Disclaimer: I do not own A Great and Terrible Beauty.
A/N: This Takes place in the second book when Gemma decides that she Simon is not the man for her.
Warnings: This is rated M, if you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read it
Simon took a deep swig of whiskey, relishing the burn as it washed down his throat. The bar was a dingy old place, dimly lit and dusty. No place for a man of his higher society, but no one here would recognize him anyway. The neighborhood crawled with thefts and prostitutes. The bar housing only alcoholics and lowly dock workers seeking a bottle of gin to whisk away their sorrows. No, in this place no one would recognize Simon as the son of the great Lord Denby.
"Can I get yeh anyt'ing to eat tonight sir," Called the bartender. His face was unshaven and greasy, and his gravely voice sounded like that of a heavy smoker's.
"Aye. I'll have steak," Simon replied, glancing wearily at the pathetic menu taped carelessly to a wall behind him.
The man set to work heating up a frozen slab of steak from the freezer. Simon sighed deeply, wishing the old bartender would go away. He wasn't in the mood to make conversation. He wanted to grieve and pity himself. He wanted to spend time alone, drinking away the reality of his miserable life. That's how it was with him. One problem or glitch would send him into his dark thoughts. Into his rather pathetic and short lasting depressions. He'd be fine soon enough, everyone knew it. Which is why no one worried anymore when he was upset.
"Ah! 'Ere you go!" The bartender said as he set down the steak. It is cold and hard. Just like Gemma's heart. He thought bitterly. She had left him, along with the brooch he had given her. What had he done that had deserved such a rejection? What had went wrong? These thoughts pounded through his head so that he could no longer think. Simon pushed away the plate in disgust, and instead busied himself again with the bottle. He gulped it down ravenously, eager for every last drop, hoping that it would take away his sorrow. The bottle drained quickly, so he ordered another one, and this time it no longer burnt when he swallowed it down.
But Simon knew he couldn't stay long. Though his thoughts were muddled, and unclear, there was one thing he remembered. The party. He had to be there, his mother was expecting him. The guests were expecting him. It wasn't something he could miss, for his absence would arouse questions. He jumped too quickly out of his chair, stumbling slightly. His vision doubled as he tossed his money next to his plate. There was one problem though. Gemma would be there. Gemma would be there, and yet, he was still expected to attend. Expected to spend an afternoon in sight of the woman who had rejected him.
But perhaps she would see how greatly he cared for her and take him back. Perhaps she would say it was all a mistake, that she'd never meant to disappear from his life, or return his token of love. Or maybe she hadn't been convinced enough that his love was true. All she needed was to be convinced of his loyalty and care. What if she was only worried that she was not high enough in society. He'd show her that she could have him. He'd show her that she could have what ever she wanted.
Simon kept his distance from the increasing crowd of people filling his house. He didn't want anyone to smell his breath, or notice his drunken swagger. He scanned the room again and again looking for Gemma, but he hadn't yet spotted her. Conversation seemed to buzz around him, and he couldn't concentrate on anything. The room seemed to be spinning slightly. Simon took another sip of the light brandy that the servants had been offering to the guests. He needed to find Gemma and make things right.
And then, like a fiery haired angel, she was in sight! She was beautiful, her fair and slightly sun-spotted skin seemed to glow under the lighting, and her green eyes sparkled with intense joy. Simon felt his heart take a leap...and fall back down in disappointment when he saw who was linking arms with her. It was Miss Worthington, who was liable to cause a glitch in his plan. How would he get Gemma alone with nosy Felicity following her around?
But that problem was solved before he had to deal with it. Mr. Smithson, an old man who still enjoyed chasing the young ladies, led Miss Worthington off the dance floor. Felicity shot Gemma a quick, exasperated look before following Mr. Smithson, leaving Gemma alone.
Simon walked over to Gemma, smiling in his cocky and seductive way. "Good afternoon Miss Doyle!"
Gemma returned his smile, sending tremors of anticipation down Simon's back. Tonight, she would be his.
"Very well, how are you Mr. Middleton."
Simon nodded in return, despising the formalness of it all. If he could only get her to follow him upstairs, they would be out of the public eye. It wouldn't be too much trouble to do, they just could not be seen leaving together alone. He racked his brain for different excuses to go upstairs, but he'd forgotten to think out this part of his brilliant plan.
So he used the only think he could think of. Maybe Gemma wouldn't be able to see through his petty excuse to get her alone. "We just had a new family portrait done, the artist is exquisite. May I have the honor of showing it off to you, Miss Doyle?"
Gemma smiles, and to Simon's surprise, nods. "I'd love too."
The two headed up stairs, Simon's heart fluttering, and Gemma absolutely clueless. Simon lead the way, and Gemma followed him strait to his bedroom.
"Oh...is the picture in your room?" She asked, beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.
"Gemma, haven't you realized? There is no painting. There's just you and me." Simon said, feeling quite pleased with himself. Now he could demonstrate his love to her. Everything would be fine.
"Excuse me, Mr. Middleton, but I think it's time for me to leave," said Gemma with a nervous edge to her voice. He wouldn't hurt her, would he?
She backed away from him, making her way out the door. But Simon would not let this happen. This was their night - nothing was going to ruin it. "I don't think you'll be leaving," he said, blocking the doorway, and the door - along with Gemma's only hope to escape - was closed with a light click.
Simon got down on his knees in front of Gemma, readying himself for the short speech he had planned for her. "Gemma, I know we have our differences, but that doesn't mean we can't be together. I love you, and I'll prove it. I know you may think you're not good enough for me, but you are"- But he was cut off by Gemma's cruel laughter.
"Is that what you think Simon? I left you because you are shallow-minded and petty."
Gemma's laughter echoed through Simon's head, cutting straight into his heart. All he could think was she shouldn't have laughed. But it was too late for her to fix the damage. The rage in Simon's heart was building, and his teeth were clenched in fury. His blood ran hot in his veins, and the alcohol only increased his anger. How dare she reject him again? He wouldn't stand for it. He would force her to love him.
He got to his feet, sweat beads forming on his reddened face. He grabbed Gemma roughly, half-dragging her onto his bed. She struggled underneath him, but his grip was to strong. Simon tore at her dress, ripping at the fabric until there was only her corset. His breath was hot against her neck, and thick with the scent of whiskey. He ripped off her last layer of clothing, finally allowing himself to cup his hands around her breasts. The beautiful pale mounds just barely filled his hands. His eye's trailed up her smooth stomach and neck, settling on her eyes. Those beautiful green eyes were filled with hatred and malice, but Simon took no notice of her anger. He forced her into a kiss, harsh and rough, allowing his tongue to search her mouth despite her protests.
Gemma gave him another hard shove, trying desperately to get the man off of her, but he did not budge. This wasn't the Simon she had loved, nor was he the Simon she had known. "Get off of me," she hissed.
"I can't do that, love. I've made up my mind." Simon smiled in that cocky way of his that she used to find attractive, but this time it seemed only devious, and she was afraid.
Simon undressed as quickly as possible, he couldn't wait any longer, and he would get what he wanted weather Gemma cooperated or not. He trailed his finger up her bare leg, enjoying the softness of her skin. It was smooth and untouched by any other man. She was all his if he chose to take her. His hands wandered farther into an area that Simon had not yet explored. Gemma cried and whimpered lightly as he slipped a finger into her, and he was almost disappointed by her sudden submissiveness. She was soaking wet, who was she to say she didn't want him? He pressed his hardened manhood against her thigh, and she cried out in pain - pain that Simon miss took for pleasure - as he rocked into her, thrusting and moaning.
"No, no Simon stop!" Gemma begged, sobbing. She was in pain, and worse, she was completely venerable and completely at his mercy. But Simon would have none of her pleading. He silenced her cries with a long kiss, mashing is rough lips against her soft ones. All she could do was lay under his heavy trap, and whimper to herself, pleading with God, who had long before forsaken her.
Simon was finally finished with the girl, grinning to himself. He tossed her away from him like a plaything he no longer used, and she scrambled to collect her cloths. He had gotten what he wanted, and so he no longer needed her.
"You must not speak of this to anyone - or your reputation shall be ruined." He told her, knowing that it would forever be a secret. And who would believe her over him anyway? Simon sat back on the bed, feeling a satisfying throb between his legs. He let himself lie back on the bed, as exhausted as he was. His thoughts were of Gemma - her beautiful body and shining green eyes. And he was completely oblivious of Gemma's slumped and bleeding form, vomiting on the floor through a flood of tears.
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-Abbey4444