Chapter 30

Over a Year Ago

Cecelia felt the warm body nestled against her. That the body was female was not unusual. While Cecelia had numerous men grace her bed from time to time, they almost always were men very securely attached to their own women, many of whom also tasted Cecelia’s charms on a regular basis.

The woman spooned behind her was special. Cecelia fit very comfortably in her long form, the woman’s soft breasts pressing into the Regent’s back. She did not get to see nearly enough of her now days. She was sniffing, breathing in Cecelia’s strong scent, laced with the pheromones all Mariner line women excreted. She felt the woman’s nipples harden into her back as the Regent’s pheromones began to work on her.

As her lover’s arousal increased Cecelia could feel her own body responding to the strong pheromones the other woman was giving off. Cecelia came from an old line and the blood was strong in her, but her lover was a member of the Riogati line, even if that was not her name. Her hand reached up and cupped Cecelia’s breast, her fingers pinching the already hard nipple.

“Desiree,” she moaned.

The woman kissed the shell of her ear. Her breath made Cecelia shiver. “Oh, I’ve really missed this Sissy,” she said. She moved lower, releasing the woman’s breast as her kisses ran down the older woman’s spin.

“Oh God,” Cecelia breathed.

By the time Desiree reached the base of her spine, the area between her thighs, which had been merely moist, was hot and dripping. Desiree grasped both of her ass cheeks pushing up and Cecelia got on her knees so that her lover could run her tongue between her cheeks. She was so close. When the tongue rimmed her ass Cecelia felt herself trip over.

“Omigod! So good. Cumming,” she moaned out.

Desiree continued to lick up her perineum until she reached the woman’s folds. As Cecelia continued to gasp and moan she speared her tongue into her lover. Then she reached up with one of her hands and tweaked Cecelia’s clit.

“Fuck!” Cecelia’s body jackknifed as a massive orgasm hit her. Desiree continued to twiddle her until Cecelia trapped the woman’s hands between her thighs as she fell over.

When Cecelia stopped shaking Desiree extracted herself from between her legs and moved up to take the smaller woman in her arms, though at five foot eleven most would not consider Cecilia Margret Winthrope Riogati a small woman. At six foot one Desiree Ormond was not most.

Cecelia felt the woman’s hard athletic body envelope her and felt something she had seldom felt in the last eighteen years. Content. She knew it was a passing emotion. In some ways Desiree was her right hand. She was responsible for the safety of the most precious treasure the Regent of Mariner possessed. That made her important to Cecelia. That also made her absence necessary, at least for a few more years.

“We’re not finished yet,” Cecelia said.

“I know. Please just let me hold you for a few minutes.”

“Not getting enough cuddling in the States?” Cecelia teased.

Desiree rolled her eyes. “They are so uptight. The men are poorly trained, no wonder most of the women never orgasm. And the women ... let’s just say they have no sense of balance.”

“So no men or women have caught your fancy?”

“Let’s just say I really enjoy my trips home,” she said kissing her lover.

Cecelia sighed. “I so don’t want to get out of bed. I know I did not let you report to me last night before...”

“Before you ravaged me,” the tall girl teased.

“Before you ravaged me,” Cecelia teased back. “But do I have to put on the regent’s crown before I can hear about my son?”

“I’m worried Your Highness,” the woman said, becoming more formal, though her leg was still trapped between the regent’s thighs. “The Connor girl was no problem. The greedy little bitch took the money and ran just as we supposed she would, but James’s response was not as I would have predicted. I’d hoped he’d have sought comfort from the Blake girl. She is a much more suitable match for him.”

“Yes,” the regent agreed. “I’ve read her folder. Smart, beautiful, even sexually accomplished, without being a slut about it. A good match, for someone who is not a Mariner.”

“Yes, even as just a diversion until he finishes grad school,” Desiree agreed.

“I assume that’s not what you’ve seen?”

“No. He pushed both her and Jordan away. Of course both girl’s have graduated. Ms. Blake was suppose to go to Chicago, but instead she went to Boston and renewed her acquaintance with Jordan.”

“Interesting. Are they intimate?”

“Yes, we think so.”

“Well Jordan is a Mariner girl, even if she doesn’t know it. What about James?”

“Well, as you know we intended that he spend last summer with Jordan in North Carolina, at the house we provided. I had assets there to protect them, but James spent the summer in Washington. He pretty much stopped driving his car. Antonio has a cow every time he uses public transportation. It’s almost impossible to keep a team on him without arousing suspicion, not to mention actually protect him.”

“There’s more too, isn’t there?”

Desiree looked pensive. “I know you get the account reports. Have you noticed the change in his spending habits?”

“Yes. For years, since he left St. Broadricks, he barely spent half his monthly stipend. Suddenly last summer he drains his account nearly as soon as the monies are there. Where is it going?”

“We don’t know,” Desiree admitted. “He removes it as cash. He appears to throw most of it into prepaid cards. What happens to the money then I have no idea. We’ve tried to get into his computers, but somehow he’s managed to circumvent every specialist I’ve put on him. We know he’s been in communication with the hacker community. He’s managed to apply a lot of that cybersecurity knowledge he’s learning, along what he’s picked up on his own to thwart us.”

“Is that because he suspects something?”

Desiree hesitated, then answered. “I don’t know. Once she reached her majority last year I had a talk with Jordan.”

“How much has she been told?”

“Not about James. Not yet. She does know she’s working for who she thinks is the Trust. She’s conflicted about that, because of James’s attitude about dealing with Bester.”

“Perhaps we should change to another front company?”

“I don’t really think that would help. James is being stubborn. It’s the kind of the teenage rebellion we often see in children much younger. I’m afraid that his regimented schooling at St. Broadricks left little room for that kind of natural teenage response.”

“Your degree in psychology is showing, my dear.”

Desiree grinned. “Sorry.”

“No. It’s one of the reasons I picked you for this job.”

“James has had a very easy life in some respects. His time at St. Broadricks was regimented, but not difficult. He had Jordan for emotional support and others like Ms. Blake. Perhaps we could have handled his time at university better. We treated him like a Mariner foreign aid student, but in most cases we insist that they live with other Mariner students in an environment close to what they are use to here.”

“Sexually permissive, you mean?”

“Yes, but also with lots of emotional support. Friendship. Responsibility. James has been allowed to live on his own since leaving St. Broadricks. Perhaps it would have been better to have placed him in University housing. Or perhaps we should have pushed him toward university abroad, that is outside the States.”

“Jordan seemed to thrive under those conditions.”

“Yes she did. But she is not James. She’s not even really his sister.”

“But neither of them know that,” Cecelia stated.

“Perhaps that should change, at least for Jordan. She’s making her own way now.”

“You’re probably right. The only reason Jennifer and Grant kept Jordan’s Mariner heritage hidden from her was to protect James. They died protecting him and she needs to know that.”

“That will be a difficult conversation.”

“Yes. So perhaps it’s one I should be having.”

“You? You want to bring her to Mariner?”

Cecelia shook her head. “No. I think its time James and I met. I’m really concerned. What is he doing with all that money? I need to see him. Talk to him.”

“You’re ready to reveal to him his heritage?”

“No. Not yet. I’m not completely convinced its safe yet. I have a friend...”

Jordan watched the Boylston stop of the Green Line slip passed as she prepared to for her stop at Park Street. She exited the train and left the station. She enjoyed the short walk to her place of employment. She looked at the manikins in the Macy windows as she pulled her coat tight around her against the cold. Amazingly spring fashions already grace the figures. The image of one of her new friends, either Emily or Jessica, was hung as a backdrop in one of the windows. She could not tell which one as they were twins and Jordan had problems telling them apart in person let alone in front of the camera.

A couple of blocks ahead she could see the edifice of 100 Summer Street, where the offices of the Winthrope Group stood on the 12^th floor of the 33 floor building. In the cold, the walk seemed a little longer than usual, but soon she crossed Devonshire and took the turn for the building’s entrance. At least the snow was gone, she thought as she stood in front of the elevator with a dozen other people.

When she got to her floor she saw the directory, but already knew the way, of course. She had started with the company at the end of last summer. North Carolina had been lonely without James, but she did her best to enjoy her last hurrah, as she thought of it. The final gift of a responsibility free summer before she buckled down to lifetime of adult work.

She had been quite surprised to find that her parents had 43% interest in the Winthrope Group. Somehow all of that had ended up as hers. She had been assured by Desiree Ormond, the trust representative that had met her in North Carolina several weeks after her graduation, that James was the beneficiary of an equally valuable legacy.

She had also been told that though other companies acted as agents, the assets of the Trust itself were held by the Winthrope Group. Some of those assets exceed in value the portion of the business that Jordan now held. The dividends and payouts she herself would receive negated the necessity of her having to work at all should she wish. Ms. Ormond had pointed out, however, that it would be a shame for her to waste the degree that she had worked so hard for at Harvard. Jordan had agreed to working at a mid level position at Winthrope, to allow her to learn the business and be in a better position to exercise the ownership position that she held.

So for the time being Jordan kept yeoman hours at Winthrope working on various tasks that seemed designed to expose her to all of the activities with which the Winthrope Group was involved. When Jordan reached her desk she saw that the message light on her desk phone was flashing. Jordan’s office was a glass enclosed cubicle, more private than a desk in a cube farm, but hardly the wood panel walled rooms held by Winthrope senior management.

“Jordan, when you get in give me a call,” the voice of Jordan’s supervisor Matt Price said.

“Matt? What’s up?”

“I hope you dressed up today. Ms. Winthrope wants to see you.”

“She’s here?”

The Winthrope Group’s main offices were in New York City, previously at 2 World Trade Center located several floors below the New York Stock Exchange. All employees had made it out, thankfully. Subsequently it moved to 60 Wall Street, where Jordan assumed Ms. Winthrope spent most of her time.

“She came in yesterday. I got a call last night to get you in to see her first thing.”

“Great.” Jordan assumed Cecelia Winthrope knew her parents. How could she not, considering the amount of Winthrope that they owned? Though truthfully she was unaware of the exact position her parents held in relation to the company.

Jordan knew where the normally absent CEO’s office was located. Typically the receptionist desk in front of the large wooden door which led to the office was empty. Today a young woman sat there. The plaque on the desk said “E. Falcone”.

“May I help you,” the woman said. Jordan noted a slight accent. Transatlantic, maybe she thought. Meaning that accent often seen in old movies from the early twentieth century, as spoken by such Hollywood idols as Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn and Grace Kelly.

“Jordan Sutton to see Ms. Winthrope. I think I’m expected.”

“Of course, Ms. Sutton.” The woman picked up her phone and pressed a button saying, “Jordan Sutton is here.” She listen and then hung up the phone saying, “Ms. Winthrope will see you now.”

Jordan went pass the desk and opened the door. Beyond she saw a large office, it’s back a vast glass window looking down on Boston’s Financial District.

The woman standing behind the desk was an attractive older woman, not much over forty, if that old. Jordan figured she was a few inches taller than her own five-seven height. She was dressed in an expensive business suit, with a pencil skirt. Her eyes were bright blue and seemed to look through Jordan.

She recognized the woman standing next to Ms. Winthrope. It was the trust representative, Desiree Ormond. The tall dark haired woman towered over them both. In her three inch heels she must be almost six-four, much taller than even her brother James.

Winthrope held out her hand as Jordan approached, stepping around the desk to do so. Jordan responded.

“Jordan, may I call you Jordan? Though you probably don’t remember me I remember you right enough, though you were probably no more than three or four the last time I saw you.”

Jordan noticed that same accent again. Now that she thought of it she had noticed it when she met Desiree Ormond too. What did that mean, if anything?

“No, I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”

“Well take a seat,” Winthrope said gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Ormond stepped to take the other one. “Would you like something to drink? This is likely to be a difficult conversation.”

Jordan wondered at that.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright.” she sat down.

“I know you’ve already met Desiree, Ms. Ormond.”

“Yes we met last summer. Doesn’t she work for J.P. Barlett and Associates?”

“Not exactly. She works for me.”

“For the Winthrope Group?”

Cecelia Winthrope sighed. “I knew this was going to be hard. Jordan. I have some things that you need to know. Remember when Desiree came to speak to you she made you sign a NDA?”

“Yes, a Non Disclosure Agreement.”

Cecelia nodded. “Well what I’m about to tell you is too important to be covered by an NDA. When you hear everything I have to say you will understand why you have to keep it secret. Even from your brother James. Especially James.”

Jordan was feeling really uncomfortable now. She had agree to keep from James that she was effectively working for the company that controlled the trust he despised so much. Winthrope seemed to be indicating she would be finding out even more she could not tell him. Could she do that?

She did not know, but she did know she would have to find out before she could decide whether to tell James or not, NDA be damned.

“Jordan, your mother was more than a business partner to me. We are related. Jennifer was my cousin. That makes you my second cousin. You understand that makes us family?”

Jordan nodded. “Yes, I suppose.”

“When we were girls Jen and I were very close. We were at university together. I was maid of honor at her wedding to your father. Later circumstances have forced me to stay away from you, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Because you live in New York?”

“Not exactly.”

Cecelia looked pensive now. “There is just no easy way to say this Jordan. I had to stay away from you and James to keep you safe.”

“Keep us safe? What do you mean? Is someone trying to hurt you?”

Winthrope shook her head again. “No not me. James.”

“James!” Jordan jumped up and Ormond leaped to her feet too,

“Sit down Desiree,” Cecelia ordered and Jordan saw the woman retake her seat. Embarrassed she did the same.

“I had to stay away from you both to protect James.” Jordan saw something those blues eyes now. Fear? “Jordan your parents did not die in an accident. They were killed because they were protecting James and someone wanted to kill him.”