Chapter 19
FRANKIE
Once Cora and her sisters are out of earshot, her mother finally turns to face me, her face still twisted in disgust. “Well, get it over with then. I assume you don’t want to spend time having idle chitchat with me.
” She takes a sip of her champagne, and my throat burns as I watch.
But I can’t let myself slip, not tonight.
Everything has to perfect for her, I refuse to fuck it up.
“Fine, I'll cut to the chase. I love your daughter, Mrs. Stanley. And I intend on making her very happy. Despite what the papers have said, I am an honourable man, and I can provide for her.”
She snorts. “Oh yes, I hear your drug empire is making you plenty of money. But what exactly do you expect from me? A pat on the back? An invitation to my next luncheon perhaps?” Her jaw stiffens and rises as she steps closer.
“I know your type. That might come as a surprise to you, but I know exactly what kind of man you are. My daughter is an heiress, but she will not receive a penny of her inheritance if she marries you. Cora may not be the brightest, but unlucky for you, I am. You only want her for her money.”
I flash my best smile at her. “Oh no, you’ve got me all wrong. See, Cora’s friend Bella has told me all about how your reason for wanting her to marry the Duke of… What was it? Dudley?”
“It’s Devonshire. As in the county.” She says through gritted teeth.
“Ah yes, my mistake. These lords and ladies all seem to blend together. Anyway, Cora’s friend happened to mention that you and your husband were, um, how do I put this?
Fucking skint?” I drop the smile, giving her a glimpse of the monster I’ve become.
A monster who would burn down the world for Cora, even if it meant her parents burned too.
“I wanted to talk to you and try to build some kind of bridge between us, for Cora’s sake.
But I can see now that there's not much point in that. I love your daughter, Mrs. Stanley, and she loves me. I will marry her and I will give her a good life, with or without your approval.” I glance up to see Cora talking to a very tall, very handsome aristocrat.
She looks uncomfortable as he strokes her arm.
“I will fight you every step of the way, Mr. Garrick. A mother’s love knows no limits, and you will undoubtedly ruin our family’s reputation. If you think for one second I will let you drag our good name through?—”
“Please, call me Frankie. We're going to be one big happy family, after all.” My stomach twists into a roaring fire of jealousy.
The prick has his hand wrapped around her waist, fingers splayed as it travels lower towards her arse.
He cups her left cheek and Cora whirls out of his grip, expression bewildered.
Nope. Absolutely fucking not.
“Excuse me.” I mutter as I take long strides over to where Cora stands.
The room melts away into a haze. Shadows move across the floor, writhing like snakes against the polished wood. But all I care about is the prick and his stupid pompous face.
My fist flies.
The back of his skull cracks.
Cora screams.
But it’s all distant. A faraway song that’s muffled. Ringing starts in my ear as I carry on beating the shit out of the stranger. Hands grab me and I’m pulled up onto my feet.
“Do him in, Frankie!” Charlie shouts. My head snaps up and around, cold dread sweeping over me like an angel of death. My knuckles throb, but I don’t care even though I should. All my mind can focus on is finding Charlie.
Where is he? How did he get here?
I made sure he stayed out of the way until we had left the flat. I explained it to him on our way to the florist. Where is he?
“Show him who you fucking are!” Charlie’s voice is deeper now, an echo of a ghost.
“Are you a fucking Garrick or not? Show them, Son. Show them what you’re capable of.” He sounds so close, but how could he be? He’s dead.
The world continues to blur, the screams and protests become a harmony of murder. And when the world finally returns to the right speed, all I can see is red. A thick red fog of testosterone and power. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I begin or end.
All I know is that he needs to hurt.
He needed to pay for touching her.
“Show him, Frankie.” I can’t tell who says it, but I feel my own lips move as I shrug off the people that are trying to pull me away from whoever this fuckwit is. Hands balled, I begin to barrel back towards him. But soft hands grab my own, and it brings me to a standstill.
“Frankie.” The softest voice I’ve ever heard.
“Frankie, you can stop now. You’ve hurt him enough.” The kindest voice I’ve ever heard.
“Please, stop.”
So I do.