15. Pure-Hearted Jezebel
CHAPTER 15
Pure-Hearted Jezebel
ALISTAIR
As difficult as it is to leave the cabin, I drag myself out of the limo and take Ivy’s hand. I don’t know what’s gotten into her today, but I won’t take it for granted, and I certainly don’t want to miss out on whatever salacious thoughts happen to be running through her head. As far as her wanting money from me, I’m more than happy to give it to her. She doesn’t ask for much, even though she deserves everything. It’s clear to everyone who meets her that she’s not one for luxury goods—money translates into security for her, and if anyone deserves to feel secure it’s Ivy Mickelson. Also, on a completely selfish note, I’ve learned that the more secure women feel with me, the more they open up in every way, and that makes for the very best kind of sex. Pearl-clutchers might judge this as transactional, but I don’t give a fuck. And I’ll keep on not giving a fuck for as long as I am fortunate enough to have Ivy in my life and in my bed. My pure-hearted Jezebel.
Going straight to Ariana’s room is tempting, but Ivy and I agree to see Jamie first as her family is here—and I’ve secretly arranged a meeting with them. I see my contact sitting in the plush waiting room and introduce him to Ivy.
“This is Keith,” I tell her. “He’s found a possible place for Jamie.”
Keith nods. He’s wearing eccentric round specs and has really good skin. “It’s a terrific place,” he says, nodding. “Terrific light. Loads of space. All finished beautifully. It can be ready in three weeks.”
When he shows Jamie and the Mickelsons the brochure he’s brought, they ooh and aah.
Mrs Mickelson looks a little starstruck, holding her hand on her chest and fiddling with the bohemian necklace she’s wearing. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
Keith frowns at her. His regular clients obviously don’t say things like It’s a bit much.
“Not really, Mum,” says Ivy, surprising everyone. “I mean, it’s double the size of his old place, but that’s not difficult. And the spare room will come in handy if we want to stay the night. And it just looks huge because of the high ceilings and all that wonderful light.”
“Light is important for an artist,” says Jamie, weighing in.
Keith nods. “Indeed.”
“Well, it’s not up to us anyway, is it?” states Ivy’s father. “It’s Jamie and Alistair’s decision.”
I smile at Jamie. “What do you think?”
Jamie’s expression is serious. “The light is very good,” he echoes. “I’ve never seen a proper studio like that.”
“I haven’t told you the best part, yet,” I say.
His eyes grow even wider than when he first saw the brochure. “It’s much closer to us and your folks, so visiting will be easier. And there’s a woodland on your doorstep. Most likely with some squirrels, although I can’t make promises. So you’ll lose the beach, but get a forest. ”
“I never liked the beach much,” Jamie fibs, then gives us all a hundred-megawatt smile.
“Excellent,” I say, shaking his hand and then Keith’s.
I leave to sign the paperwork while Ivy catches up with her parents, and then we take a deep breath. It’s time to see Ariana.
Ivy stops me in the passage on our way. Furtive, she glances up and down the hallway, then kisses me. Lightly at first, and then as we both feel the sparks, deeper. We stand there like high school sweethearts, snogging.
“You make me feel sixteen,” I say.
Ivy giggles. “Raging hormones and a one-track mind?”
“Couldn’t have summed it up better myself.”
“God, I wish we could have met when we were teens. You would have saved me from a decade of sparse and extremely mediocre sex.”
“If I knew you when I was that age, it would be dangerous for both of us. We’d be shagging all day and forget to eat or sleep.”
“And the problem with that is…?” she teases.
“No problem. None at all. Apart from our inevitable demise, of course.”
Ivy shrugs. “Starvation will do that to you. Still, not a bad way to go.”
“The best way to go,” I agree.
Her eyes twinkle mischievously. “Death by orgasm.”
When we enter Ariana’s room, her color is much better, but her expression is still cold. I can’t get used to this version of my sister. The one I had growing up was affectionate, and kind to a fault. I’ve already mourned for so long, but a fresh pang of grief hits me square in the chest when I think of all the time we’ve lost.
“Ariana,” I say, trying to force cheer even though there is a thickness in my throat. “How are you?”
“You’re looking better,” says Ivy.
“Don’t call me that,” she says, looking away.
Ivy stops in her tracks. “What shall we call you?”
“I’d prefer it if we didn’t speak at all, to be honest. But if you insist, you can call me Ari. I haven’t been Ariana since I was a child. Ariana is a different person.”
I exhale audibly.
“All right,” replies Ivy. She takes the same seat in the corner as before, to give Ariana and I some space.
“Has mother been in this morning?” I ask.
“Yes,” Ariana says, folding her arms. “I told her the same thing.”
I won’t take it personally. I remind myself that she’s been brainwashed for years. I can’t even imagine what she’s been through, but I know she needs us now more than ever.
“Is there anything you need? Anything we can bring you?”
“What I need is to get out of here,” she bites out.
“Aria— Ari. You almost died. Just let them look after you a little longer, okay?” When she doesn’t reply, I go on. “You’ve had a torrid time. Now you can rest. Let the dust settle before we make any decisions.”
“ We are not going to make any decisions,” she replies. “I will be discharged soon, and I will go on with my life as planned.”
“Which is?” I ask. “What is your plan?”
“It’s none of your business,” she hisses.
I can feel the anger emanating from her. Could they really have poisoned her so much against her own flesh and blood? Clearly so.
“We’re going to see them now,” I say. “The rest of the family. We’re going to the manor.”
“You seem to be confusing me with someone who gives a fuck.”
I glance at Ivy, who mirrors my dismay, then turn back to my bristling sister. “Dr. Sandringham has found a really lovely place for you to recover once you get out of here.”
“I’m not going,” Ariana insists. “And you’re deranged for thinking I might.”
“But, Ari?—”
“I’m not going to your fucking five-star cult retreat, Alistair,” Ariana snaps. “I’ve seen the website. Your quack of a shrink showed it to me. Does it look like I need pottery class and bullshit horseriding therapy? You live in a fucking dream world. And you think I’m the delusional one!”
Despite her venom, I’m calm. “Firstly, Dr. Sandringham is not a quack. She’s an esteemed psychologist who has helped hundreds of people. Secondly, if the retreat doesn’t appeal to you, we’ll find you another one.”
“You’re not listening,” Ariana says in a dangerous whisper. “I’m not fucking going to your pre-approved nuthouse.”
I put my hands up to press pause on the nuthouse angle. “Where would you choose to go?”
She looks at me as if I’m completely insane. “I’m going back home. Obviously.”
I choke on a bitter laugh. “Home? The De Lucas? You must be kidding.”
“I’m going home to Sebastian.”
I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. “Sebastian?”
Ariana pouts and stares at the ceiling.
“Sebastian?” I demand. “The same Sebastian who stayed home while he sent you out to murder your own family?”
“You’re not my family, ” she yells. “Sebastian is my family!”
Ivy stands, uncharacteristically scraping her chair. “Let’s get a coffee.”
I know what she really means is let’s walk this off and de-escalate the situation. My adrenaline is pumping, and my instinct is to finish this brutal conversation, but I know she’s right. I nod, and she gives Ariana a tight smile in farewell as we step out.