. But just when he thought he’d seen everything the brilliant minds of Rossum corporate had managed to come up with yet another curve ball.
“What does the memo say, exactly?” He asked.
“All Heads of Dollhouses, plus corporate personnel about a certain level are required to be married. The preference is for their spouses to also be Rossum employees and if not, they need to be vetted thoroughly.” He wasn’t surprised she’d assumed the email was a hoax. “Don’t worry Mr Dominic, it doesn’t say anything about Heads of Security.” He ignored that jibe, ascribing it to the circumstances and considering it a mild reaction.
“You remember the escape route we discussed a few weeks ago ma’am?”
“There hasn’t been a great deal of time for packing.” She looked over at him, managing a rueful smile before crossing to her desk and pressing the intercom. “Judith - work a little of your magic and see if you can get a more specific time of arrival for Mr Ambrose.”
“Yes Ms DeWitt,” with that accomplished she settled back into her chair and pressed a hand to her forehead, mind running through options and scenarios. She could fabricate a pre-existing marriage but fooling Rossum would not be easy. Programming an active to take on the role was definitely not an option and given the alacrity of Clive Ambrose’s response she had a feeling that appealing to her superiors would not help.
A powerful husband from within the organisation would bring her prestige and power, even a measure of safety as long as she could convince him that she actually had feelings other than repulsion for him. She had already sold her soul, was her body really so sacrosanct?
“You could marry someone else employed by Rossum,” Dominic pointed out, “it’s what Miranda is doing.”
“I could,” she agreed, “but if Clive really is on his way here to ask me to marry him, I doubt he’d appreciate being usurped.”
“He might be forgiving if he were convinced that there was a pre-existing relationship.” His focus on trying to solve the problem was reassuring, but he wasn’t the one who was faced with the prospect of marrying a man she despised.
****
The Head of the Rome House, Andre Giometti, had a penchant for young boys - it was said that the young men he recruited as Actives were more beautiful than the women. Rene Caudwell, the Head of the Miami House was as heterosexual as they came and had already slept his way through most of his female employees and rumour had it he’d moved onto the Actives. Crispin Smythe, of the Brussels House was pushing 65 - obese and yet convinced he was almost irresistible to women and more that capable of harrassing those forced to endure his company. Stewart Lipman in DC was powerful as well as repellent and Dominic had watched him mentally undress Adelle DeWitt every time they had been in the same room.
For the repulsive and power hungry men on that list she was a veritable wet dream and the thought of any of them anywhere near her turned his stomach. Her options were limited and he had little doubt that failure to co-operate would result in more trouble than they really wanted to contemplate.
Arguably getting close to the Head of the LA Dollhouse was part of his mission - he was definitely supposed to gain her trust and confidence. What he was considering right now was pushing that a little far but it still just about fit the mission parameters. He ignored the voice in his head that sounded a lot like his handler, the one protesting vehemently that the mission was Rossum, the technology and not Adelle DeWitt.
He could, perhaps should, let her marry Ambrose. It would connect her to the very highest levels within Rossum - which would only help his mission. But doing so would endanger her even more, entangling her in Rossum’s machinations to the extent that he doubted that even her undoubted ingenuity would be enough to ensure her safety.
He’d been telling himself for months now that when it all went to hell he was going to find a way to get her out. It was the only way he could look himself in the eye as he deceived her but he was also convinced that she was their best chance for bringing down Rossum from within.
“I think I need to wait and see what Clive has to say when he gets here. He may want something quite different.” Dominic looked over at the expensive bouquet on her desk - a gift from the man in question. There seemed little doubt about what he wanted, or how this situation had been engineered to provide it. Right now it appeared there was only one way out.
“Marry me,” he said firmly.
****
Adelle was so shocked she put her glass down abruptly and the liquid splashed out onto her desk. He looked tense and she did him the courtesy of not making a joke out of the offer.
She got to her feet and stalked towards him, coming to a halt just within touching distance. He did look very like a man who had just proposed; as though he was vaguely nauseous and nervously awaiting her answer - yet the scenario was all wrong.
He didn’t blink, gazing back at her and she admired his restraint; he evidently didn’t think any explanation was necessary. He was correct in his assumption since her own ability to strategise had taken over and despite herself she was calculating just how they could make this work. They were used to spending time together, the rumours and innuendo that had swirled around their relationship over the years, though unfounded, could be made to work to their advantage.
“I’ve never proposed to anyone before,” he said at last. He was still trying to process the fact that the words had actually left his mouth and since she hadn’t said no that she must actually be considering it. Either that or she was trying to decide how to have him killed for his presumption.
“I’d never have guessed.”
He knew her and he had no doubt that she was considering whether it would be a better strategy to marry Clive. Three years by her side and he still couldn’t work out entirely what motivated her, what her angle was, whether she even had one. Did she really believe in what the technology could do, believe that it’s occasional benefit meant the crossing of moral boundaries was acceptable? Had she convinced herself that excellent performance here would lead to a promotion? Did she actually believe that Rossum would allow her to leave all of this behind some day? They never relinquished control once they had it and he doubted that they would ever allow someone who did this as well as she did to escape.
Never would she have expected to be in this position - considering the unexpected offer of assistance, weighing it up alongside a potential proposal from Clive Ambrose.
“I don’t make the offer lightly,” faint annoyance had crept into his tone, a reminder that he was respectful but no push-over.
“I’m surprised you made the offer at all,” she turned away only to have her movement halted when his hand fastened around her wrist. The surge of electricity at his touch forced her eyes back to his and from his expression she knew he’d felt it too. There it was, the elephant in the room, the attraction they had both chosen not to acknowledge rearing its head now to remind them why this was complicated.
In the middle of this ridiculous situation how did she come to be facing a choice that felt taut and real and powerful? How had the riskier option managed to convey a sense of security while the path that should augur safety was rife with danger?
She looked down to where his hand still clasped her wrist - his grip was firm but she knew he would allow her to pull away. That he’d let go and stand by while she gave herself to Ambrose - sank just a little deeper into the mire. And for what? For the greater good? For her own ambition? To secure a place of safety that she was no longer certain existed? The salient fact was how little she wanted to pull away. In the end it came down to such simple things - who could she bear to be in close proximity to, who did she trust.
“Yes,” she breathed, the word lingering in the air between them like a living thing given flight.
****
If he were honest, that was the point at which things became a bit of a blur - though if he’d ever doubted that Adelle DeWitt was like no other woman of his experience she proved in conclusively by planning a wedding in about 30 minutes.
Speed was of the essence since Judith brought news that Ambrose was expected by mid afternoon - his private jet due to touch down by 2pm. But while he was still processing her acceptance Adelle had rearranged her afternoon appointments, placed a call to the Mayor (one of their best customers) and sent Judith down to their wardrobe department to procure a selection of wedding rings.
Judith’s bright smile and enthusiastic congratulations were a surprise - even though she’d sobered considerably when the circumstances surrounding their sudden engagement had been explained. But she’d demonstrated herself to be every inch the perfect assistant by taking responsibility for organising the rest of the event and when she had turned her attention to his clothing it had finally hit home that in a couple of hours he was getting married.
****
“You’re going to have to start calling me Adelle.” They were seated together in the back of one of the company vehicles, returning to the House from their excursion to City Hall.
He was wearing a darker suit, with a pale pink tie and his, companion, had changed into a dark blue dress that clung and draped in an alluring manner without ever crossing the line from elegance. The wedding band on his finger felt tight and unfamiliar, but not necessarily uncomfortable.
“Are you going to start calling me Laurence?”
“I am, although I quite like the idea of continuing to call you Mr Dominic when there are other people present.”
Their ‘cover story’ had been discussed and agreed in the car on their way to City Hall. It had felt strangely truthful, or perhaps that wasn’t so strange - since it needed to be convincing. They were to confess that there had been a longstanding attraction between them, which had resolutely and reluctantly been set aside for professional reasons for all of these years. The unexpected change in policy from Rossum had presented an opportunity that they couldn’t fail to take advantage of. They would have to ensure that Ambrose believed their feelings were genuine and that amongst all the unions hastily created to satisfy the requirements of the new regulation, this marriage was different.
That the Mayor had been convinced, was a surprise. He’d jovially offered congratulations and teased them both about the office romance they had succumbed to; claiming he had always known there was something going on between them.
The ceremony itself had been short and business-like, they’d exchanged rings and he thought his decision to wear his had surprised the woman he wasn’t ready to start thinking of as Adelle, let alone as his wife. The only awkward moment had come at the end, when the Mayor had suggested a kiss and they had stared at each other in surprise until he’d leaned forward to brush his lips to her cheek - inhaling perfume that had made his senses swim.
“Laurence,” his attention had wavered a little, giving her the opportunity to try speaking his name aloud. She liked the way it sounded and appreciated the way it drew his eyes back to hers. She shifted closer to him and took his hand, “in order for this work our behaviour will need to be compatible with our cover story. Since we will be maintaining that we weren’t involved before a certain amount of, restraint, will be plausible. But we will need to touch, to stand close together, to kiss.”
“And?” Her husband was stubborn. She was experimenting with the word, with the unfathomable concept behind it; she had already known that about her Head of Security.
“We don’t exactly find each other unattractive.” Something changed in his expression, he relaxed a little, a smile threatening to escape him though he seemed reluctant to allow the lapse of control. “I’m not telling you anything you aren’t aware of.”
“I’m used to pretending not to be aware of it.”
“I’m glad,” when his expression telegraphed surprise she added, “it will make it easier that it’s mutual.”
It would make it more difficult as well, blurring the boundary between professional and personal - although they’d done that already. Now she realised that there had been a whole host of things that hadn’t been clarified before their, wedding. It was unlike her to proceed without tying up loose ends, but here they were.
As much as she thought the main reason she had chosen to create an imprint was to assuage her loneliness there was no denying that the other remedy she had considered was seducing the man sitting beside her now. Ironically, given their current circumstances, she had dismissed that option as altogether too complicated, too risky and far too real.
“Is this convincing?” He murmured, brushing his fingertips carefully over her cheek. Her breath stuttered and her eyes fluttered closed; her reaction surprising and pleasing him.
“It’s a start.”
For a moment he’d thought she’d been questioning his ability to act, to pull off this deception. As though he wasn’t used to doing just that, knew more about it than most people. But she didn’t know that about him and it was a salient reminder that all he’d really done was add more layers to his deception of the woman he had just married.
“I’ll endeavour to do better,” he told her - meaning it.
“You could start with something simple, like my name.” He was tempted to answer by calling her Ms DeWitt, just to see what she would do.
“I’ll endeavour to do better, Adelle.” She raised an eyebrow in approval and he lifted their clasped hands it to his lips and pressed a gentle and careful kiss to the back of hers.
“Fast learner,” she commented.
****
She had hoped they could step back into the House as though nothing had changed, but of course that wasn’t possible. Something very fundamental had changed and the question was how she responded to it. Everything was different and the surreal feeling was only reinforced by the weight of the hand resting on the small of her back - surely it was only imagination that meant she could feel the cool metal of his ring through the cloth of her dress.
She should be deciding how this was going to work and then communicating that to him, setting parameters, putting the boundaries firmly in place. But they had just stepped blithely over boundaries that had existed for years and, once dismantled, it wasn’t so simple to restore them.
Safely ensconced in the elevator she took a breath and turned towards him, “Ready?”
“You think Judith’s spread the word?”
“I’ll be extremely disappointed if she hasn’t.”
“Tell me it isn’t true!” Topher demanded as soon as they stepped out of the elevator.
He wasn’t the only person waiting for them and it didn’t take much effort to read the uncertain body language of their reception committee. Dominic assumed the outrage was a reaction to Rossum’s absurd regulation, but he should have known better. “Tell me you didn’t turn down a Nobel nominee and the third richest man in the country for a catalogue model who knows how to shoot?” His expression as he faced Adelle was horrified and Dominic didn’t have the restraint not to respond. He lifted his hand to show the wedding ring - not even attempting to hide his smirk. “Oh God,” their programmer whined, “it’s like Felicia Day married Matt Damon.”
Dominic glanced over at Adelle, who was looking mystified by the pop culture reference. “Do we really need him?” He asked. “Rossum must have other programmers?”
“I was actually just wondering if Bennett Halverson might appreciate a change in climate,” she said, fixing Topher with a look that made him gulp and flail.
“He’s pleased really,” Ivy stepped forward, drawing attention away from her boss, “he just isn’t expressing it very well.” Topher’s wild nod was even more alarming than his hostility. “We all wanted to say congratulations and we hope you’ll be happy - despite the, circumstances.”
“Thank you.” Adelle was graciousness personified and Judith’s announcement that there was a little champagne on ice got them past the rest of the awkward moment.
****
It was almost too easy. On one hand she was unsettled that no one seemed to doubt that Rossum's Regulation had persuaded her to give into a long suppressed passion for her Head of Security. But, on the other hand, the whole point of this exercise was to have a convincing cover story.
Perhaps her staff were all so inured to the strange happenings that went with a job at the Dollhouse that this barely registered as unusual. Or perhaps they were more perceptive than she'd realised.
There were certainly a lot of sly remarks embedded in the congratulations - a little champagne making her subordinates brave enough to let her know that her preference for one subordinate in particular had come as no great surprise.
It wasn't anyone's idea of a wedding reception. There were no friends or family to offer congratulations and in their place were work colleagues who didn't quite know how to react to this development. Hell, he didn't know how to react it and he had about 45 minutes before Clive Ambrose descended upon them to work it out.
“Did she make you do this?” He had been lurking on the outskirts of the group, trying to avoid any too effusive congratulations and clearly Langton wasn't offering any.
“I proposed to her,” he responded gruffly. The man was good enough at what he did but he was far too invested in Echo for Dominic to ever feel comfortable with him.
“That's not an answer.”
“You seriously believe she forced me to marry her?”
Langton looked at him for a long moment. “Forced no. Manipulated, maybe. She's going to thwart Clive Ambrose and use you to assist her. It's a high risk strategy and you're the one taking the risk.”
“You think I'm not getting something out of this?”
“That's what I'm trying to work out.”
“Well, do me a favour and stop. Concentrate on keeping Echo on track.”
As he crossed the room Judith beckoned to him, after their short conversation he resumed his path to Adelle's side, where Topher was in full flow. “Seriously you should think about it, DeWitt-Dominic, Dominic-Dewitt.” At her expression he shrugged, “OK, so you'll definitely be coming first but...”
“Topher wants to know if we're going to double-barrel,” she said, glancing over at him and raising an eyebrow.
“Are we?” He asked - apparently genuinely interested in her answer.
“I think I'd miss calling you Mr Dominic.”
“But I'd still be able to call you ma'am.” He let a little of the smile show through - or perhaps she had a better vantage point from which to interpret his amusement. He was certainly standing closer to her than he had ever done before and she could just see Topher’s start of surprise at their flirtation.
“Clive is on his way,” he murmured - leaning closer still. “We have about 5 minutes.” Although she was tempted to allow their visitor to arrive mid celebration - she was wise enough to recognise that publicly humiliating him wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead she raised her voice slightly, collecting the attention of everyone in the room.
“When I started work this morning I didn’t expect that a few hours later I would be celebrating my wedding. The day is about to get a little more interesting as I understand Clive Ambrose is going to be paying us a visit in the next few minutes. I’m sure none of us want a senior Rossum official to think that we have let our attention wander from the business at hand. Laurence and I very much appreciate your good wishes - but now it’s time to return to your posts.”
His hand had settled on her waist as she spoke and as she turned her head towards him she became aware of just how close he was. “Adelle,” he murmured and though she could have commented that he was finding it easier to use her name, she didn’t. Instead she focussed on the way he was holding himself - tension and intensity a vibrant and compelling combination. He looked as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to kiss her here and now; she wasn’t sure either but everyone expected it of them - even she expected it.
For all of that it was a gentle careful kiss, edged with the hint of longing that couldn’t help but define them. But the second time was infinitely easier and the third time was effortless - he simply eased back, looked at her and kissed her again, manfully ignoring the sound she made at the back of her throat when he stroked his tongue into her mouth.
When they parted properly they were completely alone. “That’s one way to clear a room,” he said. She stepped back from him; hand raised to her forehead.
“I didn’t mean for this to become so complicated,” she offered quietly.
“We can forget that just happened,” he said, making no attempt to follow her when she retreated behind her desk. “We can decide that this is a business arrangement, pretend only as much as we have to and get a quiet annulment when Rossum loses interest. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Before he could answer the phone on her desk rang and she answered, listening for a moment before replacing the receiver and heading to the door. He could tell by her expression that they were out of time and the sound of the elevator doors opening announced the arrival of their visitor.
“Clive, how lovely to see you.”
“Adelle,” he was carrying a large bouquet of flowers, which he handed over with a flourish, “beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you,” she said - referring both to the compliment and to the gift, turning her hand so he didn’t see the elegant ring that now adorned her finger.
“Dominic,” Clive Ambrose just about offered a greeting, without looking in his direction. Instead he kept his attention firmly focused on Adelle.
“Mr Ambrose.”
“That will be all, Mr Dominic.” The dismissal was clear and he nodded and withdrew without so much as a backward glance. She was sure he understood that she had to face this alone.
“Well trained staff,” Clive commented as the door closed and they were left alone.
“I wasn’t expecting a return visit so soon,” she said as she looked up from arranging the flowers.
“It wasn’t easy to stay away.” He oozed oleaginous charm and she forced herself to smile.
“I'm sure that isn't true, a man with responsibilities as great as yours must have many demands on his time.”
“I do, so you should infer something from my presence. I know you've seen the Regulation Adelle, don't pretend not to know what I am doing here. I half expected to find the trail to your office door littered by the corpses of disappointed suitors, maybe a few of your peers. Instead, there are signs of a celebration.”
The suspicion was there, underneath the veneer of civility - but not too far beneath. “Did you think I wouldn't follow an order from the highest levels of Rossum?”
“I suppose I assumed you would give me the courtesy of a hearing.”
“Clive,” she stepped carefully towards him and lifted her hand to display the ring Laurence had chosen from the stock they kept downstairs to be used when an engagement required it. “I am flattered, but my answer would have been 'no' even if I had waited to speak to you.”
She looked away, trying to summon the right expression and then stopped trying. The feelings were real even if she was practiced at pretending otherwise; she had no need to fake anything. “There is someone who I... nothing ever happened of course. We agreed that our jobs had to come first. He works for Rossum as well and when the Regulation arrived we thought...”
“That you should take advantage of the opportunity.” Clive's expression had become blank but she sensed his annoyance - not a man much accustomed to failure. “Have I met the lucky man?” Her gaze shifted to the place where Laurence had been standing earlier and of course he took her point at once. “Keeping things in house I see. I hope you know what you're doing Adelle? It isn't like you to make a decision based on emotion.”
Her reputation as an ice queen was well earned and while it might not be a completely accurate representation of her character she was keeping that knowledge to herself. “If ever there was a decision to be made on emotional grounds, surely this was it?” She said, her tone mild. “We both understood that it wasn't possible for us to be together, we set our feelings aside and concentrated on our jobs. Surely amidst all the hasty matches the order will occasion there is room for one based on genuine emotions.”
“I doubt it will cause too much surprise,” he told her. “You and your Head of Security have been a subject of some, speculation over the years. I won't stay, I'm sure there are other things you'd rather be doing.” She followed him to the lift, uncertain how to respond. “I hope for both of your sakes this doesn't raise questions about where Dominic's loyalties lie. Conflicts of interest can be dangerous things.”
“Of course they can,” she agreed, “when there is in fact a conflict of interest.”
“Things change,” he said, but then he smiled - cold and calculating, like a crocodile barring his teeth. “Your peers will be surprised that you passed up an opportunity to make an advantageous alliance. Perhaps we've all misjudged you.” He pressed the button to the elevator and stepped into it.
“Where to now?” She asked - interested to see who was second choice.
“Rio, I think.” It was as illustrative as she had expected. The Head of the Rio House had the body and face of the supermodel she had once been and the mind of a teenager who had spent her time at school smoking and chasing boys. Valentina would look fabulous on his arm - but she lacked the depth to exploit their relationship. He'd chosen well for himself, though she felt rather sorry for the future Mrs Ambrose. Unless she too had already found someone else to marry.
“Be careful Adelle,” he said as the lift doors closed, “you know what they say about marrying in haste.”
Left alone in her office she shivered, the encounter had been as difficult as she had expected it to be and she was extremely grateful that she'd had an excuse to turn him down, that she hadn't decided that her ambition or her sense of survival would be best served by accepting him.
“Drink this,” when she looked up Laurence stood before her, holding a glass of brandy. She took it from him without comment, draining it in a single gulp.
“He wasn't terribly happy to hear the news,” she said finally. “We need to be careful.”
“We're always careful,” she managed a smile in acknowledgment of his point. “Did he believe you?”
“He seemed to,” she thought about another drink, but dismissed the idea since she had work to do still. “Does it bother you at all that no one seemed to doubt that there was something between us?”
“No,” her lifted eyebrow dared him to elaborate. “It means we'll be convincing.” Well, there was that she supposed, though apparently they had also been convincing before they had even been trying.
“I didn't answer your question earlier.”
“You don't have to, at least not right now.” She nodded, wanting to believe he was right.
“Everyone will be expecting us to leave together tonight.”
“Then we shouldn't disappoint everyone, we wouldn't want an adverse rumours to reach Clive.” She looked at him for a moment longer and then stepped away, aware that the sway of her hips had drawn his eye.
“I think a little normality would be welcomed right now,” she said as she settled behind her desk.
“Business as usual then,” he nodded, “I'll see to it.” She had no doubt that he would be as good as his word.
****
It was surprisingly easy to focus his mind on his actual job for the rest of the afternoon, but then he was motivated by the fact that he had a great many things he didn't want to think about.
He put several of his security teams through their paces and pretended not to hear the whispered remarks about honeymoons. Everyone who worked for him knew that steps out of line were not tolerated and tended to be swiftly and painfully dealt with. He understood that he needed to inspire a healthy dose of fear, underscored by respect. But there were colleagues whose opinions he listened to, they tended to be people who had been with him the longest, who'd proven themselves reliable and discrete. So from them he took a couple of remarks along the lines of, “Christ Dom, do you know what you're doing?” Though none of them seemed to question the idea that he had long been carrying a careful and discrete torch for Adelle DeWitt.
Despite what she had said to Laurence, it wasn't so simple to just concentrate on business. The effect of the Regulation had rippled across all of the Houses and for the rest of the day she was drawn into its aftermath whether she liked it or not.
Her decision occasioned much comment, especially since many people seemed to know about Clive's arrival and subsequent departure. At some point she had realised that Rossum's intention had not merely been to exercise control, but also to observe the choices they made and calculate what they revealed. It wasn't a comfortable feeling to know that she might have exposed something about herself she would sooner kept a secret.
“Are you ready to leave?” He'd never been much good at sitting around and waiting. He could have tried to contact his handler, update the NSA about this development, but he imagined that conversation would lead to his involvement in this mission being questioned.
In all honesty, it should be questioned. For months now he'd been trying to pretend otherwise but events had placed him in a situation which confronted all that he had been trying to avoid. It was almost as though this situation had been engineered to test where his loyalty really lay. If that were the case only a lunatic would try to have his cake and eat it. But then Adelle hadn't tested his loyalty, she'd torn it to shreds.
Adelle knew she was exhausted and she wasn't sure that she was achieving much by staying. Of course she was also avoiding having to decide what going home would lead to - but now he was standing here and she still didn't know what she wanted to do.
“Actually, I think that would be a very good idea. Let me finish up here.”
He waited as she cleared her desk away and locked up. As she stood he offered her coat, holding the arms so she could slip into it. As she turned his clean, light scent that made her think of the ocean and she was sure they both realised that she hadn't moved away. If anything she had eased more fully into his embrace and when he pressed his lips to the spot on her throat where her pulse raced, her decision was made.
Adelle sighed with relief when the car doors were closed and the only scrutiny she had to worry about was that of her husband. She rested her hand on her chin as she looked at him, smiling slightly, at peace with the decision she had made. When she crossed her legs his eyes tracked the movement before his mouth twisted into a smile as he realised he'd been caught.
“You do understand I won't be your faithful and obedient Head of Security out of the office?” There had always been a hint of steel about him, she found him respectful not obsequious and of course he had disobeyed her on occasion.
“What will you be?” she mused, seeing his jaw clench with tension and reaching out to smooth his frown away. “I look forward to finding out.”
When they reached their destination, he offered his hand to help her out of the car and wasn't surprised that she immediately noticed the two vans outside her house.
“I ordered a security sweep,” he told her, nodding to one of his subordinates as he emerged and started to give orders to the team. “In case Clive doesn't handle rejection well.”
“I'm quite sure he doesn't.” She stepped a little closer and added, “is this your idea of what a considerate bridegroom does on his wedding night?” Her tone was low and teasing, but her eyes watched the movements of the security personnel and he wasn't certain she appreciated the initiative.
“I'm trying to ensure that our evening is as peaceful as possible - no untoward disturbances.”
She didn't reply, looking past him to where the team leader stood. “I assume Mr Hamilton is waiting for me to provide the alarm code?”
“The sooner you do, the sooner they will be on their way.” He came very close to adding ma'am and from the mirth in her eyes he suspected she knew as much.
She retreated into the car as soon as the front door was open and though he was tempted to join her instead he opted to stand outside the vehicle and watch the efficient and economical movements of the team he'd hand-picked for this task.
Twenty minutes later he was watching their departure, though he waited until the vans were pulling away before opening the car door and offering his hand once more. “Finally alone,” she quipped as she stepped past him towards the house. “I take it we haven't been left any embarrassing wedding presents?”
“It's all clear,” he retrieved an overnight bag from their driver, staring the man down when he seemed about to make some glib remark.
She paused just inside the doorway and watched him intimidate the driver. “Should I carry you over the threshold,” he asked as he approached.
“That won't be necessary.”
****
He closed the door behind him, letting the expensive electronic lock activate and then reaching for her. He opened his mouth to tell her that the situation Rossum had placed them in had created no expectations as far as he was concerned. But that wasn't true exactly; it wasn't Rossum, or even the marriage that had created the expectations. They'd been there all along.
A better man wouldn't have taken advantage, especially knowing what he was really doing here and her likely reaction to the truth. But he wasn't a better man and she'd compromised him as easily as she persuaded people to put their lives into her hands.
Rather than think about that he backed her against a nearby wall. She gave no sign that his sudden aggression was unwelcome, her movements and her body language invited him closer. The arch of her body was only too tempting, a breath away from surrender, a heartbeat too close to abandon. He didn't resist that particular temptation and his body pressed firmly against hers as they watched each other - eyes communicating desires never to be spoken aloud.
“We got married,” he tried to hide his surprise but it was evident in his voice and his expression.
“I was there,” she pointed out, before adding, “twelve hours ago you were my Head of Security - and now look at us.”
“What do you want Adelle?” Well, that was a question. She wanted a great many things, things that she knew she couldn't have. Until today he had been on that list.
“Kiss me.” Nothing about the words was a command, but he obeyed anyway.
It was gentle, even reverent for a second or two - but she didn't allow that to persist. She tugged him closer, already trying to remove his rather lovely jacket. He released her for long enough to allow her to pull it from him and then reached for her again, letting his hands slide down her body, skimming the sides of her breasts. His mouth plundered hers and she caught his desperation, magnifying it - hips moving against his until he lifted her up and slammed her back into the wall. Making the point that he could and would carry her to bed if need be.
When they parted to catch their breath she smiled lazily up at him, carefully unfastening his tie as she told him, “top of the stairs, third door on the left.” She doubted she needed to explain that she was telling him how to get to her bedroom.
In the end he carried her half way - stopping in the middle of the staircase for more of the desperate kissing, before stumbling the rest of the distance, discarding footwear and various pieces of clothing in their urgency.
If their marriage had been in haste, then the foreplay was significantly slower, if still purposeful. Neither of them was much in the mood to tease or play games and she appreciated that he saved all his control for when he was buried inside her and she was begging him to move faster or harder. On this occasion his disobedience was definitely forgiven - though the bite mark she left on his shoulder was a reminder of the price he'd paid. Her lovers didn't usually inspire her to perpetrate such violence.
He understood about silk and steel when she touched him and succumbed to fire and ice when she pushed him far beyond his limits. Strong, supple limbs wrapped around him - panting and pressing, sighing and stroking; every sinuous movement an invitation to a culmination. He grasped her hips - uncertain whether he was holding her in place or pressing her forward until she sighed a ‘yes’ and begged for harder and faster.
Her orgasm was intense - leaving her limp and trembling beneath his equally exhausted and hopefully replete body. He'd groaned her name at the crucial moment and now he lifted his head from her shoulder and shifted his body so they both winced. “Christ,” he said as he collapsed at her side.
She considered a short trip downstairs to find something to drink, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead she pushed a hand through her hair, still trying to catch her breath and turned on her side to look at him, sliding one of her legs between his, refusing to question the urge to maintain physical contact.
“We scarcely know anything about each other,” she mused “and that's not something I expected to be saying to the man I recently married. I do feel as though we know each other though and not just intimately.”
“We've worked together for three years,” he pointed out, “you hired me - I provided a resume.”
“But we've never really talked about ourselves. I know the salient facts, the ones you chose to tell me and very little more.” She propped herself up on one elbow and ran her fingertip along his chest, “I have to inform you Mr Dominic that your, curriculum vitae was less than comprehensive. There were definitely indications of artfully concealed work for the Government, perhaps with a military flavour. That would certainly explain some of your useful contacts.”
“Do you believe husbands and wives should have no secrets from each other?” He inquired.
“I suppose that depends on the secrets.”
He tried to pretend that his racing heart was caused by the way she was gently stroking his chest - but that wasn't it. Though she was a significant part of what was causing his agitation.
He'd slept with women because an undercover role required it but this time he couldn't hide behind that excuse. Laurence had done this, not Agent Dominic and as a result of his uncharacteristically quixotic behaviour he was lying here wanting to touch her, wanting to make her cry out again in rapture and instead feeling as though his insides were being ripped out. If ever there was a woman who deserved to be termed devastating it was Adelle DeWitt.
“Some things are secret for a reason,” he told her gruffly - hoping to give the impression that his past hid violent, black op missions, probably sanctioned by the Government. “I really don't want to talk about what I did and why.”
“Would you do it again? Work for the Government I mean?” God he wanted her to stop asking questions.
“Well, not for the money. The private sector definitely pays better.”
“And you have expensive tastes,” she teased.
“Including in women.” She smiled, but wasn't distracted - watching him, waiting for his answer. He wanted to believe that she was curious, not suspicious, but he didn't know any more. “I suppose I might, if the cause was right. Or if I had no choice.”
“You see, we're learning things about each other now.” He arrested her roaming hand as it dipped below his waist, pressing it into his hip, wishing he could stop her digging beneath the surface of his identity so easily.
“My turn,” she raised an eyebrow and he found himself desperately wanting to hear her answer to the question. “If you could run away, cash in everything you owned and just disappear - where would you go, what would you do?”
“Are you by any chance entertaining fantasies that I'll tell you that I want to run a bar on a beach somewhere exotic, with no clocks, or phones or computers. Just cool local beers and dogs that wander in from playing on the beach?” Suddenly all of her playfulness had disappeared and in its place he could see something that looked a lot like anguish. “It's pointless my answering Laurence, it can't happen.”
He cursed himself for being thoughtless - the only reason they were lying here was because Rossum had demonstrated that it owned her, body and soul. She scarcely needed him to remind her.
He'd only seen fleeting glimpses behind her defences before and he understood what it meant that she had revealed so much to him now. This was more intimate even than the sex had been. He reached for her, pulling her into an embrace and whispering an apology into her hair as she held onto him. Eventually the embrace led to a desperate kiss which, in turn, became another bout of love-making, one laced with her unhappiness and his fear.
****
Adelle woke up alone, the covers tucked carefully around her. It was still early and as she sat up she tried to reconcile herself to the fear that Laurence might have left, although the man's shoe in the middle of the bedroom floor seemed to indicate that he was still somewhere in her house.
She wasn’t sorry to be alone, she needed a little time to repair the emotional distance their night together had eroded. The idea of running away wasn’t something she could allow herself to contemplate - it was all too clear that there was no such escape route. Rossum would put a bullet in her brain before she’d crossed a border or if she was very unlucky they’d send her to the attic so they could prolong the punishment.
She rested her head on her knees, taking slow careful breaths - almost as though she was on the brink of panic. As much as she didn’t wanted to admit it she had put Laurence at more risk - allowed him to become a target, someone Clive Ambrose might want to punish for her sins. She knew he could take care of himself, but he’d been unexpectedly gentle and careful with her last night. He’d already demonstrated the capacity to go out on a limb for her sake. There were few things left that she had a conscience about and he could easily become one of them.
Dominic hadn’t slept. His head felt as though it was going to explode and the feel of Adelle’s body curved around his had been a salutary reminder of what he had done. Having her sleep in his arms had been overpowering and almost terrifying. He’d watched her for hours, absorbed by the elegant lines of her cheekbones, the sweep of her brows and dark hair against porcelain skin. He’d known then that this could only end in destruction.
Now he stood on her balcony, looking out across the ocean and trying to prepare himself for what he had to do.
“Laurence?” She stood in the doorway, wrapped on a pale silk robe, looking gorgeous and slightly disappointed that he was mostly dressed. Her smile died when he turned more fully towards her and she saw the gun in his hand. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to tell you about the artfully concealed gaps in my resume.”
“At gun point?”
“It’s the only way I can get a hearing.” He lifted the gun, training it on her, “please listen Adelle, I’m going to tell you who I really am.”
The End
OK - so it's not actually the end...
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