by Amelia Wilde
“What is it?”
Haley’s at the door, cheeks pink with sleep, her hair so adorably rumpled and gold in the morning light that I could believe it had some healing quality to it. Like running my fingers through it could be a kind of blessing. She wore one of my shirts to bed last night. I almost order her to take it off, but she needs an answer first. This surprise dinner party will take up the rest of the day.
I beckon her over to me and pull her into my lap. She’s as warm as she is pink, and the scent of her skin calms some part of me that’s been knotted and tense while I waited for the night to be over. Haley kisses the side of my neck, waiting.
“Lucian called,” I tell her. “He and Elaine are coming for dinner tonight. Now lift up your shirt. I need to see you.”
* * *
Haley stands in the middle of my bedroom in an Armani dinner gown in black, looking down at its shimmer, which reminds me of starlight. She bites at her lip. “Are you sure about this?”
“It’s the perfect dress for you.”
“I meant—”
I finish buttoning my jacket and cut off her question with a kiss. A forceful grip on her chin, her lips soft against mine. “I know what you meant. And you’re coming to dinner.”
Haley has been fretting about the dinner since I told her about it. I’ve been pretending to be completely at ease with a fucking dinner party that my brother has demanded. Let him in the house once, and he’ll keep coming back. Of course, I am not at ease. Of course, pain has spidered out along my ribs from the added stress.
Nothing to be done about it now.
“Do you always dress up when your brother comes to dinner?” She’s peeking at us in the mirror.
“Lucian’s never been here for dinners. But for other family gatherings, we dress.”
A slow nod. “Have you been to one? Since I came to stay with you?”
“No.” Haley doesn’t ask why, but the answer is obvious. She was here, and then Ronan paid his visit, and so far I have missed one family dinner. I’ve missed other commitments as well. Commitments I’ve never told her about. Important ones. “Let’s go, darling. They’ll be here any minute.”
I usher Haley out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the foyer. We arrive at our place by the doors just as the doorbell rings. I didn’t give a shit what Lucian did the night I brought Haley home, but now I feel unsettled to have him here. It’s less tightly controlled than I’d prefer. My life is less tightly controlled, now that Haley’s in it.
Gerard opens the door to let in Lucian and Elaine. Haley steps closer to my side. She saw him at Caroline’s, but this is different. He’s sharp as a knife in his suit, a stark contrast to Elaine’s red dress. She’s a ruby come to life, her eyes as bright as his. A match.
Like Haley is a match for me now. She’s the one who chose black, and she draws herself up next to me, her chin lifting. If I didn’t know her, if I didn’t spend every available second drinking in her expressions, I wouldn’t know she was nervous. It’s not just Lucian, either. It’s Elaine.
Elaine, who might be Caroline’s wildest daughter, but who is still Caroline’s daughter. I can tell from Haley’s shallow breaths that she doesn’t think she measures up. But even without her hair shining in its twist the way it is, even without the dramatic makeup, she surpasses every other woman on the planet.
Lucian brushes a stray lock of hair back from Elaine’s cheek, the two of them making a portrait. Morellis are always putting on a show. He is no exception. He’s created a dark frame for Elaine’s red dress.
“Hello, little brother,” he says, glancing between Haley and me. “Haley.”
“Haley,” Elaine echoes, her pointed, perfect smile broadening. “I didn’t think I’d ever find another Constantine in this family.” She leaves Lucian’s side and links her arm through Haley’s. I hold my breath. “How are you?”
Haley allows herself to be led away, glancing back at me only once. I don’t hear her murmured answer. The touch was a risk on Elaine’s part, but Haley doesn’t pull away. This is perhaps the first time in history that Lucian’s presence has made a situation more tolerable. Less tense. Elaine can’t be with Lucian and be in league with Caroline.
When they’ve disappeared into the dining room, Lucian scans the foyer. The visible security. The lack of our sisters. “Where are the girls?”
Eva and Daphne. “Upstairs. They should be down soon.” A sigh escapes before I can stop it. “Daphne isn’t speaking to me.”
Lucian arches an eyebrow, watching my face with that pointed stare of his.
“The security in her loft is shit, so I made her move in here for the time being. And she has a stalker.”
He blinks. “What the fuck?”
“I’m taking care of it.”
Lucian slides his hands into his pockets, his posture casual. “You always did that. Take care of the family.” A pause. “It should have been my job.”
I look away, toward the dining room. Toward anywhere that isn’t him. I don’t want to get into the past, though it’s true. Lucian was always a cold motherfucker. Some of it came from living under our father’s influence, and his fucked-up behavior driving a wedge between us. Some of it was his inability to feel pain. And some of it was just Lucian Morelli.
“You’re back now. Aren’t you?” I will never expect for him to take over from me in any meaningful way, but with my back on fire and Caroline making unhinged promises to anyone who will listen, a part of me wishes he would.
Pointlessly. Foolishly.
“Yeah,” he says, eyes meeting mine. “I’m here to stay.”
“Were you waiting for us? How nice.” Eva descends the stairs with Daphne by her side. Daphne’s worn a gown of emerald green, her hair in loose waves, and Eva’s in sleek black with her hair in a twist that matches Haley’s. Eva is the only one to look at me on the way down.
“Of course we were,” says Lucian. “We have manners.”
Eva rolls her eyes. “Debatable.” But she leads the way into the dining room anyway, where Elaine and Haley are by the window. The six of us take our seats around the table. My staff spent the day rearranging the room, taking furniture out, and redecorating for this dinner. It’s understated, black and gold, and Lucian takes it in with an appraising glance. Eva waves the staff in as soon as we’re seated.
“You have enough room to fit all of us,” Lucian comments. “Do you plan on it?”
“Not fucking today.” Not ever. I have never planned to have all my siblings to dinner at my house.
“I can’t believe you left Lizzy out,” my brother needles. “You couldn’t have flown her here?”
“You put Leo in charge of the guest list?” Eva asks the question with faux shock on her face. “You’re lucky he let you in.” True. “Which one of you forgot Eden?”
“No one forgot Eden,” I sigh. “No one forgot Carter. No one forgot Tiernan. If you missed me this much, Lucian, all you had to do was call. You didn’t have to insist on a dinner party.” I invited Eden but she declined to come. She’s probably in some unsavory part of the city stirring up trouble. Carter is the quietest of all the Morellis. Serious. And a fucking genius. He went to Oxford for college and stayed overseas, preferring it to the drama of home. And Tiernan—Tiernan is my father’s hired hand. He’s always been so determined to get our father’s approval that he’s let himself be used to hurt, to maim, to kill.
“You invited me,” Lucian says, a glint in his eyes.
“You mean he didn’t throw you out,” answers Eva.
“Not yet,” says Haley. Eva snorts. The tension breaks. And it’s dinner, and not some high-stakes negotiation like it is at the Morelli mansion.
It’s different, without my parents here to fuck it up. Daphne won’t look at me, but Eva is a good host. She asks Haley about a book she’s read and Elaine about a new restaurant that opened in the city.
“You should try it,” I tell Eva, when Elaine finishes describing the place. I’ve hardl
y heard her, but Eva looks interested. “I finished the security review yesterday.”
What I mean is that she’s free to go back to her apartment, if she wants. “Thank you,” she says, and reaches over Haley to pat my hand. Elaine watches this with interest. I can see her Constantine mind working, replacing what she’s always known about us with what’s happening in front of her.
“You’re welcome.”
Everyone loves the first course, smoked trout crostini with grilled fennel that Eva chose. She didn’t mind planning the party, just like she didn’t mind redecorating my guest bedrooms. She’s smiling with pleasure by the second course. My sister thrives in last-minute situations. In the hurry and the adrenaline and all the many, many details. It gives her a slice of happiness to do this, but I wish there was more.
More happiness than a damned dinner party. I despise Lane Constantine. May his soul rot in hell forever.
One of the waiters is refilling Lucian’s wineglass when my brother turns his attention to Daphne. “So,” he says to her. “I hear you have a stalker.”
Daphne glares at me, forgetting to keep her eyes carefully away. Haley puts her head in her hands. And Elaine coos, “Oh, sweetheart, the obsessed ones are the best ones.”
As she says it, Lucian traces a single fingertip over the curve of her neck, his eyes drinking in his touch on her flesh like he can taste it.
“He’s not a stalker,” Daphne insists.
“He is.” I address Lucian and Elaine, because Daphne and I have had this argument. “He came into her apartment when she wasn’t there and left a gift. I had to fire a whole security team for the lapse.”
“A charming stalker?” Elaine’s eyes light up. “How’d he get past them?”
“Just because he likes my art doesn’t make him a stalker, Leo,” Daphne says pointedly.
“No. His having your address, going inside your apartment, and leaving things for you when you’re not there makes him a stalker, Daphne.”
“Anyway,” she says. “I don’t understand why I’m so interesting. Are we not even going to talk about how there are two Constantines at the table? Our mortal enemies?” Daphne says this with a Morelli gleam to her narrowed eyes. She’s paying us back. Causing a bit of trouble. It’s for show. She likes Haley, and given time, she’ll probably like Elaine too.
“Constantines can be convinced,” Lucian says, toying with the strap on Elaine’s dress. “It’s hard to stay mortal enemies if you put enough sweat and tears into the project. They are stubborn, however. I plan to keep convincing Elaine forever.”
I swallow hard around a knot of jealousy in my throat. Haley leans into me. It’s subtle, but I feel her heat now. I want more of it.
I want forever with her, but I can’t even promise her tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
Leo
Eva leaves three days later. Daphne doesn’t come down from the large suite on the second floor. I had it prepared so she can paint in what used to be a spacious sitting room. Doesn’t matter. She can be pissed at me all she wants.
Better that than dead.
Haley is restless after Eva leaves. It’s a bitter day, and she looks longingly out the window in my bedroom. “I wish it wasn’t so cold.”
I wish I could heat the earth for her. Make it summer. I would love to see her in a sundress. The dress she wears now is alluring for how much skin it covers in its comfortable fabric. I want her in it. But I want her in warmth, too.
“We can walk inside. You haven’t spent much time in the rest of the house.”
Her eyes light up. “Yes, yes, yes. Show me somewhere I’ve never been.”
Haley’s seen the den, my office, the kitchen, and the courtyard. Once we’re past the kitchen I let her open doors at random. “Leo, this ballroom is huge.”
I look in over her shoulder. It’s a dark room, the windows covered with curtains, the furniture covered in white cloth, gathering dust. “I’ve never used it. I don’t throw parties.”
“Dinner parties count, don’t they?”
“I don’t throw parties like this. With that many guests.”
She purses her lips, but doesn’t ask why.
I’m hardly thinking of the shelf, pushing the thought away, when she opens a door and draws in a breath. “What’s this room? Another living room?”
It’s flooded with light. The furniture is recently dusted. Everything perfect. It’s not like the den, where Haley might leave a book out. Where a blanket might slip down off the couch and have to be straightened. “It’s a study. I don’t use it either.”
“No? It’s gorgeous in here.” Haley steps inside, and I follow her, ignoring the unease at the pit of my gut. She does a slow turn in the middle of the floor.
“What do you think about building a library?”
She stops, a delighted laugh on her lips. “What about your den? It’s so nice.”
“What about you liking libraries?” I follow her farther into the room, my pulse ticking up. “This space could use more books.”
Haley’s traveling around in it now, skimming her fingers over the back of an elegant sofa and opening a drawer on the desk to see what’s inside. A mirror behind her gives me a perfect view as she pulls the antique handle. The drawer is empty. When her eyes lift from the drawer, they brighten with curiosity. It sparkles in her blue eyes. For an unused room, there’s plenty to see. Haley drops her gaze again and continues around the room. She stops at a painting on the wall. Skims her fingertips over a miniature statue of a rose, perched in an alcove on the wall. Touches a piece of stained glass hung up on a stretch of white.
I follow her toward the desk, but it’s too difficult to watch. I’ve become used to her looking through the shelves in the den and pulling out my books. I’m not used to this. My stomach tightens with nerves. I could stop her. It would be easy to stop her, to hold her down, to kiss her and fuck her and demand every scrap of her attention.
The first time she discovered one of my secrets, I let the beast loose on her. Fucked her throat. Scared her so badly she ran from me.
This time, I turn away and reassess the room. No library I built would be complete without one or two reading nooks. It would take some relatively involved renovation, but it wouldn’t be impossible. I could do it. Leave the light intact, but make it comfortable. I try to picture it.
I end up envisioning Haley. Innocent, perfect, depraved Haley, curled up by all these windows with a book. Only in this vision I’m reading with her. In this vision, I’m reclining on the couch, Haley nestled next to me, and nothing hurts at all. It’s as vivid as any daydream I’ve ever had. Meanwhile, she’s behind me, rustling through the space.
There’s a chance she overlooks that bookcase, that shelf. What’s on it.
I go back to picturing her naked, bent over an armchair. Waiting for punishment or pleasure or just me.
“Leo.” I turn at the sound of her soft voice, turn to her blue eyes, filled with worry and hope. A memory, too. Me storming out of my shower. Her with nowhere to run. “This is you. Isn’t it?”
She has the photo in her hand. The photo, in its plain black frame. It’s been sitting on that arched bookcase since the day I moved in here. At least once a year I think about throwing the fucking thing out. I’ve never been able to do it.
I take the frame out of her hands and look down at my fourteen-year-old self. In the photo, I’m sitting on a dock somewhere in the Bahamas in a pair of blue swim trunks. Nothing about them was custom-made or special. They didn’t have to be. Something happens to my heart. A punishing squeeze. A tear. I don’t look at that shelf, or that photo, because this feeling is hard to name and harder to feel.
In the photo, my entire back is visible. There’s not a mark on it. My head is turned, and I’m grinning at the camera, as carefree as I ever would be again. Laughter in my eyes. My father was a prick. An asshole. But the bruises he left always faded. They were tempered by a righteous cause. Any mark he made on me was one less he made on
my siblings, so what did I care?
Haley presses her side against mine so we’re both looking at it together. Now that she’s here, now that she’s close, I would call this feeling grief. I’m looking at a person who’s been dead for eighteen years. Who never had a chance to become anything. The person in this photo died at Caroline’s hands. My death began before the whipping. With touches that didn’t cause the kind of pain my father did. That they were gentle in comparison to my father changed almost nothing.
I feel flayed by this moment. By Haley, standing next to me, looking down at this person I haven’t been and never will be. I look happy. There’s light in my eyes. An ease to my body I can’t remember having at all. Caroline took that from me.
Haley loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my arm. “How old are you in this?”
I clear my throat. “Fourteen. This is—” Fuck. I haven’t spoken these words to anyone. Ever. “This is the last photo of me before Caroline.” It’s the last photo taken of me when I had a chance to be different. I only kept it because my sisters are in the background in matching bathing suits, getting ready to jump into the water. Laughing and laughing.
“You’re grinning,” Haley says, her voice soft as a rose petal.
“I was a different person then. A person you’ve never met.”
She studies my face, then looks back down at the photo. I hope to fuck she can ignore the subtle shake in my hands. Emotion bristles and cuts, magnified by the pain in my back, intensified by her presence. My siblings sat around the table in my dining room last night. Haley sat with them. Elaine. It felt almost normal. That normalcy is unsettling as fuck. It makes me think there’s a life that doesn’t involve constant battles, constant pain.
But that can’t be right. I’m the source. I’m the one who fights. I have to. Always, always.
“You’re not so different. You still care about your family. You still protect them.”
By being the villain. Pain flares over my scars, and I grip the frame tighter. I am not the person in this photo. I will never be that person, no matter how many times I wish or hope or pray.
