Twilight Tides (Scottish Isles #3)

Prologue

London

Eighteen months ago

Manhattan, New York

As I moved around the penthouse, I felt adrift from my own body.

While I completed the task of showering and getting ready to meet my boyfriend Nick’s mother for lunch, I felt like I was somewhere outside of it.

Like there was a disconnect between me and my physical being.

However, it took such minor things to snap me back into myself, and I’d have to face the panic-inducing reality of my life.

This morning, it was the act of putting on the pearls Nick’s mom bought me last Christmas.

I’d politely accepted them but later told Nick that I felt guilty because I wasn’t the pearl-wearing type and they’d sit in a drawer forever.

He’d merely pressed a quick kiss to my lips and told me I had to wear them whenever I saw his mom.

I’d thought he was kidding. Until the next time we were meeting his parents for dinner, and I’d walked out of the bedroom without the necklace on.

When he’d asked me to put it on and I’d uncomfortably explained my aversion to the pearls, Nick coldly informed me that sometimes you had to do something you didn’t want to do if it meant being considerate of other’s feelings.

He’d softened the blow of his words by stroking my cheek.

“You were raised by parents who neglected to instill good manners in you. It’s not your fault.

But you’ve got me now to educate you. Put on the pearls, baby.

You don’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings, do you? ”

Stunned, I’d shaken my head.

“Then be my good girl.” He’d kissed me deeper, igniting that fissure of sexual attraction that burned hotly between us and obliterating my desire to call him a patronizing asshole.

I’d put on the necklace, even though it made me feel like I was pretending to be something I wasn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t such a big deal and I was looking for more meaning in it than there was.

Now as I clipped together the ornate white gold clasp at the nape of my neck, my fingertips rolling across the pearly balls, I snapped back into my body with a harsh intake of breath.

I’d never experienced the level of self-loathing I felt now.

I hated myself.

I hated my life.

My entire outfit belonged to someone who wasn’t me. Wide-legged tailored pants, a pale blue silk blouse. Pointy high-heeled shoes that crippled my toes with every step. The diamond studs in my ears, a gift from Nick for my birthday.

A tightness constricted my throat, and I pressed a hand to my chest, taking in a deep breath. Slowly in and out, even as my mind raced, thinking of the next few hours to come. Sitting across from Nick’s mother, Olivia Huston. New York socialite. A lady who lunched.

Admired and envied by many.

Not by me.

I pitied her.

I pitied myself because all I’d see while sitting across the table from her was a woman who represented my future self. She was a woman controlled by her powerful and cruel husband, who criticized her and their son as if it were an Olympic sport.

Distraction. I needed a distraction.

My stupid heels clicked across the hardwood floor of the airy living area as I searched for my phone.

I’d left it charging in the minimalistic kitchen on an invisible charger built into the countertops.

Leaning against the island, I swiped across my phone screen, intending to scroll through social media.

Maybe to torture myself by looking through Silver’s or Cynthia’s socials.

Instead, I paused at the banner notification for a Google Alert I had set for Nee.

My best friend, Tierney “Nee” Silver, was once a reluctant darling of New York society, heiress to the Silver Group’s hotel empire.

After her parents were killed in a helicopter accident, I watched the person I cared most about in this world become a shadow of her former self.

Therefore, I sacrificed my own happiness by suggesting she travel to Scotland.

Her late grandmother was Scottish, and Nee had spent many summers there and loved it.

I thought it might bring her back into the world.

Instead, she broke up with her boyfriend, Nick’s best friend, and bought a guest house on a remote Scottish island.

She was there now renovating it with no plans to return anytime soon.

As happy as I was to see her getting back to who she was, part of me was hurt that she decided to move away from me permanently.

Nee and I were the only family the other had.

Or at least that’s what I’d thought. It didn’t use to bother me so much when I was still working at the restaurant, keeping busy, socializing with Cynthia and my other colleagues.

But since Nick emotionally blackmailed me into quitting, I’d had nothing but time to stew on these things.

And he liked to remind me constantly that Nee had left me, and he hadn’t.

That he was the only one who truly loved me.

Was this love?

This agonizing crack down the center of my chest?

Nee might have left, but she had other reasons—big reasons—to seem distant and distracted.

Not long ago she’d finally told me she was working with an investigative reporter to prove her parents’ death wasn’t accidental.

That the CEO of the Silver Group, Halston Cole, had them killed to stop them from whistleblowing on their own company for unethical practices during the build of one of their resorts—a member of the security team hired to protect the construction crew killed an unarmed displaced local, and they’d covered it up.

Nee had confided in me because she was being warned to stay quiet, and they’d threatened to hurt me too.

When she called me about it, I felt a spark of my old self reignite.

Grief and rage had burned through me from the tip of my toes to the top of my head because Tierney wasn’t the only one who’d lost Maura and Gordon Silver.

They’d been better parents to me than my own.

If someone had killed them, I too wanted justice for them.

“Well, fuck that,” I told my best friend after we’d cried together over the news.

“Do not let that stop you. I will be fine, Nee. Everyone knows I’m dating Nick, and Nick has more power in this city—fuck, in this country—than most. They won’t touch me and risk Nick’s wrath.

” Despite my doubts about our relationship, I meant those words at the time.

So, okay … he’d punched me when I tried to break up with him a few months ago, but he promised he wouldn’t do it again, and he hadn’t since. He excused the assault by telling me he was just so afraid of losing me.

I’d thought of our first meeting and the kindness I’d seen in him then, all those years ago.

I’d thought of the way his father treated him, controlling and constantly critical, and convinced myself he needed me.

He needed someone who understood. I’d been too critical of him when he said something pompous.

You didn’t break up with someone over something as silly as disliking a comment they made.

At least that’s what he told me before he’d pressed a kiss to my bruised face.

It was easier to tell myself that the attack was my fault, that it would never happen again if I was who he needed me to be, than to think about the fact that I’d allowed this abuse to happen to me. That I’d become someone I didn’t recognize.

My fingers trembled across the screen at the memory.

I’d lost me.

But I hadn’t truly realized just how much until I tapped on that alert notification.

HOTEL HEIRESS TIERNEY SILVER STABBED IN SCOTLAND

The room spun at the headline, my breathing shallow and panicked as I quickly scrolled through the article. Tears flooded down my cheeks at the realization that this had happened several days ago.

Then I was scrolling through my phone notifications because surely someone would have contacted me.

Tierney and I had been best friends since ninth grade.

We’d both attended a private New York high school and bonded because despite our privilege, neither of us was ostentatious nor pretentious.

While Tierney’s parents were loving and supportive, my parents were too busy being acclaimed surgeons to have any time for me.

Nee had become my family, my support system.

She was like my sister. I was the one who held her hand at her parents’ funeral and slept beside her on the nights she’d cried herself to sleep.

But there was no contact. Nothing on my phone to suggest someone had tried to inform me that my so-called family had been brutally attacked.

I searched her name, trying to find a more recent update, and there was a post on the island’s social media informing everyone Nee had been discharged yesterday. She couldn’t be too bad if she’d been discharged already, right?

While relieved, I was selfishly furious and hurt as I hit her name in my contacts.

“Spoon!” Nee answered, sounding worried. “Where have you been?”

In the back of my mind, I acknowledged my relief at hearing her voice. In the front of my mind, I was pissed. “Where have I been?” I snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been stabbed? I had to find out on a fucking Google Alert!”

There was stunned silence on the other end, and all I could hear was my harsh breathing.

“London … Cammie called you the day it happened, and Nick picked up. She told him what had happened.”

Wait? What? “He … he … no … he didn’t tell me.” What the hell? I tapped on my call list. “No, there’s no incoming call listed from a UK number on that day.”

“What about the voicemail I left you yesterday?”

My heart hammered hard in my chest as I checked my voicemail. There were no messages. “What? No. I don’t have any recorded calls or voicemails from you or Cammie.”

“I’m not lying, Spoon,” she told me gently, sounding concerned.

Even as my mind reeled with what that meant, I wanted to know if she was okay.