Unstoppable - Final Chapter
Title: Unstoppable ~ Chapter 15 (Final chapter)
Authors: aussie and bugs
Genre: AU, Humor, Romance
Rating: MA
Word Count: 4,500
Summary: Laura changes her will and meets Ellen Tigh.
Chapter 15:
Bill finished knotting his tie as he strode into his wife's room, muttering under his breath, "Bridgette brings the tea. Bridgette brings the tea."
Laura wasn't in the bedroom, but he heard movement in the dressing room.
"Darling, need help with those bra hooks?" he asked, chuckling as he came through the door.
Elosha looked up from the drawer she was filling with folded blouses. She raised her eyebrows.
"Damn! I mean, I apologize, Miss Elosha," Bill said, straightening his tie that he'd yanked askew in his shock. Servants popping up everywhere... When was he going to get used to this?
Elosha stated the obvious. "Miss Laura isn't here, Mr Adams."
"Yeah, I see that."
"I believe she's gone down to confer with Mr Zarek and Emily."
"Guess I'll go find her." Bill cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize, Ma'am."
Her lips quirked at Bill's show of respect. "For what?"
"Runnin' off like that. Not proper for a lady like Laura, but I thought I better strike while the iron was hot." He furrowed his brow. That didn't sound quite right.
She returned to her task, hiding her quivering lips from the uncomfortable man. "It's not my place to say," she said primly.
He wouldn't be cowed by the maid's haughty manner. "You're very important to Laura; I can see that."
"It was time for that girl to grow up," Elosha muttered, more to herself than Bill.
He clasped his hands at his waist, letting the woman talk.
She glanced back at him, looking sheepish. "We've spoiled her a bit, you see."
"I've noticed a few quirks." He grinned.
"But she is very special to the staff. She's all we have left."
Seeing his opening, Bill asked, "She hasn't spoken of her family, other than they're dead. What happened?"
This was a mistake. Elosha's face shuttered. "If she wanted you to know, she would have told you, Mr Adams."
He dipped his head in acknowledgement.
She closed the drawer with a definite thump. "Yes, sir, I'm very happy for Miss Laura. I think you're giving her what she wants." Now it was the old woman's turn to appear a bit disconcerted by her turn of phrase.
She stepped closer and the tiny woman barely came to his mid-chest. "But if you hurt her, I'll put a curse on you..." She glanced down. "And I won't be cuttin' the head off the rooster. Get it?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, and resisted the urge to salute.
He cleared his throat again. "Guess I better find my bride."
Elosha watched his broad back go out the doorway. She should have seen this day coming from the moment she caught Laura at age twelve in the pantry, kissing the Giovanni's Bakeries' delivery boy, that dark-skinned Italian boy with the wild curls and impish eyes. She sensed at that moment that any future for her charge with a Market Street WASP banker and having his children was a lost cause. With a regretful sigh, the maid collected returned to her tasks.
"Ah, there you are, Bill," said Laura when he entered her office.
Even as he moved to his wife's side, he looked around the room, suddenly alert. Laura had that blandly polite expression he'd come to recognize as meaning she was guarded. Tom Zarek was at his desk, concentrating a bit too intently on his reports. Emily's cheeks were flushed pink, her head down as she scribbled her notes.
A younger, dark-haired man rose from his chair, waiting to be introduced.
"Louis Houche, this is my husband, William Adams," said Laura. "Bill, this is an attorney with the family's firm."
Bill shook the lawyer's hand firmly, his senses tuning in. At the word 'attorney’, Zarek's upper lip had twitched.
Houche simply gave him a business-like smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Laura took a deep breath before speaking. "Mr Houche is here to change my will."
Bill's eyebrows came together. "Listen, I don't need anything--"
He thought he heard a grunt from Zarek. Turning slowly, he stared at the man, but he appeared to be studying paperwork at his desk.
Folding her arms, Laura chose to ignore that noise from her General Manager as well. She knew he believed this was foolish; he'd made himself clear just ten minutes earlier. As had her mild-mannered attorney, much to her shock.
"If I may be frank, this is so rash," Houche had said. "You've known this man a week, Miss Roslin."
Laura had raised her chin, ignoring Tom’s nodding and Emily’s conflicted expression. "My father spent years at the poker table trying to teach me when to go all in. I've finally figured it out."
Houche had conceded, if reluctantly. And now she had to convince Bill as well?
She didn't want a scene though. She tucked her hand in Bill's elbow. "It is my family's money, and now you are my family."
"If something were to happen to you--" he said unhappily, shaking his head. "I don't want any of this--" He looked around the room again, focusing on the things in it.
"My charities still receive the bulk of the money," she said. "You would just be comfortable--"
"I'd be comfortable back in the boarding house," he pointed out. "I don't need anything--"
"Indulge me," she asked, lowering her voice to a husky level.
He rolled his eyes; he knew he was being manipulated.
Mr Houche cleared his throat behind them. “I’ll need a signature of Mr Adams’ to present to the bank, ma’am.”
Laura’s confidence faltered as her attorney retrieved a wad of papers from his briefcase and thrust them onto her desk. She’d timed this all wrong. Bill just needed some time to realize that her opening an account for him was a sensible idea. After all, he couldn’t keep his money in a shoebox forever!
Bill peered down at the documents. “What would I be signing for?”
“So that the bank knows what your signature looks like,” Tom Zarek drawled from behind his desk.
Bill bristled at Laura’s employee’s sarcasm, but chose to ignore it for the moment. “I mean, Mr Houche,” Bill said in a deceptively quiet voice, “what account has Mrs Adams instructed you to open on her behalf? What am I becoming a signatory on?”
“You’ll be able to draw on all of Mrs Adams’ personal accounts, without limit, sir. Roslin Industries’ accounts will have a limit, I’m afraid.”
“And what is that limit, Mr Houche?”
“Two thousand dollars a month, sir.”
“Two thousand?” Bill repeated back, shocked.
Mr Houche misunderstood Bill’s anxiety. “You can, of course, request funds for more than two thousand, Mr Adams, but you’ll need approval from one of the other board members.”
Bill swung around to Laura, his mouth agape. “Other board members?” He grabbed her arm and shuffled her to the other side of the office, seeking the tiniest bit of privacy to talk to his overly generous wife. “Laura, you’re making me a board member?”
“No, of course not. You’d have to have shares in Roslin Industries to become an actual board member. I’m just giving you my proxy vote. If anything happens to me, you’ll be able to vote on any decisions.”
Bill stared at her. He could almost see her mind calculating how long she would need to wait before she gifted him shares.
“Laura, you don’t run a successful business by letting novices like me make decisions.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Bill. All you need is good sense. I’m quite positive a man of your experience will know when you hear a sensible idea or not.”
“And the personal accounts? Laura--” Bill started to protest anew, but Laura decided to cut him off.
“You can deposit your own money into one of the accounts if you like, darling,” she said, placating him with a little pat to his chest. "Your room has no loose floorboards."
Laura looped her arm through Bill’s and led him back toward the desk and the documents awaiting his signature.
“We’d all have your, and Roslin Industries’, best interests at heart if something was to happen to you, Miss Roslin.” Zarek looked directly at Laura as he spoke, ignoring Bill completely. “It’s an unthinkable situation, but rest assured I’d be here to guide the company in the right direction.”
Emily let a snort escape.
“Have you got something to add, Emily?” Zarek sneered over at her.
“No, no, of course not. I’m just the secretary.”
Bill noticed the exasperated look Laura gave her secretary.
“Although...” Emily hesitated for the briefest moment. “It’s Mrs Adams now, Mr Zarek.” She gave them all a bland smile. “You forgot for a moment.”
This was all the motivation Bill needed. He snatched up the pen and signed the places Mr Houche pointed out to him.
Emily ambled back to her own desk after Tom flashed her a withering look behind Laura’s back.
"I'll show you out, Mr. Houche," said Laura, glad that they'd all survived the scene.
Emily could feel the tension in the air between the two seething men as Laura left. Claiming she needed to check on lunch arrangements, she escaped the room. She was hoping, from the intense gaze on Mr Adams’ face, someone else might finally be seeing through Tom Zarek’s exterior charm.
The door was barely closed before Bill moved in on Zarek.
"Laura's a gorgeous, smart gal," he growled. "I'm sure all these years holed up in an office with her, you've developed some feelings. But let me tell you, time to turn those off. She's a married woman now, and I'm here to take care of her."
Tom's face turned purple. "I understand," he hissed.
"Good." Bill tugged down his new tweed jacket. He squinted up at Zarek. "And I'll be happy to remind you any time it looks like you're forgetting it."
Before Zarek could reply, Laura returned, her gaze darting from man to man. Emily peeked over her shoulder.
"I need to check on the Burlingame warehouse rebuild, Mrs Adams," Tom said, as he gathered up his papers and shoved them in his briefcase. "I'll be at my Roslin Building office if you need me."
Relieved, Laura said, "Yes, of course."
After Zarek left, Emily's shoulders slumped with relief. She was returning to her desk when Laura told her, "Why don't you go check on lunch, Emily?"
“What? Again?” The secretary protested, then she noticed the predatory way Laura was looking at her husband as he stomped to the window, lighting a cigarette with jerky movements. A retreat seemed a wise action.
"Yes, perhaps I'll coordinate the entire week's menus," said Emily, already to the door.
"You do that," purred Laura, going to close and lock the door behind her.
Leaning against the thick oak, she examined her prey.
Bill blew long streams of smoke from his nostrils. "Laura, I love you, but I don't know how you can put up some a weasel like that--"
She sashayed across the deep carpet. "Tom Zarek has his purposes."
Bill snorted. "So he's your attack dog, huh?"
"Exactly." At his shoulder, she slipped a hand inside his jacket to lay the palm on his thudding heart. "And I know just how much leash to give him."
Bill shook his head. "Just watch that he doesn't slip his collar."
"I keep it good and tight," she boasted, wrapping his blue silk tie around her hand and tugging him into a kiss. He gave her only a peck, but tossed his cigarette out the window.
"But I know a big dog I want to go wild," she said, her hand sliding down to his belt buckle.
"Dammit, Laura," he grumbled, "This is important. I'm still not happy about puttin' my name on those papers. You know the press is going to get wind of it, and it'll come from that slimy son of a bitch--"
Her hand dipped lower to cup the bulge in his pants.
Bill hunched his shoulders. "I'm trying to be serious here," he grumped, but his eyelids slid to half-shut.
"I think we need to take a break," Laura told him, leading him back toward the desk. "Then you can start complaining again, refreshed."
Bill grabbed her wrists, meaning to hold her off, frustrated that she didn't seem to take him seriously. He felt her pulses race faster in his grip. Her eyes lit, and her tongue darted out lick her lips quickly.
"Laura..." He went from angry to aroused in two seconds. He couldn't help it; the hunter in him smelled her adrenaline.
He latched onto her mouth, intent on only teaching her a lesson before getting his point across again. He pressed her back against the desk and she ground her hips into his.
Tossing her head back, she wordlessly offered her neck to him. He accepted it, his lips suckling greedily. But then he backed off, causing her to hiss in discontent.
"Darling, there's a perfectly good bed upstairs--" he pointed out.
She fumbled with his pants' fly. "Oh Bill, you don't know how many times I sat at this desk, wishing for just such a diversion--" She nipped his chin. "Surely you've had these sort of fantasies?"
His hands, as though guided by her thoughts, slid her skirt up to bunch at her waist. "Well..."
Yes. He'd been at his ship's tiny, cramped desk, staring out his porthole at the roiling sea, allowing an occasional sexual fantasy to divert his time...
Her laughter was sparkling. "Darling, you must see the advantages to wealth and position."
He hoisted her onto the desk, scattering papers. "I got the position--"
"We may indulge ourselves in fantasies. No more doldrums for you, my dear..." Her hair spread out in a red cloud across the deep-toned mahogany desktop.
“You’re just trying to distract me from having a discussion about the wealth part,” he growled. Lifting her black stocking-covered leg, he ran his tongue up the sleek length, making her giggle and gasp at the sensation.
“Is it working?” she finally managed to pant out as she quickly unbuttoned her silk blouse.
“You know it is.” His grumble changed to a hiss when she reached down to grasp the bulge in his undershorts peeking from his agape pants.
She grumbled herself; she wanted to touch his hot, tight skin. He pushed his clothing down so his erection sprung out for her hand to grasp. Leaning over her, he latched onto her bra, suckling through the thick satin. When he began rubbing his length against her slick panties, mimicking the action she wanted so badly, her tone turned to a deep, frustrated groan.
"Bill!"
He ignored her demand. His mouth returned to her legs, first kissing the bare thigh between her garter belt and the stocking, then moving to her sleek calf.
"But I wanna keep these on," he muttered, his voice thick. He nibbled up to her ankle bone, holding her high-heeled pump on place. Yeah, he'd had this fantasy all right. That gorgeous woman he met on the dock, a folded bill slipped into her purse, pushing her up against a warehouse's cold, brick wall, lifting her skirt, finding her naked above her stockings, not like this damn barrier--
"Then do it," she growled. She tugged at her panties in frustration. "Just rip them off!"
That stopped him cold. "I couldn't--"
"Bill, I have a hundred more pairs upstairs." Her gaze held his. "Do it!"
He grabbed the fine fabric and tore it open. Laura's head fell back on the desk with relief. She moaned deeply when he entered her, thick yet slick with their combined arousal.
Then gasped in shock when he attacked her bra next, rending the fabric.
His scared face at her reaction made her laugh. "Yeah, just like that," she encouraged him, arching off the desk, offering her swollen breasts to his hands and mouth. Wrapping her legs high under his arms, she beat a tattoo on his back, urging him to thrust harder, deeper, faster...
One of her shoes bounced off his back, rolling away.
"Dammit!" he said, looking over his shoulder at the wayward pump.
Giggling and moaning at the same time, Laura writhed on the desktop, sending pens and pencils spilling onto the floor. The lamp began dancing dangerously toward the desk's edge. When he changed the angle of his penetration, reaching even deeper, her moans grew louder, forgetting that the rest of the household could be walking by the office door. She was hot, ready, so close...
She fumbled at him, getting only handful of his tweed jacket, his fluttering cotton shirttails, his flapping tie--he was still fully dressed. For some reason, this made her even more aroused, flooding their joining. Grabbing the desk's edge, she had the leverage to meet his pounding, rising off the blotter to meet his thrusts.
"Son of a bitch, Laura," he gasped, "You're gonna kill me--" He glanced behind him frantically. "Gotta slow down..."
She gave a little scream when he lifted her bodily off the desk and they tumbled backward into her father's huge leather chair. When they landed, he was driven deeper still and she came with a wail at the unexpected stimulation. She clung to his neck as she shimmied in his arms.
When she finally caught her breath, still gasping damply against his shirt collar--the bastard hadn't even loosened his tie--she accused him, "You did that on purpose."
"All is fair in love and business," he warned her, finally tugging his tie loose and popping the top button of his shirt.
Her shaking fingers joined his, undoing his jacket and shoving it open, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing up his undershirt so she could kiss all along his chest, her hair whispering over his sweaty skin.
Propping herself on her knees in the wide chair, she began to ride him, intent on torturing him too.
He could finally slip off her blouse and ruined bra, tossing them aside. Capturing her bouncing breasts in his palms, he circled her nipples with his thumbs, knowing by now that this sensation drove her crazy.
She returned the favor, grasping his flat nipple in her teeth, biting down just hard enough to make him hiss. In retaliation, he grabbed her bare buttocks, pressing her pelvis against his, putting pressure on her clitoris.
"Dammit," she moaned as she felt another soft orgasm wash over her. "No fair."
He laughed into her neck, right over her jumping pulse. "What's not fair is how you can do that again and again..." He swept her hair back to kiss behind her ear. "And I have to make do with just once..."
"Life's a bitch," she agreed. Holding his shoulders for balance, she rose nearly all the way off his length, then slammed down, over and over.
Grabbing onto the chair arms for leverage, Bill rose off the leather cushion with a skin-ripping sound to meet her. He knew he was lost and the was no stopping the inevitable. His groans rose in pitch. Finally, he couldn't hold back any more but, pinned by Laura to the chair, he felt as though he was a overflowing bottle of champagne, exploding out of control.
As the bubbles finally shot out the top of his head, he heard Laura said, "And then you die."
Bill eventually returned to his body. He was slumped in a office chair, with his beautiful wife, smelling of her light perfume and sex, a combination he decided he loved, draped over his chest.
"Uh, Laura..."
"Yes, Bill?"
"Now what?"
"We need to clean up."
"Yes, I agree." He tried to move, but his bare buttocks were stuck quite firmly to the damp leather. "However, we have to make it to the bedroom with that house full of servants."
Reaching back to the desk, Laura managed to flip on the intercom.
"Yes, Mrs Adams?" came Old Jaffee's deep voice.
"Jaffee, please have all the servants assemble in the kitchen. I wish to review staffing assignments with the recent changes to the household."
"Of course, Mrs. Adams. Right away, Mrs Adams."
"Thank you!" she said cheerfully and flipped off the intercom. Groaning in discomfort, she disentangled their bodies and stood.
"And that's another advantage of wealth, Mr Adams," she stated, but then stumbled. He caught her, his deep chuckle resonating through the room.
She looked around through her tangled curls. "Where the hell is my other shoe?" she grumbled.
He laughed aloud, so happy. "I love you, Mrs Adams."
She smiled and patted his cheek. "Do up your pants, silly man."
Somewhat properly dressed, they peeked around the office door. The coast was clear. They darted to the staircase like guilty children.
*
"The Mark Hopkins?" Laura was surprised at the Tighs' choice of hotel. It had to be out of their reach.
"That's what he said," Bill told her. He spotted the cable car coming down the hill toward them, and tucked his arm in hers, ready to help her board. "Only the best for Ellen."
Laura wondered at her husband's tone. It did not have the affection his voice held when he offered her everything within his means. She had her first prickle of worry at this new element entering her marriage. Once they mounted the cable car's running board, she snuggled further into Bill's secure embrace as he gripped the pole, supporting them both.
At the Mark Hopkins reception desk, the desk clerk immediately recognized Laura. "A room, Miss Roslin?" His eyes darted to Bill glowering behind her.
"We're here to visit friends. The Mr Saul Tighs," Laura said crisply.
"Of course," the dapper clerk said. "They're waiting for you in the tea room." He zipped around the large counter to show them the way.
They found Saul and his wife at a back table, being loud enough to turn heads. Saul stumbled to his feet when he spotted the Adams, although he didn't quite meet Laura's gaze.
"There you are," he bellowed. "Take a seat!"
Ellen slapped his middle, a bit low for comfort. "Saul, baby! Introduce me to the woman who's tamed your Billy boy!"
Saul reddened. "Of course." He performed a clumsy half-bow. "Mrs Laura Adams, may I introduce my wife, Mrs Ellen Tigh."
Laura extended three fingers on her gloved hand and briefly squeezed the bare hand of Ellen Tigh. The woman's imperfect lipstick line and glassy eyes surrounded by thick eye makeup made Laura realize with a jolt that the Tighs were drunk at ten o'clock in the morning.
Bill held out her chair and she slowly lowered herself into it, smiling up at her husband.
"Aren't they cute?" cooed Ellen. She leaned close and Laura had to hold her breath at the combination of whiskey and heavy musk wafting off the other woman.
"Honey, I'm so happy to see you're not some kid. You know how men are when they get over a certain age!" Ellen brayed laughter and Saul joined her with his sharp cackle.
Laura put on her polite face. Seeing it, Bill offered her a cigarette. She accepted gratefully.
Ellen was on a roll. She gulped from her 'tea' cup. "We gotta go out tonight." Her head snapped back and forth as she looked from Laura to Bill. "Some classy joint."
"Sure," Bill said carefully. "Welcome you to town." He nodded to the waiter's offer for coffee. "Where you been, Ellen?"
"What do you mean?" The woman's voice became high-pitched.
"You just got into port, right?" Bill said. "Been in the East?"
She flapped her hand. "Oh yes. Thought I'd run off to Shanghai." She nuzzled her husband's cheek. "Got tired of waiting for my Saul."
"That's quite a jaunt," Laura said, only making small talk, but this earned her a dirty look from Ellen.
Ellen tossed her hair, making her small hat slide askew. Laura resisted the urge to straighten it.
"Met your new children yet, Laura?" Ellen asked cattily.
Laura had to think for a moment of who in the world Ellen spoke of. She remembered the picture of two young men in uniform. "No..." She looked at Bill. "Have you contacted them yet with the news, darling?"
Bill stared at his coffee cup. "Not yet."
Ellen gave a raspy laugh. "Something to look forward to, honey," she said.
Raising her chin, Laura stared her down. "Naturally I will welcome Bill's children to our home. I can't wait to meet them."
Thwarted down that path, Ellen moved on. "With your name and money, we can get into any place in town, right?"
Bill's mouth became a thin line. Laura blinked. "Yes," she admitted.
"But that's all so dull, you know?"
"True," Laura said quickly, hoping Ellen would back out for the evening.
But Ellen Tigh had another idea. "So I think we should go to a new place. Some up and coming club. Our appearance will make it the place," she said smugly.
"Great idea, babe!" Saul enthused.
Leaning back in her chair, Ellen's suddenly sober gaze challenged Laura's. "I know just the place. The Number One Lychee Club in Chinatown."
Although she never had heard of the nightclub, Laura felt another stab of concern. She glanced at Bill. He gave the slightest of shrugs, and she remembered, no matter what happened, he'd protect her.
She forced enthusiasm. "Yes, let's."
*
With Emily gone from her desk, Tom Zarek lifted the ringing phone. "Roslin Industries," he said, irritation in his voice. Now he was nothing more than an office boy, answering phones...
"No, he's not here right now."
Someone was asking for that bastard Adams already. Had Laura made some changes behind his back?
"I can take a message," he said, bored. Whether he'd choose to deliver it would be another thing.
His pen stilled on the paper. "What did you say your name is?"
He listened, then decided it might be a good idea to introduce himself. “My name’s Tom Zarek. I’m the General Manager of Roslin Industries.
"Mr Adams has gone out with his new wife. But I think I can be of a help to you. However, I'll need to call you back from my office."
Scribbling the phone number down, he grinned. He may win this game yet.
The end of Unstoppable (15/15)
Authors: aussie and bugs
Genre: AU, Humor, Romance
Rating: MA
Word Count: 4,500
Summary: Laura changes her will and meets Ellen Tigh.
Chapter 15:
Bill finished knotting his tie as he strode into his wife's room, muttering under his breath, "Bridgette brings the tea. Bridgette brings the tea."
Laura wasn't in the bedroom, but he heard movement in the dressing room.
"Darling, need help with those bra hooks?" he asked, chuckling as he came through the door.
Elosha looked up from the drawer she was filling with folded blouses. She raised her eyebrows.
"Damn! I mean, I apologize, Miss Elosha," Bill said, straightening his tie that he'd yanked askew in his shock. Servants popping up everywhere... When was he going to get used to this?
Elosha stated the obvious. "Miss Laura isn't here, Mr Adams."
"Yeah, I see that."
"I believe she's gone down to confer with Mr Zarek and Emily."
"Guess I'll go find her." Bill cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize, Ma'am."
Her lips quirked at Bill's show of respect. "For what?"
"Runnin' off like that. Not proper for a lady like Laura, but I thought I better strike while the iron was hot." He furrowed his brow. That didn't sound quite right.
She returned to her task, hiding her quivering lips from the uncomfortable man. "It's not my place to say," she said primly.
He wouldn't be cowed by the maid's haughty manner. "You're very important to Laura; I can see that."
"It was time for that girl to grow up," Elosha muttered, more to herself than Bill.
He clasped his hands at his waist, letting the woman talk.
She glanced back at him, looking sheepish. "We've spoiled her a bit, you see."
"I've noticed a few quirks." He grinned.
"But she is very special to the staff. She's all we have left."
Seeing his opening, Bill asked, "She hasn't spoken of her family, other than they're dead. What happened?"
This was a mistake. Elosha's face shuttered. "If she wanted you to know, she would have told you, Mr Adams."
He dipped his head in acknowledgement.
She closed the drawer with a definite thump. "Yes, sir, I'm very happy for Miss Laura. I think you're giving her what she wants." Now it was the old woman's turn to appear a bit disconcerted by her turn of phrase.
She stepped closer and the tiny woman barely came to his mid-chest. "But if you hurt her, I'll put a curse on you..." She glanced down. "And I won't be cuttin' the head off the rooster. Get it?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, and resisted the urge to salute.
He cleared his throat again. "Guess I better find my bride."
Elosha watched his broad back go out the doorway. She should have seen this day coming from the moment she caught Laura at age twelve in the pantry, kissing the Giovanni's Bakeries' delivery boy, that dark-skinned Italian boy with the wild curls and impish eyes. She sensed at that moment that any future for her charge with a Market Street WASP banker and having his children was a lost cause. With a regretful sigh, the maid collected returned to her tasks.
"Ah, there you are, Bill," said Laura when he entered her office.
Even as he moved to his wife's side, he looked around the room, suddenly alert. Laura had that blandly polite expression he'd come to recognize as meaning she was guarded. Tom Zarek was at his desk, concentrating a bit too intently on his reports. Emily's cheeks were flushed pink, her head down as she scribbled her notes.
A younger, dark-haired man rose from his chair, waiting to be introduced.
"Louis Houche, this is my husband, William Adams," said Laura. "Bill, this is an attorney with the family's firm."
Bill shook the lawyer's hand firmly, his senses tuning in. At the word 'attorney’, Zarek's upper lip had twitched.
Houche simply gave him a business-like smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Laura took a deep breath before speaking. "Mr Houche is here to change my will."
Bill's eyebrows came together. "Listen, I don't need anything--"
He thought he heard a grunt from Zarek. Turning slowly, he stared at the man, but he appeared to be studying paperwork at his desk.
Folding her arms, Laura chose to ignore that noise from her General Manager as well. She knew he believed this was foolish; he'd made himself clear just ten minutes earlier. As had her mild-mannered attorney, much to her shock.
"If I may be frank, this is so rash," Houche had said. "You've known this man a week, Miss Roslin."
Laura had raised her chin, ignoring Tom’s nodding and Emily’s conflicted expression. "My father spent years at the poker table trying to teach me when to go all in. I've finally figured it out."
Houche had conceded, if reluctantly. And now she had to convince Bill as well?
She didn't want a scene though. She tucked her hand in Bill's elbow. "It is my family's money, and now you are my family."
"If something were to happen to you--" he said unhappily, shaking his head. "I don't want any of this--" He looked around the room again, focusing on the things in it.
"My charities still receive the bulk of the money," she said. "You would just be comfortable--"
"I'd be comfortable back in the boarding house," he pointed out. "I don't need anything--"
"Indulge me," she asked, lowering her voice to a husky level.
He rolled his eyes; he knew he was being manipulated.
Mr Houche cleared his throat behind them. “I’ll need a signature of Mr Adams’ to present to the bank, ma’am.”
Laura’s confidence faltered as her attorney retrieved a wad of papers from his briefcase and thrust them onto her desk. She’d timed this all wrong. Bill just needed some time to realize that her opening an account for him was a sensible idea. After all, he couldn’t keep his money in a shoebox forever!
Bill peered down at the documents. “What would I be signing for?”
“So that the bank knows what your signature looks like,” Tom Zarek drawled from behind his desk.
Bill bristled at Laura’s employee’s sarcasm, but chose to ignore it for the moment. “I mean, Mr Houche,” Bill said in a deceptively quiet voice, “what account has Mrs Adams instructed you to open on her behalf? What am I becoming a signatory on?”
“You’ll be able to draw on all of Mrs Adams’ personal accounts, without limit, sir. Roslin Industries’ accounts will have a limit, I’m afraid.”
“And what is that limit, Mr Houche?”
“Two thousand dollars a month, sir.”
“Two thousand?” Bill repeated back, shocked.
Mr Houche misunderstood Bill’s anxiety. “You can, of course, request funds for more than two thousand, Mr Adams, but you’ll need approval from one of the other board members.”
Bill swung around to Laura, his mouth agape. “Other board members?” He grabbed her arm and shuffled her to the other side of the office, seeking the tiniest bit of privacy to talk to his overly generous wife. “Laura, you’re making me a board member?”
“No, of course not. You’d have to have shares in Roslin Industries to become an actual board member. I’m just giving you my proxy vote. If anything happens to me, you’ll be able to vote on any decisions.”
Bill stared at her. He could almost see her mind calculating how long she would need to wait before she gifted him shares.
“Laura, you don’t run a successful business by letting novices like me make decisions.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Bill. All you need is good sense. I’m quite positive a man of your experience will know when you hear a sensible idea or not.”
“And the personal accounts? Laura--” Bill started to protest anew, but Laura decided to cut him off.
“You can deposit your own money into one of the accounts if you like, darling,” she said, placating him with a little pat to his chest. "Your room has no loose floorboards."
Laura looped her arm through Bill’s and led him back toward the desk and the documents awaiting his signature.
“We’d all have your, and Roslin Industries’, best interests at heart if something was to happen to you, Miss Roslin.” Zarek looked directly at Laura as he spoke, ignoring Bill completely. “It’s an unthinkable situation, but rest assured I’d be here to guide the company in the right direction.”
Emily let a snort escape.
“Have you got something to add, Emily?” Zarek sneered over at her.
“No, no, of course not. I’m just the secretary.”
Bill noticed the exasperated look Laura gave her secretary.
“Although...” Emily hesitated for the briefest moment. “It’s Mrs Adams now, Mr Zarek.” She gave them all a bland smile. “You forgot for a moment.”
This was all the motivation Bill needed. He snatched up the pen and signed the places Mr Houche pointed out to him.
Emily ambled back to her own desk after Tom flashed her a withering look behind Laura’s back.
"I'll show you out, Mr. Houche," said Laura, glad that they'd all survived the scene.
Emily could feel the tension in the air between the two seething men as Laura left. Claiming she needed to check on lunch arrangements, she escaped the room. She was hoping, from the intense gaze on Mr Adams’ face, someone else might finally be seeing through Tom Zarek’s exterior charm.
The door was barely closed before Bill moved in on Zarek.
"Laura's a gorgeous, smart gal," he growled. "I'm sure all these years holed up in an office with her, you've developed some feelings. But let me tell you, time to turn those off. She's a married woman now, and I'm here to take care of her."
Tom's face turned purple. "I understand," he hissed.
"Good." Bill tugged down his new tweed jacket. He squinted up at Zarek. "And I'll be happy to remind you any time it looks like you're forgetting it."
Before Zarek could reply, Laura returned, her gaze darting from man to man. Emily peeked over her shoulder.
"I need to check on the Burlingame warehouse rebuild, Mrs Adams," Tom said, as he gathered up his papers and shoved them in his briefcase. "I'll be at my Roslin Building office if you need me."
Relieved, Laura said, "Yes, of course."
After Zarek left, Emily's shoulders slumped with relief. She was returning to her desk when Laura told her, "Why don't you go check on lunch, Emily?"
“What? Again?” The secretary protested, then she noticed the predatory way Laura was looking at her husband as he stomped to the window, lighting a cigarette with jerky movements. A retreat seemed a wise action.
"Yes, perhaps I'll coordinate the entire week's menus," said Emily, already to the door.
"You do that," purred Laura, going to close and lock the door behind her.
Leaning against the thick oak, she examined her prey.
Bill blew long streams of smoke from his nostrils. "Laura, I love you, but I don't know how you can put up some a weasel like that--"
She sashayed across the deep carpet. "Tom Zarek has his purposes."
Bill snorted. "So he's your attack dog, huh?"
"Exactly." At his shoulder, she slipped a hand inside his jacket to lay the palm on his thudding heart. "And I know just how much leash to give him."
Bill shook his head. "Just watch that he doesn't slip his collar."
"I keep it good and tight," she boasted, wrapping his blue silk tie around her hand and tugging him into a kiss. He gave her only a peck, but tossed his cigarette out the window.
"But I know a big dog I want to go wild," she said, her hand sliding down to his belt buckle.
"Dammit, Laura," he grumbled, "This is important. I'm still not happy about puttin' my name on those papers. You know the press is going to get wind of it, and it'll come from that slimy son of a bitch--"
Her hand dipped lower to cup the bulge in his pants.
Bill hunched his shoulders. "I'm trying to be serious here," he grumped, but his eyelids slid to half-shut.
"I think we need to take a break," Laura told him, leading him back toward the desk. "Then you can start complaining again, refreshed."
Bill grabbed her wrists, meaning to hold her off, frustrated that she didn't seem to take him seriously. He felt her pulses race faster in his grip. Her eyes lit, and her tongue darted out lick her lips quickly.
"Laura..." He went from angry to aroused in two seconds. He couldn't help it; the hunter in him smelled her adrenaline.
He latched onto her mouth, intent on only teaching her a lesson before getting his point across again. He pressed her back against the desk and she ground her hips into his.
Tossing her head back, she wordlessly offered her neck to him. He accepted it, his lips suckling greedily. But then he backed off, causing her to hiss in discontent.
"Darling, there's a perfectly good bed upstairs--" he pointed out.
She fumbled with his pants' fly. "Oh Bill, you don't know how many times I sat at this desk, wishing for just such a diversion--" She nipped his chin. "Surely you've had these sort of fantasies?"
His hands, as though guided by her thoughts, slid her skirt up to bunch at her waist. "Well..."
Yes. He'd been at his ship's tiny, cramped desk, staring out his porthole at the roiling sea, allowing an occasional sexual fantasy to divert his time...
Her laughter was sparkling. "Darling, you must see the advantages to wealth and position."
He hoisted her onto the desk, scattering papers. "I got the position--"
"We may indulge ourselves in fantasies. No more doldrums for you, my dear..." Her hair spread out in a red cloud across the deep-toned mahogany desktop.
“You’re just trying to distract me from having a discussion about the wealth part,” he growled. Lifting her black stocking-covered leg, he ran his tongue up the sleek length, making her giggle and gasp at the sensation.
“Is it working?” she finally managed to pant out as she quickly unbuttoned her silk blouse.
“You know it is.” His grumble changed to a hiss when she reached down to grasp the bulge in his undershorts peeking from his agape pants.
She grumbled herself; she wanted to touch his hot, tight skin. He pushed his clothing down so his erection sprung out for her hand to grasp. Leaning over her, he latched onto her bra, suckling through the thick satin. When he began rubbing his length against her slick panties, mimicking the action she wanted so badly, her tone turned to a deep, frustrated groan.
"Bill!"
He ignored her demand. His mouth returned to her legs, first kissing the bare thigh between her garter belt and the stocking, then moving to her sleek calf.
"But I wanna keep these on," he muttered, his voice thick. He nibbled up to her ankle bone, holding her high-heeled pump on place. Yeah, he'd had this fantasy all right. That gorgeous woman he met on the dock, a folded bill slipped into her purse, pushing her up against a warehouse's cold, brick wall, lifting her skirt, finding her naked above her stockings, not like this damn barrier--
"Then do it," she growled. She tugged at her panties in frustration. "Just rip them off!"
That stopped him cold. "I couldn't--"
"Bill, I have a hundred more pairs upstairs." Her gaze held his. "Do it!"
He grabbed the fine fabric and tore it open. Laura's head fell back on the desk with relief. She moaned deeply when he entered her, thick yet slick with their combined arousal.
Then gasped in shock when he attacked her bra next, rending the fabric.
His scared face at her reaction made her laugh. "Yeah, just like that," she encouraged him, arching off the desk, offering her swollen breasts to his hands and mouth. Wrapping her legs high under his arms, she beat a tattoo on his back, urging him to thrust harder, deeper, faster...
One of her shoes bounced off his back, rolling away.
"Dammit!" he said, looking over his shoulder at the wayward pump.
Giggling and moaning at the same time, Laura writhed on the desktop, sending pens and pencils spilling onto the floor. The lamp began dancing dangerously toward the desk's edge. When he changed the angle of his penetration, reaching even deeper, her moans grew louder, forgetting that the rest of the household could be walking by the office door. She was hot, ready, so close...
She fumbled at him, getting only handful of his tweed jacket, his fluttering cotton shirttails, his flapping tie--he was still fully dressed. For some reason, this made her even more aroused, flooding their joining. Grabbing the desk's edge, she had the leverage to meet his pounding, rising off the blotter to meet his thrusts.
"Son of a bitch, Laura," he gasped, "You're gonna kill me--" He glanced behind him frantically. "Gotta slow down..."
She gave a little scream when he lifted her bodily off the desk and they tumbled backward into her father's huge leather chair. When they landed, he was driven deeper still and she came with a wail at the unexpected stimulation. She clung to his neck as she shimmied in his arms.
When she finally caught her breath, still gasping damply against his shirt collar--the bastard hadn't even loosened his tie--she accused him, "You did that on purpose."
"All is fair in love and business," he warned her, finally tugging his tie loose and popping the top button of his shirt.
Her shaking fingers joined his, undoing his jacket and shoving it open, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing up his undershirt so she could kiss all along his chest, her hair whispering over his sweaty skin.
Propping herself on her knees in the wide chair, she began to ride him, intent on torturing him too.
He could finally slip off her blouse and ruined bra, tossing them aside. Capturing her bouncing breasts in his palms, he circled her nipples with his thumbs, knowing by now that this sensation drove her crazy.
She returned the favor, grasping his flat nipple in her teeth, biting down just hard enough to make him hiss. In retaliation, he grabbed her bare buttocks, pressing her pelvis against his, putting pressure on her clitoris.
"Dammit," she moaned as she felt another soft orgasm wash over her. "No fair."
He laughed into her neck, right over her jumping pulse. "What's not fair is how you can do that again and again..." He swept her hair back to kiss behind her ear. "And I have to make do with just once..."
"Life's a bitch," she agreed. Holding his shoulders for balance, she rose nearly all the way off his length, then slammed down, over and over.
Grabbing onto the chair arms for leverage, Bill rose off the leather cushion with a skin-ripping sound to meet her. He knew he was lost and the was no stopping the inevitable. His groans rose in pitch. Finally, he couldn't hold back any more but, pinned by Laura to the chair, he felt as though he was a overflowing bottle of champagne, exploding out of control.
As the bubbles finally shot out the top of his head, he heard Laura said, "And then you die."
Bill eventually returned to his body. He was slumped in a office chair, with his beautiful wife, smelling of her light perfume and sex, a combination he decided he loved, draped over his chest.
"Uh, Laura..."
"Yes, Bill?"
"Now what?"
"We need to clean up."
"Yes, I agree." He tried to move, but his bare buttocks were stuck quite firmly to the damp leather. "However, we have to make it to the bedroom with that house full of servants."
Reaching back to the desk, Laura managed to flip on the intercom.
"Yes, Mrs Adams?" came Old Jaffee's deep voice.
"Jaffee, please have all the servants assemble in the kitchen. I wish to review staffing assignments with the recent changes to the household."
"Of course, Mrs. Adams. Right away, Mrs Adams."
"Thank you!" she said cheerfully and flipped off the intercom. Groaning in discomfort, she disentangled their bodies and stood.
"And that's another advantage of wealth, Mr Adams," she stated, but then stumbled. He caught her, his deep chuckle resonating through the room.
She looked around through her tangled curls. "Where the hell is my other shoe?" she grumbled.
He laughed aloud, so happy. "I love you, Mrs Adams."
She smiled and patted his cheek. "Do up your pants, silly man."
Somewhat properly dressed, they peeked around the office door. The coast was clear. They darted to the staircase like guilty children.
*
"The Mark Hopkins?" Laura was surprised at the Tighs' choice of hotel. It had to be out of their reach.
"That's what he said," Bill told her. He spotted the cable car coming down the hill toward them, and tucked his arm in hers, ready to help her board. "Only the best for Ellen."
Laura wondered at her husband's tone. It did not have the affection his voice held when he offered her everything within his means. She had her first prickle of worry at this new element entering her marriage. Once they mounted the cable car's running board, she snuggled further into Bill's secure embrace as he gripped the pole, supporting them both.
At the Mark Hopkins reception desk, the desk clerk immediately recognized Laura. "A room, Miss Roslin?" His eyes darted to Bill glowering behind her.
"We're here to visit friends. The Mr Saul Tighs," Laura said crisply.
"Of course," the dapper clerk said. "They're waiting for you in the tea room." He zipped around the large counter to show them the way.
They found Saul and his wife at a back table, being loud enough to turn heads. Saul stumbled to his feet when he spotted the Adams, although he didn't quite meet Laura's gaze.
"There you are," he bellowed. "Take a seat!"
Ellen slapped his middle, a bit low for comfort. "Saul, baby! Introduce me to the woman who's tamed your Billy boy!"
Saul reddened. "Of course." He performed a clumsy half-bow. "Mrs Laura Adams, may I introduce my wife, Mrs Ellen Tigh."
Laura extended three fingers on her gloved hand and briefly squeezed the bare hand of Ellen Tigh. The woman's imperfect lipstick line and glassy eyes surrounded by thick eye makeup made Laura realize with a jolt that the Tighs were drunk at ten o'clock in the morning.
Bill held out her chair and she slowly lowered herself into it, smiling up at her husband.
"Aren't they cute?" cooed Ellen. She leaned close and Laura had to hold her breath at the combination of whiskey and heavy musk wafting off the other woman.
"Honey, I'm so happy to see you're not some kid. You know how men are when they get over a certain age!" Ellen brayed laughter and Saul joined her with his sharp cackle.
Laura put on her polite face. Seeing it, Bill offered her a cigarette. She accepted gratefully.
Ellen was on a roll. She gulped from her 'tea' cup. "We gotta go out tonight." Her head snapped back and forth as she looked from Laura to Bill. "Some classy joint."
"Sure," Bill said carefully. "Welcome you to town." He nodded to the waiter's offer for coffee. "Where you been, Ellen?"
"What do you mean?" The woman's voice became high-pitched.
"You just got into port, right?" Bill said. "Been in the East?"
She flapped her hand. "Oh yes. Thought I'd run off to Shanghai." She nuzzled her husband's cheek. "Got tired of waiting for my Saul."
"That's quite a jaunt," Laura said, only making small talk, but this earned her a dirty look from Ellen.
Ellen tossed her hair, making her small hat slide askew. Laura resisted the urge to straighten it.
"Met your new children yet, Laura?" Ellen asked cattily.
Laura had to think for a moment of who in the world Ellen spoke of. She remembered the picture of two young men in uniform. "No..." She looked at Bill. "Have you contacted them yet with the news, darling?"
Bill stared at his coffee cup. "Not yet."
Ellen gave a raspy laugh. "Something to look forward to, honey," she said.
Raising her chin, Laura stared her down. "Naturally I will welcome Bill's children to our home. I can't wait to meet them."
Thwarted down that path, Ellen moved on. "With your name and money, we can get into any place in town, right?"
Bill's mouth became a thin line. Laura blinked. "Yes," she admitted.
"But that's all so dull, you know?"
"True," Laura said quickly, hoping Ellen would back out for the evening.
But Ellen Tigh had another idea. "So I think we should go to a new place. Some up and coming club. Our appearance will make it the place," she said smugly.
"Great idea, babe!" Saul enthused.
Leaning back in her chair, Ellen's suddenly sober gaze challenged Laura's. "I know just the place. The Number One Lychee Club in Chinatown."
Although she never had heard of the nightclub, Laura felt another stab of concern. She glanced at Bill. He gave the slightest of shrugs, and she remembered, no matter what happened, he'd protect her.
She forced enthusiasm. "Yes, let's."
*
With Emily gone from her desk, Tom Zarek lifted the ringing phone. "Roslin Industries," he said, irritation in his voice. Now he was nothing more than an office boy, answering phones...
"No, he's not here right now."
Someone was asking for that bastard Adams already. Had Laura made some changes behind his back?
"I can take a message," he said, bored. Whether he'd choose to deliver it would be another thing.
His pen stilled on the paper. "What did you say your name is?"
He listened, then decided it might be a good idea to introduce himself. “My name’s Tom Zarek. I’m the General Manager of Roslin Industries.
"Mr Adams has gone out with his new wife. But I think I can be of a help to you. However, I'll need to call you back from my office."
Scribbling the phone number down, he grinned. He may win this game yet.
The end of Unstoppable (15/15)