How to Belong with a Billionaire

by Alexis Hall

  While I sat there, processing the fact I was now officially On Drugs, and making unhappy cat-with-a-furball noises, because I swear to God I could feel that shit sliding down my throat, Ellery nudged me out of the way and did the second line with a lot more finesse.

  “So,” she said, after a moment or two, “you want to go see the fireworks now?”

  And I did. I really did.

  * * *

  I don’t completely remember how we got to the Millennium Bridge—only that, despite the crowds and having to tumble breathlessly into bathrooms to take more coke, I was feeling good. Not the jittery, frenetic joy of ecstasy or the lazy softness of weed, but this smooth conviction of well-being that—had its duration not been so fleeting—would have been indistinguishable from any other kind of happiness. A night of perfect sleep. A truly amazing shower. The best cup of coffee imaginable. The slog back from Boston had fallen away, sloughed off like old skin, taking with it everything that had made me sad or worried or scared. And I had this…this clarity now—as if I’d finally ripped off the dirty glasses of my own doubts and insecurities and could see the world as it truly was.

  Full of hope. Adventure. Possibility.

  Nothing I couldn’t handle.

  And so beautiful, as we pushed our way forward, invincible amongst the press of strangers. Ellery’s hand was warm in mine as I turned my face to the horizon—to the pale moon of Big Ben’s illuminated face and the rainbow hoop of the London Eye.

  Ten…

  Nine…

  Voices all around us. The sky sinuous with shadows, like a lover’s body, turning in your arms.

  Five…

  Four…

  It didn’t matter I wasn’t with Caspian.

  I was strong. I was whole. I was happy.

  Two…

  Happy. Happy. Happy.

  One!

  The chimes began to strike, rolling out over the dark waters. Then came the crackle of gunpowder in the distance, and suddenly everything was colour on colour on colour. With bonus Adele.

  I’d always loved fireworks. I mean, they were loud and sparkly, what wasn’t there for me to be into? But my only real experience of them was Rabbie crouched in the middle of our back garden, swearing and dropping matches, and then running away frantically as a couple of rockets wheezed into the air.

  This was…this was…not like that. There were fireworks that whooshed upwards from the ground, leaving long comet trails in their wake, and others that exploded into vast and lavish starbursts. Some of them spun in spirals in the centre of the Eye and some poured down from the sky like it was raining light. My soul crackled with each new explosion, shining amethyst, emerald, and jade, like the reflections in the Thames. I felt…almost transparent. But in a good way. The usual mess that lived inside me, gone. Transformed into a stream of bright moments under a fresh-born sky.

  I glanced at Ellery, lit up, and wanting to share it, and she grinned back at me, her eyes full of tiny fireworks, and so blue just then. The bluest I’d ever seen them. Blue enough to break me.

  And then it was slipping away—whatever I’d felt, or thought I’d felt, everything I’d learned, or thought I’d learned. And I knew it was fairy gold. Had only ever been fairy gold. And here I was, exhausted, on a bridge in the middle of London, with my still heart in ruins, and nothing to show for it but handfuls of dust.

  I missed him.

  I missed him so much.

  And he would never be mine again.

  Something flicked across Ellery’s face. “Ard—”

  Drowning, I kissed her.

  Bare seconds before she wrenched away. “What the fuck?”

  “I…I don’t know…I’m sorry.”

  “You…why…” She stared at me. And I saw her eyes had never been his blue at all.

  Remorse was a slow, sick tide rising inside me. My heart rabid in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She turned, ran, and the crowd swallowed her like a great, fleshly fish.

  “Ellery. Please. I’m—”

  At which point, I threw up over my shoes, the pavement, and some undeserving German tourists.

  Chapter 23

  Running. Bashing against the shoulders of strangers who recoiled when they saw me. Shouting Ellery’s name. Sour, breathless sobs caught in my throat. Sweat streaming down my back, clotting in my hair. My heart thrashing like some dying thing.

  It was no use.

  She was long gone.

  And I was falling apart. I stopped, eyes full of water, and dry-heaved stringy bile into the gutter. Then I started to cry in earnest.

  What had I done?

  The look on Ellery’s face was scored into me with a compass point. I was never going to forget it for as long as I lived.

  Or forgive myself.

  Oh God, oh God, would she?

  I pulled out my phone with damp, shaky hands and rang her. No answer. Tried again. Straight to, “The person you are trying to reach is not available.” I knew she never bothered with messages but I left her one anyway. Well, “message” oversold its coherence. It was mainly crying.

  And then I didn’t really know what else to do except go home. I had to get the night bus, which some might say was punishment enough.

  It wasn’t, though.

  Ellery wasn’t at the warehouse. There was just the cold, the dark, and my abandoned wheelie. And Broderick’s glassy, condemning eyes. I took a shower, because I was disgusting. I mean, physically disgusting. But I guess in pretty much all senses.

  Sat under the spray, still shivering, feeling beyond wretched. Like I was coming down with the worst cold of my life.

  The hot water ran out. Long before I was clean.

  So I put on some pj’s, wrapped myself in my duvet, and lay on the sofa, phone within reach in case Ellery called or texted or…or something, trying to sleep and wanting to die of shame.

  Ellery was my friend. She’d trusted me. And in one stupid second, I’d destroyed it all.

  * * *

  She came home a little after dawn. Sunglasses on. Hood up.

  “Ellery.” I flailed out of my huddle. “Ellery, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know that’s not enough, but please believe me I didn’t mean to—”

  She strode past me. “I’m just here to get some things.”

  “Get some things? Are you…do you need me gone?”

  “I need to be gone.” Her bedroom door slammed behind her.

  The world lurched as I tried to get off the sofa, and I’m sure I’d have been sick again if there’d been anything left inside me. By the time Ellery reemerged, with a rucksack slung over her shoulder, I was sweaty and trembly again, but at least upright.

  “This is your place,” I said. “I should be the one to move out.”

  The impenetrable sheen of her glasses reflected only my blotchy, messed-up face. “You don’t have to move out. I’m staying with Innis for a bit.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until I can fucking stand the sight of you.”

  I burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know why I…why I…”

  “Sex is easy.” She pushed roughly past me. “Sex is boring. You were supposed to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend,” I wailed.

  A pause. Her shoulders tightened. “You only ever wanted him.”

  “God. That’s not true.”

  “Everyone always wants him.” At last she turned, an oily, mascara-darkened tear slipping down her cheek. “He’s good-looking and brilliant and knows how to be charming. He draws people in. And I’m—”

  I opened my mouth to…I don’t know…protest or probably just keep crying.

  But she continued before I had a chance. “I’m just a fuck-up.”

  “You’re not a fuck-up.”

  “Yeah, I am.” She thrust her wrists towards me, with their silver scars. “Even fucked this up, remember. Acting out. Trying to get attention when the drugs weren’t enough.”

  I brush
ed my fingers gently over the marks. “I’ve never believed that.”

  “You should. Because I’m a shitty person.” She dragged her arm over her wet face, momentarily dislodging the sunglasses to give me a glimpse of her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “I’m selfish and mean and I’m not…I don’t know…I have no idea how to show it when I care about shit.”

  “I think,” I said shakily, “I win the prize tonight for failing to show someone how much I care about them.”

  She made a sceptical noise, halfway between a snort and a sniffle. “Don’t bother. I know who I am and I don’t expect people to like me.”

  “I do like you.”

  “Well, you betrayed me.”

  I hung my head, pickling in guilt. “I know. It was a mistake, and a horrible thing to do. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I don’t fucking care.”

  Oh God. I needed to fix this—somehow, I needed to fix this—and my brain was porridge. Turns out the grown-ups had been right all along: Don’t do drugs, kids. “Look”—I flapped about despairingly—“I’m not trying to make excuses here but I was a little bit off my head at the time. And yes, I was missing Caspian. But that doesn’t mean how I feel about you is a lie.”

  No response from Ellery. Just her tight mouth and the blank stare of her sunglasses.

  “I’m here for you,” I told her. “Because of you. And it has nothing to do with Caspian. Even if I never see him again, which is honestly looking increasingly likely, I’ll still want to be your friend.”

  Her lip curled.

  “I know that hasn’t always been the case with other people. But I’m not like that. I’m not”—my voice rose unexpectedly—“I’m not like Nathaniel.”

  “I don’t know, Arden.” She folded her arms with stony precision. “Maybe you’re exactly like Nathaniel.”

  I probably deserved that but it still stung. I took it, though, because my hurt wasn’t important right now. “I understand why you might think that way. I’ve lost your trust and I’ve made you feel used, and I regret it so very, very deeply.”

  “I’m leaving now.” But she didn’t move, which gave me this tiny fairy spark of hope.

  “Listen to me, Ellery.” Yep, I was begging. Probably pathetically. But I didn’t care. “You’re not who you think you are. I mean, okay, you’re kind of mean sometimes. Most of the time, actually. But you’re not a bad person. You’re weird and fun and loyal as fuck, and sometimes, when it counts, you’re incredibly sweet.”

  “Wow.” Her voice was husky with unshed tears. “You really don’t know me at all.”

  “Yes I do,” I cried. “You’ve been the most amazing friend to me. And I’m the world’s stupidest…stupidhead to have jeopardised it. I will do anything, literally anything, for a chance to prove I deserve you.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Please.” More tears spilled from my eyes. And some even less attractive things happened in the nose region, which I scrubbed at. “Please.”

  “I…I…” Ellery glanced away. Swallowed. “I need some time, okay?”

  I let out a long, wet breath. Obviously, in an ideal world everything would have been immediately sunshine and roses again. But this wasn’t an ideal world. It was just…the world. And Ellery had already been far kinder to me—far more forgiving—than I had any right to ask for. “Okay. Thank you.”

  She adjusted the straps on her rucksack and headed for the door. I watched her go, trying not to feel hopelessly abandoned.

  On the threshold, she paused. “Ardy?”

  “Yes,” I said, too quickly.

  “Take care of Broderick.”

  “Of course I will.”

  She half turned, her mouth twisted into its most mocking smile. “You’d better not try to snog him or anything, though. He’s sensitive.”

  It wasn’t quite a joke. Wasn’t quite a barb. But I didn’t even have the dregs of a laugh in me. “I won’t. I promise.”

  And then she was gone. The click of the shutting door made me flinch.

  I don’t know why but I waited for two…three…five…minutes. Just standing there. But nothing happened beyond the drip of passing time. Wobbling back to the sofa, I rolled myself up even tighter than before. The warehouse closed around me, silent as a yawn.

  Chapter 24

  I sort of slept, but it was saltwater sleep, bitter and unsatisfying. And the rest of the time I lay restless on the sofa, shivering and snuffling—feeling profoundly wretched and knowing I deserved to. To say it had been an inauspicious start to the new year was the understatement of the century. But I guess that was my fault too. You couldn’t turn a symbol into something real just by wanting to. God, I was a fucking idiot. A fucking fucking idiot.

  What was left of the night dribbled into a murky grey morning. Clearly it was going to be a long, grim day. Except then came a hammering on the front door, startling me out of my duvet. Ellery rarely bothered to carry her keys, much preferring to be let into her own house like it was the 1950s and I was her wife or something. Did this mean she’d come back? Had she forgiven me?

  I ran, ignoring my protesting stomach and my aching head. Flung open the door, light blasting into my face, making my eyes water. And there—hazy as a mirage through my sheen of tears—was Caspian. In jeans and a crumpled shirt, one of his endless three-quarter-length dark wool coats thrown over the top.

  Was this…was this really happening?

  Every wistful fantasy I’d ever had about him was suddenly colliding in my brain. He’d broken up with Nathaniel. He’d made a terrible mistake. He wanted me back. He loved me. He wanted to marry me. He was about to kiss me.

  “Arden,” he said, “what the hell is this?”

  He shoved something at me—a newspaper, one of the tabloids, folded open—and stalked into the warehouse. Robotically, I closed the door and followed, glancing at the pages in my hand.

  It took a moment to figure out what I was looking at. But it was me. A picture of me. Not a very good picture of me. And I was kissing Ellery against a blaze of New Year’s Eve fireworks.

  Fuck. Oh fuck.

  The image was partially covered by a circle splash containing a different photo. Also not a very good picture of me. Taken, by the looks of it, over the summer when Caspian and I had attended—very briefly—a charity art exhibition on my first return from Boston. He was holding my hand, dragging me along behind him with fierce determination, while I wore my best confused rabbit look.

  HART TO HART, read the headline.

  Which should probably have told me everything I needed to know. But my eyes had masochistically moved on before I could stop them: They say you should keep it in the family. And that’s certainly true for bisexual partyboy Arden St. Ives, 22, who seems to have ditched billionaire boyfriend Caspian Hart, 29, for none other than Hart’s own sister, troubled tearaway Eleanor “Ellery” Hart.

  I couldn’t read any more. It was too horrible.

  The paper fluttered to the floor. I must have dropped it, but I was numb to my fingertips.

  “It’s not…” My voice was a brittle thread, close to breaking. “It’s not what you think.”

  Caspian folded his hands in front of him, his expression unreadable. “Isn’t it?”

  “I’m not with your sister. I’ve never felt that way about her.” My eyes were gritty with too many tears shed. I already knew this was hopeless. Caspian had found me—platonically—in bed with Ellery once, and it had hurt him terribly.

  “I know.”

  My heart, which had been quietly dying in my chest, jerked with surprise. Maybe my entire life wasn’t going to combust in a single day. “You do?”

  “Yes.” He inclined his head slightly—oddly cold for a man who was not jumping to an awful conclusion. “You told me once that you had a different relationship with Eleanor. I believed you then and I believe you still.”

  “Holy shit.” The air whooshed out of me and I had to actually put my hands on my knees in order to catc
h a breath. “Thank you.”

  “Which means,” he went on, in the same impassive tone, “you have done this to hurt me.”

  Well. Spoke too soon. Apparently everything was broken. “Wait. What?”

  “I’ve treated you so badly.” He gazed at me, with those beautiful, empty eyes. “Anyone in your place would be justified in wanting to hurt me back.”

  Okay, I was done. I was jacking it all in to become a mad inventor who lived in a basement because I needed a time machine fucking stat. I’d been living in this year for less than twelve hours and I already hated it. My legs were also in a state of giving-up-on-everything and I crumpled slowly to the floor.

  “It’s not justified,” I whispered. “It would never be justified. Whatever you did to me, I would never take it out on Ellery. She’s my friend. And I’ve fucked it up. And I feel bad enough about myself already. And I can’t cope with you being angry at me too.”

  He crossed the room and knelt down—no cologne today, just the achingly familiar scent of him. “I’m not angry. I understand.”

  I lifted my head to look at him. The gentleness in his voice was cutting me to ribbons. “Why are you here?”

  “I came to ask you—no, to beg you—not to use my family to get to me.” He spread his hands in a gesture that could only have been surrender. “Hurt me all you wish, go to the papers, insist on millions, tell them I’m a pervert, a deviant, a monster, I deserve it, but please…strike at me. Not Eleanor.”

  I was dust. Particles of nothing. I couldn’t even get enough of myself together to be angry. “For fuck’s sake,” I said wearily. “You were there at Nathaniel’s too. You heard what I said. I could never hurt you. And you could never be a monster to me.”