Heiress vs Rockstar (Love in Illyria Book 4)

by Adalind White

  "But do you need me? I was so busy being outraged, I didn't stop to think that you might need me, too."

  "I would never ask you to choose between your loyalties. I made a mistake, and it's my responsibility to sort things out. I don't expect support on this matter."

  "This matter," Vy said. "You sound so formal."

  "I was meant to be a politician's wife. Most likely I will become a politician myself now. Formal is my future."

  "You were engaged to Christian?"

  "No," Alice said. "Not officially. We talked about it. We even had a sort of calendar."

  "I had no idea. When did we drift apart so much?"

  "You are the most ethical and supportive person I know. It's my fault, not yours, that we drifted apart. I'm willing to give you all the time you need to figure out if you can be my friend again."

  Vy looked at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

  "I had a lot of time to think while we didn't talk. Andrew told me once that I hurt you when I went to Sing instead of coming here with you last year."

  "You followed your dream. I would never stand in the way of that. I'm not going to say I had the best of time here without you, but I never resented you. I'm proud of you, Vy."

  Her friend didn't look convinced. Vy had a way of seeing the world in black and white. Her recent experience with Andrew might have introduced her to shades of grey. If she was right about Andrew's past and his moral fiber, he must have told Vy some pretty disturbing things.

  "I took for granted that we liked the same things," Vy said, "that we had the same values. You censored yourself trying to keep me happy. That's not ok."

  "I didn't want to disappoint you. Some of the things I liked... were frivolous."

  "So? You are my friend, Alice. You're not my clone."

  No, she was certainly not that. Vy's clone would be beautiful and brave like her.

  "Are we good now?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Vy said. "If there's anything you want to tell me about Carter, you can. I will not choose between you, but I am your friend."

  "Then, as my friend, I hope you can accept that I can't talk about him now. I… I screwed up and I don't know what to do."

  Vy nodded and left the room in silence. Life seemed a little brighter now that she could start work on rebuilding their friendship.

  There was another bridge she had to rebuild. She dialed Isabella's number.

  #

  They had arranged to meet at Zorba's. The cold mid-December weather didn't inspire many people to have lunch at a Greek restaurant, so they had the place pretty much to themselves.

  A Christmas tree glittered in the corner. The scent of gingerbread wafted from the kitchen. The traditional white and blue theme of the tablecloths and napkins had been replaced by green and red.

  Isabella had arrived early again. Stephen's stroller was next to her. Alice glanced at the little boy sleeping peacefully in it. She'd have to do her best for him. He was the only innocent in this whole mess.

  "This is a fine reversal of roles," Isabella said. "How did you manage to ditch the paparazzi?"

  Alice pursed her lips. She expected Isabella to make fun of her.

  "They're not all that interested in me. It's not like I had to take the escape tunnel to get out of the house without being followed."

  "You have a two-page spread in Vogue, Alice. I'd say that proves that everyone is interested in you now. Of course, half the article is about your grandmother, but it's your photo in the magazine. Are you starting to enjoy being famous?"

  "You know I don't."

  "You poor thing," Isabella mocked her. "Heavy is the mantel of fame."

  "He's doing this to get back at me. He's so damn... thorough about it."

  She stopped talking when the waiter approached.

  "You played him, now it's he's turn to play you," Isabella said after they ordered. "So, what's the plan? How are you going to manipulate him this time?"

  "Of all the people in the world, you must know I never meant to harm him. And I certainly didn't mean to harm you."

  "Maybe you did, and maybe you didn't. Maybe you did just try to help me for some unfathomable reason. Your intentions don't matter now, do they? You're with Tim and I'm on the outside, looking in."

  Carter got this way sometimes when he was angry. The same dramatic manner of speaking, with big words and turns of phrase from plays.

  "You two have a child. You both want what's best for him, don't you?"

  Isabella's hand went to the stroller unconsciously and slid her fingers along the metal frame.

  "What do you want, Alice?"

  "I want you to consider patching things up with him," she said calmly.

  "Are you crazy? He kicked us out when Stephen was three months old. We're never getting back together."

  "You don't have to be married to him have a good relationship. Don't stand outside. He doesn't want to cut you out of his life. He cares about you, and not just because of your son."

  "Are you here to plead Tim's case? How did he get you to do this?"

  "He didn't. He makes sure to show up with me in public, but we don't talk about anything anymore. He didn't ask me to come here, and I have no intention of ever telling him. He needs to reconnect with you and Stephen."

  "What's in it for you?"

  Alice leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling for a few moments.

  "My guilt might recede?" she said eventually. "He might be less of an insane stalker? I can only hope that if he sorts out his relationship with two of the most important people in his life, I'll get a break."

  "Of the most important?" Isabella asked. "I wonder who else is in that select group. Who matters so much to the great Tim Carter?"

  "It's not what you think."

  "Tell me, soothsayer. What do I think?"

  "You think I'm counting myself between the people important to Carter. The only way I matter to him is as the lightning rod for all his frustration and self-loathing," she said bitterly.

  "Who else then? Alba?"

  "Isabella, I don't want to-"

  "If you don't tell me, I'll finish my coffee and leave. Nothing changes."

  "His parents," Alice said, defeated. "His mother is very important to him. With his father dead, she's all he has left."

  "Maybe if he hadn't thrown us both out of his house, he had a chance for a healthy relationship with his son."

  The daggers in Isabella's eyes told her she wasn't making much progress. No point in using a light touch then.

  "Be honest, would you really want to be married to him now? Knowing that he would have married you because you have a child? Isabella, you deserve to be loved for who you are."

  "You bitch," Isabella whispered.

  "Calling me names doesn't make it any less true."

  Tears shimmered in Isabella's amber eyes. She looked into the middle distance, her hand clenching and unclenching convulsively on a green napkin with gold Christmassy letters. Her voice was heavy with pain when she spoke.

  "He really tried to be nice, you know? I kept pushing, accusing him of fooling around with Vy. I wanted him to wake up and see me, the way I am."

  "You are beautiful," Alice said. "And I'm not talking about your looks. I know you, Isabella."

  The other woman puffed derisively.

  "You know how good of an actress I am."

  "Yes," Alice said. "And I know that you are good because you have a great wealth of feeling and sensitivity inside yourself."

  "Flattery-"

  "Call it flattery if you want. But that's how I see you. Screw what the others think they see. I see you."

  "I'll think about it," Isabella said, standing up to leave. "Maybe I'll call him at Christmas."

  She had counted on the spirit of Christmas to move Isabella. Christmas songs had replaced the usual Greek music played at a low volume in Zorba's during the festive season. Maybe they had nothing to do with swaying Isabella's decision, but she was
glad to hear that tentative promise.

  "That would be nice," she said. "Not just for him."

  "You are a horrible person, Alice," she said looking her straight in the eye. "You think you're not because you have good intentions, but deep down, you're ugly and twisted."

  She remained slumped in her seat long after Isabella left. Another friend she lost because of Tim Carter. Everything she'd told Isabella was the truth. She deserved to be loved for herself. She didn't need to trick anyone into wanting to spend the rest of his life with her.

  Stop meddling, she told herself, but it was too late. Maybe two wrongs could make a right. Her comfortable future with Christian was no longer an option any more than Isabella's future with Tim.

  Christian Sinclair was the epitome of sophistication. He rivaled Paul Cesara in terms of cynicism. If Christian would ever open up, he'd open up to someone who had been kicked hard by life. Someone who tried to be a realist, who tried to play the game, but whose passionate nature he could glimpse under the protective layers. Someone like Isabella.

  I'm not going to push them. If they happen to be in the same place at the same time... they may... react to each other. I will not do anything. Well, not much. But this is the last time.

  She checked the agenda on her phone. What would be an event they could both reasonably attend? She scrolled through the list of charity events and fund raisers.

  The Remembrance Day Gala next month was on Christian's list of appearances for his campaign. She could maneuver things so that Isabella was also invited. With a bit of ingenuity, she could get them seated close together. At the same table with Tim would be ideal, because they both resented him. She scowled. Tim would probably buck the seating arrangements and follow her.

  She frowned. She didn't have long to make it happen, but she could do it. And in such a way that no one would ever suspect she had anything to do with it.

  Guilt hung like a black cloud over her soul. Isabella and Christian could be happy together because they were good people. It wouldn't be her merit in any way. It wouldn't make up for anything she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tim

  Sing finished the week before Christmas. He lost the final for the second year in a row, but that came as no surprise. IBC should have considered themselves lucky he managed to show up at all.

  He went back in Music Room Three. He would be there the following year. Third place. Damn. Losing had stung a lot more the year before. Vy shouldn't have lost Sing. But now his priorities had shifted considerably. Winning was sweet, but there were sweeter things in life.

  He was visiting Isabella and Stephen every few days, and each time he feared she would turn him away from her door.

  She didn't. She let him in the house he rented for them. She let him play with his son. She let him. Knowing that was eating him alive.

  He even set up the Christmas tree in the house and started bringing presents for Stephen. He would get the shop to deliver her present. He wasn't going to be there on Christmas. She hadn't invited him and he hadn't dared to ask. Christmas was a family holiday and they weren't one.

  The thought of calling his mother to see if they could spend Christmas together scared him. He had long ago forgiven Barbara for his sad childhood, but he couldn't forget. Everything wrong about his childhood came in stark relief this time of the year. That was why the Waves took more gigs between Christmas and New Year's than at any other time of the year.

  This year, they played in the Unification Square for IBC on Christmas Eve, and due to his bad mood, they didn't have another gig until New Year's Eve in a Rhythm of Heaven club in Larissa.

  That gave him time for Alice. He'd been dragging her at as many public events as he could. He'd even poked the dragon once, by booking an appearance at an event organized by Christian Sinclair's campaign.

  As if she heard his summons, Alice opened the door.

  "Hi, honey," he said. "Missing me?"

  "You could say that," she said. "How are you?"

  He didn't do her the courtesy of answering. She could figure things out for herself well enough.

  "What do you want?"

  She shuffled her feet across the Music Room. She'd been getting quite snippy with him whenever he was rude since she had realized that playing nice was not going to win her brownie points. It was odd to see her revert to her old, mousey self.

  "I… umm… came to invite you to spend Christmas with us."

  "Who's us, baby?" he asked, sliding effortlessly in the boyfriend role she seemed to hate the most.

  "My family," she said with a sigh. "My parents and I are spending Christmas at the Castle and they asked me to ask you to come over."

  It made sense that she wouldn't be the one inviting him. He was still considering if he should show up wherever she spent Christmas with her family to ruin it. Maybe this was a preemptive strike from the little monster.

  "Why would your parents ask that?"

  "Because I stupidly didn't tell them we have other plans," she said staring at her feet.

  Her long hair fell across her face. He didn't mind her fringe as much since he was in the position to mess with it. He brushed her hair aside to look in her eyes when he asked sweetly.

  "Are you trying to tell me that your family doesn't know we're not actually a couple?"

  Her eyes closed and she grimaced. She hadn't told them the truth. He had the chance to make her uncomfortable in front of her family. Oh, that was an excellent Christmas present!

  "I would be delighted to come with you. Is there a dress code?"

  "Yes. No jerks."

  "That doesn't even make sense," he said, standing up from the piano. "You know what's awesome? We get to go shopping for presents! You wouldn't want your boyfriend to come there empty-handed, would you?"

  He put on his coat as while he spoke. Her sulky silence cheered him up. He offered her his arm, and she took it as she got used to doing without complaining. Her training was going very well indeed.

  #

  He'd seen the Pellerin Castle in magazines. It had an extravagant design compared to other, more somber buildings of earlier periods. It had turrets and gargoyles and all sort of lacy looking useless ornaments on the front. Under the thick coat of snow, it had an unreal, fairy tale look.

  When he stopped the car, a tall, broad shouldered man in an immaculate suit came to help him unload the trunk.

  "I am Wilkins, the butler," the big man said. "Allow me to show you to your room."

  "Lead on, Wilkins," he said.

  The butler pointed out the way to the conservatory and the Organza salon on the right of the main stairs, and the large dining room and the Velvet salon on the left.

  "The family is in the Organza salon. If you need anything, please ring the bell and someone will come to attend to you."

  When he was alone in the room, he looked at the velvet chord to which Wilkins had pointed. It wasn't an actual bell at the end. It must have been connected with the downstairs somehow.

  The realization that he was in an upstairs-downstairs mansion bothered him. He reminded himself he was there on a mission. He wasn't one of these people. He wasn't even a real guest.

  He changed his clothes quickly and wandered around the corridors at random, but the lighting made it quite clear which parts of the castle were for common usage and which were the private apartments. His seemed to be the only occupied room on that floor.

  He paused for a moment at the open door of the Organza salon. He spotted Alice immediately and identified the man next to her as professor Gregory Lewis.

  On the far side of the room, Clara Pellerin occupied center stage. She was sitting on a sofa that wouldn't look out of place on the stage of the Rose on some Oscar Wilde play. On her right, he recognized Tatiana Lewis, a woman who surpassed his mother in beauty and fame some decades earlier. On Clara's left, Lara Lewis was lounging with a bored expression on her beautiful face and with her impossibly long legs on an ottoman.

 
He caught a glance of two old and imposing looking men on the terrace outside the French doors behind Clara.

  Alice sensed his presence and when she looked at him, so did her father.

  "Mr. Carter, so good of you to join us," Gregory Lewis said, coming toward him.

  "Professor Lewis, I'm honored to meet you. And please, call me Tim."

  "About time we met the man who swept Alice off her feet," he said putting an arm around his daughter's shoulders.

  Tim raised an eyebrow looking at Alice. She was cringing and blushing at the same time. She really hadn't lied. Her family really didn't know the truth about them. This Christmas could be a lot of fun.

  "Guilty as charged, sir" he said, looking into Alice's eyes.

  He never got tired of seeing her react to his words. He could so easily imagine a sword dangling over her head. She expected him to do something outrageous at any moment. After his infamous interview, she must have realized that she could no longer predict how far he would go to hurt her.

  He took Alice's hand and pressed his lips on the back of her hand. She shivered and stepped out of her father's embrace. He took advantage to pull her close to himself.

  Alice had snuck out of his embrace as soon as she could. He considered following her, but he enjoyed the conversation with professor Lewis. There would be time to torture her later. It was good for her to have time on her own, to wonder what he was going to do next.

  After all the formal introductions were made, he gravitated toward professor Lewis. He listened intently while the academic talked about the African expedition that had made headlines ten years earlier. Tim had always thought some of the facts didn't make it in the pages of his book.

  "Lara and I were at the site when we got the news that the camp had been overrun by soldiers," Gregory Lewis said. "Our security detail called for backup, and by the time they got there, the whole camp was empty. They had taken all the artifacts that looked precious. Anything that looked like gold and silver. We were so relieved to see that they left the ceramics and the clay tablets. The swords and the other metal artifacts were important, but most of the written information was on the things they left."