Love Islands…The Collection. Jane PorterЧитать онлайн книгу.
was no love or tenderness in this room, just greed and narcissism and lust, and her heart contracted as she tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up surrounded by these people. If this was his version of intimacy, it was no wonder he struggled so much to understand hers.
Watching Addie’s hand tighten around her glass, Malachi tried to relax. He barely registered the other guests, or what they were doing; he’d seen it too many times before. Usually at his parents’ parties he could find a place inside himself, somewhere to retreat. But with Addie beside him he had no choice but to stay focused, and it was as if he was seeing it all through her eyes—every sordid detail magnified and spotlit—and it sickened him.
As his gaze shifted from Addie’s face to her tight fists, he felt her disgust too. Rage clawed at his stomach and reluctantly he let go of her hand. ‘I’ve just got to talk to Serena and Henry for a minute,’ he said slowly.
‘Do you want me to come too?’
Meeting her gaze, he shook his head. ‘I’ll be right back. Just wait here.’
He turned to where his parents were draped over one another on a chaise longue, their eyes glittering like dark stars.
His mother smiled up at him mockingly. ‘Malachi! Henry and I were just talking about you.’
Taking hold of his hand, Serena pulled him down onto the cushions beside her as his father stood up unsteadily.
‘Darling,’ she murmured. ‘We love your little redhead.’
‘Her name’s Addie,’ he said slowly.
‘And it was so clever of you to find her. Henry is absolutely smitten.’ Slowly, Serena ran her finger along his jawline. ‘And you do look so like your father, don’t you...?’
Malachi felt his skin grow taut; his pulse was pounding in his ears.
‘She’s with me, Serena.’
‘Of course she is.’ Her face hardened. ‘It’s just a bit of fun.’
He stared at her in shock. ‘It’s not fun. It’s sick.’
His mother shook her head. ‘Oh, dear. Somebody’s having a tantrum.’ She smiled at him coldly. ‘And after all we’ve done for you.’ She shrugged, her fingers curling under his chin. ‘How very dull you are. Well, don’t expect me to do your dirty work. You can tell Henry yourself.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘If it’s not too late.’
Glancing past her, Malachi felt his heart jolt. Across the room, his father was smiling at Addie, his face soft but his eyes dark and predatory. With the blood suddenly buzzing inside his head like a swarm of angry bees, Malachi pushed his mother’s hand away from his face, stood up and crossed the room.
‘Serena always likes the drinks too strong,’ he heard his father say confidingly. ‘Why don’t you come with me? I can find you something soft to drink. Or maybe you’d like to lie down for a bit—’
He broke off abruptly, his mouth hanging open in fear as Malachi stepped in front of him, his face blazing with white-hot anger.
‘The only one lying down will be you, Henry. In a hospital bed!’ His voice was like ice. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Malachi drew a jagged breath. His body felt as if it was in free fall. Addie was staring at him, transfixed, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. Instead, grabbing her hand, he pulled her behind him protectively and turned towards his father.
‘You couldn’t help yourself, could you?’ He shook his head, anger vying with pain, choking him, blistering his throat and mouth. ‘Only you’ve gone too far. This isn’t some stupid game. It’s twisted.’ Breathing out unsteadily, he took a step backwards. ‘We’re leaving. You have until three o’clock tomorrow to get out. But don’t expect me to pick up the tab. This one’s on you.’
Turning, he pulled Addie close, his heart jerking with relief as his arm curled around her soft body.
‘And don’t bother trying to contact me. There won’t be any point. As of this moment, I never want to hear from you again.’
Later, Addie would wonder how they made it to the airport. She had no memory of leaving the hotel or getting in the limo or onto the plane. Nothing had seemed to register on her brain except Malachi’s rage. She didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so angry. His fury had been like the burning cold of an ice storm.
Gazing across the plane’s lounge, to where he sat alone, she felt her stomach cramp. She didn’t really understand all that had happened at the party. All she knew was that since getting in the limo she hadn’t been able to reach him. That he hadn’t needed her and certainly hadn’t wanted her.
Slumped on a sofa, gripping a pack of cards in his hand, Malachi felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He had gone to the hotel to stop the police getting involved and he should have left after seeing the manager. Only he hadn’t. He’d heard the music and the laughter and he’d been like a hunting dog following a scent. Only seeing Addie in the centre of that debauchery he’d immediately realised his mistake. Her shock, her horror, had been like a slap to the face. Yes, those guests had been happy to be there, and it had all been consensual, but it was so messed up. And then Henry had tried—
He gritted his teeth.
How could his father have done that? It had been obvious that Addie was with him. He shouldn’t have even had to tell them that she was off limits. And then, of course, when he had, it had only spurred them on.
But he didn’t care about them. Remembering Addie’s face when his father had held out his hand, he felt sick. What if he hadn’t been there? Anything could have happened. Imagining her fear, her confusion, he felt his chest tighten with a pure, savage rage.
Addie stood up. She felt tired—more than tired. She felt bruised by everything that had happened and too drained to fight for what Malachi clearly didn’t even want to discuss. But she wasn’t about to leave him alone. Slowly, she walked across the cabin.
‘Where are you going?’
His words stopped her in her tracks. Hearing the strain in his voice, she stared at him uncertainly. ‘I was going to get some water.’ She hesitated. ‘Would you like some? Or I could get you something stronger.’
‘Something stronger.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So I can drown my sorrows?’
His voice was soft but she felt it slice through her like a knife.
‘Maybe. Or we could talk—’
He shook his head. ‘You think talking can change this.’
His face was pale, the skin stretched taut over his cheekbones as he laughed—only it didn’t sound like a laugh. There was too much pain and anger there. And fear. But five weeks in a hospital bed had taught her to face fear; to resist anger, to overcome pain. And, lifting her chin, she nodded.
‘Yes. I do. But you don’t want to. You’d rather sit there and wallow—’
‘You know nothing about my life,’ he snarled.
Her pulse was pounding in her throat. Clenching her teeth, she glared at him. ‘Yes, I do. I know you jumped into a pool of sharks for a bet; I know you eat apples in the bath.’ Her gaze shifted from his face to his hand. ‘And I know you play cards when you feel tense or angry.’
He looked up at her silently and resentment surged through her. He was impossible and this was hopeless.
She turned to walk away.
‘Addie.’
Looking down, she saw he was touching her wrist, his fingers trembling against her skin.
‘Don’t go. Please.’