by Nana Malone
Jean Claude sighed. "Fair enough, my lady, but how do we know? It'd be a whole lot easier if they looked and acted the part."
Well, I thought, good luck there. Because even though they didn't know it, I knew I was no kind of prince. And if any of this shit should ever come to fruition, the first thing I would do is step down and hand my cousin the crown. Royalty or not, all I ever wanted was my freedom.
3
Lex…
I thrashed as the darkness threatened to overtake me. “No. Please. We’ll be good. Please… Don’t hurt him.”
Wet, cloying cold wracked my body with shivers. Distantly, I saw a figure silhouetted by light, and I reached for it. Desperate for help and companionship, I twisted to try to reach it, but the silhouette remained forever out of range. When the darkness overtook, burning pain seared through my body.
With a cough and a silent, strangled cry, I bolted upright in bed, panting for air. Sweat clung to my skin, and my sheets were twisted around my legs.
Like many nights before this one, I freed myself and dragged my now-wet T-shirt over my head and tossed it toward the hamper. It used to be months and months between nightmares; now it was days. Any first-year psychology student could tell me it was stress. My birthday was coming up, and with it, the anniversary of the one night I never wanted to remember.
I wasn’t an idiot though, the dreams started again this week under the stress of the sale. My subconscious was out to torture me.
With everything adding to the pressure cooker, the one beacon of light was the impending sale of my small software company. Even with this new royal bullshit, it meant freedom. Not just financially, but from the oppressive disappointment of my father. And it meant if I walked away from my mother’s apparent legacy, I’d be okay.
I knew why I was having the dreams. I understood it exactly, so I wasn’t going to spin out, though what I wouldn’t give for a week of dreamless nights.
Throwing off the sheets, I climbed out of bed and stalked to the dresser. As I dragged on a new T-shirt, I noticed the light coming from underneath the door. I padded into the living room to find the television still on and a lithe brunette huddled in the corner of my couch with a quilted throw slung around her shoulders. “Gemma, what are you still doing up?”
She turned wide eyes toward me. “I got caught up watching horror movies, and then I couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” I shrugged.
She narrowed her gaze and studied me. “Another nightmare?”
I stiffened. I didn’t like her knowing about my demons. “No big deal. I’m going to get some water and head back to bed.” I glanced at the clock over the television. It was only one thirty. I’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep so far. “I assume you’re staying the night?”
Gemma nodded. “Yeah. I’m knackered. No point driving back to the house just to go crash in bed at home when I can sleep here.”
I only nodded. Gemma crashing at my place was nothing new. “Should I bother telling you that the guest-room is all made up, or are you planning on sleeping on the couch?”
She grinned sheepishly. “I could fib and tell you I’m going to bed, but we both know I’m just going to pass out right here.”
I shook my head. Since Uni, we’d spent too many nights like this. Neither of us wanting to go home or be alone. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple. No one would believe it if they knew the truth behind the veil. That for years I’d been protecting her, pretending to be her boyfriend. Given the day, it was such bullshit. But her family was old gentry. And stupid. If anyone found out she was into girls, she’d lose everything, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Your dad at home?”
She nodded but didn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah, so I figured it best to avoid him as much as possible while he’s here. It’s only for a week, then back to normal.”
Gemma didn’t have to explain avoiding her father to me. The old man traveled on business most of the time and only came home for a week out of the month. While home, he generally made Gemma’s life hell with his bigoted views. No one should have to endure some of the things he said in her presence. “Stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks.” She scratched her nose. “Um, Lex?”
“Yeah, Gem?”
“You’re a really good friend to let me crash and stuff.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I knew where the meandering path she was taking would lead, and I was in no mood for sharing. “Stop. It’s what you would do for me.”
“Yeah. I suppose. Just, you know, after everything we’ve been through and everything you’ve done for me, you never let me be there for you.”
I forced a casual smile. “That’s because I don’t need anything. When I do, you’ll be the first person I call.” In another life, if things had been different, maybe Gemma and I would have been the perfect couple we portrayed.
“Lex, I notice, you know. The nightmares. The fact that you talk, sometimes shout, in your sleep. I notice.”
Fuck. What dark and slithering secret had my brain released when I’d been too out of it to control myself?
“What do I say in my sleep?” I cocked my head and tried for a look that was humored and indifferent. “Am I calling out Gigi Hadid’s name? Because that’s entirely possible.”
Gemma flattened her lips. “You never really say anything I can understand, but that’s not the point. I love you, so I worry.” She slid her gaze away. “Maybe you can talk to Xander.”
I gritted my teeth. I was not going to call my brother. He was the last person I could talk to about any of this shit. I worked hard to school my expression. “I appreciate the concern. Honestly, I do. But you have nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep.”
Instead of heading for the kitchen, I headed back to the bedroom—I didn’t want her watching me too closely. She thought she wanted to know my secrets, but the darkness inside me would change how she looked at me forever.
I was unlovable. That much I knew to be fact.
Lex…
In the morning, I was still foggy from lack of sleep, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have work to do.
“Are you two sure you want to sell this company? With venture capital funding, you can expand the lifestyle brand of Take Back the Night.” Annabelle Smith, our solicitor, asked Nick and I carefully.
We glanced at each other briefly before we both nodded.
I spoke first. “Nick and I have given this a good deal of thought. We want to eventually become the venture capitalists for small scrappy companies like ours and prepare them either for sale, like we’re doing, or help take them public. A lot of people out there have great ideas but don’t know how to follow through. We’ve figured out how. We might do another small company again and sell that to make sure our feet are well and properly sodden, but we’re selling.”
Nick added, “We want to strike while the iron’s hot. Before someone else comes and tries to copy it with something subpar. First to market is key.”
She nodded. “And Toshino, Inc. is banking on that with their purchase. But their team has asked again if you won’t both stay on to run it and lend your names to increase the value.”
“That’s a nonstarter,” I said.
Nick agreed. “Look, Annabelle, we’ve both worked hard to distance ourselves from our pasts. My name might tarnish the brand. While this is meant to be an app for the want-to-be jetsetter, Take Back the Night is still aiming for the elite kind of clientele. That’s the whole point. If you start attaching the name Wexler to it, you’ll get every low-level sleaze ball from here to Dubai who wants to party with the big boys. Our business clients bank on the exclusivity and class. They won’t be thrilled with riffraff joining up. And unfortunately, the Wexler name comes with riffraff.”
She sighed and swished her red hair over her shoulder. “Any way to change your mind, Lex? The Chase name screams luxury. Hell, even royalty. We’ve already taken the steps
to protect you from your father’s corporate raiding.”
I might have different reasons than Nick for keeping my anonymity, but I was still not lending my name. “Sorry, Annabelle, no can do. Even if we do manage to keep the sale quiet until it’s final, when my father does find out, he’s going to make attempts to block it. To try to claim it for Chase Enterprises. I want to be as separate from him as humanly possible.”
She shook her head, no doubt lamenting the loss of additional commission if she could garner us a bigger deal. “Very well. Toshino, Inc. is presenting this as their offer.” She slid the paperwork in our direction. “It’s understandably smaller because of the lack of brand recognition, but it should make the two of you happy.”
The offer was in the ballpark of what I had expected. And it meant I could tell my father to shove it. “That’s fair.”
“That’s a lot of fucking zeros,” Nick mumbled.
“Well, you fronted the initial capital, so you should know the valuation,” I said.
Nick’s eyes bugged. “Yeah, mate, but it’s one thing to know theoretically what it’s worth. It’s another thing entirely to see that number written down in front of you.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “To be honest, Lex, I thought you were full of bollocks.”
I laughed. “So you sunk your money into something you thought was bullshit?”
“More like I sunk it because you told me to. I have faith in you, but I couldn’t see what you could see. But fuck, mate. I see it now.”
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or punch him. “Well, thank you for the glowing endorsement.” I turned my attention to Annabelle. “Are they still insisting I sit as CEO?”
She nodded. “Yes, you’ll see it in line four, section A. You’re to sit as CEO for a term no shorter than six months following the sale of the company. At the end of that term, they will pay you a generous severance.” Her smile grew broader. “Between now and then, as long as you two don’t receive any undue negative press, you’ll be golden.”
I barely heard what she said the rest of the meeting. All I knew was that my freedom was so close I could taste it.
4
Abbie…
It wasn’t exactly like I ran away from home. But after thirty days of waiting for my new damn passport and enduring my mother’s machinations to get me back in Easton’s life, as well as Easton’s full-blown apology tour, I couldn’t be blamed for leaving on a red eye and telling no one I was going.
Seven hundred and twenty hours was more than enough penance for making the mistake of picking Easton in the first place. Hell, that was on top of the years I’d already spent with him.
My mother was a handful. But she was hardly a blip when pitted against my own near-crippling self-doubt. A wash of shame flooded my body for the two times I’d nearly gone back to him.
The first time was three days after I’d locked him out and discovered my shredded passport. The second was just a week ago. My mother’s personal nonstop TET Offensive was wearing me down. And Easton was pushing from the other end. He’d gone to my parent’s house every single day without fail. I saw to it that we were never alone, but he’d put that full Peters’ charm on display.
And I’d almost submitted. He’d even taken full responsibility for our split to my parents. Even my father had believed him, and so had I. He’d promised to go to anger management. Promised to never put his hands on me in anger again. Suggested we go to therapy.
All the things that sounded oh so good.
But then my passport arrived, and I remembered exactly why I was leaving. So I chose my moment and made my escape. No one saw me off. No one wished me luck.
I knew I had to do it for me, or I’d be weak and accept a fate I wanted nothing to do with. Once I landed, I made the necessary arrangements. The condo he and I shared was in my name, and I wanted Easton out. I left ‘I’m safe’ messages for my family but didn’t contact Easton, mainly because I wasn’t certain I wouldn’t cave in to him.
I burrowed deeper under the covers. Packing up all my things and leaving DC behind for London was the right move. Wasn't it?
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I dragged the duvet over my head. Maybe if I blocked out the sound, along with the rare English sunlight, my nightmares would all go away and I could return to my happy dream state.
The phone buzzed again, insistent that I look at it.
No.
It could be my mother, one of my sisters, or maybe my father. Worse, it could be Easton. My stomach rolled at the memory of the last time I’d let him hurt me. The way he’d looked at me. What I’d done.
My phone buzzed again.
“Damn it.” I snaked a hand out from under my duvet, and chilly air greeted my flesh. I fumbled around for the side table, eventually banging my wrist on the corner. Ouch. If that wasn't an omen, I didn’t know what was.
When my fingers closed around the phone, I dragged it under the covers with me. “Okay, world, what the hell do you want from me?” I mumbled.
Three text messages. Fantastic.
The first was from my mother.
Mom: Abena, call me immediately. I want to make sure you’re safe. Make sure you call me.
I rolled my eyes. I’d already called my mother and left her a voicemail. But my mother had a way of ignoring things that didn’t specifically fit what she wanted. And Helen Nartey didn’t want a voicemail. She wanted a live convo so she could try to berate me into coming back to DC.
The next message was from my sister Akos, the lawyer.
Akosua: Abbie, we need to discuss your arrangements with the condo. I served Easton with documents stating he has to vacate so you can sublet the place. You need to call me to review details.
Crap. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with.
The third message was from Easton.
Easton: Call me, we need to talk. Your sister wants me out of our place. I need some time to find somewhere else to go. Where are you? I called your sister, and she said you weren't there but wouldn’t tell me where you'd gone. Call me!!
I waited for the slice of pain. But nothing came. Just gray numbness. I felt free to go ahead and delete his message.
The phone buzzed in my hand again, causing it to tingle. God. Maybe I should have left the stupid thing back home. Started fresh.
The last text was from my sister Ama.
Ama: I think you're brave.
I smiled. Of course, Ama would support me, silently though, not out loud to the rest of the family. But still, she supported me. And that was why I loved her.
I tried to close my eyes again to catch another sliver of elusive sleep, but it was no use. Thanks to my family’s reach out and touch someone campaign, I was awake now. And the sounds from the kitchen told me that Faith, my best friend from college and new flatmate, was awake. Good old Faith. When I called her, frantic and blubbering a few weeks ago, she told me to get my Yank ass on a plane and insisted I stay with her.
I dragged my feet out of bed, and my toes immediately cursed my decision to move to London and not a warmer, more tropical locale. Nevertheless, I rummaged in my suitcase for thicker socks. Note to self, must unpack.
My phone buzzed again. Second note to self—get a different phone or at least a new chip. One that prevented my family from following me around and demanding all my time.
I shuffled into the living room and kitchen area to assess the damage Faith was doing to breakfast.
“Ah, good morning, love. How'd you sleep? I worried you'd be jetlagged. Then I realized, belatedly, that the room has no drapes. Normally it's not a problem with the weather and all, but today it was sunny of all things, so of course, the sun was going to disturb your sleep and...”
That was Faith. She had a tendency to ramble and speak at the speed of light. Due to her thick Manchester twang, I missed part of what she said, but I got the gist.
Faith bustled around the kitchen, yammering at a hundred miles an hour as I walked over to her. She finally pa
used when I stepped right in front of her and hugged her tight. I wasn’t big on hugging. Any kind of touching usually made me uncomfortable. But in instances like this, sometimes a hug was called for. Without even knowing it, Faith had saved my life. She was the reason I could breathe for the first time in years.
Faith wrapped her arms around my waist. “Ah, love. What’s with the hugs? Are there going to be waterworks too? If there are, I've got Kleenex in the pantry.”
I sniffled. “No. No. I'm just really happy to be here. Really happy to have this. I'm excited too.”
Faith smiled, displaying even teeth and dimples in her heart-shaped face. “You should be excited. No one I know has the guts to do what you did. Pack up in a moment’s notice and move out of country. Abbie, I swear.” Faith let go of me and handed me a mug of tea.
I took the tea, even as I winced. “Well, let’s face it, I sort of ran away.”
“Don’t call it running away. Call it running to a new adventure. I’m so glad you called me.”
“I’m so glad you’re letting me stay. I know it’s a bit of an imposition.”
“Shut up. You know that’s bullshit. You saved me from having to get a serial-killing random stranger for a flatmate. I’ve been considering it with Sophie being gone all the time. Maybe she should move in permanently with her boyfriend.”
Sophie was the third member of our triumvirate. We’d all shared a dorm room at NYU.
“Let’s not suggest that until I’ve been here for a while, okay? I’ve been looking forward to the three of us getting some girl time.” I wrinkled my nose as it finally occurred to me that it was Monday. “Shit, Faith, am I keeping you from work?”
Faith worked as an assistant coordinator for a PR firm. “No, I’m working from home today. I’ve got a pile of calendar stuff I need to pitch, and I’ll never get anything done with the other girls in and out of my office.”
I took another sip of my tea. “So, this is real. I’m really doing this?”