Crushed (erotic) (#3, 101 Nights)

Chapter Eight: Elijah

I look in once on Natalie and the cat before I leave for the private concourse of the JFK airport, where one of my jets is being fueled for the trip to Ohio. I can’t bring myself to walk into the bedroom. I’m too disturbed by the pain I saw in her eyes.

If I were her, I’d leave while I was away on my trip. I wouldn’t blame her if she took the clothes and ran. I fully expect her to be gone by the time I get back.

No stranger to pain, I’m unfamiliar with this kind of hurt and its intensity. It’s almost crippling, like my insides are physically being twisted and put through a sausage grinder.

Instead of staying, I head to the airport a few hours early and sleep in the king-sized bed in the back of the private jet. My dreams aren’t good – of raising a child as fucked up as I am. I wake up and shower just before six, when the plane is scheduled to take off.

My mind is restless again, the way it was before I met Natalie. My thoughts race and my emotions are in the way.

I hate that.

Even knowing she’d say no to the proposal, I can’t help feeling … disappointed. She’s serious about not wanting more to do with me than what we bargained for. Not that I blame her, but I guess I hoped … I don’t know. That maybe some part of her wanted to stay enough to do this with me.

It’s better this way. I know this. The ideal situation is that I can convince my father not to require an heir. The mere thought of children makes me almost sick. I don’t see that changing for any reason.

I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it does tear me up. Natalie said no, and I am disappointed but also relieved. I’d rather break her, free her and give her a chance to heal. It’s better than permanently ruining the part of her that gave me a sliver of hope, however small, that I, too, had a chance at something more, something beautiful.

Someone else deserves that gift from Natalie, someone who can appreciate it. Someone who isn’t too accustomed to living in the dark place I do.

It’s better that I find a woman who won’t compromise my judgment the way Natalie has, someone who understands our arrangement is purely business, knock her up and let her raise an heir. I’d send them away from Nijala, away from me, and rule my kingdom alone. I’d increase its financial standing by threefold in ten years. I have that kind of business sense, the kind that will benefit the stagnant economy.

As successful as I’d be in one area, I’m poorly prepared in another. With no paternal instinct and an entrenched desire not to produce an heir, I’m the last person who should be entrusted with such responsibilities as children.

Unable to stop my thoughts, I emerge from the bedroom in the back to the private living and dining area. This part of the jet resembles a tiny apartment. It’s separated by a wall from the main lounge area.

“They said you got here three hours ago.” George is seated in his normal spot in front of a large television screen. His shoes and socks are off. It’s a tradition I’m too accustomed to seeing to notice it most days.

This morning, however, I do notice, and can’t help think he’s got the right idea. I sit down in the other theatre-style chair in front of the TV and strip off my shoes and socks. I dig my feet into the carpet, recalling when I’d buried them in the sand behind the Winter Palace when I was a child, before I learned how fucked up this world and my family are.

“It’s not the first time you’ve found me here,” I point out.

“The first time I’ve found you here alone. Rough night, mate?” George asks casually. He’ll never pry, though I can tell from his tone he’s open to listening.