Contents
Also by Laurelin Paige
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chandler
Also by Laurelin Paige
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Copyright © 2019 by Laurelin Paige
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Editing: Erica Russikoff at Erica Edits
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Also by Laurelin Paige
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The Dirty Universe
Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE
Dirty Duet: Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love
Dirty Sexy Bastard - READ FREE
Dirty Games Duet: Dirty Sexy Player | Dirty Sexy Games
Dirty Sweet Duet: Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate
Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)
Dirty Wild Trilogy: Coming 2021
The Fixed Universe
Fixed Series: Fixed on You | Found in You | Forever with You | Hudson | Fixed Forever
Found Duet: Free Me | Find Me
Chandler (a spinoff novel)
Falling Under You (a spinoff novella)
Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)
Slay Series: Slay One: Rivalry | Slay Two: Ruin
Slay Three: Revenge | Slay Four: Rising
The Open Door (a spinoff novella)
First and Last
First Touch | Last Kiss
Hollywood Standalones
One More Time
Close
Sex Symbol
Star Struck
Written with Sierra Simone
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Written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee
Miss Match | Love Struck | MisTaken | Holiday for Hire
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For Roxie who said
this was the best one yet
when I needed to hear it most.
Prologue
Then: Edward
I cupped my hand over the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the wind as I lit it. My eyes closed, relishing the first draw in. It was like sucking instant Xanax. Exactly what I’d needed. My exhale released, the cloud thicker than when it had just been CO2 mixing in the January air, and with it my anxiety shrank to something more manageable.
It was a nasty habit, one I fully intended on kicking soon, but the foster home where I’d spent the better part of the prior year had been full of smokers. It was easy to become addicted. Four months out of the environment, and I was still spending more than I liked to admit on cancer sticks. New Year’s wasn’t far behind us. Quitting had been among my list of resolutions. I planned on revisiting that tomorrow.
Today, I was grateful I still had the crutch.
I peered down the row of graves until my eyes landed on Camilla, kneeling on the cold ground, her hands clearing the leaves that had gathered over the base of the headstone. Even after spending the last several weeks with her, I still hadn’t gotten used to how much she’d grown.
Or how young she still was.
She’d been seven when we’d been separated. In my mind, she’d stayed seven as I’d grown. I’d filed for custody as soon as I’d been old enough, on my birthday in September, but the paperwork had been slow, as everything government run was, and it had been late December when she’d finally been released into my care, a present just in time for Christmas.
I hadn’t recognized her at first. All the same characteristics were there—her deep-set hazel eyes, her sharp nose—but they were on a girl who was nearly thirteen years of age. A girl who didn’t beam like a ray of light the way my sister had. A girl who’d had that light beaten and burned out of her.
It had taken everything I had in me not to go to the man who’d abused her and kill him right then and there. I could have strangled him with my bare hands. And those who put her in that environment—I could have killed them too, without an ounce of remorse. My cousin and her husband. My father, if he weren’t already dead. The man responsible for my father’s death as well. All I needed was the opportunity, and I would fill a graveyard with their bodies.
But there had to be an order to these things. Roman Moore had taught me that. It was a vital lesson for someone as eager as I was for outcomes. A lesson I had to remind myself of repeatedly.
And so Camilla’s foster father would wait. They would all wait. Dealing with them made up the bulk of my resolutions, resolutions I would not break.
I took another puff before flicking the growing column of ash on the ground and glanced at my watch. It was twenty minutes to Victoria Station from Kensal Green Cemetery. We’d need to leave soon if we were to make Camilla’s train.
My chest tightened at the thought of parting with her so soon. Was it the right thing to do?
This wasn’t the time for doubts. I’d made my decision. I’d started down this path, and I wouldn’t look back.
With a burst of resolve, I stalked over to her. She didn’t look up when I reached her, but the stiffening of her back said she was aware of my presence.
I gave her a beat to finish up her farewells, taking a long drag on my cigarette while I waited. I flicked again and the ash fell at her side.
She glanced up, her expression smug. “You could show some respect, you know.”
Her bitter tone wasn’t new. It had cycled in and out over the last several weeks, then had remained permanently the last day, as her departure time neared.
I wouldn’t let it change my mind.
“Sorry,” I said, unapologetically before grounding the butt out on the left side of the headstone. “That’s father’s half of the grave,” I explained when she peered at me in horror. “He doesn’t deserve my respect.”
Her frown deepened. “He was still your father. You can’t know all the reasons he did what he did. Are you going to hate him for it forever?”
“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “And I know all I need to know. He chose her over us. He chose death. Over us. Whatever his reasons are doesn’t matter.” I shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, and I had to shove my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t be
tempted to light another cigarette. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
She sighed, a long expelling of air that made my insides feel hollow just observing. She stood, brushing the wet leaves from her knees, her eyes never leaving the grave. “I don’t understand why I have to go.”
“Fuck, Camilla…” My head throbbed. “We’ve been over this.”
“Go over it again, then, because I still don’t get how you abandoning me is any different from him abandoning us.”
Zing. Right to my heart.
She was good at that already, at knowing where to hit. It was possible she could be as ruthless as I needed to be, possible that she could be an ally on the journey I had to take.
But I didn’t want that for her. I wanted her to be warm and whole and good, and maybe it was too late for that, but if there was any hope for her, it wasn’t with me.
This was how it had to be. There was no other way.
“Hampstead Collegiate is the finest boarding school around. It’s a privilege that they’ve accepted you. They don’t have to take all legacy students, and on scholarship, at that.”
“Ya da ya da ya,” she said, rolling her eyes at the spiel she’d heard enough to have memorized at this point.
“You know we can’t afford anything else.”
“I’d be perfectly happy in a state school.”
“A state school doesn’t cover your room and board. I would have to feed you and clothe you. Hampstead will even cover the cost of your therapy. It’s the best option for you right now.” I delivered the speech as if it were the truth, and it was, but it wasn’t all of it. I wasn’t concerned about the money. Roman would help with that until I got back our family fortune, which would be soon enough.
And that was why she had to be gone. I couldn’t have a little girl with me on that road. This wasn’t her burden to carry. Resent me if she must, but I had to take this on alone. This was for her. This was for both of us.
“Therapy is fine and all, but have you considered that what I really need is a family?”
I had considered it. But what the fuck did I know about family? She didn’t need an angry single-minded brother. She needed a parent. How could I be a father when I didn’t even know what a father was?
“I have my own schooling to pursue, Camilla,” I said firmly, doubling down on my decision. “I don’t need to be saddled with an unstable pre-teen with obvious daddy issues.”
I knew where to hit too. I saw the blow land in the flinch of her eyes.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re being cruel on purpose. You’re trying to push me away.” She met my stare. Held it for several long seconds. “Fine. If you can’t handle the responsibility, then send me away. I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”
I closed my eyes for a long blink, wishing I could change who I was. What I wanted. What fueled my blood and filled me.
But I couldn’t.
And when I opened my eyes again, she must have seen the situation for what it was because she shook her head in resignation and turned her gaze back to the grave.
I scanned the names along with her. Stefan Fasbender and Amelie Fasbender. He’d died so soon after her that there had still been time to change the engraving. According to Roman, anyway.
“I don’t remember much about her,” Camilla said, softly. “I only know what she looked like from pictures, and beyond that, it’s snatches of memories that have no order. She was always humming. I remember that. And she’d let me brush her hair sometimes. I can’t recall the last time I spoke to her or hugged her or anything important she said to me. It’s all just vague.”
I didn’t need to check my watch to know that we didn’t have time for this. But I owed her something, didn’t I? Something real. Something honest.
I inched closer so that our shoulders were touching. “I don’t know if it was the last conversation we had, but I remember one of the last things she said to me very clearly.” She’d been riddled with cancer, hooked up to machines. Her shoulder-length beautiful hair long gone, her cheeks sallow, her bones thin. “She said, ‘When I’m gone, you’ll have a hole in your life, Eddie. You have to find something to fill it.’ She made me promise I would.” Thirteen years old, and I hadn’t had any idea what I was promising, but I’d made the vow all the same.
And if there was anything that I believed in firmly, it was that a man had nothing without his word. Honesty. Authenticity. Truth. What else did I have that was meaningful after losing everything?
I made another promise now, silently at my sister’s side. I’ll bring you home soon, Camilla. As soon as I establish a home to bring you back to. As soon as the wheels for our future are in motion.
“And have you?” she implored. “Have you found something to fill your life with instead?”
I nodded once.
“What is it?”
She was young and it was impulsive, but if this was for her as well as for me, then she deserved to know. Or maybe I was just tired of being completely alone.
Whatever the motive, I answered sincerely. “Revenge.”
One
Now: Celia
“Wait!” I stopped suddenly, forcing Edward to halt as well since his hand was laced in mine. “I need a minute. I’m not ready.”
“You’re not ready to go into your own home?” he asked with more than a hint of impatience.
He wasn’t the only one who was frustrated with me. I was too. Weeks of preparation and hours of therapy should have made this easier, yet here I was, stalled at the garage entrance to the house, my heart pounding like it was going to burst from my rib cage.
“It’s not my home,” I said, voicing the anxious thoughts racing through my head.
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not.” I hadn’t lived in Edward’s London house in more than a year, and in the handful of months I’d spent there prior to that, I had never considered it a place I would one day actually live. I’d been there under false pretenses. The situation had been a ruse.
“Celia,” Edward said sternly, the subtext in the simple utterance clear. He’d already given me time. He’d given me six weeks. He’d wanted to bring me here immediately after leaving Exceso, but I’d insisted on going back to Amelie. I’d needed to work through the avalanche of emotions he’d released in me before I could return to a normal life, and though he’d hated leaving me again, I’d convinced him it was the best thing for me.
And it had been. I’d needed the space to process. I’d changed fundamentally when he’d broken me down. I was no longer the strong, confident woman I’d once been. I’d never been that woman, to be honest. That woman had been built on lies and secrets. Who I was now was authentic and new, and just like a baby, my skin was delicate and thin, and I had to learn all over again how to function in the world.
It fucking sucked.
I loved the freedom that my new identity had brought me, but I hated being weak and vulnerable. I hated being unsure. I hated not knowing how to be real.
“I don’t know how to do it, Edward,” I said earnestly. “I don’t know how to belong. I don’t know who to be here.” It wasn’t the house itself that had me apprehensive, but everything associated with it. Edward’s sister, Camilla, who’d been living here for several years, hadn’t approved of my presence, though hopefully that had changed, and the servants had never looked to me as their employer. The expectations of my role as the woman of the Fasbender home were still unclear. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a purpose. On the island, my days had been prescribed by my husband, and that had made living manageable. My relationships with the islanders, which I’d grown to cherish, had been chosen for me.
And there was my relationship with Edward. In many ways, he was still a stranger to me, and yet he was the man who ruled my world. What sort of wife did he expect me to be? Could I be the woman he wanted? Did I want to be?
His features softened, though his eyes remained hard. He took my free hand and brought both to
gether in between us. “You belong here, bird. You don’t have to do anything to belong because this is your home, and you are my wife, and you are mine. That’s all you have to be for now.”
“But…”
“The rest we’ll figure out in time,” he said, cutting in before I spoke one of the dozen objections on the tip of my tongue. He stepped in to me, forcing my chin to tilt up to keep his gaze. “I know you think you aren’t ready, but you are. You are.”
“You just wanted me here for the holidays because of appearances,” I said baiting him for more reassurance.
“That too,” he admitted with a smirk. “What would people think if my wife spent another Christmas without me?” His expression grew serious as his eyes traveled to my lips. “I want you with me, Celia. Come inside and be with me in our home.”
I managed a single nod before his mouth claimed mine. It was a comforting kiss, though relatively chaste and much too short, interrupted by the opening of the door. It was Edward’s house manager. Our house manager.
“Pardon me, Sir. Madame,” he said, averting his eyes. “I came to get the luggage. I can return later.”
Edward’s sharp raise of an eyebrow was my cue. “Of course not, Jeremy. We were just headed inside,” I said, feeling somewhat bolstered by taking command. “You can have our bags delivered to our rooms, please. I’ll see to my own unpacking.”
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