Cole landed in Boston at around 7 a.m. Or rather at 2 a.m. EST. Which was instant jet lag, her body insisting that there should be morningness, when it was still the middle of the night. She had set an alarm for an hour before landing, which had given her time to shower and de-rumple, but she still stumbled off the plane like a zombie who had partied too hard. She couldn’t tell if it was her brain being porridged or the inherent sameness of airports, but it didn’t really feel as if she had flown across the world or that she was in another country. At least not until she had to talk to people who sounded like they had left their r’s in seventeenth-century England. And then the realness of it all became almost uncopeable-with. Once her passport had been checked, luggage retrieved, and she had been welcomed to the USA, she was whisked along gleaming concourses, past travelers and lingerers and an honest-to-goodness Dunkin’ Donuts stand, and finally bundled
By the time dawn filled the room with fresh gray, Harper was still sleeping and Cole was beyond exhausted. Sodden with it like heavy rain. She dozed off and on through the morning, but by early afternoon one of the nurses had pretty much ordered her out of the hospital, telling her she’d be useless if she didn’t get some proper rest. Not sure where the hotel was, or even if she was capable of walking, she got the limo back. And discovered the place was literally just up the road. Except she was too knackered to be embarrassed. She crawled out of the car and wove her way to the front desk. Signed things and received her keycard and some other shit in a blur of words she barely understood. Lift.Corridor.Room.Bed. Face. She groped for her second phone. Hit the shortcut for Aiden with a barely functional finger. He picked up immediately. “Are you all right?” “I’m sorry,” she slurred, “I dunno wha time it is.” She heard him m
He had made Cole smile. When ten minutes ago she wouldn’t have imagined it was even possible. Of course, it was immediately followed by a shard of guilt that she was smiling and flirting and being comforted while Harper was alone in a hospital bed. Although she also knew that was just her brain being mean to her. Harper wasn’t going to get better or worse depending on how miserable she was. But, then, thoughts were thoughts and feels were feels, and, if she were in Cole’s shoes, their power to influence each other was less than zero. “How’s London?” Cole asked. “Much as you left it, I suspect it. Warmish, with some scattered showers.” “How’s the humidity?” He thought about it. “About sixty percent—now why is she laughing?” “Because you are legit terrible at small talk.” “And you,” he said crisply, “are legit terrible at going to sleep.”“You’d better get on with lulling me, then.” He gave an un-lullful snort. “Is
When Cole returned to Harper’s room, she found her propped up in bed, appearing calmer but with redness around her eyes and nose. She offered her an awkward grin, and she mirrored it with her own awkward grin. They had never fought before, at least not about anything more serious than Disney princess, so this was unfamiliar territory. Neither of them could determine if it was solid ground, eggshells, or broken glass beneath their feet. Finally, Harper spoke up. “I’m really sorry, Cole.” “Honestly, you don’t have to be,” she replied. “You’re not the boss of me. I can be sorry if I want.” Cole placed her hands on her hips. “I might be the boss of you. How do you know? Do you have paperwork?” “Girl, you’re barely capable of being the boss of yourself.” “So harsh.” But they were laughing, and it felt unnervingly fragile yet good at the same time. “I’m shit scared, you know,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear.
In person, Poppy Carrie was an impossible mixture of normal and extraordinary. She turned up wearing jeans and boots, a cream cashmere-silk sweater, and Audrey Hepburn sunglasses—nothing about her at all screamed "famously beautiful person." However, looking at her for too long made it hard to breathe. She had this dreamy, summery English loveliness, with corn-gold hair and eyes like freshly turned earth, and a shy scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. There was definitely a trace of Harper around her cheekbones and in the generosity of her mouth. She had come from LA, accompanied by her boyfriend, Colt Dawson, a six-foot-something hunk of weathered manhood who had a ranch in Montana and worked with horses for Hollywood. They had apparently met on the set of Madame Bovary. Cole quickly gathered this information from frantic internet searches, hoping to find something to say to Colt as they sat together in the waiting room, giving Nik
She stared at Poppy—so composed in her cashmere, with her tea. “You don’t seem like an angry person.” “Therapy. And”—she gave a slightly wry smile—“Colt, oddly enough. She understands wild things. Sometimes he just takes me out into the middle of nowhere, and I screams until there are no screams left. Then we lie in the bed of her truck and watch the sun set and the stars come out.” “That sounds way better than therapy.” “And there’s always action movies.” She made an absolutely ferocious face and mimed firing what I presumed was an automatic weapon. “Eat this, motherbitches. Very cathartic. Especially if you have an unholy vendetta against blue screens.” Cole burst into rapturous applause. “And the award for best motherbitches goes to…” “Now you know why I’m an actor, not a writer.” Poppy put down her gun. “But you are, aren’t you? Nikki said you were a journalist?” “Well, I’m working on it.” Cole was doing it again. She took a breath a
The next day, Cole said goodbye to Harper, made sure it wasn’t stupid o’clock in England, and rang Bellerose. He answered quickly, just like always. “Hello, Cole.” “Knitted anything cool?” “I sincerely wish I hadn’t told you that.” “Do you make your own yarn and stuff as well, or do you buy it?” “My yarn is none of your business. Now, is there something you need?” Cole couldn’t quite contain an eager squeak. “I’m ready to come home.” “Aiden will be delighted. When would you like the jet?” Oh dear God. She was never going to get used to being able to order a plane like a pizza. “As soon as possible?” There was a pause. Presumably Bellerose was… actually, she had no idea. Calculating stuff? Organizing things? “You will be departing at nine a.m. tomorrow. Be at the airport in good time.” “Yay. Thank you.” Since Bellerose couldn’t see her, and she was in a city where nobody knew her, she skipped abo
"Come on,” Aiden said, releasing Cole at last. Once again, her body decided that the best place for her was in a wobbly heap on the ground, but he grabbed her hand just in time and pulled her, along with her case, toward the exit. Into the waiting—oh fuck—limo. And onto his lap. Where they kissed again. Again. Again. Forever. As the streets of London unraveled around them in ribbons of gold. Finally, they stopped. Mainly, she thought, for breathing purposes, rather than any particular desire to separate their mouths. “I’m going to put a collar round your neck,” Aiden murmured, “and chain you to my bed.” Thankfully Cole knew how to interpret this. “I missed you too.” She thought he might laugh. But, instead, he pulled her against him so tightly that she flailed and squeaked like a squeezy toy. “Oh Cole.” “It me,” she wheezed. “My Cole.” He pressed his face against the crook of her
“Hey now,” Cole protested. “He offered me money and the apartment.” “Like you were going to take it. How long was he with you? Did he know you at all?” “We were kind of in the middle of an argument at the time.” “Right. But it’s been over a week.” It had. And Cole had told herself she wasn’t hoping for anything. Except she must have been. Because now she felt silly.Ellery kicked the tree moodily. “Stop feeling sorry for him. I expect he’s feeling sorry enough for himself. Or Lancaster’s found him a new whipping girl.” “Don’t.” “Sorry.” “Did you really come all the way to Kinlochbervie to say ‘I told you so’?” “No.” She pulled her hood up and disappeared into its shadows. “I came to ask if you want to live with me.”Cole nearly fell off the swing. “Live with you?”“Yeah. Thought I should move out. Do some shit with my life or something.” “What sort of shit did you have in mind?”She kicked the tree again. And then, apparently finding
Everything hurt. The hours seemed like wild horses. Dawn broke around Cole. She spent most of the day on the sofa, crying herself out of tears, watching the sky turn tauntingly through shades of silver and gold. She tried to be brave, to be strong, to be less pathetically embarrassing. But her inner Scarlett O’Hara was AWOL—tomorrow being another day seemed like scant consolation. And while she sometimes tormented herself with idle fantasies of Aiden coming back, of sweeping her into his arms, full of sorrow and declarations of eternal devotion, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t sure she could ever bear pain like this again. Later… later… later… Her phone bleeped. And, like a fool, she scrabbled for it, wrecked with hope and fear and hope. It was Harper: “I MOVED MY FOOT!!!!!” **** She slept and didn’t sleep, and the hours sped and sluggished by. And finally, she rang home. Hazel picked up. “What’s wrong?” she said before Cole even had a chance to speak.
Cole swayed exhaustedly where she knelt. “Well, I'm not. And I don't How many times is you going to ignore me telling you that I love you? Because I do. I really do. And you can think all these awful things about yourself if you must. But nothing—nothing, do you hear me—will make me believe them.” “You can’t love me. You don’t know me.” “You mean, because I didn’t know about this? That’s only because you lied to me about it.” He paced restlessly, up and down that pristine room. This lost creature in Aiden Crux's skin. “I didn’t lie.” “I asked you outright. In Kinlochbervie.” “No. You asked if someone had hurt me. And they haven’t.” “Oh fucking hell.” She rubbed her hands against her burning eyes. “I could have hurt you. Don’t you realize how completely fucked it feels looking back at all the times I’ve pushed you on sex stuff with no clue about what happened to you?” “Well,” he drawled, “I did warn you that I’m a cruel
Cole glanced up. “I'm not. I mean, it wasn’t fun. But I trusts you. With the worst of me, as well as the best, and all the squishy ambiguous bits in between.” “Thank you,” he said, unexpectedly grave. “I hope to always honor that trust.” “As I will for you.” He didn’t respond. “So, y’know”—Cole nudged him gently—“your turn.” It took a long time, but he did eventually speak. The words coming slowly and painfully, like razor blades from his lips. “If I tell you, you’ll know what Eleanor said about me is right. That I’m sick and twisted and I ruin everything that’s good.” “She only said that because she was angry.” He shook his head. “No, she said it because it’s true. You see, she learned who she was when she was fourteen years old.” “What happened when—wait. When your father died?” “After that. When she seduced his business partner. His best friend.” Cole genuinely had no idea what to say. To
Cole pulled off a truly Ellery-worthy eye roll. “One cigarette a month is hardly going to kill him,” she said. “Is that what he told you? And you believed him?” Natasha asked. Now that she thought about it… he did tend to reach for his cigarettes once they’d sexed. And he’d smoked after dinner. And during Star Wars. And just now in the gCole. Oh fuck. Fuuuuuck.Natasha shook her head at her. “You poor, sweet girl. You don’t know him at all, do you?” “I… I’m in love with him,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I can see why you’d believe that. Aiden can be quite dazzling when he chooses. But you don’t understand anything about who he is. Or the damage you’re doing to him.” She tried to reply, to protest, to defend herself. Defend him. Defend them. But she had nothing. Aiden had de-clawed her with his secrets. Left her powerless and alone. “You deserve better,” Natasha went on softly. “He’s using you like his cigarettes. You
“I love it when you hurt me. I love everything you do. And everything you are,” Cole said. And that was when Aiden turned and drew her into his mouth. It was the teeniest bit awkward—he even nicked her slightly with the edge of his teeth, suggesting maybe he didn’t do this all that often. He certainly hadn’t with her before. Not that she’d minded. He made her come just fine. But…wow. He could have been actively terrible and she wouldn’t have cared: Aiden Crux was sucking her pussy. No teasing. Only his tongue sliding tight round her, his mouth soft and hot and perfect.Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. She was…Aiden was… Cole turned her head into her shoulder in an effort to muffle her noises. Which were at least as loud as when he’d been torturing her nipples, and probably even less dignified. Pain was one thing. She could take pain. But she was pleasure’s bitch. Hone
His fingers closed around her through her dress and squeezed until she bucked and moaned. Some of the anguish faded from her face, the tight lines of her brow and mouth yielding to desire, and something tender she might have called hope. “Don’t move,” he whispered, as he stepped away. “Okay.” Her heart thumped as eagerly as a puppy’s tail. She loved the anticipation that came with his commands. And she loved pleasing him. Of course, her nose started itching almost immediately. But she was determined and ignored it and held still as he had told her to. Aiden circled the pillar, leaving her standing there like Andromeda. Well, Andromeda if she had a massive erection. Then he drew her hands behind her and she felt the cool brush of silk against her skin.It encircled her wrists. Pulled taut. Oh my God. His bowtie. He was bondaging her with his own bowtie. She made a noise of surprise and exciteme
He didn’t quite flinch but he got that look: the closed down, I am a million miles away from you look I knew all too well. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it.” And, with that, he…went away. Again. Cole bit down on a gasp of frustration. She wanted to kick him in the shins. He couldn’t just fix what was probably years of hurt and misunderstanding with a single, and very small, gesture. Also, the fucker had barely spent five minutes with her. But she pushed all that aside and turned her very best and sparkliest smile on Ellery. “So what happens next? Do we all die of the plague?” Ellery sneered at the room. “Mm, here’s hoping.” “Wow, that’s the last time I RSVP to an invitation from you.” “I don’t mean it.” She sighed and with the air of a small child being forced to eat Brussels sprouts added, “Thank you for coming.” “I didn’t know you played the violin.” Ellery shrugged. “I’m brilliant. When I’m not rusty.” “
“What do you look for?” Cole asked. “The thing nobody else sees,” He replied, propping his hip casually against a piece of furniture she didn’t have a name for—something ornate and impressive, probably a credenza or vitrine or whatever. “Society photography comes down to one very simple principle. Anyone can take pictures of Kate Middleton and Lady Gaga. The trick is getting a picture of Kate Middleton with Lady Gaga.” “And have you?” “Not yet. But she’s a long way from dead, and hopefully so are they.” Cole laughed. In a strange way, the woman reminded her a little bit of Aiden. The same conviction, the same merciless drive, although focused and expressed very differently. She guessed it was becoming pretty apparent she had a type.But mainly Cole was grateful. Now, when she looked across the room, she met smiles. Flashes of recognition in other people’s eyes. She knew faces and names. She could have joined some of the conversations. Instead of drifting around pathetically. Stil