The Heir - Part 1 (The Kings & Queens of St Augustus Book 3)

by Gemma Weir

  “The last time I spoke to either of them was at your engagement party when I gave you your gift. Both of their cell phone numbers have been disconnected and according to their new housekeeper they’re out of the country,” I say, trying to hide my hurt.

  Tallulah jolts back, clearly shocked and I try not to hate her when the guys all close in around her like they want to share her pain.

  “They just left,” she says, and I can hear the slight catch in her voice.

  Sighing, I nod. “They just left.”

  She nods, like the physical action is helping her process.

  “I need to get to class,” I say, unable to hold her eyes now that they’re filled with hurt.

  “So are you going to move back home now?”

  A wry humorless laugh falls from my lips. “The new housekeeper informed me that our beloved parents have left strict instructions that no one is allowed onto the grounds without their permission. So no, I won’t be moving home,” I say spitting the word like it’s poison.

  “But what about all your things?” Watson asks, shocking me with how genuinely concerned he looks.

  Shrugging I look away, not wanting to see even more pity on their faces.

  “You can’t even get your stuff? Your clothes and shit?” Carson asks.

  “I haven’t tried, but as I was basically told I’m not allowed on the premises, I’m going to hazard a guess at no. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters,” Tallulah cries, reaching for me.

  Leaning back I avoid her touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes across her face.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” I growl, taking another step back, before I spin on the spot and walk away leaving my sister and her boys behind me.

  The rest of the day only gets worse as I have math, chemistry, and geometry. Taking classes without my sister’s help and my parents’ bribery is awful. The teachers seem to be deliberately calling on me, like it’s my fault my parents stopped paying them to give me A’s.

  By the time I crawl back into my hotel bed, my school uniform outside my door for cleaning again, I’m exhausted both mentally and physically. My new credit card was waiting for me this morning, so there’s nothing stopping me from going to buy the things I need, but I just don’t seem to be able to find the energy.

  Somewhere deep inside me, I know I’m more resilient than this, that I’m more than capable of looking after myself and coping with my parent’s absence, hell Tallulah and I did it for the majority of our lives. But right now, all I feel is raw and exposed.

  For so long the money has shielded me from everything except its pursuit. All I had to do was play by the rules and my future was set. I was okay with that, resigned to do what I had to do to get that inheritance, and I hate that now that the money’s gone I have to feel the consequences of my actions.

  My parents get to run away, but I’m still here and now I have to try and learn to live with all the things I’ve done.

  Tallulah thinks that the way I treated her is the worst thing I’ve done, but she couldn’t be any further from the truth. I’ve manipulated, flirted, and lied over and over again and the only guy who didn’t lap it up, is ironically the one who fell in love with my twin.

  A sharp rapping at the door makes a prickle of awareness course through me. It’s Carson. Apart from the staff, he’s the only other person who knows I’m here. But even if there was someone else it could be, I’d still know it was him. Maybe it’s that my body remembers what it feels like to be around him and has perked up with his proximity. Whatever it is, I’m off the bed and pulling open the door, because even if I don’t really understand it, I want him here.

  17

  Carson

  Carrigan Archibald is always walking away from me and I fucking hate it. I know she’s not who her sister wants her to be, but they could have a relationship if Priss just stopped being such a prickly bitch. Both of the girls are a product of their fucked up upbringing, but where Tally came out swinging, Carrigan seems to be crumbling.

  Her parents have banned her from getting into the house. They know she hasn’t got any of her things and they’re deliberately stopping her from going home, it wouldn’t surprise me to find that her stuff was gone even if she could go back. They’re punishing her.

  They’re supposed to be the adults, the care givers, but those people have never thought of their daughters as anything but a commodity to be used for whatever purpose suits them best.

  If she was anyone else I’d feel bad for her, but I’m almost glad that Carrigan’s family has done this to her. Its forcing her to see who they really are. They’ve cut her off from everything familiar and tied to the messed-up existence she’s been living in since that godforsaken will came to life and destroyed them.

  The need to comfort her, to take care of her is almost blinding, but then I remember who she is and what she’s done. No matter how I try, I can’t reconcile Carrigan with my Priss, because when I’m near her, I forget all her sins and all I see is the sweet broken girl who needs me.

  Watching her in class, all I could think about was how she feels beneath me, the taste of her lips when I kissed her, the way she gave herself over to me in a way no one has ever done before. She’s perfect in all the very worst ways, because her perfection blinds me to who she really is.

  Lifting my fist to knock at her hotel door again, it swings opens and a tired looking Priss appears in the gap. I don’t know why I’m here, but as much as I tried to fight it, I just couldn’t stay away. My eyes rake over the white cotton hotel robe and my dick twitches, because I know she’s naked beneath it, but I don’t think I’m here to fuck her.

  Last night I kissed her. I shouldn’t have, but she just looked so fucking lost and so fucking sweet and I couldn’t resist. But now her mouth is all I can think about. I want her. My body craves her like I’ve never craved anything else before. Only I ache for more than just her body beneath mine, I want her too.

  I don’t like her, but I want her.

  Some weird, fucked up part of me wants to help her, to protect her, to take care of her and I swear I barely even recognize the feeling, because I’ve never known anyone, not even my family or Tally, that has made me feel this way.

  It’s unhealthy as fuck. Last night after the stupid fucking charity event, I spent an hour googling all these messed up feelings I have. I’m either about to die from a brain tumor or I like her.

  I like Carrigan Archibald.

  No. I like Priss. I like the sweet, sad, lonely girl who gave me her body, gave me the right to touch her.

  I have control issues. I like things a certain way. But those things are all about me. The guys know about my quirks, but I’ve never felt compelled to push my oddities onto them.

  But I’m itching with the urge to take control of Priss and not just while I fuck her, not just while she’s offering her body to me, but I want to take control of her completely. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to The Escape. I want to feed her, buy things for her, be hers.

  Shit. I sound like a fucking weirdo even inside my own head. I should be running away from this girl but here I am at her door. Again.

  Stepping past her I walk into her room without an invitation.

  “Come on in,” she says sarcastically, but she doesn’t ask me to leave. I wouldn’t anyway, I couldn’t walk away if I tried.

  Crossing to the closet I throw open the door. It’s empty except for the dress she wore to the party and the clothes we picked together. Pulling the draws open I find all but one empty, and except for a handful of underwear she literally has nothing.

  “Why haven’t you been shopping?” I demand.

  She shrugs and the robe falls open a little exposing her shoulder.

  “I asked you a question,” I growl, unreasonably angry at her, at her parents, at myself for not considering that she hadn’t been home.

  “I’ll get round to it,” she says, her tone becoming obstinate.
<
br />   “Get dressed.”

  “No,” she snaps, righting her robe and crossing her arms across her chest.

  “Priss I’m not fucking around, get dressed,” I say, fighting back the need to yell at her to do as I say.

  “No. I’m tired and I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  “Look you can either get dressed and walk with me, or you can be a pain in the ass and I’ll carry you out of here in nothing but that robe. Right now I don’t give a fuck which option you pick, but either way you’re coming with me. You have one minute to make a decision.”

  Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head dismissively. “Go away Carson. I think we can both agree the sex was great, but we need to stay away from each other, I need to stay away from all of you,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching for the TV remote.

  “Time’s up,” I say, fighting back a smirk. She thinks she can send me packing with a bitchy look, she’s got no fucking clue how wrong she is.

  “Bye Carson,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me in a fuck you wave.

  A soft laugh falls from my lips as I close the distance between us in a single stride, grab her around the waist, and haul her into the air and over my shoulder.

  “Put me down,” she screams, beating her fists against my back.

  “I gave you a choice Priss, it’s not my fault you picked the wrong option. You better hope there’s not too many people in reception, because I’m pretty sure you can see your ass out the bottom of this robe,” I laugh, ignoring her protests as I grab her cell and room key, open the door, and carry her out.

  Shrieking, she writhes around trying to break free of my hold, but I just laugh and hold her a little tighter. “I gave you a choice Priss.”

  “Where are you taking me? Put me down Carson, I hate you so much.”

  “You don’t hate me and I don’t hate you,” I say. Muttering, “That’s the fucking problem,” beneath my breath.

  “Put me down and I’ll go and get dressed,” she begs.

  “It’s too late to do as you’re told now baby. I asked you do something and you didn’t. I’m a man of my word Priss. Haven’t I always done what I told you I would?”

  “Carson,” she cajoles, using the voice I’ve heard her use on guys before.

  “Don’t try that bullshit with me Carrigan. I’m not one of those spineless fuckers that will let you do as you please while they wait around begging for scraps, not giving a fuck about anything except the money. I’ve had you. I’ve fucking got you, no money, no power, nothing.”

  “Shut up,” she hisses, her voice wavering a little.

  Stopping, I lower her to the floor, keeping my arm tightly wrapped around her. “No, you listen. I had you knowing that you didn’t come with the extras. Because I couldn’t give a fuck about that inheritance.”

  Slamming my lips against hers, I kiss her with every bit of frustration I can’t explain, filling her mouth with my tongue, branding her lips with mine. When her body melts against me I pull away, cupping her cheek and locking my gaze with hers. “I’m not a man you can play with Priss and I promise not to play with you either. All I expect is for you to be you, this you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, I just know I’m not ready stop.

  Picking her up I throw her back over my shoulder again and this time she doesn’t fight me. No one says a word as I carry her through the lobby in nothing but a hotel robe. I swear the guy behind the reception desk even smirks as I pass, striding confidently outside and to the valet desk. A few minutes later my car appears and I lower her into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, the bitchiness gone from her voice.

  “To get you some clothes,” I answer, pulling my cell from my pocket and dialing the familiar number, before lifting it to my ear. “Hey,” I say when the call connects. “I need a favor.” I listen for a moment. “I need a new wardrobe.” I can hear Priss’s indignant huff but I ignore her. “Size two, okay, see you soon. Thanks bye.”

  “Who was that?” she demands, turning in her seat to look at me.

  “A friend,” I say, quickly snapping a picture of her, smiling at her annoyed expression before I ease away from the hotel and into the evening traffic.

  “Carson,” she whines, when I ignore her and focus on driving.

  “Carrigan,” I say back, smiling widely.

  “Why do you say my name like you’re using it as an insult?” she asks.

  “Because I prefer Priss,” I say simply.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When you’re acting like you think Carrigan Archibald ought to act, I call you Carrigan. When you’re acting like the girl who gave me her virginity, the one I want to be around, the one I can’t keep away from, I call you Priss.”

  I expect a bitchy response, but instead she stays quiet, not speaking until we pull into the parking lot at the marina.

  “I thought we were getting clothes?” she asks.

  “We are, after we eat,” I tell her, pulling into my usual space and killing the engine. By the time I climb out she already has her door open, eyeing the gravel parking lot warily. “Come here,” I say, loving that she doesn’t try to fight me as I scoop her into my arms and lift her from the car, closing the door, and then carrying her up onto the deck of The Escape.

  She obediently follows me, after I lower her to the floor and open the door to the galley, leaving it wide as I step inside and turn on the lights. Crossing to the refrigerator I pull out a beer for myself and start to grab the ingredients for dinner. “Do you want a beer?” I ask her.

  “No thank you,” she says quietly.

  Straightening I turn to look for her and find her standing cautiously in the doorway. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she says, stepping inside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

  “Priss, why don’t you go take a shower, I’ll lay out a shirt for you.”

  For a second I think she’s going to argue, but instead she lifts a hand to her hair, smoothing down the back uncomfortably.

  Sighing I close the distance between us, curling my arm around her back and pulling her into me. “Baby, if you want to you can stay wearing nothing but this robe for the rest of the night. Fuck, I’d be happier if you took it off and stayed naked all night. I think you’re fucking stunning when you’re hot and sweaty beneath me. I think you’re beautiful mussed and sleepy. My dick has been rock hard for you since the moment you opened that hotel door, because you don’t look like Carrigan right now, you look like my Priss, and that is so fucking sexy I am barely keeping my hands to myself,” I whisper against her lips, a moment before I kiss her, pressing my rock hard dick against her stomach as I hold her to me.

  Her lips are soft and sweet against mine and for a moment she just lets me kiss her, before she tentatively moves against me, her hands sliding up my chest and around my neck, her tongue tangling with mine. Lifting her off the ground, I groan when her legs automatically wrap around my waist. “I want you,” I say, pausing our kiss long enough for the words to fall from my tongue.

  “Yes,” she gasps, kissing me again, her fingers clinging to me.

  Carrying her to the bedroom, I lose myself in the girl in my arms, the enigma that is both bad and good, soft and hard, sweet and toxic. But while I touch her, while she moans and sighs and cries out, she’s all Priss, all the girl that I don’t seem to be able to escape, the one I think I want to keep.

  “Come take a shower with me,” I whisper against her neck, her naked, damp body pressed against mine.

  Without opening her eyes she shakes her head, too drunk on orgasms to move.

  Laughing lightly, I untangle myself from her, tapping her ass as I climb out of bed and head for the shower, hoping she’ll join me. I turn on the water and immediately step under the stream, not waiting for it to heat up. My dick was in her five minutes ago, but I already want more and if I don’t calm down I know I’ll go
back in there and lose myself between her legs again.

  I’m reluctant to wash her scent from my skin, but I push past the feeling and reach for my body wash. When I step out of the bathroom a few minutes later I glance at my bed, anger instantly consuming me when I find it empty.

  “Priss,” I snarl, stomping into the galley and stopping short when I spot her drinking from a glass in the kitchen, her nakedness covered by my shirt.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks, her eyes still soft, wide and innocent.

  Relief bursts from me. She’s still here and she’s still Priss, the cold Carrigan mask nowhere in sight. “Nothing, come here,” I order, my voice gruff.

  Padding on bare feet she closes the distance between us, pausing a step away from me. “All the way here,” I say, crooking a finger and beckoning her forward, a smile spreading across my lips.

  Swallowing she sways on her feet. “Carson,” she says, an argument obvious on her tongue.

  “Priss, I’ve got no idea what we’re doing, why I can’t leave you alone, but I can’t and I don’t want to. So come here and kiss me, because I think you want me just as much as I want you. Maybe we don’t need to understand it, and we can just enjoy it instead.”

  Her white teeth emerge and she worries her bottom lip. For a moment I think she’s going to run, but instead she takes the step and wraps herself around me.

  A knock at the window startles us both and she tries to pull away as I hold her close. Looking up I smile at the familiar face. “Hey, come on in,” I say.

  Loosening my hold on Priss, she turns to look at our guest and I watch as his face pales.

  “Tally,” Fitzy gasps.

  “No,” I cry as I feel Priss go rigid in my arms. “No, Fitzy, this is Carrigan.”

  18

  Carrigan

  Slowly I turn to fully face the man who just walking in, his expression horrified at first, then shocked.