She flinches as though she’s been slapped.
“So? I’m often on Carnaby Street. What can I say? I like to shop.”
“Like to shop for things you don’t need? I ask.
She squints eyes and points behind her.
“I need another one of these.”
She jingles the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass and turns on her heel.
"Care to join me?" she calls over her shoulder?
"Not really."
I sit back down on the window ledge and wait for her to leave, but she doesn't.
"Come on, one drink won't hurt."
Outside, the storm begins to rage and a draft billows in through a gap in the ancient window.
"Okay," I relent. “But I’m not staying.”
~
Penelope's skyscraper heels are clicking off the stone as we navigate our way down the spiral staircase.
"Excuse me for assuming we were heading for the kitchen," I say.
She laughs and throws her head back. For a second, I worry if she'll trip in her heels, but her impeccable balance keeps her upright and she continues down until we're in the wine cellar.
"The best stuff's kept down here," she says.
Meandering over to a cabinet in the corner, she pulls out a bottle of gin and fills two glasses before handing me one.
"You know, you did a pretty good job of pretending to be sober up there," I say. "What was in your tea?"
"Whisky," she says with a smirk. "Always whisky."
"Don't you know you should never mix your drinks?"
She glares at me like a petulant teenager being scolded by her parents. Meanwhile, I try to strain my ears to hear Freddie upstairs but down here we're cocooned by the dark rock with no sound penetrating the thick walls. Starting to feel uncomfortable, I take a sip of my drink and begin toward the stairs eager to get out the darkness. Penelope has other plans. She proceeds to light candles around the room until it's lit up like an underground cathedral.
"Hey, I love spooky cellars as much as the next person but I better be on my way."
Placing one foot on the stairs, I suddenly feel sharp nails digging at my elbow. Turning around, I see Penelope gripping my arm. There's a wild, unhinged look in her eye as though she's not fully aware of what she's doing. I reach to take her drink away but she lunges back.
"Don't touch it!" she spits.
"Woah, look, calm down and let me go. I don't know what you're planning here but it's nuts."
Her grip around me tightens and she pulls me back into the heart of the cellar. There's the glint of candlelight on metal, the glow of fire on steel. Then I see it laid out on the table, the knife with the Milton coat of arms etched into the handle. She sees my eyes drift over it and wastes no time. She leaps forward and grabs it before pressing it up against my throat. Despite its age, it's sharper than I imagined and I feel my skin begin to sting and give way as the blade penetrates my neck.
Grabbing her hair, I pull her back and she stumbles over on her ankle before tumbling to the ground, her jewellery rattling as she falls.
"Bitch!" she squeals. "You savage!"
"Look. Just stop this. Right now. Don't make it any worse. You're drunk and you're fucking crazy."
"Crazy, eh?" she stands up and brandishes the knife. "Crazy!"
I look at her, glance at the stairs then back at her.
"Don't think about it," she says. "You're going to sit here and listen."
She gestures toward the antique chair at the table and, terrified of what she's about to do next, I sit down meekly and look down at my hands.
"You're a smart girl," she says. "A little birdy tells me you've been snooping around."
"Not snooping, just trying to find the truth. I know you weren't even pregnant! And I know you only want Freddie back in your life because your family went bankrupt."
Her hands begin to shake. Deep within her neck, I see a tendon pull itself taught as she breathes heavily.
"Well," she says as she exhales "I guess there's no harm in telling you, especially as I'm going to kill you anyway."
I look for the knife and see it tightly grasped in her white-knuckled hands. She can't be serious. It's one thing being manipulative but it's another thing being a murderer.
"You wouldn't kill me. You wouldn't... would you?"
"I killed my own son, didn't I? Poisoned and smothered him and told everyone he'd come down with a terrible fever."
I gasp and start to feel a wave of nausea pass through me.
"And your last pregnancy?"
"Well, you seem to know all about that."
I shake my head.
"You're a fucking psycho. I'm going to make sure Freddie knows everything about you!"
"You'll have to get out of here first."
She grips the knife tighter and takes a step forward.
"Don't!" a voice calls from the stairs.
We both look up and see Freddie standing open mouthed on the stairs, his eyes wide and panicked.
"Penny! You.. you killed our son?" he stutters.
She begins crying and drops the knife.
"No... no..."
She collapses into a chair.
"You were never supposed to find out."
He's hurrying over, picking me up by the arms and dragging me up the stairs.
"Run!" he says. "Call the police."
Chapter Eleven
Flashing lights illuminate the house in a haze of red and blue. Xavier is standing in shock at the bottom of the steps, staring at Penelope as she's led away in handcuffs. Meanwhile, I'm sitting on the back step of an ambulance covered in a blanket.
"It’s just a tiny cut. I'm fine," I insist as I rub at the dressing on my neck.
"I know but the police insisted you get checked over."
"Really, I'm okay!"
A detective walks over and hands me a mug of coffee.
"You look like you need this. Anyway, the old bloke up there says he made it for you."
He points his thumb back over at Xavier and I give the old man a thumbs up in appreciation.
"Can I leave?" I ask. "I have to be somewhere."
Freddie looks mildly hurt and sits down beside me.
"Listen, I came here to say something," I cry, looking up at the detective who takes the hint walks away. "I came here to say goodbye."
Freddie fails to move. He looks as though he's trapped in his mind, forever paralyzed by the shock of what happened tonight and what I’m saying.
"You... you don't mean that. I thought you-"
"I love you, Freddie," I blurt out. "But… I'm leaving. I'm going back home."
He gulps as though attempting to swallow down his sadness.
"Is it because of all of this?"
He waves his hand up at the house.
"No... My mom..."
A tear spills down my cheek.
"She's only got six months to live."
He grabs me tight, then tighter until I'm sobbing into his chest and can't stop for a single second until I struggle to breathe. The grief flows out of me as I dig my fingernails into his shirt to bring him closer.
"It's lung cancer, Freddie. She's dying."
He kisses the top of my head and holds me.
A car ignites its engine at the front of the house and crackles along the gravel in front of us. Penelope is in the back seat with her head down. As she glides past, she glances up for the briefest of moments, peeking through a gap in her hair before looking back down at her lap.
"Steph?"
"Uhuh..."
I look up and wipe my eyes.
"Steph, I'm coming with you."
Chapter Twelve
"Are you sure about this?"
"I'm sure about being with you," he says. "And I know that I don't wanna be anywhere near London. Not for a while anyway."
"I thought you loved London!"
He thinks for a second and frowns.
"I love a lot of my memories of the place
. I love the history, the people, the culture, my childhood... But I think that chapter of my life is over now. It's time to create a new one."
"It's going to be a culture shock," I say. "My family's rickety, old house in Kansas is nothing like Mayfair."
"Sounds terrific," he says with a smile. "I can't wait to meet everyone, especially your mum."
"She'll absolutely adore you," I say. "I mean she'll be surprised but she'll adore you."
We sit back in the lounge chair and watch people bustle toward the various departure lounges. Above us, a curt, polite female voice announces the next flight to Dresden and a group of Dutch tourists walk past in matching anoraks with cameras slung around their necks.
"I think we should head inside to VIP," he says. "It's getting crowded out here."
We head in through the mysterious silver door and sit at the bar. A young boy in a crisp black suit with an olive complexion smiles and asks what we're having.
"A quick vodka," says Freddie. "How about you Steph?"
"Hot chocolate."
"Off the booze and cigarettes? I'm impressed!"
He fiddles with his watch strap as he checks the time.
"Won't be long until the jet's ready. Xavier said he'd call when it's time to board."
"A private jet," I say. "I can't believe I'll be traveling in one."
"He smiles and kisses my check."
Behind him, the news plays on the television.
"Hey, it's Knightswood!"
I point over.
"So it is! Hey," he turns to the barman. "Can you turn this up?"
The boy reaches for the remote and fiddles with the buttons until at last, we can hear the reporter's voice. She's standing at the foot of the stairs of the math department with the wind kicking up her blow dried, auburn hair.
"Alex Tremaine, member of various local anarchist parties and student here at Knightswoood, said she stole the money from billionaire Frederick Milton in a bid to highlight the highly polarized social divide in modern society, which she says is caused by multi-national corporations."
A photo of Alex flashes up on the screen, her unforgettable blue hair radiantly framing her pale face before the camera turns back to the reporter who's now walking past Foxley Halls.
"Daughter of Sonja Tremaine, one of the victims of the ThetaTek radiation leak, says the twenty thousand pounds was given to a charity for victims of corporate crime and workplace injury."
"What the fuck?" I gasp and look at Freddie.
He's looking down at the phone at the dozens of missed calls he's received over the course of the morning.
"I can't believe it!" I say. "I talked to her about the robbery! The two of us tried to figure out who could have possibly done it and it was her all along!"
"Don't be with angry with her," Freddie says as he squeezes my hand. "She obviously had her reasons."
“And you’re not angry! You must be. It was your money!”
His phone starts to ring in his hand.
"It's Xavier," he says. "Come on, let's get you home."
Chapter Thirteen
"I knew private jets were lush but I didn't know they had a bedroom!"
We're lying side by side on top the velvet covers watching the clouds pass through the small, port window. He's sleepily resting his head on my breast and breathing heavily.
"You ever joined the mile-high club?" he asks.
"No!" I laugh. "Have you?"
He smiles and glances away.
"Maybe."
Rolling on top of me, he kisses me softly as I coil my legs around his waist.
"Hmmm... This is perfect," I say.
His fingers find their way to the buttons of my shirt. He pings them open one by one until my rigid nipples are peeking out. They grow harder as his fingertips caress them.
"Come here," I breathe as I unzip his pants and hold him in my hand.
Stroking him softly, I listen to the changes in his breath and the subtle noises he makes as I reach the tip. With my other hand, I stroke his hair as he leans into my chest, his soft lips grazing my breasts as he groans.
When I feel the familiar twitch in his thighs, I pull away and push him onto his back, straddling him as his hands reach up to cup me.
Lowering myself down slowly, I watch how his stomach muscles contract as he enters me. His eyes widen for a moment before he clamps them shut, sighs and falls back against the pillow.
"Fuck," he whispers.
I move slowly, so slowly that I'm almost not moving at all, sliding my way up his length with a perfect deliberateness that ensures I don't miss a single inch.
He holds my hips and tries to drive himself up into me but I stop him and push his hands down into the mattress.
"No," I say. "Be patient."
He groans and closes his eyes again.
"You can be so cruel," he says with a smile.
When I feel as though I'm close, I move a little faster and he lets out a moan of sheer ecstasy.
"Put your hands here," I say as I raise them to my throat.
He holds on tight, the hardness of my windpipe pushing against the cushion of his palm.
"I'm coming," I whisper and he grips tighter.
Slinking down onto him one more time, I lean back and stroke my fingers over his testicles. We both shudder while the bed beneath us trembles. I see the ceiling above me for a flickering second,then blackness as my body is engulfed by an orgasm. I'm tumbling forward on his body and gasping, crying, screaming as his hands hold me tight against him.
He pulls the covers up over me and I roll off to lie by his side. Outside, the clouds darken and the plane shakes slightly before gliding smoothly into the soft greyness.
"Turbulence," Freddie says as he hugs me from behind. "It'll be over in a minute."
~
It's a long drive from the airport to the house. Freddie's eyes are big and childlike as we traverse the landscape in the car, Xavier’s in the driver's seat looking impeccable and alert as always.
"It's been a long time since I was in this part of the States," he says.
"Really?" Freddie asks. "I never knew you worked over here."
"No, not worked. I was here with family once. A very long time ago of course. Before I met your father."
"Weird," I say. "No one comes to this part of the country. Not unless they have to."
Xavier says nothing.
"Just take a left here," I say as I point into the nearby woodland. "This road will take you straight up to the house."
I reach out nervously for Freddie's hand.
"I can't thank you enough," I say. "Really, I can’t."
"It's nothing."
"Don't say that! It's everything! There's a chance she might actually make it with the treatment you're paying for."
"What's the point of having all this money if you can't save lives," he answers. "I'd do anything to make sure she lives."
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too."
In the distance, the house emerges through the dust amidst a graveyard of tractors and rusty cars. I can see Susan on the front porch. She's squinting at us as though she doesn't know who we are. I bet she reckons we're cops, I think. Then she sees my face and she waves before running over.
"Steph!"
She yanks the door open and jumps into my lap, squeezing me hard.
"I'm so happy you're home. I've missed you."
"Really?" I laugh. "I thought you'd be pleased I was gone."
She looks up and sees Freddie, blushes and climbs out the car.
"Mom's upstairs. She'll be so happy to see you. You're all she talks about."
"Well, she won't have much to talk about now I've screwed up my studies."
"Hey," Freddie interrupts as he pulls our suitcase from the trunk. "You'll be working for me now. You don't need to go back to school."
Susan's glaring at him with a mixture of suspicion and awe.
"Come on," she grabs a bag. "Let's go inside.
I made dinner, although I'm not sure you'll like it after all that fancy stuff you've probably been eating over there."
"I'll love it," I say. "I pretty much lived on cigarettes and coffee the whole time. I've been practically dreaming about mom's roast chicken."
I show Freddie into the house and he smiles at the family photos on the walls.
"Aw, you as a kid, right?"
"A very tiny kid."
"Before the cynicism kicked in and you started wearing black," he laughs.
"Yeah, seeing me in a pink dress is a rare sight. I'd relish this opportunity if I were you."
Upstairs, mom coughs and we all look up.
"Stephanie? Is that you?"
"Yeah, mom, it's me."
I wave Freddie up the stairs and grab his hand.
"Thank you," I whisper into his ear and his kisses me.
Leading him up the stairs, I walk him down the hall past my bedroom. He looks at all the band posters plastering the walls and smiles as though he's finally seeing me, my life, my past.
"Mom?"
About The Author
Brooke Kinsley has been in love with words since the day she took her first breath. She loves writing steamy, sexy stories with very strong guys who fall deeply in love with the women they flirt. Coffee and wine inspired her stories and she thinks every person should partake in! Brooke lives in Quebec, Canada with her boyfriend. When she's not crafting stories, she's probably playing with her two cats.
You can find her on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/BrookeKinsleyAuthor/
Amazon Author Page : https://www.amazon.com/author/brookekinsley
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The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series) Page 15
