London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

  “I asked him not to.”

  “Why? He didn’t have a girlfriend last September. Why the secrecy? Were you using me to get to Samir? This whole time—our friendship—was it just a ploy to get closer to him?”

  “No! How could you think that?”

  “You lied to me. He lied to me. You’re two of my closest friends, and you both lied to me. How do you think that feels?”

  “I was wrong. I know I was. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Fleur’s eyes narrowed, ignoring my apology. “Why were you fooling around with Hugh when you could have had Samir?”

  “That’s just the point. I never could have had Samir. He never let me think I had a chance at anything with him. He never seemed interested in anything other than hooking up. That’s why I didn’t tell you. The whole thing was just casual. At least it was supposed to be.”

  “Then what changed between you guys? What made you look like this?”

  “I don’t know.” It was hard to explain. A bunch of little, nothing moments that somehow, when strung together, turned into something life-changing, something that changed me.

  “I got to know him better. You were right. He’s a good guy. He has moments when he can be a total dick, but he also has times when he can be really sweet.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “Everything just got out of control. I wanted to tell you, but it snowballed and things kept getting bigger and bigger and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. After everything I shared with you. I told you things I haven’t told anyone else.” Her voice cracked. She was right. I deserved everything she threw at me and my only explanation was, I fucked up.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you this. You’re right; I was worried you would judge me. I did give you a hard time over Costa when I had no right to. I just didn’t know how to explain, because it was Samir. I didn’t want you to be in the middle of both of us, I didn’t know how you would feel about everything. I know I’ve completely fucked this up, but you’re one of my closest friends and I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Are we friends?” Fleur asked. “It sure doesn’t sound like it.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU GOING TO ignore me the rest of the trip?”

  Fleur glared at me across the room. Our hotel was small but fancy. Right now the room felt too small. Shortly after we’d checked in, Mya had left to go call her mom and see how things were going. I was pretty sure she’d also done it to force me and Fleur to talk to each other.

  “Maybe.”

  “Why are you being like this?”

  She’d been freezing me out since I’d told her about Samir. In classic Fleur fashion, she hadn’t been subtle about it, either.

  “I don’t know. Why are you such a bad friend?”

  “I wasn’t trying to be a bad friend,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me about Costa to begin with? Because you were embarrassed. Did you ever think maybe that’s how I felt about Samir? I knew I was doing something wrong, and I wasn’t proud of it.

  “I know you love him. I know he’s one of the people you’re closest to. I didn’t know how to talk to you about him. The more time that passed, the harder it became. In the beginning I was afraid if I told you, I’d lose you as a friend. Then as time went on, everything just became so complicated. The more time that passed, the bigger the secret became. I didn’t know how to talk about it because I didn’t know how I felt.

  “And let’s be real here. You push. You would have pushed me about it. You would have wanted to know how I felt about Samir and where things were going, and I wouldn’t have had answers. I just wasn’t ready to deal with it.”

  “And now?”

  “I still don’t know how I feel.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think you know exactly how you feel.”

  “Then maybe you understand.”

  Fleur sighed. “Yeah. I guess I do. I just need a moment to wrap my head around this. I didn’t think—” She shook her head. “I just didn’t think he’d get involved with someone like you.”

  That stung. “Gee, thanks.”

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just...” Fleur sighed again. “You’re not the kind of girl you just fool around with. He knows better. Especially now. His parents want him to get married when he graduates. There’s a plan in place that has been there for years—”

  “And I don’t fit into that plan.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood up and walked over to the bed, sinking down next to me. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I believed her, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

  “I think we’re a little past the point of worrying about me getting hurt.”

  “I’m sorry I mentioned him going to Lebanon.”

  “You had no way of knowing.” I attempted a halfhearted smile. “Why wouldn’t he go visit his girlfriend? It makes sense. It fits. I’m the one who doesn’t fit.”

  “It’s not like that with her. He doesn’t love her. He never has.”

  “Oh, I know. Or so he tells me. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  She nodded. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Samir

  I LOVED BEING back in Lebanon. I hated being home.

  The second my plane touched down, I felt a sense of belonging I never felt anywhere else. I loved France, loved Paris. And after almost four years in London, I loved it there, too. But Beirut was home.

  Even in November the weather was perfect—warm enough for a T-shirt and jeans. I looked out at the water on the drive to my father’s office, wishing I could escape to the sun and the waves. I needed to decompress after my conversation with Layla, needed to take the edge off before I faced my father.

  But I also needed to get back to London. So instead of staring out at the ocean, I stared at my father’s office door, nerves and tension filling me. No one else made me feel like this. Only he had the special talent to convince me I was a complete and total failure in life, pale and insignificant beside him. Abdul Khouri cast a long shadow, and I never could quite measure up.

  His secretary flashed me a smile before I walked through the door, probably for good luck. I was going to need it.

  My father didn’t even bother looking up as I walked in. He was busy, and I was an unwelcome reminder that his legacy was in jeopardy.

  “What are you doing home?” he asked, greeting me in Arabic.

  Hi. How are you? I’m fine, thanks. You?

  “I had a couple days off from class.” He didn’t invite me to sit. Flashes of my childhood, standing before him, reciting my litany of misdeeds, passed before my eyes.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  This was not going to go well. “I broke up with Layla.”

  Which made this the second awkward conversation for me today. Somehow I’d figured this one would go a hell of a lot worse than the first. Layla had handled our breakup with calm and grace, which just made me feel like an even bigger ass.

  She’d find someone else—we both knew it. She was beautiful and from the right family. Her parents would find her a better match. I didn’t doubt I was fairly easy to replace—for her and for them. But at the same time, I’d broken a commitment I’d made, and regardless of what my father thought, my word meant something to me.

  I waited for the explosion, waited for the disappointment and anger I’d known my whole life. He was silent. The silence almost felt worse. I felt the need to fill it with something.

  “It wasn’t working. I have another year in London, and I’m not ready to settle down.”

  A combination of anger and disgust flashed across his face. I hated that it was like looking in a mirror.

  “I’d hoped you’d outgrown these childish antics.”

  I clenched my jaw. It was always like this with him. Everything I did was wrong; nothing was good enough. I wou
ld have said he hated me, but hate would require too much effort. I was just a colossal fuck-up in his eyes.

  “Do you think this is just about you? That your decisions don’t affect anyone else? Did you think about the shame and embarrassment this will bring on me, on your mother? On Layla and her family?”

  I struggled not to flinch. “No, sir.”

  “You’re twenty-three. This is your last year of university. It’s time for you to settle down, get serious about your life. Do you think you’re just going to graduate and come back here and live the way you do in London? Are you really that stupid?”

  I shook my head, fighting back the anger building inside of me. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to walk away. But he was right—I didn’t have much of a plan. I’d never had one. They always told me what to do, and I either did it or fought it. And eventually I always caved anyway. As long as he controlled the money, he controlled me. We both knew it, too.

  I would come into my trust fund in a few months when I graduated. It was enough to live on, enough to be comfortable. But compared to what I was set to inherit—millions, hundreds of millions—it was nothing. And I was the only male left to take over everything when my father died. Our legacy mattered.

  “Answer me.”

  God, he was a scary asshole. I’d forgotten what this was like. Forgotten the clammy hands and the pit in my stomach.

  “No, sir.”

  “The damage is already done. You want to spend the next few months screwing around London? Fine. But you will get married when you come home. To someone who will be a political asset. None of those girls you mess around with. Someone I approve of.”

  Inwardly I shuddered. “Yes, sir.”

  “You have a responsibility to this family, Samir.” He made a sweeping gesture around his office, his little kingdom from which he ruled with an iron fist. “When I die, this will all be yours. I expect you to earn it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He dismissed me with a curt nod. I walked out of his office, the weight of my future hanging around my neck like a burden I couldn’t shake off.

  My phone rang. I looked down at the caller ID. Fleur.

  “This isn’t a good time.”

  “Tough.”

  I stifled a groan. There was something in her voice—an edge. She sounded more pissed off than normal, and suddenly I had a pretty good idea of why she was calling. Or maybe it was just my own guilty conscience getting in the way.

  “How could you have hooked up with Maggie?”

  Shit.

  “Fleur—”

  “Look, I get it. I know how you are. I’ve seen you with girls. But Maggie is different. She doesn’t deserve for you to string her along and break her heart. She’s been through enough. What the hell were you thinking, having sex with her and then going to see your girlfriend? That’s tacky, even for you.”

  “Thanks, Fleur.”

  I struggled to keep my temper in check. Between everything with Maggie and my dad, I felt close to losing it.

  “She’s my best friend. Out of everyone for you to mess with, she’s the one person I’m not okay with. She deserves better.”

  “I agree.”

  “Then why did you have sex with her?”

  I lifted the phone away from my ear, Fleur’s voice shrill through the other end of the line.

  “It wasn’t exactly planned,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “And I’m trying to fix it now.”

  “How?”

  “I broke up with Layla.”

  A long pause filled the line. “I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t think you were a fan of me and Layla.”

  “I’m not. But I like the idea of you and Maggie even less.”

  I wasn’t totally shocked. Fleur was fiercely protective of Maggie. I’d always thought it was a good thing, since Fleur was one of the most loyal people I knew. But now that it was Fleur standing in between me and Maggie, she was starting to feel like a pain in the ass.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to break her heart.”

  I was afraid of that, but strangely enough I was just as afraid of what would happen to me when this thing ended. I’d never felt the way I felt about Maggie before. I’d liked my last girlfriend before Layla, and when she’d cheated on me, I’d been upset. But it was nothing compared to what I felt at the idea of Maggie cheating on me or the tightness I’d felt in my chest every time she she’d gone off with that British asshole.

  “I would never hurt Maggie.”

  “Maybe not intentionally. But you will hurt her. She’s not like us. She’s romantic and sentimental. Things matter to her. People matter to her. What matters to you, Samir?”

  I couldn’t argue with some of her points. I wasn’t sure I was the best guy for Maggie. But I cared about her. A lot. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to try.

  I had to ask, especially given the chance I’d just taken. “Do you think I’m one of those people? Do you think she cares about me?”

  “Don’t put me in the middle of this.”

  I laughed. “Really? I thought you just did that yourself.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “She’s my friend, too. She’s tougher than you give her credit for. Maggie does just fine on her own. Trust me—she knows how to handle me.”

  “And in the future—when you go back to Lebanon for good? What are you going to do then? What is she going to do? How is she going to handle that?”

  I wanted to brush her off, but I couldn’t blame Fleur for asking the same questions that had been nagging me all along.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did.”

  “You have to tell her. You have to explain to her that whatever this thing is between the two of you, you aren’t going to be around forever. She needs to be able to make the choice before she decides if she wants to be with you. She needs to understand.”

  “I will.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “I know. I know you love her. But it’s not your choice to make. It’s hers and mine.”

  “At the first sign of you hurting her, I will kick your ass.”

  I grinned and repeated, “I know.” I looked back at my watch. “Now that the interrogation is over, will you let me go?”

  “Why are you in such a hurry?”

  “I’m trying to get a flight back to London tonight. My dad’s kind of pissed with me over the whole breakup with Layla, so the jet isn’t an option.”

  “Are you coming back to talk to Maggie?”

  “Yeah. It’s not the sort of conversation I want to have over the phone. I need to explain to her about Layla and everything else.”

  “Well, we’re not in London.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Marbella.”

  I could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. “Let me guess—that was your idea?”

  “Mya’s actually, I just encouraged it. By the way, I don’t think she likes you very much.”

  “Tell me about it. Does Maggie know I went to Lebanon?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck. “Thanks, Fleur. Way to help me out.”

  “It’s not my fault you suck at this. Why didn’t you just explain what you were doing before you left for Lebanon?”

  “Because I didn’t want her to think it was just me stringing her along. I’ve fucked up enough. I wanted to wait until it was done so she would believe in it, in me, in us.”

  “Well, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have said anything. But in my defense, all of this happened before I knew you were boning Maggie.”

  I bit back a curse. “Okay, I’m changing my ticket. I’ll meet you guys in Marbella.”

  “You better hurry. Maggie’s looking pretty hot in Spain. She’s going to be a hit with all those Spanish guys—”

  “I hate you.”

  She was still lau
ghing as I ended the call.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Maggie

  SPAIN WASN’T WHAT I’d expected. Marbella was nice—full of elegant shops, bars, and restaurants. The focal point seemed to be the marina—filled with fancy boats and gorgeous views of the water. But there were way more British people than Spanish. It almost felt like we hadn’t left London at all.

  “Where are all the Spaniards?” I asked Mya after we walked past yet another group talking loudly, their British accents noticeable.

  “It’s more of an expat haven. Lots of Brits come here for vacations. It’s becoming what Ibiza used to be.”

  We were at the marina tonight for a party hosted by friends of Fleur’s. On their yacht. Yet another experience I’d never thought I’d have.

  I wrapped my pashmina around my shoulders, wishing desperately that I’d ignored Fleur’s advice and worn pants instead of borrowing one of her dresses. We may have been in southern Spain, but it was still November and there was a definite chill in the air.

  “Stop wrapping yourself up like an old lady. The dress is better without the scarf.”

  “It’s freezing.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Fleur reached out, fussing with my hair.

  “It is a little cold,” Mya interjected. “Maybe we should just go to a bar or something.”

  Fleur gestured at the marina, the boats illuminated, some with strings of white lights. “And miss this? Come on. We don’t get to do this in London.”

  She had a point. “I just wish it were warmer.” My eyes narrowed. “Tell me again why you got to wear pants and I had to dress like this?”

  “Because you never know who you might meet. I’m dating George. I can look but I’m not doing anything else.”

  “I didn’t realize the depth of your feelings for George extended to fidelity.”

  Mya snorted.

  Fleur glared at both of us.

  We followed her up the boat ramp. She exchanged air kisses with her friends and we all introduced ourselves. Fleur’s friends seemed nice, but it soon became obvious they had the same vague air of friendship as most of the people I’d met through her. It was hard to tell how long they’d been friends or how any of them had met. They’d just gotten to know each other through some random party in some country no one remembered, and now met up whenever they happened to be in the same place.