For the first time in his memory, his wife interrupted him. "I did. He wouldn't have died if I hadn't drugged him. I hated him; I totally hated his guts but I..." Lauren shook her head helplessly. "I see his face, the way he looked when we stuffed him into my cello case. I keep having this nightmare where he opens his eyes just as we're shutting the lid. Sometimes..." She was crying now, hating herself for looking so weak and upsetting him when he was still so weak. "Sometimes, I see myself in the case."
Thomas let out a long, pained sigh and pulled on her hand. "Come here, baby. Come here now."
"I don't want to hurt-"
"Shhhh," he soothed, "come here." Lauren crawled on the bed and carefully arranged herself against his long body, shuddering a little in relief. Even with the crinkle of his bandages and his slightly labored breathing, her husband was solid, comforting. "I cannot force you to see the reality of this," Thomas murmured, rough fingers stroking up her arm, "butyouknow I am correct. Ben would have died. Likely within the new few days, and most probably by my hand, if not one of his numerous enemies. Indeed, knowing what we know now, I'm a bit surprised Arabella didn't insist on ending him herself." He chuckled before realizing Lauren would not find it as entertaining as he did.
She was quiet for a while as he softly kissed the top of her head, holding her a little closer, even though it really did feel like someone was driving a spiked glove into his ribcage. Finally, Lauren raised her head to look at her beautiful husband, his eyes so kind, as she'd so rarely seen them before. "I would do it again, if it meant saving your life. Just like that man in the hall. I'd do it again. To both of them." She buried her face back in his neck and they sat together in the sunny quiet of their home.
Now, it wasn't Thomas fucking with her, Lauren miserably thought. It was the entire goddamn universe. Seriously! Because her stubborn husband refused to stay down, he developed pneumonia, a terrifying development with his chest wound and unbearably painful when his illness set off a round of coughing. Naturally, he still conducted business, furiously sending off emails and reports and issuing orders in his scratchy, croaky voice. And sick or not, it had been so long since he'd laid hands on his lovely wife that the doctor walked in on Mr. and Mrs. Williams desperately kissing each other with his hand in her undies. After her horrified little yelp and his barking at the poor physician to "Get the HELL out!" she had firmly refused to get within reach of Thomas's alarmingly long grasp.
"I'mnotgoing to be the person who ends up killing you after everyone else who's tried!" Lauren snapped when he attempted to "Sir" her. This set off a few days of cold, clipped communication from Thomas, who she knew was suffering as much as she was from their enforced chastity. Still, it chipped at the new intimacy they'd created and it was all wearing her down.
Chuck found her one afternoon, weeping in the garden while she tried to water the new wisteria vines she'd planted. "I'm not sure I've ever seen growing instructions that included a woman's tears," he remarked blandly, looking off into the distance to allow her a moment to compose herself.
"It's my stupid husband," Lauren finally managed, "and his stupid Number One thing that means he can't even recover from a fucking gunshot wound to the chest when there's The Corporation business to be done."
Dusting the leaves off a bench, he seated himself, listening attentively. "I can imagine this is an issue of discord between you," Chuck finally offered. "Mr. Williams is mulishly stubborn. Much like yourself."
"I am not," she mumbled, wiping her nose awkwardly on her sleeve.
"Hhmmmm..."
It was classic Chuck, Lauren thought crossly. Noncommittal, simply observing, well, she could be that way, too. All calm and- "We didn't even get our wedding night!" she burst out, "We finally get married for the right reasons and we get exactly nothing! Well, Thomas got a bullet but damnit! This is so stupid and I'm being unfair and childish..."
Aaaand, she was crying again, Chuck noted, placing an arm gingerly around her shoulders and offering her a clean handkerchief. "Use this," he said, "your sleeve is getting sticky." They talked for a while- well, Lauren burst out in a series of grievances and he listened, making more of those encouraging sorts of noises.
"Hey, honey." Lauren looked up with a smile as her husband stepped gingerly into the kitchen. "Do you want to eat with me in here, or in the bedroom?"
"Here, please darling," Thomas shuddered, "when I am able to climb the stairs and leave that sickroom for good, I am going to brick over the door and pretend it doesn't exist." She laughed, a pleasing sound, he thought. One that he'd not heard for a while.
They talked about the results of his latest chest x-ray and the big summit for all the businesses - the legitimate ones - under the Jaguar Holdings umbrella that would be held next week.
"Do you have your speech in mind?" Lauren asked, clearing the plates and bringing over a pink pastry box, one her husband eyed with some interest.
Selecting a lemon tart, Thomas nodded. "Of course. They need to hear a firm vision for the future to dispel any concerns - or more importantly - any stock fluctuations from the news of the split."
"Of course," she agreed with a little smile, and his brow rose at her tone. "I think we should just..." Lauren sighed. She couldn't believe she was saying this! "Let's just take the pressure off of us until after the summit. We're both so stressed out and -"
"Deprived? Denied? Desperate?" Thomas offered.
"Yeah," she sighed, "that. Let's plan our night the way it should be, without worrying about dislodging the tube in your chest or you getting- god, what elseisthere? The Bubonic Plague? We'll wait, and it will be perfect. It's what you wanted for us back in St. Petersburg, even when I begged you, so let's... not. You know, do anything." He was leaning back in his chair, tart forgotten in his long fingers. "Besides," she shuddered, "I'm going to kill myself if Dr. Snow walks in on us again."
"Hasn't the man ever heard of knocking?" Thomas snarled, but he nodded reluctantly. "All right. You deserve the perfect wedding night."
"Let's not call it that," she disagreed, shaking her head vehemently, "wedding nights never work out for us. It's our... oh, my god! I just realized it's going to be our first wedding anniversary in ten days! You know, from the first time we got married? That would be perfect!"
Her husband gave a sigh that sounded more like a groan, but he nodded. "I shall wait, darling. But I fully intend to ravish you."
Thomas leaned forward and a delighted little chill went up her spine. He looked sohungry. Starving, in fact.
"I shall stretch those long, lovely legs of yours on the softest bed I can find, and tie your pretty hands to the headboard," he promised, his voice deep from his illness and his sheer need for this woman. "I will feast on your tender, soft pussy until you come for me over and over until you beg me to stop. And then I shall force you to come once more on my tongue before I slide my cock into you and it all begins again."
Lauren vaguely heard something dripping, but it wasn't until her devilish husband deftly plucked her sagging wineglass from her hand that she realized it was drooping sideways in her numb fingers.
The next week was torture. Thomas had generously offered to at least make his desperate wife come, but she stubbornly refused. "Together or not at all!" Lauren insisted, groaning as she turned the shower hand to "cold." She was aware that he'd made plans, renting a beautiful beach cottage in Brighton on a lonely, windswept little spit of sand that was utterly isolated.
"No one will hear us," he promised in that terrible, purring voice, "no one will hear what I'm doing to you." Thomas grinned as she gave that nearly silent squeak that he found utterly adorable.
