But I’ll never have this conversation with her. Frederick often reminds me that I am not the world’s psychiatrist. I can see through people, but I have to choose who and what I want to fix. Daisy is smart enough to get there on her own. She just needs some time.
Forbidding her friendships and relationships won’t solve her problems. It will just be another confusing reminder that two numbers matter more than her level of maturity. So I have to suffer being pleasant to her boyfriend.
“Word of advice,” I say casually. “If you’re going to have sleepovers in this house with your good friend, keep your orgasms to a minimum. I may not be the one to catch you next time, and it sounds like you enjoy your balls.”
“So…who exactly should I avoid?” He laughs.
“Everyone but me,” I tell him.
He laughs again as if this is a joke. I don’t break my even gaze and his smile falters. “Oh…” he mumbles. “Shit, that bad huh?”
“Yeah, man, that bad.” I inwardly cringe at my vocabulary, but he seems to respond better to it. His shoulders have slackened and he puts on an easy smile again. It’s almost like we’re friends.
Another one to add to my collection.
How fucking sick is that? Frederick—oh wait, I can’t call him. The annoyance builds and builds. I just need a fucking nap apparently.
“Julian, you think I could get your number? You’re coming to the Alps with us, right?”
“Yeah.” He recites his number for me and I categorize it in my phone. I have no intention of ever calling him, but if something happens to Daisy and she’s with him—it would be important information to have. “You think you can call Daisy back down here when you go upstairs? We were kind of in the middle of something, you know.” He gives me one of those looks that would accompany an elbow nudge to the hip.
He really is an idiot. “No,” I say flatly. “You can use your hand to finish up. She needs to make breakfast.” And something tells me she doesn’t want to touch you. I can’t look at him without wanting to slam his face in the crease of the door.
So I leave after I secure his number. I’ll just go upstairs and try not to wake Rose as I crawl into bed.
Thanks to Frederick, I can now sleep this day away.
[ 24 ]
ROSE CALLOWAY
“Did you see what happened at the airport?” Lily asks me with a big, silly grin. “Not one person even blinked in my direction. And all I had to do was wear sunglasses.” She lets out an appreciative sigh before collapsing on the bed. “I think I love France.”
I can’t help but smile. Seeing my sister happy is a special event.
Our trip to the Alps has been scheduled for a while since production wanted to film in a vacation setting. But it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. We all needed a break from the rabid paparazzi. The cabin has been rented out and stocked with wood, the climate still biting and snowy at the end of March.
3 months – Mom
3 months and Lily will be married. 3 months and I need to finish sewing the gown. After five sketches, I think I designed the perfect one, and I brought some fabrics here to start. Connor says I should just hand it over to a seamstress, but I want it to be perfect. If this is the only thing I get right for Lily—then the whole wedding is a success in my eyes. Maybe not for my mother, but for me—definitely.
Everyone unloads groceries while Lily and I scope out the beds to assign rooms. I hate to ruin her suddenly cheerful mood with wedding talk, but she’s created the perfect opportunity.
“So since you like France, you won’t mind that your wedding is in Paris.”
Lily lifts her body up on her elbows. “Does that mean that the reporters won’t film it?” The wedding is supposed to be national news, broadcasted on multiple cable networks sponsored by Global Broadcasting Association, as if Lily and Loren are royalty. GBA bought the rights to film us, against other big names like ABC, NBC, and CBS.
“I think they’ll fly out for it.”
“Oh…”
The silence stretches longer than it should, the tension heightening. “I can change it if you’d like. You just haven’t given me any ideas or hints as to what you want.”
“I want to still be engaged in three months.”
“Lily—”
She holds up her hands. “I know,” she exclaims with a sigh. “That’s not a choice.” She thinks for a second. “I guess Paris will be fun.” She grins. “Can we have crepes at the wedding?”
“Already ordered.”
She jumps off the bed and throws her thin arms around my waist. “Thank you, Rose…” She pauses. “I’m sorry I’m making this hard for you to plan.”
“It’s okay. I like the challenge,” I lie. That’s Connor’s thing. Challenges. Games. I’d prefer my path to be an easy one.
* * *
Ryke lets out an exhausted huff as he barges through the front door, supporting my fifty pound suitcase in his arms. “What the fuck did you bring, Rose?”
“Sweaters and jackets take up more room than bathing suits,” I defend from the kitchen. Lily, Daisy, and I start stocking the wooden cupboards, and we make soup for dinner. Ben, Brett, and Savannah are still here, but they’re silently buzzing around, trying to unload their camera equipment as quickly as possible.
Savannah is the fastest, and I refrain from cheering her on, but she deserves the praise. Those steadicam contraptions are heavy. She’s already on her feet, heading to us.
Loren traipses in behind Ryke with Lily’s duffel slung over his shoulder, trekking in snow. He watches his brother struggle to keep my suitcase in his arms. Loren looks unsurprised by my over-packing, considering he’s attended many family trips with us.
“It has wheels, you know,” Loren tells him like he’s a moron.
“It’s fucking snowing,” Ryke growls.
Loren turns to me. “Don’t you already own a slav—I mean a boyfriend.” He flashes a sardonic grin.
In perfect timing, Connor walks through the doorway easily carrying my other two duffel bags without an issue. Yes, I have a problem over-packing. I need choices, and I would have gladly brought my own luggage inside but we divided up duties.
“We were just talking about you,” Loren tells Connor.
“I heard,” he says. “In terms of ownership, we’re both on equal footing…unless you’re talking about in bed.”
“I can see how she’d be bossy.”
Connor grins and slides past Loren and Ryke to drop off my bags. Loren’s brows bunch together in confusion while my neck heats.
Lily tugs my arms. “You’ve done things, haven’t you?” she asks in a whisper-hiss. “And you haven’t told me?”
Savannah edges close with her camera, her red braids against a black chunky sweater with mini pink skulls. Her goth look is actually quite cute, and she’s more apt to crack a smile than porky Brett, who only looks happy when he catches Lily doing something sexual.
He’s still my least favorite of the three-person crew.
“Maybe,” I answer Lily evasively.
At the stove, Daisy stirs the soup with a large ladle, smiling brightly until she looks up and her eyes lock on someone.
I follow her gaze and find her “boyfriend” strolling into the cabin as he texts on his phone. Tall, dark-haired, Italian, a quarter Spanish. I had a five-minute conversation with him on the plane, and it was clear Daisy didn’t hide Julian from us because he’s dumb.
He’s six years older than her.
To say that most of us were displeased would be an understatement. None of us have done the yelling bit yet. Mostly because the cameras have been heavily up in our faces during the trip, waiting for us to explode on Julian.
That’s why Scott withheld airing footage with him. They wanted that moment. And so far, no one has given it to him. Which put Scott in quite the pissy fucking mood. I am abnormally chipper because of it. I could twirl around in a dress and hold out my hand, waiting for a bird to come land on my finger. Ima
gine the Wicked Witch doing that dance number, and that’s pretty much me right now.
I turn to Lily. “Apparently we all keep secrets.”
“Hey,” Daisy says, knowing I was referring to her. She waves her hand at me. “I knew you’d disapprove. If production hadn’t forced me to bring him along, he’d be back in Philly.”
“I only disapprove because it’s illegal if you two hook up,” I remind her. “One year. That’s all you have to wait.”
“Back to the point,” Lily insists. “Connor said unless you’re talking about in bed. That implies you did things.”
Months ago, Lily would have crawled underneath a table to avoid discussing sex. Now she prods for details. It’s enough to break my silence. “We did some things,” I tell her in a whisper. But I know Savannah catches every word.
“Things? What things?” She grins from ear-to-ear, excited for me. I wonder if she remembers her first time, or if it was something hazy like her other sexual experiences.
“Wait, I want to hear,” Daisy tells us. She steps away from the stove and closes our little circle.
“We haven’t had sex yet, so don’t get too excited.”
“Things can be better than sex sometimes,” Lily says, poking my arm with her bony finger.
Daisy stays quiet, her gaze drifting.
“Daisy disagrees with you, Lily,” I say.
“What? No I…okay, I kind of do.” She grimaces a little as she recalls a few memories, waving her hands theatrically with each word. “They’re pretty much equal for me. Fingering, oral, sex—it all sits somewhere in the meh territory. I think I’m just not programmed to like sex. I’m like the anti-sex goddess. The opposite of Lily, you know?”
Lily turns bright red. “Ugh…” She places her hands to her hot face. “My body betrays me all the freakin’ time! I don’t know why those words embarrass me.”
“Because you’re a sex addict,” I remind her. “Stupid people make you feel like you’re a whore if you say them.” And then I turn on Daisy. “And that’s ridiculous.”
Daisy is all smiles but I see her fear—that she really isn’t ever going to have a proper fucking orgasm.
“You can orgasm,” I tell her. “You just have to find the right person.” I thought she had reached that peak with a guy before, but she explained to Lily and me what happened, and it did not sound like an orgasm. It sounded more like she settled with what was given, which was nothing much at all.
“And what if there is no right person for me?” she asks seriously. And then she plays it cool, shrugging. “I mean, I have no problem being a casual dater, a single lady for life. You were going to do that before you met, Connor, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I never had a problem pleasing myself.”
Daisy has said on numerous occasions that she can’t orgasm from masturbation, no matter how hard she tries. The only thing I can think of is that she’s doing it wrong. I even found a book that literally shows her how to touch herself—and she still said nothing happened.
Lily’s eyes widen at me like you’re making her feel bad.
Oops. Tact. I lose it sometimes. “You’ll find someone,” I tell her, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly. But I think I squeeze a little too hard because she winces. I let go. “…Just keep dating. And when you find a loser, ditch him quickly. Please.”
Daisy nods. “So how far did you go with Connor?”
“I thought you were going to forget about asking.”
“No way,” Daisy and Lily say in unison.
“We did things…” I remember him choking me for the first time as I hit an excruciatingly blissful peak, and then the many times after where he made me come with his fingers. Almost every night we play around, but we haven’t had sex yet. And we haven’t done anything kinkier than tying my wrists to the bedposts.
“We want details,” Lily says with wide eyes. “Like…what things?”
I feel the hot gaze of the camera. I want to keep some things private from them and many things private from the nation. “Good things,” I say evasively. I gesture my head a little at the camera, and they both catch on, starting to drop the conversation. I end it with, “He’s better than anything I imagined.” Suck on that, Scott.
Daisy beams, a longing in her eyes for something similar to what Lily and I have. I truly hope she finds love someday and way more than meh sex.
Her gaze drifts. “Look who showed up.”
Scott stands in the doorway, typing on his phone. He stopped in Los Angeles for a production meeting with GBA before he flew to France. He tucks his cell in his pocket, and his eyes find mine. The smarmy smile only heats my chest. He’s no longer as pissy as he was at the airport. I seriously consider pouring the vat of bubbling hot soup over his head.
But I don’t.
Because then I’d go to jail for assaulting him. And I’d probably be called a man-hater more than I already am, which I don’t think I warrant the title. And if I do…I need to work on that.
Jail and my pride are really the only two things stopping me. I can handle him going after me, but when he picks on my sisters with mean and offensive comments, like he’s been doing this past month, murder sounds so worthwhile.
This week is supposed to be a break from the chaos, but I have a feeling it’s all just beginning.
[ 25 ]
CONNOR COBALT
“So you guys are like nasty rich,” Julian says, gripping the stem of a beer bottle. Lo, Ryke, and I have pulled Julian outside after dinner. Since Daisy doesn’t have a brother, the three of us are in charge of questioning her new boyfriend.
I’m really just here to make sure Ryke doesn’t hit him and Lo doesn’t make him cry. Ben lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Brett and Savannah, so he withstands the cold to film us.
“Our parents are nasty rich,” Loren tells Julian. “We live off their generous donations.”
“Trust funds,” Ryke amends.
“I make my own money,” I interject and take a sip of my wine. Lo and Ryke both have Fizz cans in their hands, not drinking alcohol per the usual.
Loren gives me a look. “Yeah, from your mom’s company.”
I shake my head. “She gave me five-thousand dollars for my twelfth birthday. I invested it and made good money. I don’t have a trust fund.” I refused the one she offered me.
“We should play a drinking game,” Lo says. “Every time Connor Cobalt makes me feel stupid we take a shot.”
“You’re fifteen months sober,” Ryke reminds him.
“Always gotta put a black cloud on everything, bro,” Lo refutes, though there’s more humor in his voice than hostility.
“What do you think?” Ryke asks Julian.
Julian shrugs, hardly affected by Ryke’s hardcore glare. “What do I think about what?”
No one elaborates because there’s nothing to elaborate on.
“You’re not sleeping in her room,” Lo warns.
Julian swishes his beer in a brief moment of contemplation (not long enough apparently) because he stupidly says, “I’ve already slept in the same bed as her before. I don’t see the big deal.”
Lo lets out a short laugh like is this guy for real? “You don’t see the big deal?” He steps forward. “Let me spell it out for you Julius—”
“Julian—” he barely has time to correct him.
“You’re twenty-fucking-three,” Lo says, not missing a beat. “How old are you, Connor?”
“Twenty-four.”
Lo turns to Ryke and mockingly tilts his head. “What about you, Ryke?”
“Twenty-three,” Ryke says.
Lo touches his chest. “I’m twenty-two myself.”
“That’s great,” Julian says a little dumbfounded as to what’s going on. Just wait, Julian. He’s getting there.
“I consider myself fairly smart,” Lo says, “but you must be a real fucking idiot if you think we’d be okay with someone our age sleeping with our girlfriends’ seventeen-year-old little si
ster.”
Julian’s not even intelligent enough to catch the obvious flaw in Lo’s statement—that Ryke doesn’t even have a girlfriend in this scenario.
He shrugs, still not seeing the issue. “She’s a model, man. We’ve spent nights at our friends’ flats in New York City together. She’s snorted coke before. I think she’s past the overprotective brother routine. Maybe if you haven’t noticed, she’s pretty mature.”
Lo grits his teeth and turns his head to me. “Can you believe this guy?”
I can believe he’s a moron, yes. But his argument is valid. It doesn’t mean I think he should be spending the night in Daisy’s bed. I’m not even sure she wants that. “You’re sleeping on the couch,” I tell him calmly.
He just shakes his head with a pouty lip, not even considering it. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m seriously going to kick his fucking ass,” Ryke says to us.
“I’m standing right here, man,” Julian retorts. “What’s your deal?”
“You’re twenty-three,” Ryke snaps, “and you’re fucking a girl who’s seventeen.”
“We’re not fucking. And aren’t you the one on Princesses of Philly who’s always around Daisy?” His eyebrows rise in accusation. “Maybe you’re the one fucking her. Or maybe you’re just jealous. Yeah, that’s probably it.”
Before Ryke has the chance to lunge, Lo steps in front of his body, blocking him from Daisy’s boyfriend.
“Julius,” Lo says, purposefully using his name wrong now that he knows it irritates him, “maybe you’re feeling a little goddamn disgusting being with a seventeen-year-old. Keep your shitty feelings to yourself. Don’t project them onto my brother.”
“I’m not projecting anything. Have you see the way he looks at her? He wishes he was me right now.”
Lo would normally have a snide retort ready, but he’s busy restraining Ryke who tries to charge forward, probably to sock Julian in the face. Lo rests his arm against his brother’s chest, forcing him back.
Ryke stares disgustedly at Daisy’s boyfriend, and the guy just leisurely sips his beer. But I sense an antagonizing quality in Julian’s fixed stance, in the way he watches Ryke with a hawkeyed gaze. He’s the type of guy who’d love to fight him—just to prove he’s the bigger fucking man. Ryke, on the other hand, just wants to protect that girl inside. It’s an interesting dynamic. One that I’d almost love to witness, but stirring that shit just gives Scott what he wants. And I’d rather smash in his face than help grow his ingratiating smile.
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