by Mallory Fox
I close my eyes and open them again.
How the hell did we end up like this?
Chapter 15
Seth
Graham must know.
I could tell as soon as he saw me outside Pearl’s dressing room. His eyes were guarded, distant even as he looked at me. Did Pearl tell him about our deal? Would she really reveal to her father that she sold her virginity for some lousy stock? Who knows with Pearl. I wouldn’t put it past her.
I stare at my phone, waiting for a message from Constance about our next steps from the board, sensing Pearl shift in her seat beside me in the cab. My mind is going ten to the dozen. I did everything Grandfather asked and the old bastard still balled me out in front of the entire board for screwing up the deal. Something I did or said to Graham or Nicole must have spooked them.
The merger is dead.
And now if we come out guns blazing, it’s back to square one and the deal I’ve signed with Pearl screws us to kingdom come.
Unless I don’t ever sleep with her.
What a fucking crock of shit. In one minute alone with her in her dressing room, with an eyeful of her tight little body in that dress and the sass that comes out of her mouth, I quite gladly almost screwed up. Fucking Pearl in her dressing room would have left everything to the dogs.
The funny thing about that is, I hardly care anymore.
Maybe Pearl will win this war after all.
Chapter 16
Pearl
Seth doesn’t glance my way in the cab at all the whole journey. He’s either on his phone or staring out the window. I end up looking at the city myself, admiring the pristine way it’s softly blanketed in winter white snow.
It’s not until we jerk to a stop that I come out of my own little world.
Cars horns are sounding. A few cars ahead have stalled.
I frown. “We’re stopping for some reason…”
Seth looks up at the driver. “What’s going on? Do you know why we’ve stopped?”
The driver shrugs. “Looks like there’s just been an accident. Few cars ahead.”
Seth looks at his watch and then behind us. “Christ, traffic is filling up quick.” He sits forward in his seat. “Do you think we can turn around? We’re running a bit late.”
“Nah mate, this is a one way. We’re not going anywhere until it’s moving again.”
“How bad is it?” I ask.
Seth curses and I look out at the chaos forming and try to see what’s happened, but the view is pretty blocked from people getting out. The driver shakes his head and indicates to the view from his windscreen.
I take out my phone and search the social sites for the most recent mention of the bridge we’re on. It doesn’t take long for images to flash up.
My blood runs cold.
“Fuck. Seth… Isn’t that your car?”
He glances at it while my heart pounds in my chest. Please say no, please say no… Seth’s face loses all its color and he drops my phone.
It clatters onto the cab floor.
He’s out the door and off into the falling snow.
Cold air sweeps into the cab.
No, no, no….
Somewhere in the distance I hear the driver asking me… if my friend is alright? But I’m out the door and into the cold after Seth. And then I’m running after him. He’s so far ahead. I can only run so fast in my heels so I lose them and run faster.
My shawl has already slid off and blown away somewhere.
I don’t care.
I need to get to the bridge.
Seth is standing at the edge of the bridge looking down, before yanking off his scarf, taking off his coat, and kicking off his shoes.
The edge looms and I make it, out of breath, cold to the bone, just as Seth dives off and into the raging torrent of water below.
I scream his name.
But he’s gone.
Over the rail, down below, is dark and murky. I can just make out the tail end of Seth’s DB5 sticking out of the river.
Sirens wail in the distance.
Wind rages and I scream Seth’s name over and over until my throat burns and my eyes are stinging. I can’t stop shaking from the cold. Someone comes and pries me away from the rail while they pull his lifeless body from the water.
He’s not moving. Seth isn’t moving.
They wrap foil around me and force me to sit in the back of an ambulance where there’s little warmth and I have no idea what’s going on. My teeth are chattering and I can’t feel my toes.
I can’t think, I can’t breathe. And I can’t get warm.
All that goes through my mind, over and over, is…
Please don’t die.
Chapter 17
Seth
Who the hell laughs at a funeral?
I steel myself while the pastor is saying his piece and when Pearl takes the stage to talk about her amazing father and all the good he did in the world. My lips make a thin line when my aunt takes to the stage, because that is what it is… a stage to harp on about how much she loved her sister.
It’s all lies. Even the eulogy from my Grandfather is full of lies.
I try not to laugh at how messed up this day, week, month… even year is. But when some Irish folk music—Graham’s favorite, apparently—plays and everyone stands up to follow the caskets out to the church ground and into the new joint family mausoleum, I snort a laugh. Pearl shoots me evils so I stuff it down and stare off into the distance, focussing on the most sobering thought that I have.
It should have been me in that car.
That’s all I could think when I threw myself into the water and got dragged under the current. It’s all I could think when the paramedics brought me back spluttering and the doctors ran a myriad of tests. I was fine, of course. I lost consciousness, briefly. And my heart nearly stopped. But I was fine. Mild hypothermia from jumping into an English river in the middle of winter froze up my lungs and I passed out. Then they had to rescue me too.
I fucked up… That’s it. I couldn’t save them.
I couldn’t even save myself.
Our parents had been in the water too long that, by the time the rescue teams retrieved both their bodies from the river, it was too late. The door had jammed on the driver side and wouldn’t open, and the passenger side door was bent on impact. The medical teams tried their best to revive them, but they died at the scene. Technically they died because the ice on the bridge was black and there was a fault with the brakes. It didn’t help that both doors were fucked, and there was a problem on that section of the bridge. It also should have been me in the car that day, but I was late getting back from France… so technically they died because of me.
The police certainly seem to think so. Our family lawyers turned up just as Pearl and I were taken to be questioned. Why were our parents driving my car? Why were they speeding? Why did I jump into the river and not Pearl? Why did I loan Pearl’s father my car? Why weren’t we in the car with them? Pearl was meant to be with them, wasn’t she?
Grandfather stepped in and untangled the mess, enough that Pearl I and could go home and get some rest. If you can call rest drinking for twenty-four hours straight to block out the noise of Pearl sobbing in the other room… then that was what we did.
People stopped by who didn’t give two shits about us.
They were just there to soak up the drama.
I pulled the plug on the phone, stopped answering the door, and sent all the staff home. It was just me and Pearl sitting at opposite ends of the apartment for a number of mind-numbing, fucked up hours…
She wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.
Not that I wanted to talk…
Leaving and going back to Ravenwood was the only way I could cope. Because in the end, it should have been me.
* * *
Pearl is dressed all in black except for a string of pearls around her neck. There’s a puffiness around her eyes and a sallowness to her skin that wasn�
�t there before. Her wild hair is tamed, and her eyes are glassy.
She still looks beautiful.
I approach cautiously like one would a stray cat and she looks up, the whites of her eyes red raw from crying too much. “Bigger turnout than I expected,” I say, accepting a beer from the bar she’s standing close to.
She tosses her hair and sniffs, scanning the room. “All these people say they knew Dad, I hardly know any of them.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”
Her hazel eyes flit to me and then dart back to the centre of the room. “What do you want from me, Seth? You want me to cry on your shoulder? You want me to breakdown and say I need you?”
“There are people who want to help.”
“People? What people? I should have known you’d bolt. All you care about is your stupid company.”
“You wouldn’t talk to me, what did you expect? I’m not the type to sit in silence twiddling my thumbs waiting for the world to end. That’s not me, Pearl.” I take a swig of my beer. It’s not strong enough to take the edge off. I need a straighter, a few lines. For the first time in a long time, I consider calling Charlie and getting so goddam fucked I don’t even know my own name.
“No… getting wasted day and night, that’s more you.”
I say nothing and take a slug of my drink. She’s not wrong.
After a few minutes of us both standing there not talking, she laughs, a harsh sound to compliment her dead eyes.
“You promised me pain. I should have known.”
I turn and screw my eyes up looking at Pearl… really looking at her. “You blame me for this, don’t you?”
She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Instead, she swipes the beer out of my hand and knocks it back, downing the whole thing in one go.
I don’t stop her. No one does.
Who is going to tell a kid off for getting drunk at her own father’s funeral?
I give a low whistle as she hands me back the empty bottle. “You’re going to feel that tomorrow.”
The corner of her lips curl up slightly. “Says the pisshead who emptied our drinks cabinet in less time than it takes for an autopsy report to come in.”
I arch a brow at her. “It was one bottle of Jack and a crate of beer.”
She rolls her eyes heavenward but the malice in her eyes isn’t directed at me. She exhales and looks over at the huge memorial to Graham and Nicole made out of marble in the centre of the room. After the wake our people will move it to the family mausoleum.
I look at it with her for a few minutes, and then give her a sideways glance. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Sure, where do you want to go?”
“Home?”
“Not the apartment, I’d rather go home home.”
I place the empty bottle back on the bar and feel in my pocket for the keys to the loaner car the insurance company gave me. “As long as you give me a tour of your pink princess bedroom.”
She slight tug to the corner of her lips is worth the wait. “It’s not pink.”
“But it is a princess room?”
She makes an um sound as her hand reaches for mine.
“It’s a good job I drove here then?”
“It’s a good job I drank your beer for you, so you can drive me.”
It’s my turn to make an um sound as I lead her out into the sunlight.
* * *
The drive to Pearl’s house is relaxing. Pearl chooses some songs on the radio while I whip us in and out of midday traffic. After twenty minutes, we get to country lanes. Pearl turns off the music and stares out of the window at the pristine snow blanketing the surrounding fields and farms. The feeling of still being underwater, cut off from everyone and everything, eases a small amount.
Ever since I jumped into the river, I’ve not been able to shake the sensation of drowning. It’s worse at night when I wake up and I can’t quite tell if I’m still in that damn river or not.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come here?” I say, as we pull up into her long, recently ploughed, driveway lined with bare apple trees and piles upon piles of snow.
She frowns. “Why not? You’re part of the family now and this is where everyone is coming later.”
“Your family, not mine.” We park up, a dog freaks out and faces appear in the windows. They don’t look like happy faces.
“Fuck off, Seth, you’re still my stepbrother. Graham and Nicole being dead doesn’t change that. Anyway, there’s no one here yet. Everyone is still at the first wake.”
I quirk a brow at her. “You really see me as your stepbrother?”
She gives me a look that doesn’t quite answer the question and gets out the car.
I don’t bother to take off my shades, but I check myself in the mirror before getting out of the car. Pearl leads me around her vast but crumbling family home through a rear courtyard and into what looks to be the old servants’ entrance.
“Mind your head,” she says, and I duck in time, narrowly missing the top of an archway as we pass through the kitchen and into the main hallway.
There’s a soft-hued sitting room at one end, and an elaborate dining room at the other. Almost every surface or wall is antique brass, dark wood, or highly detailed floral print. Apart from the occasional piece of tech, such as a speaker in the corner of the room and a flat screen where wood panelling should be, it’s like being inside a fucking museum.
A young woman not much older than us with a pained look on her face enters the room just as we start up the grand staircase. “Miss Darlington, we weren’t expecting you until later. Refreshments won’t be ready until four.”
“That’s fine, Jess, don’t mind us. We were just going up.”
“We’re deeply sorry for your loss, my mother left me in charge so she could attend the funeral. Graham was always very generous and kind to her, to us,” she first says to Pearl, afterwards letting her eyes roam to me, giving my physique more than a once over. “I’m sorry for your loss too, Mr Montford. If you need anything, anything at all—”
“Thank you, Jess,” Pearl cuts in. She doesn’t give Jess a second look and practically drags me up the stairs to her bedroom on the first floor to the left of a U-shaped landing.
“Ignore her, she doesn’t get out much,” she says, closing the door behind us.
“Did she just eye rape me in the hallway?”
“We don’t get many male models here,” she says apathetically, walking to the middle of the room and stopping there. I wait for her say something else, but her face crumples and her shoulders start to shake. Pain rips through my chest just to look at her.
Swallowing whatever crass thing I was about to say and pushing my own heaviness aside, I take her in my arms and hold her until her sobbing resides. Five minutes, ten? I’ve no idea how long I stay in the middle of the room holding her. Finally, she stops crying and I lift her tear-stained face up to look at me.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Stay with me tonight? Fuck what the family think.”
“I’ll stay.” I take off my coat, shoes and suit jacket, setting them on and around a chair in the corner. Happy with my answer, Pearl’s energy seems to lift, and she heads into her walk-in closet. When she emerges, she proceeds to get undressed in front of me until she’s wearing nothing but a cute pair of short pyjamas with a bears and hearts all over them. At the sight of her, my cock twitches so I know I’m not completely dead yet. Most probably because she’s not wearing a bra so I can see the darker parts of her nipples through thinness of the material. I doubt she’s wearing panties either.
Get yourself the fuck together, mate. She wants you to stay for company, not stay to shove your cock inside of her.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
Splashing cold water on my face is enough to snap myself out of whatever the hell I’m dreaming of right now. When I come back out, despite that it’s still light outside, she’s al
ready on the bed, make-up removed, hair loose in soft waves.
I peel off my shirt and trousers and slip under the covers behind her. She sighs as soon as my arms tighten around her waist and she backs up, right into my crotch. I kiss her shoulder.
“What do you need?” I say, breathing in the scent of her hair and neck.
“I don’t want to think, I don’t want to remember… I just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.”
Her head turns to me and I claim her mouth, kissing the salty wetness away. She moans as my tongue brushes, explores and collides, with hers. Her hands are in my hair, around the back of my head, pulling me closer.
“You. I just want you…”
“I’ll give you whatever you want.” I say it and mean it. Fuck the deal. I’ll give Pearl the world if it means she’ll come back and sass my ass again.
Chapter 18
Pearl
Sleep takes us both for a while and I wake up to the sound of people downstairs. The second wake just for family is no doubt still going strong. A lot of people may have hated my father, the Montfords included, but family sticks together.
I should go downstairs and show my face, but as soon as I remembered everything, the pain came flooding back two-fold. Not just losing my dad, but mother too, all over again. No. I don’t want to leave this bubble we have.
We.
Seth and me.
Just thinking about him as mine makes me feel like me again. Like there’s something to cling to amidst this whole fucking shit storm. Seth surrounding me, his breath hot against the back of my neck, is all I need right now.
He’s my stepbrother. So fucking what?
There’s talking and movement on the landing beyond my bedroom door as some guests are obviously retiring for the night. What time is it? Out of the window it just looks dark. It can’t be that late if they’re still playing music. It’s some old Irish crooner music that my Grams likes, so that means she’s still awake.