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James

T he gates to Peartree House creaked open after the armed guardchecked my ID card. Realizing who I was, he gave me a sheepish look and muttered an apology before waving me through, forgoing the search of the car that was protocol for any visitors to the house.

Security was tighter than a nun’s snatch on the estate, butthen, it had to be, given the valuable contents housed inside. Aside from the armed men stationed around the property, there were a number of other security measures in place to keep the girls in the house, and nosey fuckers out .

The last thing anyone needed was the wrong type of peoplesnooping around.

That would have been very bad for business.

Taking in the manicured grounds as I drove the car up the mile-longdrive to the main house, a deep scowl settled on my face. Much like it had been for the entire plane journey to Georgia, along with the trepidation swirling in my gut.

I still wasn’t sure I was making the right move by being here, butwhat choice did I have?

My father had forced my hand and I was out of options.

Peartree House was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded byacres and acres of woodland, a deterrent for any of the girls living inside who dreamed of escape. If they made it past the armed guards who patrolled the grounds twenty-four hours a day, they’d find themselves lost in the forest and facing a certain death.

Not that many tried to run. The girls who came to Peartree Housewere usually from broken homes – runaways who’d ended up living on the street to avoid another beating from their father or sexual abuse from their brother, only to discover that living on the street was far more dangerous than what they dealt with at home.

Teams regularly scoured the streets of America, trying to findsuitable girls. It didn’t matter what age they were, if they fit the bill – pretty, compliant, and easy to manipulate – they were approached and given a choice; carry on living on the streets and be dead within a few years, orattend Peartree House, the school that will help you achieve your dreams.

Most could hardly believe their luck and didn’t ask questions,already dreaming of the possibilities of a better life. Those who did ask questions were quickly convinced they were headed somewhere great.

In a way, they were. Surely access to education while living in aprivate estate, with three meals a day, and a warm, safe bed was better than living on the street?

So what if the sole purpose of the Peartree House program wassomewhat questionable? And who cared that when they hit the age of sixteen, they were given lessons they wouldn’t have gotten in mainstream schools?

Lessons on how to please men, and in some cases women.

Besides, it wasn’t all bad, some of the girls did fall on their feet after graduation.

When they reached the age of eighteen, and were picked by their new owner, some were fortunate enough to find themselves living in a life of luxury with an owner who doted on them.

Admittedly, it was rare though. Most survived for the year until theywere thrown out like last week’s trash, ready for their owner to return to the house for the next graduation, and replace one empty vessel for another.

Because that’s what the girls were. Empty vessels. They’d beentrained to not think for themselves. To do as they were told, without hesitation.

No matter what was demanded from them.

Personally, I despised the program, but our society had voted tokeep the program running at the last campaign a few years back, and the board members sided with the majority.

And it was only out of duty to the society, and to my family name,that I was there in the first place, even if it was against my better judgment.

Reaching the huge manor, I stopped the car, and as I stepped out,Director Kevin Welch, the man who oversaw the program, burst through the double oak doors, hurrying down the stone steps, his jowls wobbling.

He’d been the director of the program for the last twenty years, andno matter how many times the subject had been broached about replacing him and bringing in someone with fresh ideas, he protested far too hard as to why he should keep his job.

“James, how wonderful to see you!” he panted, a bead of sweatdripping down the fat bastard’s face.

No doubt he’d sprinted through the halls of Peartree House whenthe gate guard informed him of my unexpected arrival. Not that Welch could sprint, his size wouldn’t have permitted that, but he would have rushed through the house as fast as his body would have allowed him, hopefully fretting about why I was there.

I’d purposefully not told anyone of my visit to Peartree House withthe exception of a small circle of friends who’d questioned my sanity when I told them the reasons I was going.

Something I questioned myself.

“What…um…what are you doing here?” Welch said after he’dcaught his breath. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here either,” I muttered, doing the buttonsto my suit jacket up and ignoring Welch’s outstretched hand. “I need a girl.”

He gaped at me like I’d asked him to cut out his own kidney andhand it to me. “You…You need a girl? For what?”

I glared at him. Welch knew better than to question currentand future board members of Legion. His ranking in the society meant he wasn’t privileged to the information that went on in the inner circle.But I needed to keep him sweet. My attendance was outside of theauthorized graduation day, and Welch would be within his rights to refuse me access to the house, and I’d have to wait five more months until the next scheduled graduation.

I didn’t have time to wait until then.

“I need a wife,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral even though thewords tasted bitter on my tongue.

I didn’t want a wife, but I needed an heir. Don’t get me wrong, I metplenty of women, but none of whom I could tolerate for more than one date, and a night fucking their brains out. They were always too needy for my liking. Too spoiled, and demanding.

I had a rule. One night, and no repeats, no matter if the womanturned out to be a diamond in bed. I didn’t do feelings and relationships. Nothing my father could use to manipulate me.

It had worked for me, right up until a month ago when my fatherdecided he’d had enough of me fucking around, and delivered me an ultimatum; marry within the month, and get my new wife pregnant with my heirwithin three months.

If I failed to meet his terms, he threatened to cut me off from everything I’d spent my life working toward, vowing to hand the top spot in the organization to my prick of a cousin, Elijah, who paraded around like he was some kind of god because of the family name.

I wished I could say my father was bluffing, but he didn’t makeempty threats. I couldn’t let him hand the Carter legacy to Elijah. The prick would fuck it up within weeks, and every person linked to the society would either wind up dead, or in prison for the rest of their lives.

Reluctantly, I agreed to his terms, and for the next two weeks, Iwent on date after date trying to find a woman I could stand to be around for more than an hour. The problem was, most women saw a life with me as a way for them to live in the limelight. To have whatever they wanted without having to work for it, to have me at their beck and call, and to brag to their friends that they landed the millionaire bachelor who never wanted to settle down.

Every date left me in the foulest of moods. If I was being forcedinto a marriage I didn’t want, I at least wanted it to be with someone who wouldn’t bother me. Someone who would blend into the background, speak only when spoken to, and let me fuck her for my pleasure whenever, and however, I damn well pleased, and without argument.

And then it occurred to me. My father hadn’t specified that Ineeded to marry a woman from the society, or how long I was to stay married. When I shook his hand and agreed to his terms, there was no mention that my future wife had to be a member of our world.

I knew the danger I would be putting her in by selecting a womanwho wasn’t from the society, but I didn’t give two fucks. I wasn’t marrying her to spend the rest of my life in love with her. I was marrying her for the sole purpose of her having my child.

What happened to her after that wasn’t my problem.

After several more disastrous dates, I finally accepted the answerthat was staring me in the face. If I wanted a wife who would be practically invisible, there was only one place I could find her.

Peartree House was my only hope. I was confident I’d walkaway with the girl who would become my wife, and if there wasn’t one who met my expectations, then I’d just have to pick one of the empty vessels and train her myself.