The Dare Collection September 2019. Stefanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
She blinked and the smile slowly disappeared. Her hand tightened in mine. ‘What about you? Did you have anyone?’
I didn’t want to talk about me. But then, it was my own fault. I’d introduced the subject and this was where the conversation had ended up. And I couldn’t not tell her now, not after what she’d told me.
‘I had my mother,’ I said, somewhat reluctantly. ‘My father wasn’t part of my life in any way. He got rid of Mum once he found out she was pregnant and wouldn’t pay a cent towards helping her with anything. The only time was when she begged him to pay for my schooling.’ I stroked my thumb over Ellie’s skin. It was very soft against mine and very warm. ‘I tried once, when I was thirteen, to get something from him myself. Mum was having difficulty covering rent and I thought I might be able to convince him to help us. But...’ I didn’t know why I was telling her this story, not when it ended in nothing but humiliation. Nevertheless, I found myself going on. ‘I went and stood outside his house, and when someone eventually came to the door—I don’t know who it was, but not Dad—they told me he didn’t want to see me. That I wasn’t his problem.’ Even now, the anger of that moment burned inside me, no matter how many years went by. How I was dismissed. As if my mother and I meant nothing and were nothing to him.
The slight pressure of her fingers around mine made me realise that she was squeezing my hand. As if I was the one who needed reassurance this time.
It made me want to put some distance between us, but I couldn’t pull away. Not without hurting her and I didn’t want to hurt her.
‘It’s fine,’ I said brusquely. ‘It was a long time ago.’
She gave me a small, shy smile. ‘Now you sound like me.’
‘It’s not quite the same. You lost your mother. I still have mine.’
‘But you did lose your dad in a way, didn’t you?’
Something shifted inside me. An ache. I ignored it. ‘His loss. Anyway, you can’t lose something you never had.’
She gave me a searching look. ‘It’s the potential though, isn’t it? The potential for there to have been something more.’
The ache deepened into pain and I gritted my teeth hard. ‘There was never any potential for something more. I wasn’t good enough for Dad. I wasn’t his problem.’ The words sounded bitter, like something a petulant teenager would say, which was galling. ‘But like I said,’ I went on quickly, before she could say anything, ‘that was years ago. Anyway, we weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you.’
Ellie scowled. ‘I don’t want to talk about me. I’m bloody boring.’
The tight feeling in my chest eased at the grumpy expression on her face. ‘And now you sound like me,’ I said, amused.
That got a smile from her, an easy, natural one that seemed to light up the interior of the entire car.
‘That’s better, pretty thing,’ I murmured, watching her. ‘That’s the smile I’m talking about.’
She flushed. ‘How did you meet him?’
The question was so out of the blue that I didn’t quite understand what she was talking about for a second.
‘Him?’
‘Your half-brother. I mean, you didn’t have contact with your dad, so I’ve been wondering.’
My amusement vanished. Fuck. I didn’t want to talk about Dumont, either.
No, because then she’ll know what a petty bastard you are. How you destroyed the only friendship you had because you can’t let go of the past.
No. Maybe she should know what a petty bastard I was. I’d told her how Seb had lost my money, but I hadn’t told her how I’d spent the last twelve years competing for his business. Or how I’d preferred my anger to all the olive branches he’d tried to hold out.
‘I met him at school,’ I said at last. ‘My mother finally got Dad to pay for my schooling at a private prep school and I met him there.’ A memory floated through my head, of how I’d been shunned by the other boys, because I was poor, because at that stage I was skinny and short and I didn’t belong with them. Of how they all drew away from me as I sat that first day in the ancient hall where they ate. And how one lanky kid had dropped onto the bench opposite me and had given me a grin. ‘Hey,’ he’d said. ‘This seat taken?’
I’d glowered at him, wanting him to go away and leave me alone.
But he hadn’t. He’d simply stuck out his hand and introduced himself. Then he’d said, ‘Brothers have to stick together, right?’
‘He didn’t care that I didn’t belong,’ I said aloud. ‘He didn’t give a single shit where I’d come from. We were brothers and as far as he was concerned that was all he needed to know to be my friend.’
Ellie squeezed my hand again. ‘No wonder you were so angry with him when he lost your money,’ she murmured. ‘He broke your trust.’
She saw through me. She saw through me too well.
‘And so I went after his business.’ My voice was rough and I made no effort to hide it. ‘He tried to mend fences, but since he’d ignored me, I ignored him.’ I bared my teeth at her. ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m totally the wronged party here, pretty thing. I’m a petty bastard and I’m fully aware of that fact.’
She gave me a long look. ‘Is that supposed to be a warning?’
‘No. Just the truth.’
Her hazel gaze turned intent. ‘You’re very uncompromising about certain things. Why is that?’
Something shot down my spine, a bolt of heat. ‘Because I don’t apologise for who I am and I don’t hide it, either. You take me as I am or not at all. Understand?’ I didn’t know why it felt important to say to her. Perhaps because I didn’t want her thinking I was something I wasn’t.
Like, someone better?
I ignored that thought, holding her hazel gaze instead.
And slowly she gave me a nod. ‘I understand.’
I hoped she did. Because if she wanted me to be someone else, she was out of luck.
Ellie
IT WAS STRANGE being a passenger in a limo. Even stranger for the limo to pull up outside the venue we were going to and for the door to be held open for me the way I usually did for other people.
We’d pulled up outside some hotel that was the very epitome of an Arabian Nights fantasy, all arches and domes and gardens. The space in front of the entrance was full of other limos dropping off expensively clad guests, ladies in couture gowns and men in tuxes.
Mr Evans—no, Ash—had surprised me by wearing a tux tonight and I found it surprisingly difficult to look at him in it.
Because if he was gorgeous in jeans and a T-shirt, in a tux he was absolutely mesmerising.
With his height and his broad build, his scarred face and the electric blue of his eyes, the formality of the clothing seemed only to enhance the raw masculinity of him, a kind of untamed earthy energy that had made my breath catch the moment I’d seen him in it.
He held out his hand to me now as I got out of the limo, the warmth of his fingers closing around mine as I took it. The reassurance of that warmth made something I hadn’t realised was nervous inside me settle.
Back at the hotel, we’d talked a little about what our cover story as a couple