“Yeah, really. It’s a dirty habit. It’s killing my mother and it’ll kill me too probably.”
Morgan pulls her cigarette out her mouth and stares at it as though she’s seeing it for the first time.
“I’m right there with you,” she says. “This’ll be my last one too.”
Alex looks worried but nods her head.
“I’m in too. We’re here for you and we always will be. Even when you’re back in the States, I’ll see a pack of cigarettes and think about you.”
“That’s a rather depressing legacy to leave behind in England,” I joke.
“I’ll also think of you whenever I see Milton’s face in the paper or whenever I see a Bentley. I’ll think about you whenever I see a skull tattoo or a black parka jacket.”
“And I’ll think of you whenever I see a rum and coke,” Morgana chimes in. “Or whenever I see a raven the same color as your hair.”
I start crying all over again.
“Fuck, I’m really going to miss you guys!”
I pull them both into a hug and we collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Then we lay there sprawled for what feels like forever.
“Speaking of Milton,” Alex begins. “What are you going to do about him?”
I’ve been so caught up worrying about mom that I haven’t thought about him. A dark feeling lurches in my stomach at the realization that I’ll be saying goodbye to him and leaving him behind with Penelope.
“His ex-wife had a miscarriage last night,” I blurt out.
“What?” they both say in unison as they lift their heads.
“But I don’t think she was pregnant,” I say.
“How can she miscarry if she wasn’t pregnant?” Alex frowns.
“Do you think she made it all up to get Freddie backs?” asks Morgana.
I sit up and reach for my phone where the paparazzi shot of Penelope on Carnaby Street is saved.
“That’s exactly what I think and this is why.”
I show them the photo and zoom in on the plastic bag at her elbow.
“Is that a box of tampons?” Alex gasps.
“Yep!”
“Why would she need those if she’s pregnant?”
“You tell me.”
Alex grabs the phone from my hand and begins to zoom in on every inch of the photograph.
“She could maybe be buying them for someone else,” she muses.
“Who does that?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Morgana says. “Faking a pregnancy, then faking a miscarriage. That’s full scale crazy, bat shit bananas.”
“Believe me, if you’d met her, you’d think she was capable of it.”
They both look at me in disbelief for a moment before glancing at each other.
“Are you telling him you’re leaving?” Alex changes the subject.
“Maybe… I guess I’ll have to. I’ll call him in a bit. Let me look at flights first.”
I reach out for my laptop but Alex holds my hand back.
“Tell him in person,” she says. “I may not like him but I know how much he means to you. Go and see him. You’ll never know when you’ll get to be with him again.”
Tears begin to spring from my eyes and I stand up to look out the window. As night time descends on campus, people are starting to head out. The sound of a kick drum blares from a distant building and below the window someone laughs and shrieks. I’ll never get to join these people again. If my mom dies there’ll be no more fun in the world, no more sunshine or laughter. There’ll be no one to love me and no one to look forward to pleasing. For the most fleeting of moments I’d thought there was someone I could love as much as her but just like my academic dreams, the chance to be with Freddie has disappeared.
I sob with my head leant against the window. My tears run down the glass matching the movements of the raindrops outside. Morgana leans in behind me and hugs me tight.
“Go say goodbye to Freddie. We’ll sort your stuff out. I can book your flights if you want. Make sure you get on one first thing in the morning.”
“And I can pack your stuff,” Alex offers.
I spin around to bury my head in Morgana’s shoulder.
“You guys are the best.”
Chapter Eight
The gates outside Freddie’s house look more sinister in the rain like I’m on the threshold of entering a forbidden kingdom. The rain lashes down on the car, battering down on the roof like pebbles. I lean out the window, press the intercom button and wait for Xavier’s voice.
“Hello? Milton residence,” his voice crackles out the speaker.
“It’s Stephanie!” I reply. “I need to see Frederick.”
The crackling stops and I wait for the gates to glide open but they won’t.
“You’re here to see Mr. Milton?” Xavier’s voice returns.
“I am. If he’s busy please tell him I won’t be long. It’s just that I have some important news. Some really important news and this might be the last time I ever see him.”
“Oh,” he says surprised.
Again the crackling disappears. A moment later the gates open and I drive through the tree lined road, remembering how long it is. As I pull up outside the house, the white-gloved butler is waiting in the doorway and looking up at the sky as though he’s afraid it might fall down at any moment. I dash out from the warmth and comfort of the car and stagger into the hall with the wind pushing me from behind.
“Oh dear. The weather is quite horrendous,” he says as I take my coat. “Really quite horrendous. Can I make you some tea?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
He nods politely and shows me through to the dining room.
“I am sorry for the delay in allowing you in. It’s just that Mr. Milton is having a very, how shall I say it, delicate time. I was not aware that he was expecting you.”
“He’s not.” I reply.
Xavier knocks on the dining room door.
“Come in!” Freddie answers.
Behind the mahogany, there’s the muffled sound of hushed voices, the clattering of cutlery and a familiar floral scent that’s drifting out from under the door.
The door is pushed back to reveal Penelope at the head of the table laughing as though she hasn't a care in the world. Her hand is on Freddie's wrist as she stares into his eyes. Behind her, a portrait of a long forgotten Milton stands tall and proud amidst a group of Beagles, with tails pointed out behind them like activated divining rods. In front of her sits an assortment of cakes beside a porcelain teapot. She pours herself a cup as though she's oblivious we've entered.
"Master Milton, you have a guest," Xavier exclaims before shrinking away and closing the door.
Freddie looks up and gives me a weak though apologetic smile. Meanwhile, Penelope takes her time, watching the stream of rusty, brown tea dance at the bottom of her cup before looking up and nibbling on the edge of a scone with a cheeky, girlish grin.
"I didn't know you were coming," she says. "What a surprise."
She gives Freddie a sideways glance.
"Sorry to get in between.. whatever this is," I say. "I just wanted to tell Freddie something and I'll be gone."
"Freddie?" she sneers. "She has a pet name for you already!" she laughs and slaps him on the back.
He looks infuriated but too nervous to pull away.
"Shouldn't you be in hospital?" I say.
"Hospital?" she frowns as though she has no idea what I'm talking about.
"I was under the impression you had a miscarriage last night," I say. "When I had mine I was in hospital for three days."
She looks me up and down with disgust.
"Well I'm obviously made of tougher stuff than you," she spits.
It takes all my strength to not lunge across the table and strangle her. Freddie sees the look in my eyes and stands up.
"Penelope! I never formally introduced the two of you. Stephanie, this is Penelope and Penelope, this is my girlfriend Stephanie. S
he's come all the way from Kansas to study at Knightswood."
Her top lip curls up.
"We've met before," I say. "In your office."
“And last night, in your car,” she adds.
"Of course, of course," Freddie nods.
He's staring at her as though he has no idea what she'll do next. Meanwhile, she sips on her tea and smiles.
"Can I talk to you alone for a minute? I say as I turn to him.
"Yeah!" he jumps up. "That sounds great."
He's halfway to the door when Penelope screeches back her chair along the floorboards.
"Freddie," she pouts. "You're not leaving your wife all alone, are you? Not when she's feeling so poorly..."
I have never been so tempted to hit someone so much in my life but stop myself by digging my nails into the palm of my hand until my knuckles are white and the tendons in my wrists feel as though they're about to snap.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just make yourself at home," he says.
"You're forgetting that for a little while this was my home," she says and stands up.
Revealing her body, I can now see her stomach is perfectly flat and tight beneath her pink dress. I look for the telltale signs of grief on her face; the lines from a sleepless night, the dark circles from crying and the parched, pale skin that can only come from not eating or drinking. She looks more radiant than ever and as she walks closer, I see the immaculate application of her eyeliner and the precision of her false eyelashes that have been glued so seamlessly to her top lids. I've seen all I need to. She's a liar.
"You're looking terrific," I announce with a hint of suspicion.
She looks down at her body and smiles with a wrinkled up nose.
"Some girls just like to always look their best."
Then she looks at my rain soaked hair and scuffed up jeans with a smirk.
"Freddie, I really do need to talk to you and I haven't got much time," I say.
We both move to leave but Penelope stands between us and she places her hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you relax and stay with us," she says. "Have a drink or two or ten."
She giggles in what I can only imagine is an attempt to sound cute but ends up maniacal.
"No," I say. "I have to get back to campus. Just two minutes, Freddie."
He looks into my eyes and sees the pain and worry that wasn't there the last time I saw him and I can see the sadness within him; the slumped shoulders, the deadness in his eyes and look of resignation. He thinks he's lost a child. How do I even tell him there was no child to lose in the first place?
"I'd really like to talk in private," I say while pulling open the door.
"Ah nonsense," Penelope laughs. "You can say anything you need to right here."
Her clipped, aristocratic voice cuts through me and I shudder.
"Something wrong?" she asks.
"Yeah, you," I reply unable to hide my hatred for her.
"Oooh... Americans don't waste time getting to the point, do they?" she laughs.
I take a deep breath, look down at the floor and count to ten. When I lift my head, I see she's whispering in his ear. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles, her pink lips spreading up the side of her face like a glittering axe wound.
Freddie pulls himself free from her grasp and opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Xavier knocking on the door.
"Tea!" he declares as he enters. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, dear Stephanie so I made you Echinacea, considering how bad the weather is. It's supposed to boost your immune system. I also took the liberty of bringing Earl Gray. I do believe you enjoyed it the last time you were here."
"You're so sweet," I say and he leaves with a little bow.
I glare at Freddie and shift my eyes toward the door. Please, take the hint, I think. Get rid of that psycho for two minutes.
"Penelope," he says. "I'm just going to pop out and have a word with Steph. Be back in a moment."
She huffs and sits down with her arms crossed.
"Very well," she says. "I suppose it's a free country."
Chapter Nine
A deep rumble penetrates the ground.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Thunder, I think," says Freddie.
"As if this house couldn't get any creepier. Do you know where I want to see you?"
"Where?"
"Somewhere sunny. I think you'd fit in somewhere like Los Angeles. Your muscles could catch some sun and you can swan around your swanky penthouse in a pair of Speedos. How about it?"
He smiles half-heartedly and sits in on the window ledge with the stained glass behind him glowing red on his white shirt.
"I've been to Los Angeles many times but never imagined living there."
I sit beside him and lean against his shoulder. He wraps an arm around me and squeezes tight.
"I've been trying to get rid of her, really I have."
"I believe you," I say and reach up to kiss him.
He's silent for a moment as he loosens his grip. Then he glances out the windows into the forest where the trees are being blown from side to side.
"You've been crying," he says.
"Is it so obvious?"
"No, but I can tell."
He holds my hand and kisses it without taking his eyes off the storm outside before holding it to his face.
"What's the matter?" he asks. "Is it Penelope? Because I understand. She's infiltrated my life and yours and after last night, well I'm not surprised you're shaken up."
Again, the pain shows itself in his eyes and my own tragedy shrinks away for a moment.
"How are you holding up?"
He shakes his head and leans against the window before running a hand through his hair.
"Not good," he answers. "Although Penny seems to be doing just fine."
"I can see that."
We can hear her footsteps from the dining room; the sound of high heels on oak floor boards. They echo throughout the ground floor and wander over to the door. We wait for her to walk out and interrupt us but she doesn't seem to be moving.
"She's trying to listen to us, isn't she?" I ask.
"That's Penny for you," he says.
The footsteps start up again and we hear her walk back up the long length of the dining room. I wait until I hear the creak of a chair before saying:
"Was she always like this?"
He raises his eyebrows and leans forward to rest on his knees.
"So psychotic, I mean."
"You think she's a psychopath?" he asks shocked.
"Okay, maybe that was the wrong word to use. I think she's manipulative, though. I think she's trouble."
He rubs at his forehead in thought.
"She was always good at getting her own way, if that's what you mean and I'd be lying if I said I didn't know she was manipulative. But she wasn't like that when we met. She was sweet and lovely. She wanted to be a doctor and save lives. She wanted to travel all over the world and care for the most vulnerable people she could find."
"I can't imagine it," I say. "Not when I look at her now."
"I can't imagine it either. I blame her parents. They gave her everything, spoiled her, ruined her until she truly believed her purpose on Earth was to be worshipped. By the time she was twenty it was all about the money. She wanted the best of everything and wouldn't do a day's work for any of it. And of course, I was young and hopelessly in love so I didn't help matters. If anything, I made her worse. But, she's known her fair share of tragedy too. I can't blame it all on her."
"The miscarriage," I say. "She certainly recovered quickly."
"She did."
I can't bear to say all the things I want to. He thinks he lost a child, telling him about the photograph, about what I think about Penelope could either make everything better or ruin it forever. And what if I'm wrong? I keep my mouth shut and lean my face into my hands to steady my breathing. There are a thousand thoughts swimming in my head and all of them are horrible,
twisted, tragic.
"Are you ok?"
He rubs my back.
"No, Freddie," I say as I burst into tears. "Everything isn't ok."
"Oh, sweetheart. Come here. Tell me everything."
He holds me close and I sob into his shirt as he strokes the side of my face.
"Shhh... Shhh... Take a deep breath. There, that's it."
"Freddie, I have so many things to tell you," I say. "I don't know where to start."
He looks into my eyes and holds me by the shoulders.
"You can tell me anything. You know that, don't you?"
I nod and wipe the tears from my cheeks. At the back of the hall, I can hear Xavier approach, light-footed and purposeful.
"I have something to tell you. My mom has-"
"Master Milton," Xavier interrupts. "I'm so sorry to bother you but Mr. Bronson is on the phone from ExoTech. He says it's urgent."
"Fuck!" Freddie jumps up. "I was supposed to call him earlier. Sorry, Steph. Give me two minutes and I’ll listen to everything.”
He blows me a kiss and jogs up the stairs.
Chapter Ten
For the longest time, I look up at the moon and think about my mom. Upstairs, I can hear Freddie’s muffled voice as he argues on the phone. I’m entrenched in my thoughts that I barely hear the sound of high heels clacking behind me.
“You look rather melancholy” Penelope says “I suppose you’re thinking about ways to win him back from me.”
I turn around to face her with my eyeliner running down my cheeks.
“Actually I was planning my mother’s funeral.”
She doesn’t say a word, just shrugs and looks away before knocking back the gin and tonic in her hand.
“Should you even be drinking?”
She gives me an offended look and shrugs.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“You’ll have to elaborate.”
I turn back to look at the storm.
“I saw the photograph of you on Carnaby Street,” I say.
The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series) Page 14
