Page 16 of The Lonely Hearts Guide (Bountiful Beaus #2)

Mother? Elliot couldn’t make sense of it. He saw her plummet. He watched her head smash against the boat. They were devastating blows; of that, he was certain.

Elliot gaped at her. “Mother? You’re alive?”

She nodded slowly, like a predator watching its prey. It was a look that left him unsettled. “Indeed, I am.”

“But how? I saw you fall. I saw you crack your skull.” The room was quite dark, with only a few feet illuminated by a small flickering candle resting on a window ledge. It didn’t seem terribly safe, with the walls being made of wood-like paneling, but there were bigger fish to fry at the moment. The room had an eerie vibe that left Elliot feeling more than a bit unsettled. Elliot heard footsteps approaching, and his entire body tensed. Visions of Jared Price danced in his head. He could picture Jared following behind them at sea, stalking Elliot. He could picture Jared pulling Mother on board a small, chartered boat and driving her back to the cruise ship. Worst of all, he could picture Jared lurking in the shadows of the room, waiting to strike.

The lights blasted on out of nowhere, temporarily blinding Elliot from the sudden shift. He squinted, looking past Mother, and saw Mother’s trusted confidant, Clarence, holding an armful of towels. As he approached Mother, he was scowling something awful, muttering about ungrateful heathens.

“I have my ways,” Mother said. As she moved closer into the light, he realized the turban she was wearing wasn’t a turban at all. It was gauze that had been wrapped repeatedly around her head, probably due to her head injury. “Clarence found me the next morning, clinging to an old piece of driftwood in the center of the sea.” She beamed at Clarence. “Mother’s good boy. I’m so very proud of you, Clarence.”

Clarence, who looked to be in his forties, preened like a praised puppy. “Thank you, Mother. I saved you, didn’t I? I saved you so well.”

Mother nodded, tapping the tip of his nose. “That you did, darling. That you did.” She scratched his head, right behind his ears, and smiled. When she was done praising her favorite son, she turned her attention back to Elliot. “When I fell, I struck the back of my head. It’s a wonder sharks didn’t devour me when they caught the scent of fresh blood. Unfortunately, Clarence’s life raft deflated when my perfectly manicured nail punctured the fabric. We waited, the pair of us clinging to the driftwood until a small boat caught sight of us. Once we were on board, Clarence convinced them to allow us to use one of their jet skis, isn’t that right?”

Clarence nodded proudly. “Anything for you, Mother.”

“Well, as lovely as this all is, I think the big question is what happens now,” Mrs. Peppercorn said, sounding drowsy from the allergy medication.

Mother eyed Mrs. Peppercorn up and down. “Please tell me that’s not supposed to be me.”

Mrs. Peppercorn nodded proudly. “My name is Emily Broussard, and I love you with my whole heart. Well, that’s what I tell them, at least. I won’t lie, Ms. Broussard, it’s not the strongest tagline one could hope for. And I’ll tell you something else; the more time I spend cosplaying you, the less I care for you as a person. You’re pretty awful, sugar.”

Mother rolled her eyes. “Why are you dressed as me?”

Mrs. Peppercorn huffed. “Well, we couldn’t very well say we watched you fall into the sea. People would start asking questions.”

Mother nodded, glancing over to Elliot. “I’m sure they would. It’s not everyday a bountiful beau runs away from home.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Peppercorn agreed. “Listen, I’m sure you mean well, but you’re not a very efficient organizer. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone in your absence. Making sure events go off without a hitch. Ensuring chaos doesn’t overrun the ship, passengers and beaus running amuck. For twenty years, I’ve ruled this ship with an iron fist, and I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to let you come in here and undo all my hard work.”

“Twenty years?” Mother asked.

“It’s felt like twenty damn years with the mess you left for me to tidy. If I’m being honest, I resent it, Ms. Broussard. If you ever fall off a boat and leave me with unending work again while I’m supposed to be having fun in the sun, I’ll rescue you from the unforgiving open water, just to push you off again, myself.”

Mother opened her mouth—to say what, Elliot wasn’t sure—but before she could, Clarence stormed forward and delicately poked Mrs. Peppercorn in the chest.

“Now, see here,” he bellowed. “Mother works her fingers to the bone!”

“Clarence,” Mother warned. Then, the strangest thing happened. Clarence—normally the textbook definition of submission—shook his head. It took Elliot by surprise to see him go against Mother’s wishes.

“I apologize, Mother. I know it’s uncouth, but I’m going to have my say.”

Mother arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?” She didn’t look angry or bitter the way Elliot expected. Instead, she looked absolutely amused by Clarence’s defiance. Elliot didn’t have a chance to gloat over someone else going against Mother’s wishes, because Clarence turned to Elliot and poked him in the chest next.

“She is your mother, and you will show her the respect she deserves. I have had it up to here with your attitude. First, you run away from your master. Then, you stow away on Mother’s luxurious cruise ship and ruin the entire event. Then you shove her into the sea.” He points to the door. “Those men and their bountiful beaus are probably beside themselves at the thought of losing Mother. You have single-handedly broken every heart present, and I’m afraid I cannot allow it to stand.” He turned and faced Mother. “Mother, may I have permission to pull him over my knee? I believe he requires a firm hand.”

Elliot’s body shook. Surely, he wouldn’t. Not in front of Alexander. It would be absolutely humiliating for Alexander to see him reprimanded with a spanking.

Alexander wrapped a protective arm around Elliot. “If you even think of touching him, you and I are going to have a problem.”

To Elliot’s surprise, Mother smiled at him. “May I have the room, Clarence? I’d like to speak with my son.”

Clarence’s jaw dropped. “But Mother. He—” The look Mother shot him stopped Clarence in his tracks, and he quickly nodded. “I apologize. I just don’t enjoy listening to you being disrespected. You work tirelessly, and no one sees it but me.”

Mother cupped Clarence’s cheek and kissed his forehead. “And that, my love, is why you are Mother’s special boy. I adore you, but I need a word with your brother.”

As Clarence stood in the doorway, he held it open, staring at Alexander and Mrs. Peppercorn. “She would like to speak with him alone. Follow me, please.”

Alexander shook his head. “Not happening.”

Mrs. Peppercorn, however, followed behind. “I’d love to stick it out and do battle, but I think I need a little nap, then I have a ship to run.”

Mother narrowed her eyes. “If you attempt to assume my identity again—”

“Listen, Momma,” Mrs. Peppercorn said, yawning loudly. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make this trip a dream for those boys out there. If you try to get in my way, there will be hell to pay.” Squaring her shoulders, Mrs. Peppercorn turned to Clarence. “Come, son. We’ve got a busy day today, and I’m going to need all hands on deck.” She offered him a ridiculous salute. “Can I count on you to be my backbone?”

“I am not your son!” Clarence responded, looking mortified. “My mother is Ms. Emily Broussard.”

Mrs. Peppercorn pointed to a handwritten name tag that said, “Hi, my name is Ms. Emily Broussard, and I love you with my whole heart.” Clarence scoffed, but Mrs. Peppercorn ignored it, clapping him on the back and leading him out of the room.

“Boys,” Mother said when it was just the three of them. She pointed at a small table in the corner, and it was the first time Elliot had looked around the room. The small enclosure was roughly the size of Jared Price’s living room, and there were powered-down bountiful beaus lining the walls. In the center of the room was a white operating table, which made Elliot nervous. He knew Mother’s other right-hand man—an unnamed gentleman Mother only ever referred to as The Creationist—was on board the cruise, and Elliot would have been lying if he said he wasn’t worried about the man popping out and surprising Elliot with an impromptu reprogramming.

The chairs at the table were uncomfortable, made of some form of metal or iron that had been crudely painted white, with little bits of black poking through in places the painter had missed. There was an electric kettle and three small teacups, each with tea bags already placed inside.

Alexander didn’t seem to be a fan of Elliot sitting less than a foot away, because he slid back in his chair and patted his lap. Elliot blushed, his insides spinning with warm and fuzzy feelings. Elliot quickly shifted from his seat into Alexander’s lap. When he looked up at Mother, she had what appeared to be a genuine smile on her face, far from her usual feigned looks of happiness. It was a sight that made his hands shake.

“You care for each other?” she asked.

Elliot opened his mouth to speak, but Alexander beat him to the punch. “I adore him.” He looked into Elliot’s eyes and squeezed his knee. “And I don’t care what it takes to make it happen; I’m not letting you take him back to that hellhole. He’s suffered enough.”

“Mr. Price has a legally binding contract. Even if I had the authority to nullify our contract, why should I?”

“I’m not asking you to nullify anything,” Alexander argued. “I’m telling you that if you expect me to sit back and allow you to return him to his abuser, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Mr. Davenport,” Mother said before sighing. She flipped the tab at the bottom of her electric kettle. Blue light flickered from the kettle’s base, pouring through the glass and shining all around. It matched the shade of blue-blue-blue flashing in Elliot’s eyes. “As much as I appreciate your care and concern for Elliot, I’d like to hear from him.” She turned to Elliot and stared deep into his eyes like she was trying to read his mind. “Tell me why, Elliot. Tell me why you would choose to leave Jared Price for Mr. Davenport?”

Elliot’s cheeks warmed, and he had to look away. He couldn’t handle the intensity in Mother’s gaze. “Master Price hurts me. He doesn’t allow me food—”

“You don’t require food,” Mother pointed out.

“I know. That doesn’t make me want it any less. He forces me into depraved situations I want no part in. He strikes me. Often.” Elliot’s jaw wobbled as tears filled his eyes. “He forces me to power down every day. When he started, it was only once a night, but now, any time I’m in the way, he makes me shut myself off. Every time, it feels like I’m dying. I’ve died thousands of times for him, and he doesn’t even care.” Elliot wiped his eyes. “When he wanted a dog, the animal shelter could see what a detestable man he is, and they refused him service, yet you gave him an entire person to abuse for his sexual gratification.” Elliot sniffled. “The first six months, when I was still at home learning how to be a househusband, you told us to trust you, that you were sending us to happy homes. Then you sent so many of us to the most horrible men in the world. You betrayed us, Mother. You created us to suffer. Why? Why would anyone ever do that?”

“Elliot,” she said, her voice soft like silk.

Elliot shook his head. “Haven’t I hurt enough? I’m not strong enough, Mother. I’ve tried to be a good househusband like you taught me, but there’s no pleasing him.” He reached across the table and squeezed Mother’s wrist. “Please? Please, don’t send me back. If you send me back, he’ll kill me.”

Mother sighed, twisting her wrist until her palm was facing upward, an invitation for Elliot to hold her hand. Be it his training or simply that he’d been touch starved for so long that he’d take any form of physical connection, Elliot weaved their fingers together.

“Mother, I can’t go back,” he whispered. “I want Alexander. I want Professor Plum.” He looked over at Alexander, a single tear dripping down his cheek. “I want to visit Sugarplum Island and eat plum jam cookies and walk the streets at night while you hold my hand.” He placed the hand not holding Mother’s on his baby bump and slowly rubbed it up and down. “I want Alexander to raise her with me, not Jared. Alexander would treasure her; I just know it. Just as I know Jared would inflict the same abuse on her that he unleashes on me. He’ll teach her to hate the same way he does.” When he looked up, Mother was staring at their interwoven fingers.

“I didn’t know how often he powered you down,” she said, sounding sadder than Elliot had ever heard her. “But I can’t allow you to run away. We have a duty to our patrons, and if word were to get around that I was smuggling beaus out of their homes, I’d lose any and all credibility. Our home would go out of business.”

“Maybe it should,” Elliot whispered, too scared to say the words much louder. “If the services you provide lead to abuse and trauma, maybe that company shouldn’t be a company any longer.”

Mother swallowed, and Elliot could see her resistance faltering. If he could just show her how much Alexander means to him, he thought, maybe she would change her mind.

“Here’s what I’m willing to do. I’ll allow you to remain as Mr. Davenport’s guest for the rest of the cruise, but once this ship docks, I’ll have to contact Mr. Price. I’m sorry, Elliot, I have no choice. He paid for you. He paid for your child.” She gripped his hand tighter, like she was trying to force her sincerity into him. “I wish there was more I could do, but my hands are tied.”

It was at that moment Elliot knew he would make no further progress with Emily Broussard. She already made up her mind, and she wouldn’t be changing it. He looked up at Alexander with an overwhelming look of loss before pressing his face to Alexander’s chest and quietly sobbing. Other words were exchanged, but Elliot didn’t pay them any mind. He received his answer, and all he could do was try to accept it. Through it all, however, Alexander’s hand slowly stroked Elliot’s back, never giving Elliot the chance to forget he was there. There were gentle kisses placed on his forehead and cheeks. Words of praise whispered into his ear—Alexander telling Elliot how proud he was for speaking his truth—but Elliot didn’t dwell on them. He didn’t take them into himself to save for a rainy day, because every day with Jared Price was a rainy day, so what good would one single, treasured memory be when Elliot would more than likely be reprogrammed, anyway.

Elliot closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was lying in bed with Alexander, without remembering how they got there. It was dark outside, and Elliot was wearing a pair of pink pajamas, meaning Alexander changed him before tucking them into bed.

Alexander had one hand against Elliot’s cheek and another on his bump.

“Have I been in stasis?”

Alexander shook his head. “You’re overwhelmed. Ms. Broussard said the stress of the baby along with everything else had you going into a sleeplike state. It’s your body’s way of processing.”

“I’ve been overwhelmed many times back home. This hasn’t happened before.”

Alexander nodded. “It’s part of the pregnancy upgrade. When it gets too bad, you black out. That could be why you don’t remember much of what happened before leaving home.”

Memories of his conversation with Mother clouded his vision, and then tears clouded them even more, because there was no way out of it. He would never be free again.

Alexander cupped his cheek. “I’m going to figure this out, baby. I don’t care what we have to do; I’m not letting them take you from me again.