Chapter 32
SAGE
Late Saturday afternoon, the message from Nola arrives while I’m standing in front of the mirror in my suite, in Troy’s new hotel, trying to make myself look passable for a rehearsal dinner.
But when I read her texts, the words blur together.
Update from Quinn. Severin’s location data has him in Southwark on the date and time your sister disappeared.
Also, if I go dark for a bit, don't panic. Message Quinn if you need anything else. She can track him if he uses his phone.
Is everything okay?
I'm handling something. Old business that should have stayed buried.
Why? What’s going on? Can I help?
From you? You can't even decide if you want to kill your fiancé or kiss him. No, I’m fine. It’s just a ghost from the past that has turned up. Literally.
Who? What ghost?
She doesn’t reply after that, which is not unusual for her. Nola has always been a dark horse. Unlike Laine and me, she has never shared her past or the reason she is part of the group. But I can’t stress about Nola right now, I have my own demons.
Every bone in my body feels like jelly as I stare at the location she sent, trying to make sense of it. I have to sit on the edge of the bed to reread it several times. Eventually, it sinks in.
Troy wasn’t even at Grayfleet; he was in Southwark, miles away.
He wasn’t lying.
He didn’t kill her.
A ragged breath leaves my body.
But then, what was he doing in Southwark? I rack my brain to think of what’s in that area, but I come up short.
There’s no time for me to ponder either.
I have to finish getting ready for dinner.
Even though I’ve curled my hair and carefully applied makeup, and I’m wearing the deep burgundy dress that looks like a slash of blood against my pale skin, which Lauren, Troy’s stylist, sent over, it’s not enough.
I still look like I was thrown off a tower and then spent the night rolling around on the floor.
Even my face looks permanently startled, like I’m losing my mind.
I’m still in shock from what happened. Not from the fall.
Well, maybe the fall. But also everything I’ve found out and what Troy told me.
But it’s okay now, right? He didn’t kill Nell.
He couldn’t have. He wasn’t even at Grayfleet.
And throwing me off that tower—as horrible as it was—proved to me that Nell’s diary being found in the rocks with blood all over its pages couldn’t have happened.
My father did lie to me then, about that. Nothing new there.
But a small voice that won’t go away reminds me Troy’s still not innocent. There’s a dead body in his freezer, and he went to prison for a fire that killed his parents. Just because he didn’t kill Nell doesn’t mean he’s not a monster.
He’s a monster who turns me on and makes me come so hard I see stars.
I close my eyes, trying to push everything down so I can breathe. But the whiplash of it all ricochets around in my head, making me want to scream.
“Miss Lovett?” The hotel manager’s voice resounds through the door with a soft knock. I jerk as though shot, then get up and slowly open it.
“Yes?”
“Your party for your rehearsal dinner is waiting downstairs.”
I nod, release a breath, and quickly grab my purse. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I take one last look in the mirror. The girl staring back at me looks like Nell did the last day I saw her, when she was going off to marry a man she’d never met, as though she knew and might never come back. I wish I could go back in time and stop her from going. I’d give anything for that.
But it’s too late.
All I can do is right the wrongs. Someone killed my sister, and if it wasn’t Troy, who the hell was it?
When I step out of the elevator, the hotel’s dining room has been transformed.
Tall, flickering candles and low chandeliers cast a warm glow over a long table covered with gorgeous white linens, fine gold-edged china, and sparkling crystal glasses winking in the light.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the picture, overlooking a glittering London skyline. It looks absolutely breathtaking.
“Sage, my dear.” My mother’s voice cuts through the murmur of other guests.
“Mum, you’re here.”
She narrows her eyes at me, calling her mum.
She hates that word, but Mother seems so stiff and awkward.
I don’t hug her because it’s not something we do anymore.
Instead, I lean forward so she can air kiss both my cheeks.
She steps back to get a good look at me, running a critical gaze over every single detail.
As usual, she looks impeccable in a long navy dress that her boyfriend must have bought for her, her hair swept up in the same style she’s worn for decades.
When she was younger, she would wear it down like I tend to do.
But she got sick of trying to tame the curls.
In my head, the mother with loose, curly hair is the one who used to sing to me, taught me to sing, and would brush my hair until it gleamed.
When she left, it was like she forgot me, and now it’s hard to reconcile this sour-looking woman with the maternal figure in my hazy memories. Sometimes, I think I’ve got it wrong, and that it was Nell who brushed my hair and sang to me.
Maybe she did.
“You look lovely.” But in her face I can see the unspoken part of that sentence: for once. “It’s stunning up here, and you’re not. Troy certainly knows how to make an impression.”
“Just like father.”
She flicks her eyes upward at that. “Be thankful your father made it clear there was no prenup.”
“Mum!”
But she’s already moving away, examining the view with more interest than she’s ever shown me.
I turn away, too, only to find my father in the doorway. He looks the same as always: sharp suit, expensive cut, but not new. When I embrace him, he envelops me in cheap cologne.
“Sage.” He kisses my cheek, and I force myself not to flinch. “You look ravishing. Troy Severin is a lucky man.”
He pulls back and regards me with calculating eyes that constantly targeted me as a child, and a smile that always gave me the chills. Still does.
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
My father’s fake smile doesn’t falter. “Of course not. Everyone in this family plays their part.”
Before I can respond, there’s a hush around the room. Baby hairs prick at the back of my neck, and a warmth spreads to my toes when I hear his voice.
Troy is here.
It always feels like he’s watching me.
But when I turn around, his eyes are cold, reflecting nothing, looking at the person he’s talking to and not at me.
For a rare moment, I get to study him. He’s dressed in a dark blue dinner jacket, a crisp pale blue shirt with the collar open, and no tie.
He looks every inch the arrogant billionaire that everyone reveres him as.
A far cry from the man who held me captive last night, who hissed good girl against my skin like a sin, who teased me until I was writhing on the floor, making me feel needed for the first time in my life.
As his eyes fix on my father, his face goes hard, a snarl making his lips cruel momentarily.
Then it’s gone, hidden behind a polite mask as he crosses the room towards us.
Finally, his eyes find mine, the light glinting in his green irises, as a dark carnal look crosses his face that makes me forget to breathe.
But it’s not you he really wants, Nell whispers in my ear.
I shove Nell out of my head and smile at Troy. He doesn’t smile back, but he doesn’t look anywhere else, not even when Mundel appears beside him like a shadow to speak in low tones. He looks at me like a man starved, despite the tightness in his shoulders and around his mouth.
It’s then I realize, Troy is nervous.
He’s never nervous.
“Well,” my father says under his breath. “It looks like you’ve done your bit for once, and brought him to heel.”
“Richard. Melanie. Thank you for coming.” Troy’s voice is smooth as silk, sliding over me.
As he reaches us, his arm does the same to my waist, pulling me over an invisible line to his side.
“I trust your rooms are satisfactory?” Like a switch, he’s suddenly at ease, my charming fiancé brought to life; he even extends a hand to shake.
“Rooms are fine.” My father shrugs, not taking it.
Troy takes in my father for just a beat too long, his jaw clenching, before retracting his hand.
I force a smile. “Dad, you’re in the penthouse suite. It’s more than fine.”
Mother comes to the fray just as I want to leave it. “Quite the property portfolio you have, Troy. This hotel must be worth a fortune.”
I want to roll my eyes. Money is all she cares about these days.
“More than you can imagine,” he replies, looking right at my father.
“It’s also quite convenient. I do wonder about having the ceremony all the way out at that dreary estate tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be nicer to marry here?” As though she doesn’t want to make more effort than necessary.
“I prefer to have privacy.” Troy gives her a hooded look. “Keep what’s yours from prying eyes.”
“And lying hearts,” I murmur, finishing the saying before I can stop myself.
“How ominous.” My father chuckles. “You both sound like one of those old Wychshire families clinging to their dusty proverbs. Perhaps you’ve been out here on that island too long. Isolation breeds paranoia.”
Troy’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.
“But you’re from the States, aren’t you, Troy?” My mother looks confused.
“Yes, but I appreciate local wisdom. The founding families understood that you protect what’s yours, no matter what, or let it be taken from you.” He tightens his arm around me, pulling me closer, muscle in his jaw ticking.
Line definitely drawn.
My father’s eye twitches, and then the two men glare at each other like wolves ready to rip each other to bloody pieces.
“Mr. Severin?” A hotel staff member appears, saving us from a dog fight. “Your other guests have arrived.”