Chapter 4 #2
Charles and I had the kind of friendship most people would probably call an armed truce.
His parents were filthy rich. My parents were filthy rich.
That alone meant we had more in common with each other than most people, which was why we’d ended up in the same clique.
Still, it had always been obvious that we brought out the worst in each other, especially when we were drunk.
The light turned green, and the car glided off again, engine purring smoothly. “Yeah. I got him and Nate on the guest list too. Is that a problem?”
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“There’ll only be trouble if you provoke him.”
“Everything I say provokes Charles when he’s been drinking.”
“I’ll make sure you two don’t smash each other’s heads in,” he promised.
I snorted. Not long ago, Charles had dealt me a punch at a party on the Asterdams’ yacht that had left me with a black eye and knocked me into the open sea—right in front of James.
I could count my lucky stars that another party guest had been sober enough to throw me a lifebuoy and haul me out of the water.
“It won’t be any fun without you,” James needled.
I groaned. “Fine.”
“Hell yes!” he shouted, pounding the steering wheel in delight. His big grin reassured me that perhaps going out again wasn’t such a bad idea. “So what else is new with you? How are things at the hotel? What’s Henry up to?”
James knew by now about my brother’s addiction.
I’d had to talk to someone, and Henry had given me permission to tell James, on the strict proviso that it stayed between us.
“There’s not much new with me. The hotel is doing as well as can be expected.
And Henry is fine. He’s still in therapy.
But he’s pretty stressed about my dad’s trial coming up. ” Just like the rest of us.
“I bet. But he’s still with Kate?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know much about Kate. Only that she used to be homeless, which people had been up in arms about for quite a while. But no one cared about that anymore. Most scandals blew over faster than rain clouds. Except for the drama surrounding my dad—that never seemed to get old.
“No offence, but your brother’s taste in women really leaves something to be desired. I mean, he could have had my sister.”
I shot James a pointed look. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“What are you saying?”
“Georgina, Beth, Samantha, Vanessa . . .” I rattled off the names of just a few of his recent conquests. I had nothing against them, and I was sure they were amazing women—but all of them happened to be old enough to be James’s mother.
He tutted. “You’re one to talk. When was the last time you got laid? Two months ago? Jessie told Nate that she messaged you the other day and you never replied.”
“I wasn’t in the mood.”
James shot me a sidelong are-you-kidding-me look. “You weren’t in the mood for a lingerie model? I thought you had a good time with her. You ditched me and the lads for her at the Pearl Gala, after all.”
“There are more important things than sex.”
“Since when?”
Since I realised just how fucked up everything is.
For a long time, I’d tried to bury my problems with wild parties and all that went with them, but it hadn’t changed the facts of the matter: My dad was on trial for sexual abuse, my mum was well on her way to becoming an alcoholic, and Henry had been addicted to pills because it was the only way he could deal with everything.
When I’d found out about his addiction, I’d made a decision: I wouldn’t let my dad destroy me.
I wouldn’t grant him that victory. Instead, I would do everything possible to take back control of my life.
But that meant I had to stop numbing my feelings with constant partying.
“Since recently,” I said evasively, because I didn’t feel like getting into it with James again.
His eyes narrowed. “Is this about a woman?”
Out of the blue, his question made me think of Grace and how good it had felt to hold her yesterday.
Too good, to be honest. I’d only been trying to comfort her.
I might be an arsehole, but I wasn’t heartless.
Still, being so close to her had done something to me.
I put it down to almost two months of abstinence.
My body was starved of touch. Grace should have been the last person to turn me on, though.
She hated me with a passion that was almost comical.
And me? I honestly didn’t know how I felt about her.
It was fun to wind her up. No one lost their temper more beautifully than Grace Claymore.
Besides, she was exactly my type. She was gorgeous, with an incredible body, blond hair, and brown eyes.
And she could hold her own, which I admired.
I wasn’t ashamed to admit I’d had more than one hot fantasy about her in that maid’s uniform.
If she ever found out, though, she’d castrate me—without anaesthetic.
“No. I have other priorities right now,” I said, and changed the topic. “How are things with you?”
“Pretty good, except that my dad has been nagging me since Christmas about joining the company this summer, at least for a longer internship,” James replied.
His dad was the CEO of Asterdam Fashion, one of the biggest fashion companies in the world, and his mum was a well-known designer.
My family may have been rich, but James’s was much richer.
The Darlington was worth almost two billion, whereas the Asterdams were sitting on a constantly growing fortune—currently worth fifty billion.
“Did you tell him you don’t want to?”
James glanced over his shoulder before merging lanes. “Yes, but he doesn’t want to hear it. I’ve told him plenty of times that I’m not into all that fashion stuff. Olivia, on the other hand, has been begging him for months to be allowed to join the company. But he won’t listen to her either.”
“Maybe he needs a hearing aid.”
James snorted. “If only it were that easy. He’s totally caught up in an old-fashioned hierarchy where his son is the legitimate heir to his legacy, even though Liv is just as qualified as I am, if not more. And unlike me, she actually cares.”
“Can’t you all just sit down together and talk about it?” I suggested.
“Great idea! Why don’t you sit down with your parents and brothers and talk?”
I grimaced. “Forget I said anything.”
“That’s what I thought,” James said, pulling up in front of our favourite Italian restaurant.
Over pizza and pasta, he told me what he’d been getting up to in Cambridge over the past few weeks and with whom.
He raved for what felt like an eternity about an attractive new female professor who was twenty years older than him.
When I warned him not to go there, he seemed to take it not as advice but a challenge, and began concocting a plan to have his way with her.
Afterwards, James drove me to The Darlington.
As soon as the Maserati came to a stop outside the hotel, the photographers who had been a routine fixture at the entrance for months swarmed the car.
I grabbed my rucksack from the footwell and opened the door.
The clicking of the cameras grew louder, the flashes brighter.
“Thanks for the ride and treating me to dinner. Next one’s on me. ”
James nodded. “Anytime. I’ll see you on Saturday. And don’t you dare bail.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”