10. Aria
10
ARIA
I stopped dead, my mouth falling open for a few agonising seconds before I snapped it shut.
Tristan Chamberlain-Smith, in the literal flesh. Barefoot, in a pair of loose, low-slung grey joggers, his torso bare, roughly towelling his hair dry as he strolled into his bedroom from his en suite.
His bedroom.
Where I was.
Shit.
I dived for the floor behind his huge bed, my heart pounding and my mind racing. I’d thought he was going to be out somewhere with Roman. I was positive that was what Knox had said. How was I supposed to investigate now?
Peering around the edge of the bed, I watched as Tristan crossed to the sliding doors that led to his dressing room. I deliberately averted my gaze when I realised I was noticing the ripple of his muscles. I wanted to throw up inside my mouth.
He didn’t appear to be putting on more clothes, either, reappearing a few moments later with his phone clasped in his hand. As he dropped onto his bed, I flattened myself against the floor, holding my breath. I should never have come in here. I didn’t even know why I’d come in here, really.
Okay, that was a lie.
Maybe it was because I wanted to know if Tristan had any information on what I’d discovered. If he’d been hiding information about my family from me all this time…
I sucked in a shuddering breath, clamping my hand over my mouth instantly to hide any noise I might accidentally make. As much as I hated to admit it, to know he’d hidden this from me would hurt so much. It was stupid of me to think that way because he owed me nothing, and I didn’t really even know anything about the situation other than what I’d gleaned from the notebook.
Even so. My brain was not rational. Was anyone’s?
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, breathing in a million dust mites while Tristan relaxed on his luxurious bed, but eventually, he sighed loudly and then rolled off the bed. From my restricted viewpoint, I could see his feet as he padded over to his dressing room.
The second his feet disappeared from view, I ran for it.
That was my plan, anyway.
A hand shot out and yanked me backwards into a hard chest.
A hard, bare chest.
“What are you doing sneaking around my room, little scorpion?”
Oh, shit.
“Tristan! My favourite godbrother.” I leaned back against him, easily ignoring the solid warmth of his body pressed against my back because my heart was pounding so hard with sudden panic I was surprised it wasn’t audible. “What a coincidence. I was just coming to find you—your iPad.”
“Mmm, yeah, because it would make so much sense for me to hide it under my bed instead of in my desk drawer, where I always keep it.”
“How would I know where you keep it? It’s not like I’m a frequent visitor to your bedroom.”
His lips brushed over my ear. “You’d like to be, though. Don’t worry. You get to be the special one today. I prefer to keep my extracurricular companions well away from dear Mummy and Daddy. You don’t need to concern your pretty little head with thoughts of just how many girls have enjoyed the pleasure of my company in my childhood bedroom.”
“You’re disgusting.” I ripped myself away from him, spinning around to glare at his smug, amused face. He should have been angry that I’d been snooping around his room, but he either had nothing to hide or was arrogant enough to think I wouldn’t be able to find whatever was hidden.
“Disgusting?” One brow arched. “Suuuure. Why are you all out of breath, then? Why are your nipples hard enough to cut glass?”
My gaze instantly shot downwards, my hands flying to my chest without a conscious thought. “They are not!”
He smirked at me. “They are. It’s okay to be turned on by me, baby. We both know I’m hot.”
I swept my gaze down his body, stopping at the bulge in his joggers that was definitely bigger than it had been earlier, not that I’d been purposely looking or anything. “Seems like you’re the one who’s turned on.”
“Don’t take it personally.”
“Believe me, I won’t,” I hissed, spinning on my heel. His laughter followed me down the hallway to my own bedroom, where I slumped back on my huge bed with a sigh. Maybe it had been a mistake to come to the Smith-Chamberlain mansion for the weekend. It wasn’t something I usually did, and my godparents had been visibly shocked when I’d shown up at the gates earlier, having hitched a lift with Knox and Elena, who were going back to his family house for the weekend.
But this notebook I’d found…the names inside…the strange words…I had to know more. Especially after I’d discovered the missing pages.
At first, I hadn’t noticed anything wrong during my cursory flip through, but then when I’d taken a closer look, I’d noticed the tear lines where several pages had been removed, right after the list of names.
It was the unknown that had drawn me here this weekend.
My great-uncle had been on that list, and I wanted to know why. Why did his name have a question mark next to it? Who were the other people on the list that I didn’t recognise the names of? What had been written on those missing pages? Why was the book hidden under the floorboards in the bell tower?
My knowledge of my great-uncle was minimal. He’d been my grandmother’s twin brother. She refused to speak about him, and all I knew was that he’d passed away in a tragic accident long before I was born. I didn’t know how he’d died, and I didn’t even know where he was buried. Maybe I should have asked more about him when I was younger, but he’d only been mentioned a few times, and I didn’t want to hurt my grandma by bringing up something that was obviously painful for her.
So that was the main reason I was here. Tristan’s grandfather had been on that list of names, so if anyone was likely to know something about my family history, it was Tristan’s family.
“We should do this more often, darling.” Jane Smith-Chamberlain rolled her head to the side to look at her husband, a little tipsy after several gins following dinner. She placed her Waterford crystal glass down on the mahogany side table before raising her hand. “Lawrence! Another gin.”
“We should,” Gregory agreed. He was staring into the fire, smoking—and why my godparents had a fire lit during what was possibly the warmest weekend of the year so far, I had no idea. Maybe they liked the aesthetic. I screwed up my face, trying not to breathe in the smoke. Weed was one thing, but these cigars were another. And the “smoking room” where we currently were was permeated by the smell. Still, it was nice in a way that Tristan’s parents wanted us to all spend time together.
“I have a vision of the future.” My godmother waved her hand in the air theatrically. “Tristan, with his lovely wife and children, in residence in the east wing. Aria…joining us with her family for an intimate dinner party. All of us together as one happy family.”
I could feel Tristan’s eyes on the side of my face, but I didn’t turn to look at him. This was the opening I needed.
“Speaking of family?—”
“Oh, Aria. I’ve been thinking of drawing up a list of prospects for you. Your family name may be an issue, but I’m positive I can find a good match for you.”
“Um. Thank you.”
“Mother. Aria doesn’t need you to draw her up a list of prospects. I’m sure she can find someone on her own.” Tristan’s voice was harsh, and his mother startled, blinking rapidly before raising her refilled glass of gin.
“Of course she can, but as her godmother, I have a responsibility to make sure she has the best possible chances in life. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be able to find a man of good standing with our connections. A future lawyer, perhaps. Oh, Maria mentioned Tallulah has a son?—”
“Mother,” Tristan growled.
“Tristan. Don’t speak to your mother with that tone of voice. Have you put any thought to your own prospects? Lady Whitstable seemed very keen at the last ball we attended. Have you followed that up?” Tristan’s dad gave him a pointed look.
Tristan smirked. “Yeah, she was keen on my dick,” he said under his breath. “We’ve been in touch,” he said more loudly, and his dad nodded.
“Good.” He didn’t appear to realise that Tristan was clearly lying through his teeth.
I cleared my throat. “All this talk of family has made me curious. Um, Gregory, your dad was at school with my great-uncle, weren’t you? Is there anything you can tell me about him?”
The silence that instantly fell was thick and suffocating. When one of the logs in the fireplace popped, Jane flinched. Gregory stared into the fireplace, unseeing, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Eventually, he spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you. He and my father moved in different circles, so as far as I’m aware, they didn’t interact.”
“Oh. I suppose that makes sense. Did he ever mention him? Even something small?” My voice grew quiet. “I don’t know anything about him, and I-I’d like to know more about my family.”
My godfather placed his cigar in the ashtray, rubbing at his mouth. “He liked to row. Never made it onto the rowing team, though. You…you must understand, Aria. In their day, scholarship students were looked down upon. Even those who didn’t have the right family name… Well, he had two strikes against him from the beginning.”
“That’s still the same now,” I muttered, and it was, in a way. We still had the elite, led by the three gods, and two of those three had been designated as gods purely because of their family names. Although…I guessed the elite wasn’t quite so discriminatory these days. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know much else. He…he was very studious. Tutored one or two of the students, I believe. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that. As I said, they moved in different circles, and my father wouldn’t have interacted with him much.”
“Who did he tutor?”
“I don’t know.” He reached over, patting my knee. “I’m sorry, Aria. I wish I had more to tell you, but perhaps it’s best that the past remains in the past.”
“I agree.” Jane raised her glass again. “The past should remain in the past. It doesn’t do any good to look back on things that can’t be changed. Look forward to your bright future instead.”
Defeated, I slumped back in my seat, ignoring Tristan’s frown.