by Sara Forbes
Something like hurt flashes in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
My answer doesn't shoot out straight away, as, perhaps, it should. If he'd asked me this a month ago, perhaps just a week ago, I'd have yelled yes. Haven't I been pleading with the gods to bring him back home? My plan was to bear the title but let Seb run the show. The whole thing. And it was a good plan. Win–win, or so I'd thought. Until it changed. Until shouldering responsibility and helping people wasn't the living nightmare I thought it was, but rather something … bigger than I am. Something worth doing.
The only thing worth doing.
I'm clinging onto the hope that he doesn't want the responsibility back. That he's found some other life somewhere in the world and is just testing me. And that, too, would be very Seb–like. We stroll toward the castle in silence.
Finally at the base of the steps, he runs his hand over his jaw and breaks the long silence.
“Alex, Mother told me things. All I had to do was log on to the Internet to see the damage. I couldn't sit there and let Mother suffer in silence. That is why I came back.”
“It hasn't been all negative.”
“I've heard otherwise. This Saudi wedding?”
“We need the business.”
“We have a business. That was a gamble. A reckless one at that.”
“Which could have worked.” I feel myself slipping into my old pattern with him. Him on the attack, me on the defense. Seb the sensible, Alex the joker.
Seb shakes his head. “See? There can't be two chefs running the kitchen.”
“I agree.”
His gaze wanders over my face. My quick affirmation surprised him. Then he focuses downward, kicks at the ground, scattering gravel. “Look, if you actually want this job—”
“No, Seb. You've wanted this job for as long as you've been alive. You've lived it. You deserve it.”
“It's not what Father wanted.”
I wince. It was what Father wanted until the media forced his hand by exposing Seb. “Your place is here, head of the family business, head of the family. It always has been and it always will be as long as you're alive.”
“Alex—”
“No, hear me out. I understand why you ran away, but now that you're back we can get the business back to the way it was—with you as the boss. I just kept the seat warm for you. We're all behind you, one hundred percent.”
I glance to Ken for confirmation. For a split second, he looks bewildered, but then nods, just in time.
“You'd go against Father's wishes then,” Seb says.
I fold my arms. I'm kind of losing patience. “He's dead. In case you hadn't noticed. Take your place as director back, please.”
Seb cocks his head and gives me an appraising look. “Shake on it?”
I look down at his outstretched hand. This isn't want I want. Not at all. But it's the right thing to do, by Seb, and by my family. They expect it.
But something collapses inside as I take his cool, long–fingered hand in mine. I'm giving away something I built up together with Hayley—a foundation for our future. For the first time in my life, I've felt it's enough to be me. She's never questioned my place at the head of the family. To her, it wasn't weird at all, but the natural order of things. And I acted accordingly. Now she's going to think I pulled the wool over her eyes. And, in a way, I did.
It feels like the handshake of death. And yet, if I refused my brother, I'd hate myself. In our family, a handshake between siblings means sealed and done forevermore. No legalese required. We will formalize all this with the lawyers later, but we don't need to.
“Your Grace,” he says. It's the first time he's addressed me like this, and it makes my skin crawl.
“Fuck off,” I say.
I wander up to the castle, not feeling half as ducal as I did this morning. Freedom doesn't taste as good as it should. At least I'll have more time for the one person who still believes in me.
26
HAYLEY
I'M IN MY OWN LITTLE world in the gallery. Alex never came back for lunch, so I gobbled up his turkey and lettuce sandwiches. I'm an adrenalin machine these days and I need fuel. I've called some art collectors whose phone numbers he procured and am waiting for their responses. I only talked to secretaries and housekeepers so far, but it's so exciting to be part of this secret world of rich art collectors. I've just finished polishing the frame of the Julie Dufor still life when there's a rap on the door. I leap up.
I open the door with a sly grin. But it's not Alex, it's Letty.
She flounces into the room in her fake fur vest, billowing silk blouse and gypsy skirt. “Hayley, oh, I'm glad I found you, it's all such a commotion and … oh!” She does a twirl in the center of the room. “Oh, I like what you've done with the place. So this is what you two have been busy with down here.”
“Thanks.” I steer her in the direction of the highlights, starting with the Lillienthal collection in the back room. Soon she gravitates toward the faux–rococos as I knew she would, as surely as Alex went for the neo–Bauhaus. I enjoy the rapt look on her face as she does the rounds.
“But what did you come down to tell me, Letty?”
“Oh.” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Would you believe, I actually forgot for a moment. Seb's back.”
“Seb? Your brother Seb?”
“Yes, Seb. Seb!”
“O–kay.” She seems a tad overexcited about this, but whatever, it's Letty. I try to picture him. Will he be more like Alex or more like Ken? Or a strange blend of the two, like chocolate and chili?
She bestows one of her glittering smiles on me. “I can't believe how utterly splendid it is here. You're a genius, Hayley.”
“I hope the public sees it the same way.” I cock my head to the far room. “That's where we'll start. What do you think?”
“Yes …” Letty trails off. But if I were seeing all this for the first time, I suppose I'd be speechless too. If it's an indication of how mesmerizing my exhibition is, then I should have nothing to worry about.
“The inaugural tour starts next Thursday.”
“Hmm?” Letty scans the room, runs a finger along the red ropes.
“We open next Thursday.”
“Oh, Hayley …” Her eyes narrow as if in pain.
“What?”
“There's no way that Seb is going to allow the public to set foot into this room or any other in this basement.”
It's like a blow to the back of my skull with a heavy, blunt instrument. “E–excuse me?”
She nods. “He's in the drawing room. But leave all that to Alex.”
No sooner has she backed off than she comes rushing forward to me again, grasping my hands in hers. “Oh, poor Hayley, this is so unfair. He didn't give you any warning, did he? So typical Alex, gambling on the best of all worlds.”
When she's gone, I numbly sift through what I know. And the main point is this: Alex is the boss around here. I need to find him. I need to find Alex and sort this bullshit out.
I don't need to go far. He's halfway down the corridor already when I poke my head out the door.
I pull him in, my fists grabbing his shirt. “Letty told me Seb's home.”
“Yeah.” He runs his hands over my shoulders, up and down. “I was coming to get you.”
“And something about him not wanting the gallery open.”
“He's not keen on the idea.” Alex pauses. I can tell he's choosing his words carefully.
“But it doesn't matter, does it?” I prompt him.
“We may need to”—he winces—“slow down on the whole idea. I'm so sorry, Hayley.”
“Why is everyone saying sorry?” My pitch rises to a screech. “By slow down, do you mean forget about?”
His eyes search my face. “Ye–ah, it would be best, on the whole. Or at least until we have him on board, and knowing him, it could take weeks.”
My palms shoot up to block him off. “Weeks? No. Out of the question, Alex. We put too much into this. I
sn't it a cornerstone of your business plan? Isn't that what you told me?”
“Yes, I meant all of that.”
“Then why listen to Seb? He hasn't been here. Why are you even considering his opinion?”
Alex's face is rigid, like someone else is pressing a remote control and telling him how to move and what to say. “Hayley, don't make this any more difficult than it already is.”
I exhale loudly. “I'm just trying to understand. Are you backing out because you think it's a gamble that won't work? If it is, then why don't you just say it to my face? I'm a big girl. I can handle it.”
“That's not it at all. I want the gallery open, too. But Seb's the boss now. You just have to accept it.”
This makes absolutely no sense to me. I prowl in a semicircle around him, unable to keep my limbs still. “Last time I checked, you were the duke.”
“I'm the bearer of the title.”
“Fine. So who is Seb to challenge your plans?”
He presses his lips together. “My brother.”
“So?”
“He's got the power.”
“Am I misunderstanding something?”
Alex slumps against the wall. He looks pale, like the life has been sucked out of him. “You have to understand, Hayley. The dukedom is rightfully Seb's—morally, ethically, and meritocratically, any way you choose to look. But by accident of birth, it fell to me. It's not Seb's fault he had a different mother. He's had punishment enough.”
I'm struggling to get my head around this, not the story itself, but the fact that Alex kept this all from me. “And you were going to tell me all this … when?”
“I didn't know if he'd ever come back, Hayley. I was waiting to find out—”
“If he was still alive?” I finish for him.
“That was one option. The other was that he might not want to resume his position here. But now that he's safely home and keen to power forward, I'm prepared to get out of his way. I owe him, Hayley.”
I fight to catch my breath. Of course, he owes me nothing. Less than nothing. The debt is all on my side. I don't even have the right to be angry, although it doesn't stop the red mist from clouding over my vision. “Then you won't want me here. I'm just in the way.”
“Rubbish, Hayley. We'll have more time now … for us.”
The conviction I so badly need is missing from his words and from his voice. I try to picture the scenario for a few seconds, but hanging around here for the rest of the semester break, not knowing the fate of the gallery, is not my idea of sanity. And deep down, my secret fantasy of staying on even longer has disintegrated into dust.
“Aren't you happy?” Alex asks, his eyes searing into me.
“Would you be, if you were me?” I snap back. “All my work, for nothing? All your family secrets?”
I've got him. He can't even hold my gaze. I'm right and yet, he doesn't even have the grace to reconsider. “So you're just a puppet duke now, is that it?”
No answer.
“Well, there's no point in dragging this one out. I may as well go book my flight.”
“Hayley—”
“No, Alex.” I turn away from him and stride toward the door. I can't bear the expression on his face, the pained glint in his eyes, like he's bottling up something explosive. I'm half expecting him to shout out something as I press down on the handle, but he doesn't, and so I keep going until there's a door between us, and then several more. Each step I take deepens the wound. Soon there'll be eight time zones between us and what will that feel like?
27
HAYLEY
“MARA, I AM SO DONE playing Cinderella.” I'm viciously stuffing clothes into my suitcase while Skyping. “First guy I get serious with and I start to believe in the happy ever after and all the rest of it. What is wrong with me? Fuck him.”
I toss another pair of socks into my suitcase on the bed. “Can you believe it? Throwing it all up in the air once his long–lost brother returns, like it was all some kind of experiment. But it's my life we're talking about.”
Mara shakes her head in the Skype window. “You let your guard down. We all do it, hun. Try to forgive yourself, if not him.”
“Oh, Mara. I wish you were here. You'd see why it's so easy to get swept off your feet.”
“Except, it wasn't all imaginary, was it? You got great experience. You made serious connections with interested buyers. This will help your career.”
“Maybe I don't want help. Because see where taking shortcuts gets me.”
“That was no shortcut. You were working your ass off, girl. You couldn't have possibly known the situation with his brother.”
“Unless of course he'd told me,” I grumble.
“Okay, yeah. But I do believe Alex would have opened that gallery if Seb hadn't come home.”
“Sure, but it's all hypothetical. Bottom line is, I can't trust him to stand up for what he believes in.”
“Yeah, that's not good.”
We both sigh simultaneously.
“Well,” Mara says. “I'll have my phone by me until you reach Heathrow. Call me if you feel even slightly inclined to cave in and go back to him?”
I laugh bitterly. “There's no danger of that. At least I can make decisions and stick to them.”
There's a low, impatient–sounding rap on the door.
I jump. “Oh my God, if he's come to try to make me change my mind, I swear I'll strangle him with these bra straps.”
Mara's biting her knuckles. “You gonna open?”
“Hold on a sec.” I toss the bra into the suitcase.
When I open up, it's a good–looking man I've never seen before … tall, late twenties or early thirties, black silk shirt and black jeans, shaggy black hair with mini sideburns that actually suit him, pale skin, sensual eyes, and a natural air of superiority about him, someone you wouldn't mess with. Still, I'm in no mood to be nice to anyone, no matter how imposingly they present themselves.
He swivels his head to take in the mess, the suitcase, the laptop screen with the open–mouthed Mara staring out of it.
“You must be Hayley.” He's got that same entitled, clipped accent as the rest of them. It's got to be Seb.
Instinctively, I step back and let him wander in. At the center of the room, he cocks his head, looking at me with the most intense, mournful, eyes, that vaguely remind me of El Greco paintings. “I'm Sebastian Belgrave.”
No shit. “Hello.”
He glances around the room, making me feel like I've stolen something. Perhaps this is meant to be his bedroom? Well, he's welcome to it in about two hours when I'm out of here and after the housekeeper has vacuumed away all traces of my riff–raff self.
His gaze lands on the laptop and lingers. “Who's that?”
“Mara. My friend.”
It's almost comical. Separated by 5000 miles, Mara and Seb are wearing the exact same haughty expression on their faces as they stare at each other. Under happier circumstances, I might even introduce them to each other, but as things are, I stay glaring at him, tapping my foot.
“Are you leaving?” His gaze moves to the suitcase and back to my face. He's like a slow–motion version of Alex.
I nod briefly. Why acknowledge out loud what's plain to see? Besides, I can't trust my voice to hold out anymore. I kind of hate Seb for doing whatever he did to turn Alex into a big old coward. I don't have a big brother so maybe I don't understand, but Alex didn't even put up a token fight for me, for us.
“Look, I realize this must be … sudden for you.” Seb's voice has softened to a low rumble but is still perfectly audible in the deathly silence. His gaze moves to the window and a wistful expression creeps into his dark eyes. “Alex did well. He did his best. But…”––and now he's frowning––“It's harvest time. We have a backlog, arrears in payments, legislation changes, two tenants' bankruptcies, and a tax deadline. I can't dump all that on Alex and live with myself. It was a mistake to do so and I'm back now to make up for it. I may be pa
ying for it for a very long time.”
I squirm, not sure what he wants to hear. Alex never seemed interested in those things.
Then in a brighter voice he says, “But you're perfectly welcome to stay.”
“No, thanks.” I flash him a tight smile.
He nods solemnly at me, then at Mara on my laptop, and in four brisk strides he's gone, closing the door behind him.
I flop down on the bed and hold my knees, rocking back and forth. Under her mop of auburn hair, I notice Mara's deathly pale. The usual, sassy, pink flush is leached from her cheeks. I've never seen her so dumbstruck.
Neither of us speaks.
“Holy crap,” she says finally. “Well if that isn't the most beautiful man I've ever seen then my name's not Mara Madison. It's like they're laying out the temptations in a row, trying to entice you to stay.”
I give a hollow laugh. “I must be immune, because all I want to do is get out of here.”
“You're still in shock,” Mara says.
I force myself to get to work again, squashing down my packed clothes so I can get the suitcase shut. “Let's look on the bright side. With all the excitement of him being back, they'll hardly notice I'm gone.”
“All right. Just come home, Hayley,” Mara says softly. “We need you here.”
28
ALEX
I CATCH SEB COMING out of Hayley's room. Yes, I've been prowling around trying to figure out what to do, keeping guard like a goddamn Buckingham Palace sentry guard.
“What did you say to her?” I growl, falling in step beside him.
He holds up his palms. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing much. There'll be more arm candy, Alex. Girls love pilots.”
I give him my meanest glare.
“No point looking for anything more until it's time to actually get serious. Enjoy your freedom now that you're unshackled.”
“Funny, I never considered myself shackled.” Everything Seb says is having the reverse effect on me. It makes me want to hold on to Hayley even tighter. It makes me want to be shackled, to wrench back my share of the responsibility he's stolen so easily from me. “Maybe you're the one who needs to loosen up.”
