“Xanthe?” He began nervously, running a hand through the thick curls on his head.
“Hey, Bastien. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, all good.” He smiled warmly, probably thinking of Gemma I thought bitterly, but soon tamping down the negativity. I was going to be positive for my friend because that’s what good friends did. Support each other. Sisterhood and all that.
“See…if only you’d looked at your phone. I’d even messaged Rose to see if they would be happy for you to camp over at their house,” Noelle sighed.
“It’s fine. I don’t need a warning when my housemates’ boyfriends come round… it’s always a pleasure.” I laughed weakly, trying to channel disaffected joviality. See – I could be good at that! I walked up to him and hugged him tightly. “So good to see you! How’s everything going with you and Gem?” I asked, moving past him into the kitchen.
He trailed after me with Noelle in tow. “Doing fantastically, ordered in Chinese as well as it’s been such a stressful day.”
“Dammit,” I joked. “Should have put an order in!” I laughed, dumping my bags on the tiled floor by the fridge and moving over to the table where Gemma was sitting, smiling up at me nervously. “Hey Gem,” I said, as she scraped her chair back, uncertain of my reaction. I pulled her into a hug and whispered into her hair, “Honestly, babe, I’m so, so happy for you. Don’t let my drama dim your light, okay?”
She hugged me back, reassured, and kissed my cheek. “Love you. Honestly, I wanted to warn you because this is your flat too and I just didn’t want to stress you out. I know how work is stressful.” She pulled back, assessing me. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Sure.” I smiled back. “Now tell me all while I unload this fancy as fuck food that none of you are allowed to eat, even if you become so drunk you forget!” I waggled my finger in mock seriousness.
They laughed before sitting back at the table. “Want any of this food?” Noelle asked.
“Maybe,” I responded, as I placed the taleggio in the fridge. “Need a drink first though!”
She laughed. “Of course, I will fix you one now.”
“So, what was the drama today?”
“Well, long-story short, Blaise got engaged,” Bastien said. I froze, only just catching the jar of organic, vegan mayonnaise before it smashed on the floor.
Thank fuck the fridge hid my expression because I was stunned. Hurt but stunned. How dare Blaise do that to me? I know he tried to get me to back off on the Eurostar but was he seeing that girl the whole time he was pretending to be all lovey-dovey with me? What the hell was he playing at? More to the point, how dare that girl take what was mine? I needed to fast-forward our escape plan to ensure he wasn’t stolen from me.
“Fuck you, Delacourt,” Noelle yelled from behind me at the same time as Gemma breathed out, “Bastien… thought we were going to go easy?”
“What? Lie to me?” I snapped out, my grip perilously tight on that jar of fucking mayonnaise. “It’s not like I’m with him anyway. He was just a rebound fuck. That’s all.”
“You know that neither Noelle nor I believed you when you fed us that bullshit the other night,” Gemma snapped before turning on Bastien in accusation. “Maybe you could have broken it to her in a nicer way?”
I could feel Noelle come up behind me and put both hands on my waist, positioning the mayonnaise in the fridge, and squeezing me tight. “It’s okay. I mean, he’s a fucking wanker, but it’s okay. You steered well clear of him. I just feel sorry for whoever he’s marrying.” She didn’t get it but that was fine. One hundred percent fine. No one really could empathise with my fucked-up logic or this twisted bond between Blaise and I and that was fine. Totally, 100% fine. Before the bombshell I thought we would be the ones laughing. Clearly not. It was clearly going to be Blaise and his fucking fiancée laughing at me. Maybe he already was laughing at the sad little girl who tagged along with them to Paris and how pathetically clingy she was.
“Hey, babe? Did you hear that?” I heard Noelle say, but it felt like she was muffled as though we were underwater. “Shit, guys, I think she’s going into shock. She’s all cold.”
“Seriously, Bastien? You could have told her in a nicer way.”
“I didn’t realise she would react like this, okay! I thought it would be easier to rip the plaster off!”
I felt Noelle’s hands tighten around my waist and guide me away from the fridge, across the kitchen to the balcony. “Bring her gin, Gem.” She whispered into my hair, “Shhhh… it’ll be okay. Love you forever, right?”
I nodded, the icy grip of shock slowly fading away as we passed through the French doors to the balcony. I sat down, breathing in and out deeply, the rain had eased off and left behind the moist freshness clinging in the air, bringing me back to my senses. She passed me a lit cigarette and I breathed in and out like I was starved, the nicotine calming my frayed nerves.
I smiled at Noelle gratefully, kissing her cheek. “Thanks, babe. Sorry I completely freaked on you then, it’s been a bit of a dramatic day to say the least.”
“Hey, none of that now. You don’t need to be brave and strong. No deflection. It’s shit. That weekend was weird. I completely get why you freaked out. I don’t really know what happened between you and Blaise but I get that it’s probably one of those earth-shattering, once in a million encounters, hm?”
I smiled at her serious expression, she was such a star. “It was special but I’m sure I can find someone else.”
She smiled but her face soon grew serious and she glanced at the door to the kitchen where Gemma and Bastien’s low, tense voices issued forth from. “Do you remember when I said everything would change?” I wanted to roll my eyes. Again, with her winds of change theory but I would always humour her, so I smiled. She tapped the pentagram she had tattooed on her clavicle. “It’s just an engagement. Nothing that can’t be broken off.” She smiled at me conspiratorially.
“Nope, dear Noelle. None of that. It’s not just his life at stake, it’s all of ours,” Bastien announced, following Gemma onto the balcony.
“Bastien! What did I tell you about staying silent?!”
I exhaled smoke in sheer exhaustion. “It’s the fucking task for the society isn’t it?”
Bastien froze, shock visible. “How the fuck do you know about that?” I recoiled in instinctive fear at his furious hiss.
“Something Blaise said but I guess he chose it over me, right?”
Gemma looked between us, confused. “What does she mean by that?”
“Something that should only remain privy between my brothers and I, but I guess Aphrodite reincarnate here managed to fuck it out of him with her feminine wiles,” he said, the jovial, warm jokester replaced by some cold fucker I had no recollection of. This was the stone-cold killer. The psychopathic businessman.
Too bad that I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. “I suppose it holds no weight, though. He’s engaged to this girl so I clearly can’t be that important.”
He didn’t reply for a while, the tension so thick and tangible you could cut it with a butter knife. We were all quiet, fearful of breaking the spell, forcing him to clam up. He looked to Gemma who had sat beside me, gin clasped in her hand, and the icy fury dissolved from his features. The jokester was restored.
“Oh, putain,” he sighed, sitting on the bean-bag looking incongruous. A deity who had graced our flat with his presence. He ran a hand through his curls and muttered so quickly I struggled to comprehend his words, his French accent thickening with every syllable. “So, I might as well be the second snitch because I fucking adore you, belle… I don’t want lies souring this beautiful relationship. So yeah, our elders have this society they call The Club and basically to access our inheritance we have to do a series of challenges to reassure them of our value and should we fail we’d be cut off. Merde, the point is that the final challenge was always intended for Blaise. We’ve all done our fair share. I mean Damien went to fucking America to pass a challenge and
still might have to relocate there, away from his brothers. Anyway, Blaise, as our leader, had to do this challenge; to marry a girl of our elders’ choosing. He’s gone through with it because of our love and loyalty to each other and you are all great, but this is a bond of brotherhood. A weekend of hedonism just does not compare to the years of sacrifice we’ve passed with each other, let alone the decades of friendship.” He paused. His were eyes fixed on Gemma in desperate, silent communication. She gazed back impassively. “He only has to stay married to her, produce a child and then he’s free to do what he wants. If this dalliance is as serious as it seems to be then wait for a maximum of five years, Xanthe, and you’ll be with him.”
My jaw dropped. What the actual fuck? He explained this as if it was straightforward but it was so fucking insane that I had no words. Noelle, as usual, was not short of a cutting remark. “Fuck you very much, Bastien. I’ll give you the benefit of working out whatever you have with Gemma but if you betray her like you’ve betrayed Xanthe then you should be fucking quaking in your boots and wearing a steel guard around the family jewels.”
He raised his hands defensively. “I’m just trying to be honest with you here. Putain, none of us expected today. He owes this to us. Why throw away everything we’ve worked for over some trite affair?”
Noelle hissed like an aggravated serpent but Gemma smiled sweetly at her before snuggling up to Bastien. “It’s okay. It’s just a speed bump but we will figure out what to do. It sounds like your hands were tied, babe, but if you want to stay with me then you just have to help me sabotage this relationship.” They gazed at each other for a while as we sat in anticipation.
“Don’t worry. It’s like I said, I’m not interested in him.” I drowned my lies by downing the rest of my drink before heading in to get a refill.
“Even if you see a picture of this whore?” Noelle snapped at my retreating back.
“Noelle!” Gemma chastised.
“Even if I see a picture of her,” I called from the kitchen.
“Alright then. Bastien, what’s her name?” I rolled my eyes at Noelle as I exited. Of course she would call my bluff.
“No girls, if Xanthe doesn’t want to be with him then that’s fine. Isn’t it? Can’t we just avoid this inevitable car crash?” He smiled easily but cracked under Noelle’s glare and withdrew his phone, swiping up. “Merde, here is her profile. She posted some pictures earlier, happy now?”
He handed me the phone and it took one glance for my world to fall away. To feel the icy grip of fear. Of all the girls in the world, he had to have that one. Isadora’s ugly, horse-like face glared back at me as she smugly displayed a tacky diamond ring on her fat finger, her small, greedy eyes sparkling with victory. Of course she would have had to have an arranged marriage. There was no way someone like Blaise would look twice at her. Shit had now turned personal. I would need to lay all my cards on the table. I would need help to claim what was rightfully mine.
“You okay, babe?” Gemma asked.
I nodded mutely before looking up with forced brightness. Might as well lay all the cards on the table. I was a fool to think that I could hide this from my girls. “Ugly slut. He’s mine, and I’m going to claim what’s mine.”
“Yes, girl!” Noelle cheered at the same time as the others sighed, shaking their heads.
Eventually, Gem kissed my cheek and said, “Always here for you, babe. Even though this is insane. And don’t worry, my boy will behave too, right?” She turned to Bastien with that question. Her fierce eyes pierced him, but her fluttering eyelashes softened the blow.
“Merde. For you, mon amour, I will. I can’t promise how but I will do my best. Okay?”
I smiled, taking a sip of my drink, and feeling so grateful for my loyal girls. We truly would walk through hellfire for each other. Sure, there were times when we annoyed and upset each other endlessly, but that’s just what sisters did. This was why I couldn’t hide anything from them. We spent the rest of the evening coming up with a gin-soaked plan to win Blaise back. I was so fucking glad they were back on my side and now I had seen who he was engaged to, I would stop at nothing to claim what was mine. There was no insane bridge I would not cross.
Xanthe
The next morning dawned and I was hungover as hell. Why did past me need to drink so much gin? Why couldn’t past me learn from old mistakes? Top performance was needed today… fuck. Panic coiled in my belly as I couldn’t remember if I had set an alarm. I blearily glanced at my phone.
* * *
7 a.m
On schedule for a 9 a.m start. Thank the gin-soaked gods for that. I stumbled to the kitchen, shielding my eyes from the morning glare and opened the fridge, relieved to see that everything was present as it should be. No drunken midnight munching thankfully. Once showered, I put on white mom jeans, a black blouse, and most importantly, sturdy trainers. I knew today was going to involve a lot of bitch-work.
By half past seven I was presentable, the Uber was called, and I was about to walk outside when I saw a sleepy Noelle stumble out of her room. Bastien and Gemma were presumably still asleep.
“Bloody hell, Xanthe. What are you doing up at this ridiculous hour?”
“Some of us have jobs, remember?”
“I do. And I remember all the gin we drank last night. Why the fuck did we do that over some pathetic boy?” she moaned dramatically.
“Girl time is always worth it.”
“It is.” She smiled at me fondly before rubbing her eyes. “Anyway, I came out at this ridiculous hour because I heard you leaving and I just wanted to remind you of the boss bitch you are, and how awesome and amazing you are too. We will get him back, okay? And you will go smash this shit job like you do every single fucking day.”
Tears welled up in my eyes but I forced them down, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, honestly. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She pulled back, kissing my cheek. “We’re sisters, that’s why. You were stuck with me when you had the misfortune to sit next to me in that intro lecture.” We laughed at that. “Anyway, I’ll help you take these bags down before I get the fuck back into bed.” She disappeared into her room before reappearing in a printed silk dressing gown and together we lugged everything down.
We hugged tightly before I got in the Uber, the tears threatening to reappear but I bit them down and focused on the city whizzing past. I sent a prayer of gratitude for an unusually traffic-free journey as we got to the office in record time. Even after multiple trips to load the taxi, we were still ahead of schedule and I soon arrived at the kitchen, just off the Embankment.
The pride I felt at being fifteen minutes early was soon quashed by Jaz’s stress-filled voice. “Fuck’s sake, Xanthe. We told you to be here by eight thirty. The client will be here to sample the food at twelve. They’re busy people who do not like to be kept waiting.”
“India told me to get here for nine…” I began before trailing off in realisation of my stupidity. She had lied to make me look bad. I sighed internally. I was so done with this bullshit. Breaking up with Xander and escaping his doll’s house made me realise that I didn’t need to choose a job because of my boyfriend. It was just a shame I had decided on pursuing the most unavailable boy I could ever think of. If everything worked out, I’m sure that Blaise would support me in whatever I wanted to do. That’s what good boyfriends did, right?
“Well, no. She wouldn’t have said that because she wouldn’t have wanted to risk upsetting the clients.” Jaz frowned at me. “I met them yesterday by the way. They are a scary bunch. Think they must be gang related, but who knows. They were arrogant and snobbish. Just like you actually. You think you can fucking waltz in here and barely lift a finger because Mummy and Daddy got you the job. You can’t even manage your time. It’s pathetic.”
Without allowing me to reply, she turned on her heel and marched back in leaving me to lug the shopping in while the impatient Uber driver kept tutting at me. I ignored him and
completed my task as quickly as I could and finally, I managed to drag the last bag in.
The kitchen they had hired out, I mean I had hired out while Jaz and India claimed credit for after accepting it because it apparently was the best of a bad bunch, was gorgeous. It was somewhere that I would love to base my culinary operations. I wasn’t sure what I wanted specifically but I knew I just wanted to cook and feed people. When I was little, I was always making mud pies and fairy teas in the garden. I smiled at the memory but it soon soured because Xander was always there, making me play with the other children. He used to say it was weird that I didn’t want to play with him and he didn’t want to be weird like me.
I forced myself back to the present, the weight of the memories bringing the tears to the fore again and I wouldn’t give Jaz the satisfaction. I focused on the kitchen, forcing myself to appreciate the present. The kitchen was in an industrial unit with exposed brick walls and shiny bronze surfaces glinting as the weak morning sunshine streamed through the high arched windows. The ingredients had been placed on an old-fashioned, rustic wooden table in the common area of the kitchen which was bisected by a long cream marble counter striated with gold streaks.
The chefs were arranged in the kitchen, dressed in crisp chef whites, and Jaz was standing in the corner, arms crossed over her pastel mint blazer, tapping her foot impatiently, and occasionally flicking her long, braided hair over her shoulder. She noticed me hovering by the door and snapped out. “So, is that everything?”
“Yes, Jaz.”
She checked her phone, frowning. “9.15 a.m. Forty-five minutes behind schedule. Xanthe, this really is not good enough. You are skating on thin ice anyway. I messaged India and she said that she had very clearly and explicitly told you to be here for 8.15 so that you could ensure that everything was ready for an 8.45 start.” She paused, looking apologetically at the chefs. “As it is we will be hard-pressed to get everything out on time, and furthermore, this is really not a suitable venue. It is far too casual for the calibre of client and, as usual, I will have to be the one to explain it.” She sighed. “Is it really that hard? No wonder your parents had to get you a job – you are clearly not qualified for anything. Phoebe could have done a better job than you.”
Little Doll: Queens of Chaos 1 Page 17
