The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 29

It had been fun seeing Charlie and Logan in New York. Rachel's natural hair hand been growing, and Levant took her to Rossano Ferretti's hair spa to drop two grand on a change of color and style. Rachel's hair was now uniformly finer than it used to be. Dropping the price of a MacBook for a cut by Rossano and his special scissors himself, felt heavy for Rachel, but Levant had insisted. He felt pleased by the result.

They had flown up to Boston the next morning. The air held a cooler embrace, a moistness that enveloped the senses, quite distinct from the bustling warmth of their departed city, New York. Rachel felt nervous, she had agreed to meet his mother and sisters along with offering the use of the prosthesis pants. In exchange, he would let her try sleeping with Logan and Charlie. If she were lucky this would let her sleep with Charlie, even Peter again, on a regular basis like in the old days. She was used to sleeping with Levant but tonight, she would be on her back. Her legs open while his firm stomach thrashed in and out of her.

She realized that through no fault of her own, Hunter's blow job had made herself more precious to him. It was like taking a toy or pet away from a child to make them look after it more. The side product of protecting Hunter was making herself more desirable. A few weeks later, endless hand jobs had already declined. She felt there was light at the end of the tunnel of love. Bringing the prosthesis forward was actually a good plan in her mind. It was as close to fucking her as he could get short of an orchiectomy and vaginoplasty. If this didn't feel like he had conquered her then Lucy's theory of the untouchable girl was wrong. On the plus side, Rachel didn't feel that grossed out by it. It was less in her than deep-throating, plus she could breathe while doing it. She had practiced in the prosthesis a couple of times with a well-lubricated dildo, the head would rub against Denver's folded-back dick, which was actually pretty pleasant. If she was lucky, she might actually cum. Either way, she knew she would have to fake an orgasm for him. It would hurt his feelings too much if she didn't.

They were sitting in the back of his mother's Rolls Royce. She had sent it for them from Boston airport. Rachel was lost in thought while she looked out of the car's window. Levant was looking at his laptop while they traveled up to his mother's estate. They were followed by a minibus filled with new political consultants led by a sleek-looking middle-aged man called Devlin. They didn't seem to do much but stare at laptops and chatter on phones. It was like Volk had cloned himself but with better suits. Devlin was young, cocky, efficient, and about as exciting to look at as a junior bank clerk. Rachel caught site of herself in the window.

"Do you think I look alright?" Rachel said, looking at Levant.

Rachel's pencil skirt and jacket she was wearing were dark and felt restrained, even somber. Rachel had described it to Samantha as 'being suitable for a funeral, but for someone you didn't know too well or had for someone who always wore sandals'.

For the first time, Rachel had her hair up in a bun, which was tucked under a small round pillbox hat from Suzanne Couture Millinery. Without her hair around her face, Rachel realized she no longer looked that masculine. Her neck was quite slim, even elegant. That, she had told herself, is what happens when you go on HRT and an estrogen cocktail for over a year. Her make-up was different, more refined. Levant had hired a new professional stylist called Kim. She had flown out to New York to meet them as they arrived from Europe. Rachel said she was happy still using Beth. Levant had said no girl of his was going to use a hotel's stylist. He hadn't said "girl" at first; he had used "wife" and then corrected himself. This was initially alarming, but the good news was that he was getting over the incident. Kim was excellent with a brush and the first stylist not to know Rachel's secret.

Levant smiled looking up from his laptop, "Look alright? Sure you do. I don't see what you're worried about."

The Boston cityscape gave way to the countryside. Rachel liked the way many houses looked, made from brick and clapboard. They had a timeless elegance to them.

"Your mother is a former actress. What if she doesn't approve of me?" Rachel said.

"It doesn't matter, as long as I approve of you. Which I do. That's enough," Levant said.

"Does she know?" Rachel asked after a pause, her eyes wide with trepidation.

Levant met her gaze and spoke gently, "Know what?"

"Know about me."

"Of course, she does. That's why we are meeting." Levant said, slightly confused.

"No, I mean," Rachel said, "Do I have to worry about her, you know, figuring out that secret, or does she already know?"

"I think she does," Levant said, still looking at the screen.

Rachel practically rolled her eyes.

Rachel played in her head, wondering how he explained to his mother that he was bringing a man home to meet her. "She needs work" would probably be his description. Perhaps this was the reason for the weird English parents experience. Rachel couldn't see her real parents meeting Levant's. Rachel wondered for a second, if they got married in England, then would that count in American courts?

"How is your mother?" Levant said.

Rachel leaned back in the seat. "Mom is undergoing a lot of pre-surgery tests. The delay is stressful. The long-term outlook is promising but uncertain," Rachel nearly quoted the report. She had been in constant contact with her biological mother.

The flight to Boston had been overnight, so Rachel had shared a bed with him. She was trying hard to keep Levant happy. She wanted to make him trust her enough to at least let her out of the Asylum when he wasn't with her. Doing that would mean making Douglas feel like a man.

Now in Boston, looking out of the window, Rachel noticed that the landscape did look a lot like the real England. The grass was vividly green, the weather neither noticeably cold nor hot, and the wind would encircle you like a happy invisible cloak. They drove over one of those bridges which also doubled as a barn. Rachel thought you only saw them in illustrations of Ichabod Crane.

"The Ferguson Bridge," Levant said, looking out. "This is when I start to feel I'm home." They still had fifteen minutes of travel left, this was all Levant estates.

He put his hand on Rachel's knee. She no longer flinched or twitched when he did that. She was a full-time fish filleter now just like Jimmy.

The estate's extensive grounds were a testament to its grandeur. Vast manicured gardens stretched out in all directions, showcasing vibrant flower beds, neatly trimmed hedges, and meandering pathways. A charming gazebo, tucked away in a secluded corner, offered a tranquil spot for contemplation or intimate conversations. Beyond the gardens, sprawling acres of land provided ample space for equestrian activities, with well-maintained stables housing prized horses.

Douglas had said the Levant family home had been brought over stone by stone from Scotland. He said there were locations where you could still read the chalk numbers the masons had used to identify the location of each stone. In a field out the back was a small pile Levant had played on as a child. The story went that these stones were the ones left over, and no one could figure out their proper home. The original Scottish castle had undergone a Victorian conversion into a grand country estate.

Approaching the estate, visitors were greeted by an imposing wrought-iron gate, flanked by towering stone pillars. A meandering gravel driveway, lined with vibrant flower beds and ancient oak trees, led them towards the stately main residence. The exterior of the house showcased the architectural splendor of the Victorian era, with its distinctive blend of Gothic and classical influences. The facade was adorned with intricate carvings, ornate cornices, and majestic bay windows that allowed ample natural light to filter through.

Stepping into the grand foyer, one was immediately transported back in time. The expansive space was adorned with a magnificent crystal chandelier, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the stone floors and intricately patterned Persian rugs. The walls were dressed in rich, textured wallpaper, depicting delicate floral motifs or subtle damask patterns. Elaborate moldings and archways added a touch of regal elegance to the surroundings.

"Welcome, Dee," Lidia Douglas's Mother said as they entered. Lidia had a cold, slender face with high cheekbones and tightly tied white hair in a neat bun. It was evident that she had been an actress in her younger days, and it was obvious where Levant got his good looks from.

"You must be Miss Price. We have heard so much about you," Lidia said, extending her thin, icy hand to Rachel while holding onto a large ebony walking stick with the other. She was definitely playing the role of the elder parent. Douglas's dad was now dead, but the huge painting in the hall meant he and his wealth was not forgotten.

Levant kissed his mother on the cheek, and her frozen response indicated that they were not the kind of family that hugged. Levant seemed nervous about her. At that point, Rachel knew exactly what she had to do. Levant had handed her the cord, which could push her out of Levant's grasp faster than a pilot ejecting from a crashing military jet.

"These are my sisters, Imogen and Sophia. I'll let them introduce their husbands and children," Levant said.

Isabella and Sophia were visiting with their respective partners. The women were in their mid to late twenties, with five years between them but already seemed to be parents. Sophia bore some resemblance to her mother, while Isabella possessed an unexpected grace and ease despite her size. Sophia's right hand was yellowed with nicotine stains, and Isabella had a patch of hair along her hairline that was thinner and shorter than the rest. In general, they remained silent unless spoken to, but their eyes scrutinized everyone around them. Their uneventful and unmemorable husbands appeared confident but had even lower status than the sisters did. They had that bold, polite ease of any man who did nothing, and tried to lead forward active lives despite achieving nothing except living on their wives stipends. The sisters silently eyed Rachel with curiously. Rachel smiled and tried to be friendly, but they showed no interest. Unsure if they knew her secret, Rachel reminded herself that she had only to survive the night.

Once their names were fully exchanged, Levant was informed that his room was ready for his stay. Rachel, on the other hand, was informed that they would retire and change for dinner, as per family tradition. Mrs. Levant had an ample staff, ensuring Rachel wouldn't need to carry her own bag to her room.

Ascending the grand, gilded staircase, they arrived on the upper floors, where spacious bedrooms awaited them.

"This was your room?" Rachel asked, stepping inside. The luggage had been neatly placed on the bed. Rachel realized that she no longer found this arrangement remarkable.

Each room served as a private sanctuary, adorned with luxurious fabrics, antique furnishings, and delicate period details. Canopied four-poster beds, dressed in fine silk and satin, invited restful slumber. The en-suite bathrooms showcased clawfoot bathtubs, porcelain sinks, and polished brass fixtures, reminiscent of an era of opulence and refinement.

"She remodeled after Dad passed away," Levant mentioned, releasing a sigh.

"Poor him, I'm sorry," Rachel responded, looking around and pondering whether excessive kitsch could be terminal.

Rachel secluded herself in the bathroom and changed into a preselected evening dress. Levant had specified every aspect of Rachel's appearance for the night. Lately, he had been more lenient with Rachel's choices, particularly regarding makeup. He generally tolerated her decisions and had only twice sent her back to her room to "finish putting her makeup on." However, tonight there was no room for such flexibility. Someone was attempting to make a favorable impression.

At the designated time, Levant emerged in his tuxedo, and Rachel followed in a glittering evening dress.

As they traversed through the house, Rachel discovered a series of impeccably decorated rooms, each possessing its unique character and purpose. The formal drawing room exuded sophistication, with tall windows adorned in sumptuous silk curtains, plush velvet sofas and armchairs, and a grand piano nestled in a corner. Ornate mantelpieces adorned with gilded mirrors and intricate vases showcased crackling fires during colder months, creating an ambiance of warmth and comfort. Occasionally, Levant would affectionately point at various items, describe their rarity and value, and then mention how he had managed to damage them as a child.

The building was immense, adorned with intricate tapestries that covered the stone walls. One group of tapestries depicted the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The walls also showcased large paintings of Levant's grandparents. It became apparent that these pictures served as more than mere decorations--they were a reminder of the family's accumulated wealth passed down through generations. Levant's expected role was to sustain the family's legacy, as the family would outlive him. They arrived at the dining room precisely at the appointed time.

The dining room exuded luxury, providing an ideal setting for extravagant banquets and intimate gatherings. A long, polished mahogany table was adorned with exquisite china, silver cutlery, and crystal glassware. The walls were embellished with richly framed oil paintings portraying ancestors of the family and landscapes reminiscent of the English countryside. A grand candelabrum hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow that set an elegant ambiance.

Levant greeted his mother with a kiss on her frozen cheek. Having a second look you could see how the tied of the years on her face was held back by desperate cosmetic surgery. Levant appeared noticeably nervous around her for the first time. He re-introduced his two sisters but proceeded to disregard them.

*******

Soon the subdued Dinner ended. Rachel had been to a long list of formal dinners and knew how to behave and which spoon to use. This was a partial relief as Levant's mother, Lidia, took delight in correcting the manners and behavior of everyone around her, most especially her oldest daughter. This family was strange. Rachel was no stranger to rich people, and mostly, they were like everyone else. Sure, most of them forgot what it was like not to have enough to eat, but they were not different. Lidia, on the other hand, felt like a forgotten woman from a forgotten time she was determined not to abandon. She was a person from a time when wealth made you more than different; it made you better than other people. This was the social laboratory Levant had grown up with; it explained him a little more.

"Let us girls leave the boys and talk," Lidia said, getting up. After they all departed, Lidia pointed at the sofas in the withdrawing room and said, "You will be comfortable there," to the sisters as if they were some elaborately trained pets.

Rachel followed Lidia, who walked steadfastly to another room. It looked to be a library, but one for people who liked the look of books, not necessarily the contents. Lidia closed the doors behind Rachel as they entered.

"This is good," Rachel thought to herself. "I can get insulted and demeaned in a different part of the house. Oh joy."

"I thought it best we get to know each other," Lidia said. "Please make yourself comfortable." A coffee pot had been set up on the coffee table between some soft leather armchairs.

"Can we cut the crap, Lidia?" Rachel said.

"Language, Miss Price. Language," Lidia said, pouring coffee. "But if you want to speak freely, it would be a poor hostess who did otherwise."

"You don't want me to be your daughter-in-law. The good news is I don't want to be your daughter-in-law. All we need is to convince your son, and everyone is happy."

Lidia looked on. "If you think you're holding out to get a better man, take a close look, Rachel. You have the cream of the crop. Everyone else would be downhill. But what did you think you were getting into when you started? Sugar?"

"No, thank you. I'm going to be totally frank with you, Mrs. Levant," Rachel said. "I am only here because I am under contract. My parents are ill and need cash. Douglas gave me an opportunity, and I took it. Once that is done, I'm out of here. The sooner I'm out, the better for him. You know the risks he is running for me?"

"I have heard, yes," Lidia said, leaning back in the elaborate chair near the fireplace.

"His reputation would be ruined if people found out the truth. The Levant Corporation, Thornbury Hotel Group, Levant Holdings--they all rest on trust and reputation. His trust, his reputation. I am a living, breathing threat to that. Not of my own choice, you understand. I am a toxic time bomb he can't put down. If you could help me get him to his senses, you would be doing a great many people a huge favor, Douglas most of all."

Rachel had learnt that old money had one venerability, the fear that they didn't deserve it and one day someone would notice and take it away. They would do anything to protect what they had. This would wake the dragon sleeping on their horde.

Lidia stood up and walked over to the large gilt painting on the other side of the room.

"I saw your parents," she began. "Douglas showed me a photo. I'm sorry for their plight, but what about after your parents' medication? Don't you want any of his money? He has a very high net worth."

Rachel heaved a sigh. "I wanted out once and left everything behind. I fully intend to do the same again when my contract is done. I don't want a cent."

"Bold talk. So what's keeping you?" Lidia asked.

"The contract," Rachel said, sipping her Martini.

"Nothing else?" Lidia asked.

Rachel paused. That question was getting harder, she admitted. Over the last month or two, she had become very comfortable living her life. She met people with Levant that you normally only see on the news. She was on first-name terms with some of them. She could have anything she wanted. When Levant wasn't around, she could spend far too long playing games on the console or engaging in intimate encounters with Peter. In the evenings, they would go out to sophisticated restaurants, bars, and wild clubs. The people they hung out with would invite them to exotic weekends in the most opulent grand mansions. It was a wild and electric existence that only the elite of the elite experienced, and leaving it behind would not be without regret. The question was, did normalcy beckon?

Rachel looked at some of the large portraits on the wall. She had spent an undue amount of time visiting galleries. She had seen the Mona Lisa in real life and been shocked at how small it was and the fact that no one wanted to look at it. There was just a queue to stand and get a selfie with it. She had argued with the guard to let her just stand and look. Over time, she had developed a sense of what was well-painted. In Levant's house, the frames were ornate, but the paintings themselves lacked depth.

"I don't know about you, but family is everything to me. It completes us, it makes us who we are. I'm willing to do everything I can for my family. I'm staying for them, Lidia," Rachel said, speaking from her core.

Lidia paused. "So why is my boy bothering with this contract? Why not dump you?"

Rachel closed her eyes. "He is crazy in love with me. He won't take no for an answer. I've never seen anyone so obsessed with anyone in my entire life."