Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“WITHOUT YOU” BY URSINE VULPINE, ANNACA
BLOSSOM
Several days pass after Steele and I had our early morning conversation, after he assured me he wasn’t leaving and proved it by staying. Things aren’t what they used to be, I’m not sure they ever will be. But they’re something. They’re ours. And it fills me with hope.
It’s Friday evening, and I’m in my room, just getting changed in preparation for Friday night family dinner when my phone rings.
Father flashes on the screen.
“Hel—”
“There’s a gala tonight we are to attend. Be ready in an hour.”
He hangs up before I can say a word, and my stomach swoops. It’s a mixture of hope and something I don’t want to name but feels like dread.
“Tina!” I call, making my way to my door and the top of the stairs. She is peering up at me when I get there. “My father called. Apparently there’s a gala tonight. I’ve got to be ready in an hour. Is that okay?”
Her lips purse. “Of course, dearie.” Tina’s never made any secret that she doesn’t like the way he treats me.
“Thank you,” I rush out, hurrying back to my room and straight to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Then it’s make-up, dress, shoes and jewellery.
It’s a routine I’m semi familiar with. The only time my father spends with me is when we go to events like this, where he likes to show that he’s a family man.
I guess I should be grateful really, that he sees me at all.
I’m putting the final touches to my lipstick when I hear tires on the gravel driveway, so grabbing my beaded clutch, I make my way out of my room and to the top of the stairs.
The golden silk of my dress brushes along my bare legs, my red bottom heels sinking into the carpet as I begin to descend, light scarf draped around my shoulders.
I look up from my feet to find three pairs of eyes staring at me.
Ice blue, deep brown, and light green. Three faces that aren’t moving.
Three bodies that are stock still, and I flush from head to toe.
There is heat in their eyes, possession and pride.
My breath catches in particular when I meet Steele’s gaze.
He’s looking at me with the same desire as the others.
What happened between us isn’t forgotten. But we’re moving forward, together, and that means the world to me.
The way they look at me lends me courage for the night ahead. Makes me feel stronger and less fragile. But I also keenly feel the contrast of where I’m going, to a father that has never once looked at me with love. With pride. With anything other than calculation.
Just as I reach the bottom step my feet tangle in something, because of course I can’t just have a Cinderella moment. I go flying with a squeak, only to be caught in strong, bronze arms, laughing green eyes looking down at me.
“You already had my attention, Petal. You didn’t need to fall to grab it,” Nox teases, and huffs a laugh as he helps me back to my feet. “You look breathtaking, Princess.”
The way his voice lowers on that last word has my core pulsing, my cheeks heating further. Then his lips brush my cheek, in a barely there kiss that I’m sure he knows makes me desperate for more.
“Thank you, Sir,” I reply, loving the way his arms tighten a fraction and his pupils dilate.
“Absolutely exquisite, Bloom,” Ant states, taking my hand in his tattooed one and tugging me gently to him.
He kisses it, like he did in those first few days, and it’s just as searing as Nox’s touch.
Using his grip he spins me until Steele comes into view, his deep mahogany skin soft and warm in the low evening light.
“You are beautiful, Flower,” he tells me, Ant releasing my hand so I can go to Steele. It feels a little, fresh maybe between us? Like it’s a new seedling that needs careful handling but is full of promise. His large hand comes out, dark fingers caressing my blushing cheeks.
“Thank you, Steele,” I reply, turning my head slightly and placing a soft kiss on his palm.
The door behind Steele opens, and I freeze, my whole body going icy when my father walks in.
He’s handsome for an older man, charming when he wants to be.
The same golden brown hair as mine, though his skin is more tanned than my porcelain.
His eyes are brown, a cold brown of the frozen earth and not like Steele’s warm brown at all.
And that chilly gaze sweeps the hallway, stalling on the guys, then resuming until they find me.
His nostrils flare, no doubt at the sight of Steele’s fingers still hovering over my cheek.
“F-Father,” I whisper, all three of my men turning. “I was just coming. Allow me to introduce Anatole Reed, Nox Kane and Steele Vaughn. They’re staying with us along with Anatole’s brother, Justin.”
A small gasp leaves me as he gives them an up and down look, his lip curling into a sneer that he doesn’t bother to hide. He moves to looking back at me. He doesn’t acknowledge them. Doesn’t offer a greeting or hand. Just treats them like they don’t exist.
“Come, Blossom. We’re going to be late.”
With that, he spins on his polished heel and walks back out to the car.
I’m stunned speechless, my blood rushing around my body so fast I feel almost dizzy.
How could he be so rude?
“I—” I literally don’t know what to say, shame, hot and bright, making my stomach curdle, my tongue thick.
The guys turn, all three of them with jaws clenched, tension making the air around them practically vibrate.
“You call us if you need to, okay, Flower?” Steele orders, his brown eyes that were hot moments before now colder, harder.
“No matter why, we’ll come and get you if you need us, Bloom,” Ant adds, coming up beside me, his warm hand gently grasping the top of my arm.
“O-okay.” I’m not entirely sure why I might need that, but something inside me relaxes slightly at the offer.
“Blossom!” My father’s voice yells through the open door and I flinch. Hard.
“I have to go,” I whisper, suddenly not wanting to step through that door. Safety is here, with them, no matter how complicated things might be between us right now. Out there, feels… dangerous.
“This is fucking bullshit,” Nox hisses, reminding me of what he said about Noah having to leave us.
I give him a reassuring smile. Or try to anyway, but it feels a little wobbly at the edges, a little flat. They see it, the way it wavers and doesn’t reach my eyes, because the tension turns almost violent in the air, palpable against my skin.
“I’ll be fine, Nox. Probably won’t be there long anyway.”
The slamming of a car door has me looking at each of them one last time, then stepping round them and hurrying out of the door into the early summer night. I don’t look back. I’m not sure I’d be able to leave if I did.
The driver is by the back passenger door, holding it open for me. He must be my father’s man because it’s not Henry.
“Thank you,” I murmur as I get in, the door closing with a quiet but resounding click behind me.
The engine starts. We drive off, down the gravel driveway and the further we get from home the more my heart jackhammers in my chest, each pulse shaking me.
I feel more than see my father look over.
“Your mother would be so disappointed.” I have to hold in the flinch at his barbed words.
He knows exactly where to cut to give the most pain, and my mother is one of those places.
“Wasting your potential on broken things, and now those two thugs…” He cuts off with a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.
Two thugs? Does he mean the guys? But then he’d surely have said three? And they’re not criminals, not that I know of anyway and I’m sure they would have told me.
“Playing house with other people’s castoffs. It’s pathetic, Blossom. Just because you’re barren, doesn’t t mean you need to lower yourself to looking after mongrel mutts.”
Each word lands like a slash, and I’m surprised I’m not bleeding all over this silk dress and the leather seats.
I look out of the window, stare at the city passing as I don’t say a word. What is there to say? He’s never hidden his disdain for my choices, but he’s also never been so scathing and barbaric in his language.
The small flutter of hope I felt at finally having some of his attention fizzles and dies as we drive into the night. That’s the tragedy of my father, of the great Wilson Devonshire. He doesn’t even need to work hard to undo me. To make me feel small. To make me feel worthless.
He just has to be himself.
The gala passes by in a sparkling blur, like I’m on a merry go round that is too loud, too bright. I feel like I’m performing, smiling, making polite conversation that fits with society’s expectations. Being the daughter my father needs for optics, to make himself shine brighter.
I’m scarily good at it. Perhaps because I’ve been doing it my whole life in the hopes that he would finally see me. He never does.
Yet I now know what it’s like to be seen. To be heard and worshipped and loved even though none of us have used those words yet.
And that leaves me feeling a little raw standing here, pretending. Still not fully healed from what happened with Steele, with Noah. And it’s like my father opened a wound that never fully heals, never closes completely. Just waits there, festering.
I take a sip from the glass of champagne they handed me when we arrived, the sweet taste barely registering as I reply to the person talking to me.
I actually can’t remember their name, or really what we were even talking about.
My father is across the room, working it with charming smiles and manly chuckles that have the men and women around him captivated.
He doesn’t look my way, not unless someone says something about me to him. Then he’s the doting father, showing me affection that only goes skin deep.