Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
VICKY
The reflection that stares back at me as I sit at my dressing table to put on my makeup doesn’t look anything like me. I have a sun-kissed shimmer from my honeymoon in Croatia, but it’s more than a tan. I’m glowing from the inside out.
The life I once dreamed of but never thought possible is now mine. At times, guilt still creeps in, reminding me this life was meant for Beth, not me. When the weight of it presses down like a heavy blanket, I tell myself that my sister loved me and would want me to be happy.
Since Nicholas and I returned from our honeymoon, other than a one-line text from Mum saying “welcome back,” I haven’t heard from my parents. I’m not sure if they’re giving me space to adjust to my new life at Oakleigh, or if they are just relieved I’m off their hands and no longer a burden. Whatever their reasons, and despite my well-worn armor, it stings that they haven’t come to see or check on me. To ask me how I am, if I’m all right, or if there’s anything I need from them.
Well, screw them. I have a new family now, and a new business. Anthony sent me pictures of the house over the weekend, as well as the interior plans. I have six weeks to deliver the final set of ideas to him and his wife, although I have much less time to pull together a first draft. If they approve them, work will begin in the new year. Nicholas’s positive reaction to Montague Interiors has spurred me on even more, and I cannot wait to get started.
Start small, aim big. That’s my motto, and I’m determined to build something that’s solely mine. Something I can look back on and say, “I did that”.
The door to my dressing room opens, and Nicholas enters. My heart pitter-patters, and my stomach sinks and lifts like I’m on a rollercoaster. Our eyes meet in the mirror, his glittering with lust. He might not love me, but he desperately wants me.
He saunters up behind me and brushes my hair out of the way. Bending down, he lightly kisses my neck. Goosebumps pop up everywhere, and I shiver. Reaching over my shoulder, he firmly grabs my right breast, and not in a playful way. It’s as though he’s claiming me. I arch my back, pushing my breast into his palm. His other hand wraps around my throat, and he tips my head back. A few seconds pass as we stare at each other, our eye contact deep and prolonged. Leaning over, his lips brush my ear.
“Be good today, wife.”
He releases me, spins around, and leaves the room. Air shoots from my lungs in a whoosh. I don’t even remember holding my breath, but I must have. How hot was that? I touch my throat, the imprint of his hand lingering on my skin. Tingles consume my body until they’re everywhere, and I squirm, wishing it was Nicholas’s hand between my legs instead of a stupid chair. There’s no relief to be gained from a chair.
Standing quickly, I head into the bedroom. It’s empty. Great. Now I’m going to spend the day feeling all flushed and needy. At least I have lunch with Eloise and Briony to look forward to. I suggested to them that Imogen should join our group, and they all readily agreed. She’s my sister-in-law, but she’s always been more than that to me. As soon as I met her not long after she married Alexander, I knew we were destined to be lifelong friends. I’d have invited Saskia to join us, too, but she’s away on De Vil business.
I dress in jeans and a high-neck, black, cashmere jumper and spend a couple of hours going over the plans for Anthony’s house. It’s a big place, with plenty of scope to let my creativity run free. I only hope Anthony’s wife likes what I eventually come up with. He may have hired me, but I’d wager she’s the decision maker when it comes to her home.
A few minutes before twelve, I make my way along the corridor toward Imogen and Alexander’s area of the house. They share the top floor with Nicholas and me, but due to Oakleigh’s sheer size, we rarely bump into one another unless we mean to.
I find Imogen sitting in the library, knees tucked up to her chest, reading a novel. She looks up as I enter, beams, and sets the book on the table to her left before standing. She’s dressed in an emerald, calf-length, woolen dress that clings to her curves and shows off the faintest baby bump. Imogen’s lucky. She has the height to pull off an outfit like that, and the color sets off her red hair to perfection. I’d look bloody ridiculous in it, but I’ve learned over the years what types of clothes suit me.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
“More than ready. I’m looking forward to it.”
In true Imogen style, she hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. I found her inclination to hug all the time awkward at first. It’s not normal for British people to be so tactile. But now, I look forward to my Imogen hugs. She has this way about her that makes you feel you’re the center of her world and, having lived my whole life as the center of no-one’s world, I’ll take it.
“You look gorgeous, as always.”
I snort. “Have you seen you?” I make a hand gesture. “You look like you walked out of a fashion magazine.”
Linking her arm with mine, she beams. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
“Well, you are eating for two.”
We arrive at the restaurant a few minutes early, but by the time the greeter shows us to our seats, Eloise and Briony turn up. We order mimosas (a virgin one for Imogen), and as soon as the server retreats, the interrogation begins.
“Okay, missy, spill.” This from Eloise. “And don’t even think about leaving out any details. We want to hear everything. Length, girth, you know, the whole enchilada.” She grins. “And whether you even left the bedroom.”
“We can get to all that.” Briony waves her hand in the air. “What I want to know first is how DefCon 6 panned out.”
“DefCon 6?” Eloise wrinkles her nose, then presses her palm to Briony’s forehead. “You been smoking weed again?”
“I do not smoke weed,” Briony protests. “Not since university and that one bad joint. Remember? When I ended up in A & E and had to explain to my parents why I missed an important exam?”
“Oh, yeah.” Eloise laughs. “I’d forgotten about that. Never seen a face turn as green as yours did.”
“It’s not funny, Eloise,” Briony says, pouting. “I could have died.”
“A slight over-exaggeration,” Eloise replies, ever the practical one. “But can we get back to the question? DefCon 6?”
I quickly update them on my visit to Anthony Davidson’s offices, and Nicholas’s Neanderthal reaction to me being out of his sight. When I end with, “We worked it out,” Eloise barks a laugh.
“Oh, I’ll bet you did.” She snaps her fingers at no one in particular. “Garcon, a rubber ring over here, please.”
“Eloise,” I warn, giving her a dig in the ribs, We’re not even in a French restaurant. She sticks out her tongue at me. “Will you quit.”
“Only when you give us the tea. All the tea. Not the decaf version.”
I’m saved from answering by our server coming over, although if the red tinge to the poor man’s cheeks is anything to go by, he’s heard this entire conversation. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s been back there in the server’s area begging someone else to take this table.
We give our lunch orders, and the second he’s gone, three pairs of eyes turn on me. I send a pleading look at Imogen. “You’ll rescue me, won’t you? After all, we’re related now.”
“Not a chance.”
“Traitor,” I mumble.
Avoidance tactics won’t work. I know these girls. They won’t rest until I give them the gossip.
“Babe.” Eloise angles her head to one side, feigning sympathy. “It’s like ripping off a plaster. Better to get it over with in one go, then the pain is done.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. When I open them, those three pairs of eyes are still on me, but now they’ve progressed to propping their elbows on the table and resting their chins on their hands.
Lord, save me.
“We had a lovely time. He took me to Croatia, where the sun shone every day we were there. He likes to sail and has a boat over there. I didn’t get seasick, which was a relief. The food was lovely, and the country and its people were absolutely amazing.” I shrug. “What else do you want to know?”
“Well, none of that bullcrapola for starters.” Eloise rolls her eyes. “What was he like?”
Freaking wonderful. Amazing. All my dreams rolled into one delicious package.
“He was nice to me.”
“God, help me with this one.” Briony throws her hands in the air.
“What? I’m serious. I thought he’d be… cold, I guess, but he wasn’t like that at all. He was… courteous.”
“Courteous?” Eloise rolls her eyes again. “This avoidance play you’ve got going on won’t work, babes. The sooner you dish the dirt on the sex, the sooner we’ll leave you alone.”
“Why is my sex life interesting to you?”
“Because we’re not getting any,” Briony says.
“Speak for yourself,” Imogen chimes up. “I’m more than, ahem, satisfied.”
I swear, even the tips of my ears are red. “This is freaking mortifying, just so you know.”
“Why? We’re all friends here.” Eloise seems to have installed herself as chief tormentor. “Spill, De Vil.” She laughs. “I’m a poet, and I don’t know it.”
“You’re also eight,” I mutter. “Fine. He’s… blessed. And pierced. And the rumors are true. It’s mind-blowing.”
A collective gasp goes up around the table, and if anything, the three of them edge closer to me, as though by reducing the physical distance they’ll get the details far faster.
“Nicholas is pierced?” Imogen asks. “I never would have guessed. I wonder if Alexander knows?”
“They’re brothers,” Briony replies. “I’m sure they’ve seen each other in the buff.” She turns to me, all wide eyes and waggling eyebrows. “What kind of piercing?”
“I don’t know. I’m not exactly a dick piercing connoisseur.”
Eloise’s thumbs race over her phone screen. “Did it look like any of these?” She shoves her phone in my face, assailing me with far too many pictures of different sized dicks, all pierced.
I cover my eyes. “Do you mind? I’m about to eat.”
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” She heaves a sigh.
I lower my hands. I should’ve expected this to happen. I’ve known these girls for years, and there isn’t much we haven’t shared over that time. Although… I’ve never shared my inability to orgasm. They’d have dissected it over sushi and come up with a million ways to fix me.
Eloise is right about one thing, though: until I share enough details to satisfy their rabid curiosity, there’s no escape.
“Shine a fucking light in my eye, Eloise. It was a barbell, okay? And the sex was off the charts amazing. He’s girthy and lengthy and knows how to use the damn thing. Can we drop it now?”
“Um, who ordered the seabass?”
Groaning, I peer up at that poor server. His face is beet red. I’m worried he’ll bust a blood vessel, have a nosebleed, or pass out. My friends have no such compunction.
“That was me.” Briony raises her hand and beams at him.
He drops our food so fast I’m surprised half of it doesn’t end up in our laps. As he retreats, everyone but me bursts out laughing.
“You’re all going to Hell,” I say, spooning up a forkful of rice.
“At least it’s warm there.” Briony high-fives Eloise, who nods vehemently.
Now they’ve thoroughly embarrassed me, the conversation turns to safer subjects, and as the chatter swirls around me, Imogen leans closer.
“I’m thrilled for you, Vicky. I know how much you love him.”
I don’t correct her. Imogen is convinced what I’ve always felt for Nicholas is love rather than infatuation. What I do know is it wouldn’t take much to let myself fall in love with him. I’m already halfway there.
My answering smile is tight. “Shame he’ll never feel the same.”
She wraps her fingers around mine and squeezes. “Give him time. How could he not fall in love with you? You’re smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
I rest my head against hers. “I’m glad we’re sisters-in-law.”
“Me, too.”
The rest of lunch passes without any further interrogation. Imogen insists on paying the bill, which, she takes great pains to point out, is money she’s earned working for Zenith as an architecture technician rather than from Alexander’s deep pockets.
It’s something I’m looking forward to myself. Having money of my own will give me the kind of financial self-sufficiency I crave. Sure, there’s no divorcing a De Vil (nor do I want to), but that doesn’t mean I want to rely on Nicholas for money, either. I’m fiercely independent, and I intend to keep it that way.
We pile outside the restaurant, and there are kisses and hugs and promises of lunch again soon. Granted, the interrogation is over, but I might get that in writing before agreeing to another meet up. When I tell Eloise that, she laughs.
“I promise, any further questions will be submitted ahead of time.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “Gives me time to burn them.”
Our car pulls up curbside, but before I get in, a flash of somebody across the street catches my eye. As I focus, the sight of a woman walking away is enough to make my heart plummet to the ground. The hair, the gait, the slight angle to her head as she makes her way through the crowds.
“Beth?” I whisper.
I take off, racing across the road, ignoring the blaring horns and screeching brakes. “ Beth! ” I scream, losing sight of her in the hordes of people. Multiple voices behind me call my name in unison, but I’m too fixated on the bobbing dark head a few feet in front of me. A man barges my shoulder, and I stumble but somehow keep my footing. Stretching, I splay my fingers wide and touch the woman’s shoulder.
“Beth.” My voice cracks. “Beth, it’s me.”
The woman turns… and it isn’t Beth. Of course it isn’t. How could it be her? My sister is dead. It’s just another false sighting. It’s happened a few times since she died, almost as though my subconscious is constantly looking for her, hoping for a miracle. My shoulders slump.
“Are you all right?” Concern etches across the stranger’s features, and she puts out a hand to steady me as I waver.
“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip as a single tear spills down my cheek. “I thought you were someone else.”
Andrew skids to a halt next to me, and my friends aren’t far behind. I probably gave him a near heart attack running off like that. But I was so sure. From the back, she could be Beth, but face on, she looks nothing like my sister. Wrong nose, wrong color eyes, round instead of heart-shaped face.
“Come on.” Imogen puts her arm around me, and everyone else gathers around. “Let’s get you home.”
I lock eyes with Eloise, then Briony. “It was Beth, except it wasn’t.”
“She did look like Beth from the back,” Eloise says. “It’s an easy mistake to make. You’re still grieving. It’s not surprising your mind and eyes played a trick on you.”
I start to shiver. It must be the shock. For a split second, I’d believed in miracles, but the moment of soaring hope does not make up for the agonizing crash back to earth.
“Let’s get you home,” she says again, and Imogen beckons to our driver, who does a U-turn and stops right in front of us.
I hug my friends, reassuring them that I’m fine even though I’m not. I’m shaken to my core, and all I want is to get home, curl up in bed, and process the last few seconds when I thought my sister was alive.
Imogen leaves me to my thoughts on the journey back to Oakleigh, but as we pull up outside the front door, the sight of Nicholas standing there waiting for me is enough to bring on more tears.
“I texted Alexander. I hope you don’t mind.”
I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”
Nicholas strides over to the car and wrenches the door open. As soon as I step out, he wraps his arms around me, stroking my hair, and I melt into his solid, warm embrace.
I don’t have Beth, but I do have Nicholas, and oddly enough, the ever-present guilt I feel knowing I’m living her life is a little less agonizing today.
Maybe seeing that woman was Beth’s way of sending a message, of telling me it’s okay, and that I deserve to be happy.
And maybe, just maybe, I do.