Out of the Past Pt. 01

"Call me sometime," the blonde said having regained her confidence. She slipped a business card over his shoulder and kissed his ear. Taking it Sebastian saw her name was "Kandace." He called for a car and threw it out, then had her wait on the porch for the service. Still he watched her get into the short limo and drive through the gates on Greenwood, disappearing into the night.

He had to stop doing this. Damn her, damn them all! Closing the door he looked around the townhouse, what should have been Claire's, never his. He was supposed to have been the back sheep of the family, the one who got away, not her. But she'd never been technically part of the family in any legal sense and so when the chance for one of them to escape had come, she had taken it and left him in the dust.

It had all worked out, he supposed. Ol' Ferdinand had given him an ultimatum and the reward was worth it. Michael had taken him on as a protégé and they had put him through school, trained him. Ferdinand was dead now, he'd left Sebastian this very strange townhouse. Michael was retired happily for once, and Sebastian was left in charge.

Claire could have had this. Though Michael was just her step father, his uncle had been prepared to leave it all to her, claim her as his own, but she had been too bullheaded. In the end they had tried one last ditch effort and she had gone to the schools they wanted, but then right after her last graduation she had walked out of their lives forever.

Not that he could blame her, and why was he thinking on her anyway? As children they'd been friends. As awkward teenagers they'd been lovers for one brief night, and then he'd never seen her again. It wasn't unusual for one's first time to be a one-night stand, he supposed, it just sucked that at the time he'd been desperately in love with her.

The anger was mostly gone now, and wherever she was he wished her happiness, he supposed. Turning from the street he wandered the long hall. Ferdinand, his grandfather, had lived here all throughout Sebastian's childhood, but the original builder was a few generations back. He had apparently disliked his wife so he built a townhouse for two, two living rooms, two dining rooms, two offices, two upstairs, one stairway, and one kitchen. In almost one hundred and fifty years no one had changed it.

Ferdinand had moved in as a young man with his brother Daniel who'd died in Korea, and often it had housed two people, allowing them some privacy but the ability to plan Kellner, Inc.'s future. Once it had been meant for him and Claire, until one of them bought the other out, but now he lived in the bisected house alone.

Down in the basement, he turned on the stereo to wailing guitars. Heavy metal screamed out, another guilty pleasure the businessman could not afford to share with anyone. Turning to the weights he began to work out the frustrations the blonde hadn't even touched.

***

She should have taken time to research them. Always the temptation had been to read about the Kellner family but she had avoided it. the past was a dark one and she'd been loathe to relive the memories.

So what was she doing back here? As bad as they were, they weren't as scary as Morelli nor his hitman. She could do this. She would simply go to Ferdinand and ask him for a respite, a chance to catch up. Maybe things had changed and he was no longer the cruel wizard of her youth. Perhaps he would listen to reason and agree to a short stay. If things had changed, if they got along, perhaps they could discuss seeing the rest of the family. It was far too late to take the place Michael had always dreamed for her.

She could do this. She wasn't the scared little child she'd once been, the outsider in a world of powerful men with short tempers and dark reasoning. She had made her own way, it was only extraordinary circumstances that had brought her back

So she had the cab bring her to his townhouse. Ferdinand would be ninety now, long since retired, and on a Monday morning reachable. It was early still, she'd gotten in at five and it was o just nearing seven a.m. with shaking hands she pushed the buzzer at the gate, and the inside phone line rang.

The camera above the buzzer moved, something around the lens rotating. That was new and she knew it was focusing in on her, perhaps by some aide. She tried to smile but she was tired, disheveled, and scared.

The line picked up and was hung up immediately. Perhaps the aide didn't know about her, perhaps when she'd taken off three years earlier they had erased all memory of her. Heart hammering she pushed the buzzer again. It rang, and rang, and rang this time.

Her temper flared up, the thing the family hated the most, but it was how she had survived so long on her own, away from them and their twisted world. Still before she acted she thought of sweet, gawky Sebastian, her friend and confidante. If there was anyone she could trust it was him, but that was why she couldn't go to him. If Morelli's killer came after her sweet Sebastian with his poet's soul would never survive.

Resigned, she walked around until she found a bush with firm branches and used that to climb to the top of the fence. She took off her old suede biker's jacket and put it on the spikes, then hauled herself over. She grabbed her jacket as she fell to land in the yard, and somehow managed to tear her jeans. Her braid was in shambles and loose hair swamped her eyes, but she'd made it.

Ferdinand would not dare deny her existence now. At the very least he would let her collect what was hers and she would disappear for good. How ironic it would be, she thought, to have spent three years hiding from people not even seeking her.

Marching up the stone drive she marched to the odd townhouse's door and began to pound. After long minutes it finally opened to an incredibly handsome man dressed in an expensive suit, his dark hair slicked back to reveal clean lines of his face. Something in his blue eyes was familiar but she couldn't place it.

"I'm here to see Ferdinand Kellner. I'm his...I'm..."

"Claire," the stranger said, and suddenly his frowning expression turned thunderous. He slammed the door in her face.

"Wait a minute!" She began pounding again. "I'm his grand daughter in a way, Michael's step-daughter! I demand to see him!"

The door jerked open again to the handsome stranger. The set of his jaw was angry, but his eyes seemed full of pain. "You fall off the face of the earth and then just show back up? For what?"

"I need his help! Look, he can tell me to fuck off if he wants, but he'll have to say it himself. I am not leaving until he tells me to."

"That's going to be mighty tough. Ferdinand Kellner is dead."

"Then who the hell are you?"

His eyes narrowed, burning like lasers. She couldn't say why but a tinge of shame filled her, framing her pique. "Claire, don't you remember me?"

He did look familiar but she couldn't place him. There'd never been anyone her grandfather had employed that looked like him, despite his snootiness she had to admit he was to die for. "Should I?"

"I would damn well hope so since I popped your cherry!"

The crude words threw her. The boy who'd taken her virginity even as she took his had been soft, pretty, gentle. Words so crass would never fall from his lips. Still, she looked into those eyes and it struck her, that the man so cruelly dismissing her was none other than the only man she'd ever loved.

"Sebastian."

"In the flesh."He folded his arms and she felt dizzy.

"Wha? Why?"

"There always has to be a Kellner in charge of things. You had the luxury of leaving, I never did."

"Sebastian, I need your help." There was no sense apologizing. Everything she had done had been justified, but he would never understand why she'd had to run.

His eyes glittered and his smile was bone-chilling. "I've dreamed of this day, when you came crawling back. And now I am going to do what I have always fantasized about."

"What!?" she cried, but it was too late, he'd closed the door in her face.

***

Sebastian was shaking. Oh, he'd fantasized about seeing Claire again so many times. In each one she appeared at his bed in lingerie, crawled to him on all fours, and ducked his cock like a champ. Or she'd been in trouble, and he'd seduced her, fucked her silly, made her want him, desire him, love him, and then abandoned her.

And why not? That was just what she'd done with him. They'd been lost kids together in a dark world, clinging to each other. She always had the option to leave but her never did, not easily, and she knew that. That night when he was seventeen and head over heels in love with her, they'd made a promise to each other. They would wait for her to go to college in two years, leave together, start over, start fresh.

To seal that promise she gave herself to him. He'd been just as inexperienced but love had guided him. Before the pain there had been pleasure, and after he had wrapped his body around hers and held her tight. In that embrace he'd thought he'd known love, but it had been one sided. In the morning she was gone, and it would be almost twelve years without her.

Now she was here. His mind was reeling, screaming. He wanted to slap her silly, hug her, scream at her, plead with her, and hurt her every bit as much s she'd hurt him. What game was she playing? Now that grandfather was dead, was she there for her half of the company? Did she know about his plans to take it public and was here for her piece first?

He bunched a fist and slammed it into a marble column in the entry. He would die first. She walked out on them, she had no claim. But, oh god, how delicious would it bee to toy with her, bend her to his will, make her love him, and then break her heart?

He smiled, feeling quite mad, and then something crashed in the right living room, his living room. Cursing he jerked into a run to find a rock sitting in a pool of glass and the wind blowing through the hole in the triple-paned window.

Standing beyond was one pissed off Claire Willoughby. Impossibly time had only added to her beauty. She was on the thin side, apparently life on the run hadn't been too kind, but she still had the generous curves her mother had. She seemed taller, but it was the confidence, the squared shoulders. Over them tumbled her honey-blonde hair, framing a delicate heart-shaped face that had haunted his dreams. Her thick lips were pursed, ready for a fight, and her blue eyes burned like pureflame.

"Sebastian, this family owes me that trust fund my mother set up for me. I'm not leaving until I get it."

Oh, so the minx wanted to play it that way? Swiftly a decision locked into place in hiss mind and he smiled, leaning close to the glass. "Then come on in."

At that moment, he knew just how the devil felt.

***

Fear was the bedfellow of anger, and Claire had it in spades. Why Sebastian was here was no mystery. There had always been two Kellners running the company and if Ferdinand was dead it was Michael and Sebastian. Sebastian's rage at her she could handle, but Michael was a demon in her memory. She couldn't stay in the same house as Michael, but they did owe her money. Her mother had some when she married Michael and when she died it had been put into a trust she never touched.

That would be enough, it had to be. She'd get her money and go back on the run, resume her original plan. She had no idea just how much was in the fund but she hoped it was enough to keep moving as long as she needed.

She walked back around to the porch and he held the door open for. Stepping inside into a familiar world, she was crowded when he refused to move aside, and their bodies touched. For a moment nothing filled her mind but how firm he was, warm, masculine. Then she remembered the shy, sweet boy he'd been and it pulled her up short.

"What happened to you?"

His gaze cooled as he swung the door shut. "I grew up."

"So where's..." her thoughts scattered as she turned. The strange house was just as she remembered it. Two living rooms, two powder rooms, two offices, two dining rooms all across from one another. At the end of the central hall was the staircase, behind it the single industrial kitchen. Upstairs two apartments mirrored each other, guest room, bath, and master suite. Built by a particularly cruel ancestor of Sebastian's, the master bedroom was open to the rest of the house, all so his long ago wife could hear him bed a mistress.

Someone had redone it all. The dark wood trim was complimented by dark creams and light blues, there was soft carpeting in place and all new furniture. Above the chandelier was polished and fully repaired, and the master bedrooms were still open but covered by curtains. The right side, clearly lived-in, had dark blue velvet curtains and light blue lace ones behind it. Below it had the trappings of a resident, but the left side was barren. "Michael?"

"Living with his new wife. He's been ousted from Kellner, Inc. And I'm sorry to say but since he's been cut off, as the executor of your trust fund he blew through it all."

It was too much, too fast. The demon was gone, Sebastian had joined the ranks, and there was no money. Claire's lips parted an she made the sound of a wounded animal sensing its end. Sebastian loomed over her and grabbed her elbow to steady her.

"I'll make a deal. When he liquidated it just last year the value was one million. Kellner isn't doing that great so it will take some time, but I will get you the money. I only ask for two things."

"Oh?" Her head swam but when he gripped her other arm he was strangely and anchor, though clearly the scariest thing in the house.

"One, when you get it you leave here, and swear it, sign any paper I ask, that you will relinquish any claim to Kellner, and never return."

"Done," she said without thought. It was all she'd ever wanted...well close. Once she had dreamed of escaping with the quiet Sebastian by her side, but clearly that ship had sailed. "And the other?"

"Twelve years, nearly twelve years you left me to rot, left me alone to hold things together. So for twelve days you will stay here and give me everything I want."

His deep voice turned husky and yet sharp, and Claire shivered. There was no mistaking what he meant and she was so desperate, so tired, so scared she wouldn't say no. But knowing that it would not be the Sebastian she remembered so fondly was going to damn near kill her. Maybe there was some part of him that was still gentle and loving, some part that would never hurt her.

She searched his face for any clue of the boy but there was none. His deep auburn hair was pulled so tight the clean lines of his face looked nearly harsh. All traces of the boy were gone and the man in his place was a stranger.

"E-everything?"

He leaned in so close their noses nearly touched. Fear coursed through her but there was a blunt warmth to the cold shiver and madly she felt her body grow heavy and aroused. "Everything," he whispered. "Agree or get the fuck out of my house."

She flinched at the curse. Claire had just a few hundred dollars left and wouldn't get far. "A-all r-right. B-but no-"

"No, Claire. Everything I want. Nothing illegal and you can stop it any time. If I accidentally hurt you walk away with your money. If you chicken out and try to run like you seem to do, you get nothing. Decide, now."

Be his glorified whore? Which was worse, that this was a stranger, or that it was the one person who had, and likely still did, know her better than anyone? What scared her the most?

"Claire, if you don't answer me, I'm going to call the police and have you escorted out." He dropped her arms and turned.

"Wait! I'll do it!"

He turned, triumphant, and she knew she had just sold her soul. Only she didn't know the price.

***

To her shock Sebastian hadn't picked her up and dragged her to the couch nor pushed her against a marble column and taken her right there. From the anger in his voice she had expected it, but instead he told her to remain in the house and to only allow in the housekeeper who came at ten. Then he told her the housekeeper Luisa would alert her to appointments. Without further explanation, he'd strode out the front door, leaving her in the house that haunted her.

When she was small her mother married Michael Kellner. He was tall, dark, handsome, filthy rich, everything a woman wanted, or so her mother said. She could still remember the fights between them, the screaming and yelling. They had lived blocks away then when this was Ferdinand's home, open only during important family meetings. When her mother was sick and knew she was dying she'd brought Claire there to endear her to Ferdinand and his superstitions.

Then Ferdinand's wife had died and Michael moved in and brought her with after her mother's death. Not long after Sebastian's mother, Michael's sister, had grown too ill and Sebastian became Ferdinand's ward. Through all the anger, the bitterness and pettiness, he'd been her rock, her balm. If he had only been willing to come with her that night things could have been different.

With a sigh she strode to the back of the house and looked, but it was all different. It was as if someone had stripped the house down to the walls, repainted them, replaced the floor, and installed new everything. Even the kitchen was modernized with stainless steel and granite, the cabinets and counters were in a different arrangement than she remembered and an island had been added.

In the fridge she discovered health food. Some meat but mostly fruits and vegetables, protein shakes and supplements, all the trappings of a man built like that. He worked for that body, that was clearly evident, but in one cabinet she found sane food in chocolately cereal to go with the soy milk and poured herself a bowl.

When the buzzer rang at ten she raised her head from where she'd fallen asleep at the counter. Luisa turned out to be a pleasant woman who showed her to the right side and insisted "Mr. Kellner" had said to put her in the guest room next to his bedroom and her first appointment was at three. Too tired to argue, Claire sank into the queen size bed and satiny sheets still in her jeans and rumpled shirt. Despite her fears she was behind a gate in a house no one could track her to. At least she had a place to hide for twelve days, and with luck Sharon would have Morelli's pet killer in custody by then.

She closed her eyes and was immediately asleep.

***

By seven thirty Claire was feeling angry. It had taken her years to get the spit polish of this world off and in one afternoon he had put it back on. The appointments were a hairdresser and two assistants who did her nails. She was waxed, plucked, smoothed, and slathered while her hair was trimmed and conditioned. Apparently she was to be a courtesan, and with any other man it might be a thrilling role play, but the reality was so much more terrifying.

Then came the deliveries. First came Luisa with a measuring tape and orders to measure damn near everything on her body. Not long after came a nighty, garter belt, stockings, a sheer short robe, and tottering high heels.

At least the heels would add four inches and bring her within two of Sebastian's height barefoot, and thanks to a childhood growing up surrounded by people who cared for fashion she could easily manage them, but the rest...

She dressed in it and surveyed herself in the mirror. The room was a guest bedroom but unbearably masculine, all dark navy paint save one wall papered with a cream and navy stripe pattern. Against the masculine background she looked like something out of a high-class porno. The red satin nighty skimmed her curves, the silk clinging to her breasts and hips, so short that if she didn't walk carefully the panties showed.