Filling up the Virgin(208)

“I won't be long,” Mom said, squeezing my hands. I watched her follow the doctor back to my stepfather's room. Matt stood by my side, his back stiff and his face pale. I took his hand and squeezed it. He clung to my hand, and I could tell he was barely keeping himself from shaking.

“Come on,” I said. “Let's take a walk.”

We went out into the freezing night and walked along a footpath that wound around the hospital. The brisk movement kept us warm against the frigid wind. We didn't say anything for a while, merely letting the exercise get our blood pumping and clear our minds.

“I'm going to have to sell the company,” Matt finally said.

“Why?” I didn't know much about the Partridge family's media enterprises, only that they were one of the biggest companies out there.

He shrugged. “It's not my thing. I never cared for being a businessman. I'm sure someone out there will buy it. Maybe Disney or Warner.”

I thought about that, and figured that it was probably for the best. Matt's carefree attitude and general disdain for responsibility wouldn't lend itself to running a nationwide corporation. I couldn't imagine him wearing a suit and tie, sitting at a board meeting, and voting at stockholder conferences.

“Well, whatever you do,” I said, “I'm here for you.”

He stopped, holding me by the arm. “Do you mean that?”

I froze, looking up at him. There was something dangerous about the look in his eyes. Something thrilling.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice a tiny squeak.

And then he kissed me.

He was rough and controlling, pulling me in close. I gasped and struggled against him, but he was too strong. I let him hold me tight, let him shove his tongue into my mouth, while he hands grabbed my ass and squeezed hard. I whimpered, loving the feel of his lips against mine, while at the same time knowing this couldn't happen. I was being weak, letting him in because he was hurting, because he needed to be comforted. But I couldn't do this.

I finally pulled away. “No,” I whispered. “Not...not that.”

“You know you want it.” He held me by my arms, his grip as strong as iron. “I've seen the way you look at me. I see the way you dress. Don't act like you don't want it.”

I looked away. I wanted to say something, to reject him, but I couldn't find my voice. I think it was because I knew my words would be lies. “Please. Just stop.”

He pulled away, looking at me with disappointment. I looked up at him, trembling. I knew this wasn't over yet.

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant to have me. To claim me. To do whatever he pleased with me. And I knew this wouldn't end until he got what he wanted.



* * *



The funeral was three days later. It was a private event, at Matt's request. He didn't want a crowd filled with paparazzi and strangers. It was just me, my mother, and a few close friends of Matt's family.

Afterwards, Matt, Mom, and I went to the reading of the will. I had little interest in hearing how Mr. Partridge distributed his money. I was sure I wasn't getting any, and it didn't really matter. My only concern was for Matt and the future of his company. He still planned to sell everything, but doing so first required him to inherit his father's controlling shares in the company. Without those, he wouldn't have any say in the company's future.

The lawyer read through the will. It was worded simply, with only a few bits of legalese peppered throughout. It wasn't until he got to the end that my head shot up.

“And so,” the lawyer read, “I hereby leave the sum total of my estate in its entirety to my son, Matthew William Partridge.”

Mom and I both stared at Matt. Mom's jaw dropped open. “But,” she said. “But...wait. What about me? I'm his wife!”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “The will is quite clear. Though I must tell you it was written before your marriage to Mr. Partridge. I'd been in talks with him about amending the will, but he was still uncertain how to proceed.”

“What does that mean?” Mom asked. She clutched at her purse until her fingers turned white. “What does it mean, he was uncertain?”

“What I mean,” the lawyer said, folding his hands atop the desk, “is that while I know Mr. Partridge wanted to see you taken care of, he did not want you to end up with a controlling interest in his media company. I mean no offense, ma'am, but the fact of the matter is, you were a career waitress before your marriage. Mr. Partridge couldn't give his company to you. It had to be passed to someone who understood how to manage it.”

Mom looked at Matt. Her face was white. “But...but...no. I don't care about the company. What about my money?”