He sat next to her and kissed her cheek. “I know and I don’t ever want to make you feel like this. You are the absolute love of my life. When I saw you in Los Angeles, I knew you were the only one for me. Literally, everything and everyone else fell away. There is no one I could love more.”
She fought against the instinct to give in to his sweet words. “What happened today?”
“I wanted to explain to Jules—”
“Before you talked to me?”
“I . . . yeah. It was another wrong move on my part, I know. I told her I was sorry, that I wanted her friendship, and that you and I were for real. Then, after giving me hassle, she tells me she’s involved with a forty-year-old Frenchman. So, really, she wasn’t exactly pining away for me. She was just hurt by how I went about things.”
“That makes two of us.”
Gavin hung his head for a moment and then dropped to his knees in front of her. “I am so sorry, darlin’. I can only imagine what it made you think of me. But please know that I love you and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Gavin, what else haven’t you told me? What else am I going to find out about?” she asked.
“Nothing. There’s nothing, Sophie. What can I say? There are no dark secrets you have to worry about. I’ll tell you the truth, I’ve slept with a lot of girls, but I don’t have any diseases and I don’t have any babies out there. You are the only one I want. Now that I have you, I can’t tell you how much I need you. I’m telling you, I’ve never let anyone as close to me as you. No one knows me, knows what makes me who I am, the way that you do. I can’t lose you again.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and whispered, “Please.”
The look in his eyes was sincere, bordering on desperation. She knew he was saying she was the only woman who understood his pain, knew where it came from. That, of course, triggered her desire to be his savior. To be the one person who could in some small way fix him. This was why she forgave him so easily. Because he was broken inside and made sure she felt like she was the only one who could come to his aid.
She opened her hand and exposed the ring to him as an offering. He took it quickly, sliding the ring onto her finger before she might change her mind.
He took her face into his hands and kissed her. “You won’t regret this.”
“I know,” she replied in between more kisses. “I might need to marry you to stay in the country, anyway.”
He pulled away and looked at her in surprise.
“I messed up with school. I can’t start until next year.”
“More time for us,” he said with a grin and pushed her back onto the bed.
“My parents are going to kill me.”
“Nah, I won’t allow that.” He pressed his body to hers, slipping between her legs and kissing her neck.
“You’ll save me, too?” she asked, and then closed her eyes tightly in embarrassment at her vulnerability and neediness.
He moved his mouth to her ear and sang softly, his voice raspy with the Bowie lyrics. “Oh you pretty thing, don’t you know you’re driving your Mama and Papa insane.”
But it was he who was driving her insane at the moment. She was glad he was going to brush past her asking him to be her savior. It was easy for her to ignore it, too, as anytime he sang to her she lost all sense. Combine that with his deep kisses, fingers toying with her nipples, and the pressure of his erection between her legs and she was defenseless against him.
But then he stopped, held her face in his hands and met her eyes. “I’ll save you,” he whispered.
The relief that flooded through her at his reassurance should have been an indication that they were headed down a tangled path. But it would take her years to understand how their reliance on one another had been formulated in this exchange. It was this dynamic that, no matter how desperate, worked for them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Swiss Suvretta House hotel was one of the dozen-plus resorts in the greater Engadin St. Moritz area. It offered modern luxury, access to world-class skiing, and was where Sophie’s parents had arranged for them all to stay for their post-Christmas get-together. They flew from Dublin to London and on to Zurich, followed by a train ride with a change in the city of Chur to a smaller rail service. From there, the experience became something exceptional as they moved in their train car over a hundred-year-old limestone viaduct and through switchback tunnels among the spectacular glacial mountains. Some two hundred feet below the smoothly rocking train were frozen lakes surrounded by trees freshly dusted with snow, adding to the mesmerizing landscape. It was scenery Gavin had never experienced and he was captivated. The wonder he felt helped to ease the discomfort he’d been harboring at the idea of Sophie’s parents paying for the vacation.
Once they finally made it to the hotel, a picturesque, supersized chalet a couple miles from the town proper, checked-in to their fifteen-hundred dollar a night Junior Suite with frozen lake and mountain views, and were fully immersed in the stunning wealth that defined this playground for the mega-rich, Gavin’s qualms returned.
“Is this how you grew up? Apart from your time in Dublin?” Gavin asked from his position lounging atop the plush bed. He absently thought that he should probably take off his Dr. Marten boots. They were still damp from the snow.
Sophie laughed. She was unpacking their bags and putting their clothing in the fine wood wardrobe. “No, baby, I didn’t. This is a whole other level, believe me.”
He watched her as she moved fluidly about the room, settling their things into the space. She had always possessed uncommon poise and maturity, especially in contrast to the girls in school. As a result she had seemed grown up from the start, as if she was born knowing the proper ways to navigate life. She projected an expectation that her path was assured one way or another, and Gavin attributed this to her having been brought up to assume she would succeed. It was a quintessentially American trait, but one she carried with grace. And it was also the opposite of what he had grown up with. The Irish were much more likely to knock you down than build you up. His brother and father had always promoted the idea of lowering expectations, especially when it came to his musical ambitions. Though he prided himself on defying both the odds and the lack of confidence of his own family in order to make it in the music world, being in this extravagantly wealthy environment brought forth a deeply ingrained sense that he wasn’t good enough to be there. Rather than acknowledge this, he found himself deflecting and going on the offensive.
“But this is where your parents brought us,” he said. “To this outrageously expensive spot that only the lucky few get a chance to see. What are they trying to prove?”
Sophie closed the door to the wardrobe and went to the foot of the bed. He watched her with interest as she peeled off first her sweater, then her jeans. She stood before him in a matching moss green and pink Cosabella lingerie set for a moment, letting him look at her. Though thin, her body was feminine with soft skin, narrow waist, and shapely hips. There was a pale brown birthmark above her left hip and he envisioned pressing his lips to it.
Before he could make a move, she climbed on to the bed and up the length of his body, straddling his waist. Leaning down, she kissed him long and slow.
“Stop overthinking it,” she told him softly. “It’s just a vacation.” She kissed him again, deeper this time.
He grabbed her backside and stopped thinking at all, happily giving himself over to pure sensation.
~
Gavin’s suspicions of Sophie’s parents’ motives were dispelled at dinner where they all fell into easy conversation and drank too much. Steve and Maggie readily admitted that the location of their vacation was chosen primarily for the opportunity to be spectators to the kind of sports only the obscenely wealthy indulged in.
“Where else can you see snow polo?” Steve asked with wonder. “As if regular polo wasn’t enough of a rich person’s sport, let’s go ahead and transport these world-class animals to high altitude cold and snow and p
ut them through their paces on a frozen lake!”
Gavin laughed appreciatively. It was exactly what he had thought when Sophie mentioned their trip was timed so that they could watch the snow polo tournament.
“And not to mention, the ‘White Turf’ horse race later next month,” Maggie added.
“Or the skijoring!” Steve said enthusiastically. He went on to explain that skijoring was a sort of human chariot race. The horses ran up to fifty miles per hour while the “rider” trailed behind on skis, holding tight to long reins.
“It really is fascinating,” Maggie said.
“I imagine it’s quite the spectacle,” Gavin said. “Too bad we’ll miss it.” Their trip was only for four days. They had to get back for Sophie’s school, and theoretically for Rogue to start working on new material. Their label had recently gone from encouraging them to produce demos to using more forceful language.
“We’ll tell you all about it,” Steve said. “Listen, Gavin, do you golf?”
Gavin tried not to laugh as he wondered how drunk Steve was. It was a frozen, though beautiful, world out there. What would golf have to do with anything?
“No, can’t say that I do, Steve.”
“Tomorrow you will. Snow golf.” The amusement shone in his eyes.
“Seriously?”
Steve and Maggie glanced at each other and laughed. “That’s just what they do here,” he said.
Gavin nodded. “Okay then. My first time golfing will be in the Swiss Alps. On snow, no less.”
Sophie gave Gavin’s hand a quick squeeze. “It’ll be his first time skiing, too.”
“I thought I’d give snowboarding a chance, actually.”
“Ugh, I tried last winter,” Maggie said, “and I fell so hard that my tailbone was bruised for a solid month!”
“Your record label has insurance on you, right, Gavin?” Steve asked with mock seriousness.
“Dad,” Sophie said in a reproachful singsong.
Dinner gave way to fireside drinks in a separate, cozy lounge area of the hotel, and Gavin found he was enjoying his future in-laws. They had adopted a much more accepting attitude toward his and Sophie’s engagement since the first time he met them. And they were keen on having a good time while treating him and Sophie as equals.
As the conversation moved on, however, it became clear that this relating as equals stance wasn’t a recent byproduct of Sophie now being a grown up. They mentioned in off-handed ways how they had raised Sophie to be independent from the start—due to both their demanding work schedule and their general parenting philosophy—and that they wanted her to feel responsible for and in charge of her own life.
Gavin saw how this had created an odd distance between Sophie and her parents. They were respectful and caring with each other, but with a layer of removal. It reminded him of Shay’s emotionally vacant parents in a way, though to a far lesser degree. He guessed Sophie recognized something of a kindred spirit in Shay, explaining her fondness for him.
And Gavin understood on a different level why she had committed herself so deeply to him. She was desperate to hang on to the one person in her life who had shown her she was needed.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Money was on display everywhere at the Snow Polo World Cup. It was obvious in the fur hats of the trophy (and aspiring trophy) wives mingling under crystal chandeliers in the white VIP tents, the free-flowing top-tier champagne, the lunch prepared by renowned chefs, and the branding done by BMW, Cartier, Maserati, and more. The social aspect of it, with guests milling about on AstroTurf-covered platforms and chatting rather than watching the match, was such an annoyance to Gavin that he finally grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her away. He kept moving until he had reached the free general public grandstand seating. Instead of finding a spot on one of the benches, he went to the waist-high barrier at the edge of the field of play and stared intently at the action.
This allowed them a measure of relief, too, from the running commentary being broadcast over loudspeakers. The random facts thrown in among the play-by-play such as why the ponies’ tails were braided—to keep them from being caught in the player’s swinging mallet—was interesting but also distracting.
The “field” for the polo tournament was a frozen lake centered between snow-capped, tree-lined mountains rising high and craggily into the sky on one side and the sand-colored resorts and other buildings of St. Moritz on the other side. Under clear skies and bright sun, the polo ponies and their riders, clad in bright blue and red jerseys, and racing the length of the stark white field created a stunning vista. The two teams of four players chased a red ball, swinging their mallets with concentrated grace. Gavin watched the way the horses’ breath came out of flaring nostrils in huge puffs, their exertion manifested in clouds of steam in the low-teens temperatures. The chukka, or period, would be over soon and these ponies would be given a rest, swapped out for different world-class horses.
The action came their way and they watched as two opposing players strained for the red ball. Their horses were exceptionally well-trained, forging ahead at the command of their riders in a move called a “ride-off” as one player attempted to push the other away from the line of the ball, even as that meant their horses’ flanks collided at high speed. The impact was quick and the riders expertly righted themselves without ever losing balance or focus on the two neon-yellow and black striped goal posts.
The dexterity the riders showed in manipulating the ponies was impressive, and Gavin couldn’t deny that they were genuine athletes. He was even more amazed when one player was thrown from his horse and obviously sustained some sort of injury to his elbow, but almost immediately returned to his saddle. That same rider went on to score with much fanfare as a referee on foot waved an orange and yellow flag to signal the play amidst whistle and air horn blows.
“You’re loving this,” Sophie told him with a playful nudge.
“I’m not ashamed to admit it.” The halftime was called and he watched as the players guided the horses off the field for the short break. The loudspeaker commentary was replaced by upbeat music to keep the crowd rallied, though the hip hop selection was oddly dated.
“My parents love you, you know?”
He glanced at her. She wore a fitted white North Face jacket that had a bright teal zipper, the color of which matched the wide cotton headband that covered her ears. He knew that behind her sunglasses her hazel eyes would have turned a brilliant green. Her smile for him lingered and he wanted to appease her, but he couldn’t stop from saying what he really thought.
“Your parents are full of contradictions, aren’t they?”
A look of confusion replaced her smile. “What do you mean?”
“Ah, you know. They’re as rich as all these people but they were trying to set themselves apart by making fun of it at dinner the other night. But it’s bullshit, isn’t it? They’re just joining in with a wink and a bloody nod.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“It’s just, I mean, look at their place in Malibu. Look at that excess and exclusivity.”
“They worked to get what they have. They didn’t start out with that kind of money. It’s not generational wealth like all of this.” She gestured to the tents and the luxury hotels nestled into the hills behind them.
“Okay, fine. But they’re still so phony with things.”
“Just because they are amused by it all?”
“What about school? You were so worried they’d be angry with you for having messed up your admission. They talk about you needing to be responsible for yourself, but then they pulled connections to guarantee you got in this term.”
“I needed the help,” she said sullenly.
He saw in the way she turned away from him that she felt stung rather than cared for. But he wasn’t done. “You were so pleased with having any attention from them, weren’t you? You would have sorted it on your own, but them helping made you feel like you were important to them for a minute, did
n’t it?” He took a deep breath and suddenly realized pointing out that he could see what she had been missing, and that her parents were to blame for it, wasn’t really what she wanted to hear. He hadn’t meant to go at her like this.
They had spent the last two days playing snow golf, snowboarding, bobsledding down the oldest naturally refrigerated bobsleigh track in the world, going on horse-drawn carriage rides, eating gourmet meals, and generally living the life of Riley. Which was all well and good, but under the surface he had been absorbing the way her parents tried to act as if they weren’t buying into it all, and that had combined with an unacknowledged anxiety he had been harboring about his own status changing so rapidly. He and Rogue had become a sensation, flush with cash and fame. He knew it was only going to get more intense, making him nervous for a future that would turn him into what he and Conor often described as one of “them.” That is, once a threshold of success and money was attained, artists could no longer really identify with who they had been at the start of their career. He dreaded this change, fearing it would take hold before he ever really got a chance to create the kind of music and art he knew he could. All of that conspired to this point where he unleashed on Sophie, the one who didn’t deserve it at all.
She spoke before he could backpedal and apologize. “What about you?” she asked, a challenge in her voice as she turned to him. “What about you just breezing by the truth of your mother? You tell my parents you ‘lost’ her as if she were dead and leave it at that. You’re not exactly being honest, are you?”
His mother being gone from his life had come up during one of their outings and, as was his habit, he had glossed over it. Sophie bringing it up now sent him on the defensive.
“It was the truth and you know it. I lost any mother I had at age seven. The reason for that, whether she left me or died doesn’t fucking matter much in the grand scheme of things, does it? So, don’t you question me on how I tell my story. You don’t get a say in it.”
Tangled Up In You: A Rogue Series Novel Page 13
