Chapter 8 Robin #5
“No one’s dusting for prints, Lil.” Phin claims, clearly annoyed he didn't find the secret first.
Moving closer, I scan over the scene, noting the red line along Aya’s neck, but nothing else seems out of place. Maggie did a brilliant job tidying up the dinner party, so the room looks sparse.
Corbin strides into the room through the door into the actual house itself, taking us all in and stopping when he notices what we’re looking at. His expression of indifference doesn’t change as he looks over his fiancée, laid on the floor.
“I hope he’ll murder himself off next so they both can leave the weekend early.” Merle whispers in my ear and I nod, because I’d love that too.
Sliding both hands into his pockets he stands straighter, giving the crowd of guests a smile which I know is his business expression. “Let’s all go out onto the patio.”
Assuming this is where Aya will finally get up and make her escape before we see her, we all trail back outside. We’re all bathed in warm light from the hanging lanterns, but shadows circle on the floor from the twisting mirror balls—the gardens are now a ghost party.
We wait a couple of silent minutes, before Corbin and Lily finally come out, and Willow wastes no time in taking center stage, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she unrolls the paper.
“Looks like our dear Phoenix has been a very, very naughty boy.” My head snaps to Wren because I feel his body stiffen to stone, my stomach dropping when I then look to my best friend, finding terror swirling in his usually soft eyes. He’s staring at Wren too.
“Master Buchanan has been on a secret cocaine binge and depleted most of his savings.” She reads out loud, the only other person who seems to share her enjoyment is Corbin. He leans against the bifold doors with his ankles crossed, a smug smile on his lips.
Already tears build in the back of my eyes, a shaky breath escaping me as I take a step away from the small crowd, desperately needing space. Phin gets a moment's reprieve before all eyes fall on him, letting out a soft whimper.
I can’t grasp how Corbin could be so cruel to his own blood, sharing this at an event that was meant to be for their business opening. Merle looks horrified and starts to slowly shake his head.
“You fucking bastard.” Wren vibrates with anger and I realise he must have already known. That's why they were looking at one another.
Phoenix is as still as a statue, but his eyes bounce around everyone in a panic. He doesn't look up at his brother, or his boyfriend, instead he frantically pings from both myself and Wren.
“Phin?” My voice is too hoarse to say anything more, and tears finally spill onto my cheeks. I knew deep down something had been off. The badly timed trip to the coast seems so obviously suspicious now in hindsight.
I’d kept the worry to myself, not wanting to cause any unneeded stress for Merle, he was already pissed that he'd taken off and opted out of helping launch the hotel.
Phin had been clean when they met and it took a long time for him to open up about his past drug problem.
God. I'm such a fool for ignoring the red flags. How had I not noticed?
Ripping my eyes away, I face Corbin. “He’s your brother! Why would you do this to him?”
I don’t know what shocks me more, the fact he laughs or when he wiggles his fingers in a goodbye, spinning into the house.
The betrayal of being left in the dark cracks me open like he used a butter knife, lodging it in my chest and slowly digging it in.
He didn’t trust me to help, but for some reason he found solace in Wren.
Phoenix flings himself at his boyfriend, but he pushes him back and slams his palm loudly on the table. “No!” Merle shouts, pointing a finger in an attempt to keep him back, before bounding into the dark house too.
Visibly shaking, he finally turns to face me.
“Wren helped me get better. He. Fuck. Robin—” Wren’s broad frame wraps himself around him, tucking his blonde head under his chin, as his body continues to shake.
I meet guarded green eyes, ready to protect my best friend from me.
Narrowing my eyes, the familiar feeling of blaming everything on him comes to the forefront of my stupid, naive brain.
I should never have trusted him.
“He slipped into a dark place again and none of us noticed. I fixed it. He’s fine.
” His tone is flat and void of space to argue.
I raise my chin, hunting for a scrap of the bond I thought we’d made today, but find nothing.
Phoenix has his face buried into his chest and I know he’s hiding from me, his shoulders shake and I know the panic will set in worse with the crowd still around him.
“I think we should all call it a night.” I furiously wipe at my cheeks, whilst everyone breaks into agreements, someone murmuring about getting a nightcap in the bar room, whilst others saying goodnight.
Lily hasn’t moved an inch or said a word, in fact she looks like an angelic illusion in her shimmering dress, the outdoor lights hitting the gold beads.
He won’t meet her gaze either, so she slowly walks forward, squeezes his elbow and then retreats into the house too.
She always knew when to give him space better than I did, but maybe for the first time in my life I should too.
Pain stabs in my chest at how he clings to Wren and not me, the irrational fear of not being needed by anyone rearing its unwanted, ugly head.
I know I'm being ridiculous, but another sob racks through him and Wren pulls him towards the house, as everyone else also goes inside too.
A scream of frustration begs to be released, not for myself but because my person was hurting so deeply and I didn’t even notice.
“Robin?” Cardinal says my name softly. “What shall I do with the clue?”
It takes me a moment to collect myself to look at him, and I have to cough to unblock the frog lodged in my throat. “Um—dining table? That way everyone can read it in the morning I guess.”
“That was fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, don’t worry.
” My response is automatic—the polite, good girl, submissive Robin is speaking now.
Twisting my bottom lip between my teeth, I look up at him, but it’s clear there's nothing more left to say. Giving me a little nod, he holds out his arm in the direction of the conservatory and we enter the house together. He places the crimson envelope on the dining table, Aya no longer on the floor. She’s probably in bed with her fiancé, snuggled up to the awful cretin.
We keep walking, turning up the stairs, my wedges thudding softly on the carpet and his strong steps follow behind me.
Tiffany lamps light up the corridors as we turn left to our rooms, chatter coming from the bar hideaway and hushed conversations from occupied bedrooms. I pull my key out of Wren’s blazer and I don’t stop, not even when he calls my name or says goodnight on a defeated sigh.