Chapter 29
The rising sun trickles over us in slow, lazy rivulets. We’ve been awake for most of the night reintroducing ourselves to
each other.
“When do you have to go?” he asks, running a hand up my bare chest until it reaches my neck.
“Never, if you keep doing that,” I say, my eyes fluttering closed again.
He huffs a laugh, pulling me in toward him until my head rests on his side. I sink into him, reveling in a morning without
the rolling wave of anxiety the moment my brain achieves consciousness.
“I have to go soon,” I say into his chest. “I need to tell Dominic, then I have to tell everyone else.” It’s the only way to take control of what’s happening, what Malcolm is threatening.
Damage control before the damage is done.
Well, not that I haven’t already caused a lot to everyone around me.
Making Spencer put on a high-stakes act, risking Pacha and Cecily’s jobs, putting Oliver in a conflicting position without his knowledge.
“Could you organize a meeting with him today?”
He runs a hand through my hair. “I think Dominic’s already left; he was meant to fly back to London after the ball last night.”
The sheets crumple as I sit up. “I thought you said he was staying at this hotel?”
“I said he has a room at this hotel,” Oliver clarifies, “but Dom is like a vampire; he barely sleeps.”
I nod. “That would explain the sexy brooding thing.”
“And the bloodlust,” Oliver adds, face deadpan.
“Booking a hotel room and not even sleeping in it is the level of success I aspire to.” I stare up at the popcorn ceiling.
“He still has it until midday.” He throws a mischievous smile in my direction. “Want to go up there and use the bathtub?”
He kisses behind my ear, running his hand down my back in tiny circles.
I imagine saying yes, sinking further into Oliver’s world. Lying my back against his bare chest in a sprawling bathtub filled
with bubbles, his fingers exploring every inch of me. I groan, both out of being turned on and annoyed that the decision to
leave just became a whole lot harder.
I tilt my chin toward him; the light reflects off the morning stubble lifting from his skin. “So very, very tempting, but
Spencer and I have a flight to catch. And unlike Dominic, I can’t afford to rebook. Maybe I could speak to him while he’s
in London?”
Oliver sits up on his elbows. “His schedule is kind of crazy over the next week. Receiving bad news at the moment is going
to be stressful for him.”
My stomach twists briefly when I remember the situation I’ve put Oliver in.
He knows everything; he could quite easily go to Dominic himself and expose the truth.
He’d probably get a promotion for his honesty.
Finally being honest with myself and the world is going to be my downfall.
But at least this time it will be under my control.
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m kind of on a time crunch here. You remember, the blackmail of it all?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and he sighs. “Fucking Malcolm. If he didn’t exist, you could have just . . .” He trails
off, looking sheepish.
I scoff, studying his face. “Were you about to say, ‘I could have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for those meddling kids’?”
He rubs the side of his jaw. “Maybe, I don’t know.” He shrugs and gives me a soft smile as the reality of this situation dawns
on us in the daylight.
In a way, it’s the best thing he could have said. His being unsure about what he would do in my situation makes me feel less
like a criminal. Last night, everything seemed so dramatic, so at odds with everything I’ve ever wanted to do or be. But now,
with the sun shining through, I know I have to do what I didn’t with Malcolm the first time round. I didn’t take control of
my own decisions; I didn’t do what needed to be done. Malcolm needs to be exposed for what he did and have a light shone against
his darkness. Sure, I’m the collateral damage in this strategy, but maybe I deserve to be. I did this. I made Spencer pretend
to be the founder of Wyst. At no point did I stop to consider the consequences. The photos Malcolm took were not my fault.
But if I sit back and let other people have control of my life, I could never forgive myself. Even if finally destroying him
might destroy me too.
I reluctantly drag myself away from Oliver, away from the warm king-sized bed and out into the chilled expanse of the hotel room. The window has condensation from the cold end of winter morning outside. We don’t make the obligatory statements of intent, promises to make time and see each other.
We do this dance; a dressing rather than undressing one would usually expect with a make-out session this intense. He kisses
up my thighs as I slide on my underwear, teases my nipples with his tongue as I button up a borrowed shirt. I use my tongue,
gliding up his stomach as he slides on his trousers. By the time we are fully dressed, he’s rock-hard and I’m utterly liquid.
“I should go,” I say breathlessly over my shoulder. He somehow manages to help me step into shorts with one hand while running
the other up the inside of my thigh. As I turn my back to him to leave, he keeps his hands on me like magnets. My palms push
against the door, fingernails scraping across the grain as he brackets me. Clasping my jaw in his fingers, turning my chin
over my shoulder to meet his mouth. Our tongues brush against each other’s instead of talking. My fingers lace into his hair
while his erection presses into me, turning my core completely molten.
“And I have a meeting in twenty minutes,” he says into my mouth, curling a hand around my waist and into the front of my shorts,
his peppery scent enveloping me like a blanket.
My voice comes out jagged. “I just need fifteen.”
“How about ten?” he says with a smirk.
“Deal.”
We know we shouldn’t reverse the progress we’ve just made. My shorts are pulled back down in his fist as I grind against him. I undo the zipper and button of his trousers and rub him across my wet center in long languid strokes. His head drops to my shoulder, bumping his brow against the door.
“You are evil,” he says, his voice vibrating onto my skin.
Twenty-five minutes later, I slip out of the room, giggling, as I watch Oliver, erection still pressing against his trousers,
logging into his Zoom meeting and apologizing for his delayed arrival.
I wink at him before I shut the door, feeling weightless for the first time in years.
My mind is comfortably empty as I ride the humming elevator to the lobby, until the doors slide open and I lock eyes with
my brother.
“Hey, where were you last night? I tried to find you. I can’t believe we placed!” he says, squinting with a bewildered and
panicked look on his face.
I rub my arm. “Yeah, amazing. Thanks for going up there.”
He is still in his suit; did he stay out all night partying?
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice. When Wyst was announced as third place, I had to go up there. I looked for you to pull
you up onstage, but you and Oliver had disappeared.” He looks me up and down. “I assumed you went back to his hotel . . .
and looks like I was right. What was all that about not seeing him anymore?”
My heart palpitates for a few beats before the words burst out of me. “I told Oliver what we did.”
Spencer lets out a gasping cough, taking my elbow and maneuvering me away from the crowd of tourists lining up at the check-in
desk to a pair of purple armchairs in the corner. “Why the bloody hell would you do that?”
My lip quivers. “It was an emergency. Malcolm was there last night. He threatened me.”
Spencer blinks, the outrage melting from his expression. “Fuck. What happened?”
“He told me if we placed, I have to sign over half the ownership of the company. If I don’t do it, he will expose everything
I’ve done. He’s been watching us, Spence. He has a whole exposé written up and ready to go. He threatened me in London, trying
to get me to be a part of his story, to say that I was lying about what he did to me as well. When I said no, he came to the
ball and blackmailed me. He knows everything.”
“He threatened you in London?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to throw you off before the final round, not that late in the game. I needed you focused.” I nod, still trying
to convince myself it was the right thing to do.
“Okay . . . so . . . what if we just give him half the money or something?” Spencer shakes his head, not quite believing the
situation I’ve put us both in.
I spit out a humorless laugh. “As soon as it dries up, he’ll want more and more. I don’t have a choice . . . Malcolm is publishing
his article on Monday, so Wyst’s statement will go live tomorrow.” I swallow a shaky breath. “But even if I did have a choice.
It’s the right thing to do. We can’t keep lying like this to everyone.”
“But we did it . . . The plan worked,” Spencer says feebly.
I feel drunk, like my head is so woozy my neck can’t hold it upright. I fold my cold fingers over one another in my lap, finally
looking up at my brother.
“It’s too late. I’ve already set it in motion by telling Oliver. I can’t go back now.”
Spencer’s eyes turn from a soft garden green to an angry poison. “Are you serious?”
“It’s time, Spence.” I gesture around the lobby of the five-star hotel we can’t afford to be in. “This has all gone too far.
I have to tell Dominic before Oliver is obliged to. I’m doing the right thing,” I conclude, mostly because I need to hear
someone say it.
“Because it went so well the last time you did the right thing.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “This should be a joint
decision between the both of us. Don’t let that arsehole force your hand again.”
We stare at each other, trying to telepathically come to the same conclusion as we always do. But the look in his eyes suggests
he’s just as confused as me. My own green eyes flare back at me.
He looks away. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”
I scoff out a laugh. “What?”
“You weren’t even going to consult me?” His eyebrows try to reach the ceiling.
“Why would I need to?” I blink at him. “Wyst is my company, Spence.”
“Because you were the one who dragged me into this! You made me commit fraud for you! And that makes me a part of Wyst whether
you like it or not. All I’ve been doing is working hard to make up for your mistake, to get your company out of a pit, and you don’t even tell me when you’ve thrown everything I’ve done down the drain because what? You feel bad?”
He lets out a long overdue breath.
For a second, all I can concentrate on is subduing my prickling eyes.
“Because this whole thing is a farce. We’re lying.
And Malcolm is going to expose us if I don’t do it first. I don’t have a choice.
” I rest my head in my trembling hands, trying to ignore the tourists side-eyeing us as they roll their suitcases past.
“Is this why you didn’t tell me? So you could know for your own ego’s sake if Wyst would place in the top three before you
came clean?”
“I didn’t tell you because you are not a real CEO; you are not the real founder. You just had to play your part, which you did brilliantly, so, thank you. You can go home now.”
I point to the door.
He rolls his eyes. “This is all you’ve cared about, and now you’re throwing it away? You know you haven’t even asked me how
my audition went, the one I had to rush through to be here for you.” He throws his jacket over his shoulder and turns.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “How was it?” I say after him.
“It was great! I fucking nailed it!” he shouts over his shoulder as he walks away, leaving me in Oliver’s shirt and shorts
and with my ballgown slung over my arm.