Devoted - Merritt's Story 2 - Chapter 13

The newest chapter is here!  As usual, you can read it inline or download the attached PDF.  There might be a slightly longer delay before chapter 14 because I have a terrifying novel deadline at the end of March.  But we'll see how things go!  If I can't get a good chunk of Merritt's Story out in March, I'll compensate with some novel excerpts, and maybe also a chunk of that "Belmont's Story" I posted a scene from last year. ^_^

And either way, we'll have a new DOTU page next Monday!

[Table of Contents]

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Book 2, Chapter 13

Merritt wondered if having dinner in Belmont’s suite was such a good idea, but after the disastrous end to his diplomatic “dinner” with Mercury and Samsid, he was starving—and lonely as hell. Belmont’s inviting grin felt like a salve for his wounded pride.

The VIP garage looked more like a motorcycle showroom than a parking garage. Bright and sparkling clean, its slick polished floors and glistening white walls put every parked motorcycle on display. Merritt’s rusty, dented military bike looked a bit ridiculous in its circular parking spot with elite models on either side.

The elevator was only a few paces away from where Merritt and Belmont had parked. Merritt remembered how apprehensive he’d felt the last time he’d shared an elevator ride to Belmont’s suite. This time, he caught himself wishing Belmont would make a move, and he gave himself a swift mental kick.

But damn, that would be a nice distraction from the thoughts already in his head. What was wrong with him? He was being way too emotional for a blue-tie. As much as he tried to shove his feelings aside, he felt like a failure in the wake of his meeting with Mercury and Samsid. When Belmont had approached on his motorcycle, Merritt’s feelings of relief and elation had left him breathless.

Belmont examined Merritt. “You got stains on your suit jacket.”

Merritt looked down. He spotted the stain and touched it. It felt just a bit damp, and he assumed it was from when Samsid had swatted the coffee pot out of his hand. “Oh,” he muttered.

“I’ll have someone clean it when we get up to my suite.”

They reached the suite. Belmont held the door open for Merritt to enter ahead of him. Once they were inside, Belmont hung up his hat, then he pressed a button on an intercom and said, “I have a suit jacket that needs immediate cleaning. Send someone up.” He turned to Merritt, motioning for him to hand over the jacket.

Merritt gave it to him. Underneath, he wore his usual reinforced vest and a black dress shirt in lieu of his usual cut-resistant tank. Belmont, noticing the dress shirt, asked, “Special occasion?”

“Supposed to be,” Merritt said evasively. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Got stood up?” Belmont attempted a sympathetic smile that looked more pleased than comforting. Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention to the stained jacket. “It’s a good jacket. Almost the same quality as what Mercury and I wear. I can tell by how cold it is to the touch that it has a lot of metal fiber in it. This is the kind you wanted to get for all your privates, isn’t it?”

“It can take a bullet,” Merritt said. “Those soldiers would get a lot more use out of it these days than I would. Someday we’ll have the budget for it.”

Belmont flipped it over. “What did you spill? Coffee? I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”

“If I drank it, it would be in my mouth instead of on the jacket.” 

“God, you’re such a dork,” Belmont laughed, but he didn’t question Merritt further. The doorbell buzzed, and then a servant stepped in. Belmont handed her the jacket. “I need this back tonight, as soon as it’s clean. But don’t disturb us. Leave it in my box.” The servant took the jacket, bowed, and left the suite.

“Box?” Merritt asked.

Belmont gestured toward a small inset door on the wall, a few feet square. “It’s a dumbwaiter. That’s how we’ll get the food from Fleming’s too. I don’t want to deal with waiters or servants in my suite tonight. I could have sent your jacket through it with a note or a text, but they take it more seriously when you tell them in person.” Belmont headed toward the kitchen counter, where he retrieved a booklet and tossed it to Merritt. “Pick out what you want. Don’t worry about the prices.”

It didn’t matter how many times people told Merritt not to worry about the prices. He still worried about them, and there wasn’t a cheap item on the menu. After fretting over the list for several minutes, Belmont finally grabbed it back from him. “Their smallmouth bass is excellent. Want to try it?”

Merritt didn’t remember the price of the smallmouth bass, so he just shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Belmont typed in the order on his phone then turned back to Merritt. “It’ll be a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and undid the knot in his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck. Merritt shivered slightly. The undone blue tie always gave a suggestive vibe, reminding Merritt of the sultry models on the billboards for Potent. A hot guy in a sleek suit, tie undone, holding a flaming red glass and sporting rosy cheeks and lips.

For a moment, he envisioned Belmont as the model in a Potent ad. The mental image was somehow simultaneously hilarious and arousing, and he had to shake the thought out of his head.

“Nice to have an evening off for once, isn’t it?” Belmont asked, seemingly oblivious to Merritt’s train of thought.

Merritt nodded. His gaze fixated on Belmont’s leather sofa. He couldn’t help but think about what had happened the last time he’d sat on it.

“You’re acting so strange today,” Belmont said.

Merritt jumped. “Am I?”

“You seem down.”

“I think I’m just hungry. I had a long workout and an early lunch.”

“What do you want to drink? I mean, I know you want water or Focus or something nerdy like that, but I need you to loosen up tonight. You want wine? I got a good bottle of white.”

“Whatever you’re in the mood for, I’ll take.”

“I always love to hear that from a guy,” Belmont teased, and Merritt’s cheeks flushed.

Belmont knelt behind the counter, disappearing from sight. When he stood again, he was holding a bottle of white wine. “It’s not as good as that bottle of Deering white you got me, but it’s still one of the best.” He grabbed two wineglasses from an overhead rack and set them on the table, filling them both. Then he motioned for Merritt to take one.

Merritt grabbed the glass closer to him, waited for Belmont to take the first sip, and then followed suit.

“How is it?” Belmont asked.

Merritt was already a quarter of the way done with the glass before he managed to mumble, “It’s good.” He forced himself to slow down so as not to insult Belmont.

“If you want to chug it, chug it,” Belmont said. “I have plenty more.”

“No,” Merritt said. “I should appreciate its quality.”

Belmont laughed. “Drink it however you want, honey.” He took another sip from his glass. Then, with a theatrical sigh, he said, “I hate to bring up work, but I just wanted to let you know that Wilson called me asking if he could send you a shit ton of freelance poisons work. At first, I thought he was joking. He must have fired one of his contractors and figured he could save money by having that cute little yes-man do the work for free. I told him no fucking way.”

“Oh,” Merritt said. “Thank you. Really, I appreciate it.”

Belmont smiled. “What did I tell you? I take care of my people. That includes people like you who do a damn good job of reporting to me. Though I have no idea why Wilson felt the need to come to me about it.”

“He asked me first, about a week ago. I tried to politely tell him that it wouldn’t fit in my schedule, but I think he thought I was just trying to get out of doing extra work, and he assumed he’d get better results by going to my boss.”

“Screw politeness. Wilson doesn’t understand politeness.” He flashed Merritt a smile. “But hey, I’m proud of you for not just saying yes. We’re making progress.”

Merritt found himself returning Belmont’s smile. He felt surprisingly comfortable, especially in light of their confrontation after the battle simulator overhaul. Belmont still gave off a cocky air, as if he already knew what Merritt still refused to admit about his feelings, but he seemed content to let Merritt be the one to bring it up.

Merritt was nearly done with his wine when a soft beep echoed from across the room. He noticed a blinking red light next to the dumbwaiter. “Is that the food?” he asked.

“Probably.” Belmont topped off Merritt’s wineglass before heading across the room. He swiped on a thumbprint panel, and the dumbwaiter door slid up, revealing a full service cart with covered dishes and silverware. He rolled the cart into the room, pulling it up alongside the dining table and transferring the dishes. “Come and sit,” he said to Merritt.

In addition to their main courses, Belmont had also ordered a fresh salad and steamed vegetables for both of them. He served Merritt and then himself. Merritt finished his second glass of wine before he began eating, and Belmont topped it off again. Merritt gave no argument. He’d been wound too tight all day. He just wanted to relax a little, and the booze seemed to give him the permission that his mind had denied him.

He tried the bass. It was the best he’d ever had. “What did you order?” he asked Belmont.

“Salmon. I try to get something different every time, but there are only so many choices. And if you want something that’s not on the menu, you’re better off just having a servant come up to cook instead of ordering from the restaurant.”

Merritt took several more sips of his wine. Belmont retrieved a second bottle, but Merritt stopped him before he could refill Merritt’s glass. “I don’t think I’ll drink more than this.” Belmont shrugged and topped off his own glass instead.

Part of Merritt wanted more, but he was already pleasantly buzzed, and that was more intoxicated than he’d been in about four years, thanks to his secret stash of alcohol-countering chemicals. As appealing as the idea of liquid comfort was tonight, he didn’t want to misjudge his tolerance in front of Belmont. He had too many questions at the tip of his tongue, and he wanted a chance to broach them with a clear mind.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said abruptly. “I should have said it earlier.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” Belmont swallowed his food and chuckled softly. “With all the wining and dining I have to do as a right hand, you’d think I’d appreciate the occasional meal to myself. But I don’t. I spend my day with assholes, but coming home to an empty suite is still the worst part. And I swear to god, sometimes this place still smells like Higgins.”

Merritt hesitated. “How’s Devon?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you don’t like coming home to an empty suite. But I thought you and Devon were… you know.”

Belmont shook his head. “Nah, that lasted, like, a month. I set him up with a cushy job, and he didn’t need much more after that. I still like the kid, and I still try to help him out when I can. But we have no obligation to each other. He made me an offer, I took it, and we went our separate ways.”

Merritt set his fork down. “You’re lying.”

Belmont looked taken aback. “You think I’m lying? Give him a call. He’ll tell you we’re finished.”

“No. You said he made you an offer and you took it. You’re lying. He didn’t go to you; you went to him. You coerced him into turning on me. You backed him into a corner.”

Smirking, Belmont said, “All right, you got me. I caught him red-handed, and I confronted him. But there was no coercion involved in our deal. Devon wanted a leg up, and he’s a good little negotiator.”

Merritt stared down at his food. He suddenly wasn’t so hungry.

“Don’t hold it against him. You, me, and Devon: the three of us are all alike. The job comes before anything else. You’ve admitted as much to me.”

“You say you didn’t coerce Devon, but what other choice do you think he had when you confronted him?”

Belmont set his wineglass down. “What is this about, Merritt?”

Merritt stalled. He was struck by an invasive memory of Colonel Harding looming over him. Then he remembered Ellis unbuttoning his shirt after being offered a promotion. And then back to Devon, who’d described his relationship with Belmont as “self-preservation.”

He yearned for answers, but he couldn’t figure out his questions. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to ask them. After a long pause, he shook his head. “It’s not about anything.”

“For the record,” Belmont said, “I do exchange sexual favors here and there in order to forge political alliances. Sometimes a handjob works better than a handshake. When I do it, there are no pretenses. It’s business, not romance. But I don’t go the other way around. I don’t use my political power to coerce people into sleeping with me. Do you really think I need to resort to that?”

Merritt was surprised at how offended Belmont sounded. “I never said that.”

“You sure as hell implied it.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. As long as you understand how it works.” Merritt and Belmont each took a sip of wine before Belmont broke the tense silence. “Here’s what I say, Merritt. Bribe, bed, blackmail—do it all, and do it well. And if people start to want you because of your rank, take advantage of it. But don’t force or con someone into your bed. And don’t fake interest in someone to get something out of them. Do that, and you’re scum.”

Merritt’s brows furrowed. “I always thought there was no line you wouldn’t cross,” he said. “It’s what made me hate you. But it also….” He lowered his gaze to his nearly finished broccoli. “It’s what always made you seem invincible. You don’t think having that boundary—and telling me about it—makes you weaker?”

Belmont cackled. “Listen honey, I don’t need to fake interest in someone to get what I want. Have you ever actually looked at me? I can go up to a guy and say, ‘Hey, you’re trash and I hate you and I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear your screams on the surface’—and the guy’ll drop his pants and say ‘Yes, please.’”

Merritt gave a slow blink. “Uh huh.”

“Besides,” Belmont continued, “when you screw a guy over—by faking interest, by cheating, or anything like that—you make a whole different type of enemy. You make a monster, and their anger gives them the fuel to overcome just about anything in their quest for revenge. Yeah, it’s fun to have one or two enemies who hate you that much. But collect too many, and it just gets hard to survive.”

“I get it,” Merritt said suspiciously, setting his fork down. “You’re still mad at me for what I did when I was investigating Higgins’s murder.”

Belmont drew back in apparent surprise. “I’m not mad about that. I won!”

“You said people who do what I did are scum. You’re telling me that I created a monster.”

“No.” Belmont leaned across the table, a devious grin stretched across his face. “There’s a difference between faking interest and being in denial. You weren’t faking anything. I know that now.”

Merritt opened his mouth to argue, but words failed him. He felt like Belmont could see right through him.

He wished he could hold Belmont’s gaze, but between Belmont and Samsid, he’d gone over his quota of pretty green eyes for the day. With a crooked frown, he stared down at the stray flakes of smallmouth bass dotting his plate and finished off the last of his wine.

They sat without words for nearly three minutes before Merritt said into the silence, “They say you date a lot of aces and twos.”

“Yeah. I also date a lot of threes, fours, fives, sixes…. So what?”

“If you’re not looking to have power over the people you’re dating, then why don’t you go for people closer to your own rank?”

Again, Merritt detected a twitch in Belmont’s mouth, and he could tell that he’d offended Belmont. “I’m looking to have power over the people I’m dating? Is that what ‘they’ say? Who’s saying that?”

“Just some waiter I talked to a long time ago, back when we first met.”

“Someone I dated said that?”

“No. But he said he saw you hitting on his coworkers a lot. He said you go after aces and twos because you can get away with treating them like crap.”

Belmont rolled his eyes. “Sounds like that guy’s jealous if you ask me.” He took a long swig of his wine, swallowed, and sighed. “Is it so wrong that I like to spoil aces and twos every now and then? I get more fancy shit than I can ever use. What’s the point of having this stuff if I can’t share it with someone? Do you think it’s fun to sit in a mansion alone drinking an entire bottle of wine by yourself?”

“Then how do you know those aces and twos aren’t only after your money?”

“I don’t care if they are. If they want it, I’ll give it to them, and I’ll still have more. What I don’t want is people who are after my job. People who are after my status. People who are after professional favors I don’t want to give. That’s what I get when I date people ‘closer to my own rank.’ I don’t think you understand the constant danger I face, being right hand to a King. You think I’m out to coerce and backstab everyone I meet? It goes both ways, Merritt.”

Merritt frowned. He knew that Belmont had a point. He’d never fully appreciated the fact that Belmont, high-ranking as he was, lived with a target on his back. He remembered how long it had taken for Belmont to trust that he wasn’t one of the adversaries aiming for that target.

Another refill, another swig of wine, and Belmont cleared his throat. “You want to know what I think?”

Merritt shrugged. “Sure.”

Belmont leaned in with that same cocky smile again. “I think that, for a guy who ‘doesn’t feel anything’ for me, you sure have a lot of nosy questions about my love life.”

Merritt swallowed, pressing his lips together as guilt reddened his cheeks. It was true; he’d asked a lot of questions, trying to feel Belmont out, and he hadn’t been subtle about it. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “I don’t know why I want to know.”

“I get it,” Belmont said. “No one buys a bike without asking about the horsepower first. And you’re thinking about making a purchase.” He cocked his head. “Just say the word, and I’ll be happy to take you for a test ride.”

Merritt fought the urge to throw his napkin at Belmont.

Archer’s advice came back to him, and after pondering her words, he finally understood the lingering doubts that had been plaguing him throughout dinner. Archer had been cold to him during their last talk, but she’d also been smart—and right. His worst experiences had all stemmed from imbalances in power. Belmont did wield a lot of power over him, and he couldn’t risk getting any closer without addressing that.

“Well?” Belmont asked.

After a pause, Merritt said introspectively, “The thing is… the power is still all yours. I can’t just walk into something like that.”

Belmont leaned back and raised his chin as if suddenly understanding Merritt’s trepidation. “Ah.”

Merritt remained silent.

After a moment’s consideration, Belmont rocked forward in his chair. “I get it. You’re nervous. So how about this?” He reached across the table, sliding his hand over the wood until it was barely a millimeter from Merritt’s. “I hereby grant you touch permission.”

Merritt’s mouth fell open. “Wh… what?”

Belmont shot him a flirty wink. “What you do with it is up to you. But you see? Now the power is in your hands.”

Merritt tried to wet his dry throat. Before he could do anything unwise, he withdrew his hand and hid it on his lap under the table.

“And if that isn’t enough to ease your mind,” Belmont continued, rising from the table, “we can make the agreement more tangible. Touch permission can be verbally granted and revoked at any time. But Mercury grants touch permission when he gives someone a double-banded blue tie. It makes the arrangement that much more solid. As for me? I’ve been giving people engraved tie clips. It stands as proof that I really have granted you touch permission.”

Before Merritt could reply, Belmont slipped out of the room and into his bedroom. After a moment of shuffling, he returned to the dining table holding a two-gallon jug filled nearly to the brim with tie clips.

Merritt stared at the jug. Apparently, Belmont’s circle of tie clip recipients wasn’t quite as exclusive as Mercury’s double-banded blue tie wearers.

Belmont noticed Merritt’s line of sight. “What?” he asked with a coy grin. “I like to be touched.” He unscrewed the lid and held out the jug for Merritt. “Take your pick.”

Merritt gave Belmont a half-teasing slow blink before grudgingly taking a tie clip off the top of the pile.

“Wear it under the vest if you want to be discreet,” Belmont said, capping the jug and setting it aside. Then, with a flirty smile, “Or higher up if you want everyone talking about us.”

Merritt ran his finger over the streamlined silver clip. Its back was indeed engraved. “G Belmont,” he murmured aloud, running his fingernail over the etched type. G Belmont, not Belmont N. It was considered bold, maybe even pompous, for an underground citizen who wasn’t a King to use their full given name or initials on their personal items instead of their sphere surname. But Merritt liked the thought of having that name etched into something he would wear every day.

After a moment of consideration, he slid the clip onto his tie—just high enough for the corner of it to peek out from behind his vest. Belmont gazed at it with a satisfied smile.

They were interrupted by the beep of the dumbwaiter, signaling the arrival of Merritt’s clean jacket. Belmont hung it on a nearby rack for Merritt to take on his way out.

After they finished their food, Merritt struggled to conjure up an excuse to stay longer. He wanted to stay—he wanted to talk more with Belmont—but it had been a draining day, and he didn’t have the energy to figure out how to phrase his thoughts. Belmont, true to his word, was letting Merritt lead the charge. But it was too much power, too fast, with too many possibilities, and Merritt didn’t know where to start.

He retrieved his jacket, and Belmont walked him to the door. Before Merritt crossed the threshold, he paused.

“What?” Belmont asked.

Merritt turned, taking a tentative step closer to Belmont. He looked up, meeting Belmont’s sensual green eyes. Belmont leaned forward in anticipation, lowering his head closer to Merritt’s.

Merritt reached up with one finger, brushing a hanging strand of hair off Belmont’s forehead. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he said softly before turning away.

“You son of a bitch,” Belmont called after him with a laugh. 

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