by G. Bailey
“Since we met. I wanted to see if you remembered,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder. “Now I’m thinking I was an idiot and should have just said something.”
“It’s a small world,” I mutter.
“Yeah, cutie, it is. Especially for the rich.”
“Did you have a good life after you were adopted?” I dig my fingernails into my arm, praying he wasn’t mistreated. So many children get promised a life of wonder but it turns out only to be torture. I’m one of them.
Ethan hesitates, just for a second but I catch it. “Other than a name change and having to pretend my real parents never existed, sure.”
I frown as I remember Ethan wasn’t in foster care as long as me. I was there since I was a baby, but Ethan was placed in foster care at five and he remembered his parents well. He must have hated having to forget about his life before his parents passed away.
“What about you?” he presses me, pulling my fingers away from my arm.
“It was alright,” I mutter, stepping closer to him.
He lets go of me and waves at the sofa. We both sit down and a silence drifts over us that is equal parts sad as it is awkward. I have so many questions to ask him and apologies to make. Once I was adopted, I never bothered contacting him again, and the guilt twists my stomach into a tight knot. I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch.
Now I apparently have to kill him.
How can this be happening?
Ethan slides his arm along the back of the sofa and rests his hand near my shoulder, his fingers grazing my hair. “I wanted to ask you not to tell anyone about us being in foster care. Rich kids are judgy fuckers and they don’t need more gossip.”
I nod absently. “Agreed. I don’t want people to know either.”
“I looked for you,” he randomly tells me. “I even hired private detectives when I was fourteen to find you but they found nothing. Not a single bit of information on you. It’s like you were never born, never existed.”
That sounds about right. I once made the mistake of asking my parents about information on my real parents. I still remember my mother holding me down as father got out his whip and made the four scars on my lower back. I never asked again.
“Why?” I breathe, closing my eyes.
“You were my first real friend and I felt protective of you,” he answers, twirling a strand of my hair. “Fuck, I still do.”
“We aren’t kids anymore,” I remind him, my heart pounding in my chest. “The past is the past. We don’t have to mean anything to each other now.”
“Good. It means I can do this.”
I turn to look back at him, wondering what he means, but then he covers my mouth with his own. His hands glide through my hair as his lips explore mine, softly parting my lips as he deepens the kiss. As his hand slides down my body and rests on my hip, I freeze, and before I realise what I’m doing, I all but fall off the sofa to escape from him.
“I can’t,” is the only excuse I tell Ethan before I run out of my room, so lost in my thoughts I don’t even hear him calling for me as he follows. Kissing Ethan reminds me of kissing someone else with blonde hair, someone else who made my heart beat so fast and then shatter into a million pieces.
And I can’t remember that anymore.
I just can’t.
I rest my head against my room door, taking a deep breath and praying to all the friggin’ gods that neither one of my parents turn up today. I suspect they won’t but I don’t want to chance that they might do. I haven’t replied to any of their text messages or answered my mother’s calls. I know they don’t want anything more than to make sure I’m behaving, but for once, I want an escape from them entirely.
I have to be kidding myself though. I don’t get to escape them.
I turn the handle of my door and head out into the corridor, where some bodyguard is waiting that isn’t Rory. He’s young and I’m sure he’s the bodyguard Charlie was telling me about. She is fucking him because he has a decent-sized cock. Good for her but I can’t remember his name. I don’t think Charlie can either.
“My eyes are up here,” I remind the bodyguard, who shoots his eyes up from my breasts and clears his throat.
“This way.” I roll my eyes as he practically runs to the end of the corridor and holds the door open for me. I make a point of walking ahead of him the rest of the way down the corridor and I only pause when we get close to the door. He steps ahead and opens it, letting out the noise of all the parents talking to their children.
Once a month, they have family day where any parents are invited in to see their kids. I glance around and see Anne with her parents, who wave at me. Ethan, Nathan and Josh aren’t here but Lucas is. I watch as he holds a small baby in his arms, and a woman who is stunning but a lot older sits opposite him, gushing over them both. Lucas doesn’t look away from the baby and I find myself staring for a second too long, until I smell her perfume.
Rose and Citrus. Sweet and bitter, perfect for my mother.
“Darling, how lovely it is to see you! Come and sit over here so we can talk.”
I don’t have a choice as she wraps an arm around my waist and guides me over to a table in the corner of the room, well out of ear shot from the others. I sit down and she sits across from me, her face as cold as stone as she studies me in silence. I briefly break our gaze to look over at the back of Ethan’s head. With Ethan and my mother in the same room, it’s like having my past and present sitting side by side. I haven’t spoken or seen Ethan since our near kiss a few days ago.
“So tell me, daughter, why did you kill Hunter Cross?”
My mother’s question is quiet but loud enough for me to hear, and I snap my head back towards her. I’ve thought about this answer so many times—this particular lie. I knew she would find out and suspect it was me; it was just a matter of time. Anyone else I kill here, I’ll have to make sure it looks like an amateur did it instead of a professional.
“He became an issue for me and to protect our family, I did what was best,” I answer calmly.
“Understood. I have made sure the investigation is going to find nothing but natural causes for Hunter’s death,” she informs me and I’m relieved as much as I’m now nervous.
I hate owing my mother anything.
“Thank you,” I force out just as she slams her heel into my foot, and I bite my lip to stop a whimper escaping. I feel her cutting through my skin as I try to control my reaction to the pain. I wish I wore boots today instead of sandals. Fuck, it hurts!
“If you want to protect your family again, I suggest you ask for help. One wrong move and all your training will be lost as you are arrested.”
“Understood,” I manage to say without gasping.
She slowly moves her heel and stands from the chair. “It was lovely to see you, Regan. Do behave now.”
With that, my mother walks out of the room and I remain still, staring at the white table that is as white as my mother’s suit. My foot is bleeding and throbbing, and I can feel my blood trickling into my sandal every second I sit here, knowing I should move.
Once I’ve got myself under control, I stand and slowly walk over to the door, making sure no one looking my way would even suspect I was hurt at all. I pass Lucas and he looks up, catching my gaze for a moment. Before I can get away, his eyes drift over me and he sees my foot. Even though my black tights, it’s not difficult to see the injury and the blood.
“You’re hurt,” Lucas states, smoothly standing up and placing his hand on my arm. “How did you do that? How are you walking around as if nothing has happened?”
“It was just an accident,” I smoothly lie. “I scraped my foot on a sharp part of the table. As you can see, I need to go and clean it up.”
“I’m coming with you,” he states before I can tell him no.
“But Lucas you haven’t seen Sofia in weeks!” the woman, still holding the baby that is apparently named Sofia, demands. I really look at her this time and she is t
he definition of mutton dressed as lamb. Her blonde hair is clearly dyed, almost white at the roots, and I would bet her entire face has had a lot of work done. Everything from her large fake breasts to her tiny waist screams trophy wife. I would bet she’s still only young, possibly mid-thirties, but the work she’s had done makes her considerably older. “You haven’t even introduced me to your new friend.”
“Regan, this is my step-mother, Denise, and my half-sister, Sofia,” Lucas gently introduces.
I glance at Denise as she openly glares back at me. What the fuck is her problem? I wonder if Lucas’ sin has something to do with this Denise, but what exactly? She clearly doesn’t like girls hanging around her step-son.
“Lucas, you will sit down and pay attention to Sofia,” the woman orders him.
Lucas completely ignores her. “My friend needs help. I will see you next month.” He leans down to kiss Sofia’s little cheek. The baby is fast asleep though and doesn’t notice. “Tell Dad I said hello and that I miss him.”
“Of course. I will call you later,” she replies coldly, just managing to hold in her temper but her green eyes burn with it.
“Okay,” Lucas says, though he sounds anything but okay with that. I let Lucas place his hand on my lower back as he glides me out of the room and the bodyguard follows behind us. “The nurse’s room is this way. I doubt she’ll be there since I just saw her leave for lunch.”
“Then I can clean it up in my room—”
“Please don’t be stubborn,” Lucas interjects. “I’m having a fucking bad day and I need a distraction, alright? Let me help you, dammit.”
His snappy tone surprises me and I lift my brows at him. “As you wish, noble steed.”
He looks at me and groans, rubbing his face as we slowly walk towards the nurse’s room. “Sorry. That was really shitty of me. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“It’s fine. We all have bad days. Was yours caused by your step-mum and sister?” I press him, hoping he’ll just throw me a bone already.
“Yeah…but can we talk about something else?”
I smile at him, confirming that the woman and baby are indeed his sore points. “Sure, like what?”
“Like how you’re a terrible liar. How did you hurt your foot?” He glances down at my foot.
“If we are going to talk about that, then we need to talk about your family,” I try to wrestle more information out of him.
“Touche,” he replies with a chuckle. “I think I’ve met my match with you, Regan Hall.”
“Same,” I reply, though it’s a lie. Lucas is a good guy with one bad secret and he does a good job of hiding it. I’m a box full of death and lies and everything bad. We couldn’t be the same.
“Liar,” he tells me, his voice almost silent as we get to the nurse’s room. Lucas knocks once before pushing the door and holding it open for me to walk inside first. Such a gentleman. “We don’t need your help. Stay outside,” Lucas demands over his shoulder.
Hearing him command the bodyguards is strange because his whole demeanour shifts. His tone was cold and arrogant, a completely different side to the playful Lucas I’ve come to know.
Anne’s Lucas.
Anne’s.
I walk into the empty room and sit on the small table. The only sounds in the room are Lucas going through cupboards and my fingers as I tap the edge of the table. Lucas comes back with everything he needs and rests the box on the table before pulling a wheeled chair over, sitting on it in front of where I’m perched on the desk. I stay still as he looks up at me, pausing with his hands hovering on my leg.
“I need you to…” He stops and I clear my throat, avoiding his gaze. I tug my skirt up a little, revealing the top of my thigh high tights and the line of lace there. I roll them down until Lucas’s hands take over, the tips of his fingers grazing along my leg until he gets to my ankle. He gently takes my shoe off and then peels my tight off, revealing the cut from my mother’s high heels, and my blood-covered foot. “Yikes. You must have a high pain threshold.”
“Something like that,” I mumble as he opens a few packets of antibacterial wipes and starts cleaning my foot. The cut is surprisingly deeper than I expected it to be, but I won’t need any stitches. Mother was clever that way.
“You’re a mystery, Miss Hall,” Lucas says as he takes a plaster out of the box and covers the cut up. “A centimetre deeper and you would’ve needed stitches.”
The tension is thick in the room as he stands and throws all the rubbish away. I push down my other tight leg and step out of it, only to turn around to see him looking at me.
“Thank you, Lucas. It’s good to have a friend,” I tell him, making sure to empathise the word friend as much as I can.
He carelessly smirks, picking up my other shoe and walking over. He kneels in front of me and slides my shoe on my foot, reminding me of my favourite fairytale. Cinderella. But what Cinderella never realised, she didn’t need a prince to save her.
And I definitely don’t. No prince could save my soul now. It’s as damned as my parents. Before Lucas can say anything, I turn around and hurry out of the room, heading down the corridor. Lucas is on my list and no matter how much I like him, he isn’t worth my secret.
Nothing and no one is.
Sliding my shoes on, I nearly trip as I see the glint of light reflecting off the black slip of paper resting on my windowsill. I rush over to it, my eyes flashing around my room even though I know it’s only me in here.
Was I alone when I came home last night? Was my letter writer hiding in the closet or something? I don’t know, but I sure as hell didn’t notice a letter here before now, and I never left my window open. I unfold the letter, noticing how it’s not in an envelope this time, and read the inside while holding my breath.
I can’t see past my anger as I rip the stupid note up and throw all the pieces in the bin before grabbing my shoes.
“Do get bored standing there all night, Rory?” I ask him the second I walk out of the room and he’s just standing there, my constant statue. A damn hot one though. He stares at me like I’ve got a million issues and he isn’t sure which one to bring up first.
“I play Candy Crush on my phone when I’m bored, if that is what you mean, wee one. It’s better than listening to your snoring,” he casually remarks. I don’t snore, so I know he’s just winding me up. Luckily, I’m in an alright mood this morning and the view isn’t all bad out here.
“You’re so charming, Rory. Are you single? I can’t imagine you married with kids.” I tilt my head at him, resting my hands on my hips.
“I’m not in a relationship, but that is none of your business, Miss Hall,” he drily responds, no more ‘lass’ ever since he became my bodyguard.
“It’s Regan. Seeing as you are always here, shouldn’t we at least be friends?” I step a little closer, and I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps because I know it will make him uncomfortable and he’ll possibly change his job. Following me around all day and night can’t be any fun. Trying to tease my bodyguard into bed, to avail, is no fun either.
“I’m not your friend.”
“Ouch. My feelings.”
He shakes his head, putting an end to our little conversation the second he steps to the side and points down the corridor. I glance at Anne’s room as we pass by, and I briefly wonder if I should check on her since she hasn’t responded to any of my recent texts. But I think that counts as fussing too much and I’m sure she has left for breakfast way before me. I glance at my watch, seeing I only have ten minutes to eat before I need to get to class. I’ll check up on her later.
I hurry along, letting Rory walk at my side as I make my way to the cafeteria. As usual, Rory waits outside with the five other bodyguards in a line, letting me know there aren’t many students in here. I push the doors open as a group of girls step out. I grab some food, finding there is only muffins and coffee left, and I happen to see Nathan sitting on his own, staring into his own cup of coffee. There’s one other g
uy on a far distant table but other than that, we’re alone. I should grab the muffin and leave, but my stupid ass feet walk me right over to Nathan. I tug a chair out and sit beside him, the silence deafening as I sip my coffee. It burns my tongue but the burn is less painful than this awkward moment.
“I’ve heard misery loves company,” I end up whispering, looking across at him. His black hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it a million times, though it’s still damp from a morning shower I suspect. His clothes are crisp and perfect, but he doesn’t have a tie on. Instead, he has several buttons left open, and he looks like a hungover sex God that I really need to stop staring at.
“You can leave, Regan.” He doesn’t even look up at me as he says the words.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Talk to me,” I gently suggest. Why the hell am I doing this?
“About what?” he drones, twirling the coffee in his cup.
“Hunter. Your twin’s death must be difficult,” I ask the most difficult thing for him to talk about. I guess some messed up part of me wants to comfort the brother of the guy I killed. Wow. I really am fucked up.
“Were you a therapist in another life, Regs?” he asks with a smirk gracing his lips. “And we aren’t twins.”
“I thought you were twins.”
“People always thought that. I got held back a year for fighting with him. My mother thought us being in the same year would solve the issue. Looks like it only made it worse.”
“Do you blame yourself for his death?”
He pauses, looking down at his untouched food. “Hunter’s heart had a murmur in it since the moment he was born. He put on a brave face, but he was pretty weak inside, constantly at the hospital on the weekends.”
I watch the last student leave the cafeteria, knowing I’m going to be late to class. But while this is an awkward opportunity, it’s an opportunity nonetheless. “And that meant Hunter could be asshole to literally everyone he knew?”