I’m about to grab Nikolai again, but he slips away last second. “Stop throwing me as if I’m a ball, motherfuckers.”
“We have no time for you. Fuck off.”
“Actually.” Cecily steps forward and stands beside me. “We do. Didn’t you bring me here to meet your friends?”
No, I fucking didn’t.
In fact, I kept her away from this place so she wouldn’t see these assholes.
“What she said.” Gareth smiles at her. “We’re having dinner in a bit. Will you join?”
“No,” I say.
“Sure,” she says at the same time.
I glare at her, and she glares right back. I lean over to whisper, “We only have dinner, just the two of us.”
“Not today,” she whispers back.
“Don’t fuck with me, Cecily. We’re leaving.”
“No, we’re not. I thought I was more boring than a nun.” She flips her silver hair and strides in Gareth’s direction. “Did you mention dinner?”
“Yeah. We can have the chef add any dishes you want. Wait till Kill sees you.” Gareth smirks. “RIP, Jer.”
I flip him the bird, and he merely grins as he walks beside Cecily and Nikolai occupies the other side, hounding her for answers to his earlier question.
She doesn’t answer him, but she doesn’t shoot him down either. Instead, she engages the bastard by divulging some harmless information about Brandon.
I follow close behind them, contemplating who to kill first and whether there should be blood or not.
Who am I kidding? Of course there will be blood. Now, I just have to make sure it’ll pour out from all their orifices.
I start by shoving them away and gluing her to my side during the whole evening, but that barely lasts when she starts drinking with them and Killian joins in with his girlfriend.
Cecily flat-out refuses to leave once Glyndon gets here, despite my and Kill’s joint effort to take our girls and disappear into the night.
“Why the fuck did you bring her here? Now, Glyn won’t budge,” Kill asks me as the two of them play some stupid card game with Nikolai and Gareth.
“I honestly have no fucking clue why.” I sip on my vodka and shoot glares in her direction that she subtly ignores.
Killian slides his drink across the table. “I’m going to teach those motherfuckers a lesson.”
Then he stalks over to the game, kicks Nikolai away from his girlfriend’s side, and glues himself to her. Killian’s idea of teaching them a lesson is cheating, not even bothering to cover his tracks.
Both Gareth and Glyndon call him on his shit, but he remains completely calm and even accuses them of cheating.
Cecily merely laughs at the circus, her shoulders shaking and her eyes gleaming.
Me? I’m fuming.
Not only because there’s no alone time tonight, but also because everyone else gets to see her half drunk, smiling, and happy.
Maybe I’m sick, but I want to trap all those emotions so they only belong to me.
While Kill is busy stealing cards and arguing with Gareth and Glyndon, Nikolai throws back one shot after the other and offers one to Cecily.
She drinks some of it, wincing, then grins wide. “Wow. This is strong.”
“My specialty, babe.”
That’s it.
I stand, not caring about how crazed I seem, and haul her up by the elbow. She’s slightly lethargic from all the drinking and sways, then lands against my chest.
“We’re leaving.”
“Noooo, I still want to play,” she slurs, her words barely coherent.
“Yeah, let her play, Jer. Don’t be a bore— Fuck!” Nikolai rolls on the floor when I kick him in the ribs. He’s had it coming since earlier.
“What the fuck was that for?” he yells, gripping his side.
“My leg slipped.”
“You lying fuck!”
I shrug, and when Cecily continues squirming, trying to slip out of my hold, I pick her up in my arms and carry her toward the stairs.
“Why did you do that? Nikolai is nice.”
“Shut up, or he’d look nicer in a casket.”
She groans. “Ugh. You caveman.”
Her head falls against my chest and her breathing evens out. She’s started to go to sleep at healthy hours lately. And even I have started to let myself sleep for more than two hours a night.
Once we’re in my room, I lock it with the key, then remove her shoes and cover her. I’m about to search for a remedy for her hangover when her hand grabs mine and pulls me down abruptly.
I nearly crash into her, but I hold myself back at the last second.
Her eyes open, green and glittery, and then slowly, too slowly, she asks in a vulnerable voice, “Am I as dull as a nun?”
That motherfucker Nikolai will die in his sleep for daring to hurt her, even with words.
I stroke her hair away from her forehead. “You’re not. You’re the most entertaining person I know.”
“But you said I’m dull.”
“That’s because I don’t want others’ attention on you.”
She blushes, her drunken face becoming all red. “But we didn’t know each other back then.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“If I hadn’t applied to that site, would you have found another girl to chase? Like one of the girls you dated?”
“I didn’t date anyone before you.”
“But Nikolai said—”
“Nikolai was baiting you to get the information he wants. Don’t believe everything he says.”
She grins so delicately and elegantly that I want to pause this moment and tuck it in my heart where no one but me can revisit it over and over.
“What if…what if…we’d never met?”
“We would’ve sooner or later.”
“How do you know?”
“You were always meant to be mine, Cecily.” Nothing else could explain this raging need to own her, keep her, and never let her leave me, even if I have to sacrifice a limb for it.
Even if she hates me because of it.
She calms the beast I spent years hiding beneath the surface. She tames and placates him like no one else has been able to.
I’ve always been shackled by an inheritance to one of the most powerful organizations and that means I’ve needed to count every step. Strategize every plan. Plot every decision.
Not with her.
She’s the only person whose company I feel free in. There’s no sense of duty nor a weight on my shoulders.
There’s just me and her.
Cecily Knight is the calm in a loud, chaotic world.
A glittery look covers her eyes, and I think she’ll fall asleep, but she lifts her head and brushes her lips against mine, softly, slowly, as if it’s the first time she’s done it.
“I’m going to miss you when I’m in London.” Her drunken voice floats around me like a gentle breeze.
And then she closes her eyes, and her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.
I remain frozen in place for what seems like an hour.
Fuck me.
How can a mere chaste kiss and those words affect me this much?
Looks like I won’t let her do this, after all.
CECILY
My attempts to stop the dull ache in my chest have been an utter failure.
I still try to enjoy my visit home in peace, though. Or as much peace as there can be, considering the circumstances.
Mum and I are preparing dinner together, something we’ve done since I was a child. Uncle Kirian—my mother’s younger brother—would usually join us, but he’s traveling. Hopefully, I’ll be able to see him before I go back to school.
I’m sitting at the prep table while Mum is behind me, stirring ingredients on the stove.
“Pass me the salt, sweet pea,” she says, distracted.
Her hair is pulled up in a messy chignon with green highlights peeking out from everywhere. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s always had some green in her hair. Sometimes, it’s fully green. Other times, like now, it’s brown with green streaks.
She’s wearing a knee-length floral dress, and, you guessed it, a green apron.
Papa remodeled the kitchen into a chef’s dream when I was a toddler. It’s full of stainless-steel equipment, a large food-prep area, and it’s green-themed like Mum.
This is where I’ve often dabbled in internet recipes with Mum while Papa joins in just to annoy us, makes a mess out of the kitchen, and then stays to watch with a massive grin on his face.
The only reason he’s not doing that right now is because Mum sent him to get us a few things we’re missing.
I place the salt cellar in her hand, and she starts to put some in, then stops. “Cecy, hon, this is pepper.”
“Bollocks. Sorry.” I snap out of it and give her the appropriate cellar.
She shakes her head with a smile and adds the salt as I sit down again and get busy chopping the vegetables. I’m thankful she’s busy and can’t see my expression that I’m sure would give me away.
Mum always makes sure we do mother-daughter activities together. We cook, do yoga, watch movies, and shop. Though I’m not a big fan of the latter. She also plays the perfect role of my solicitor whenever Papa kicks up the overprotectiveness a notch and forbids me from doing things because they’re ‘dangerous’ for me.
It means a lot to me that we’ve always been so close, but not when she can read me. I really hate that part.
“Is everything okay back there?” she asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“Grand, yeah.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me, hon?”
“What? No, of course not.” I certainly don’t want to tell her about a certain guy who’s flipping my world upside down while I’m along for the ride.
I last saw Jeremy yesterday after I got embarrassingly drunk, kissed him, and told him I’d miss him, then crashed in his bed. I snuck out of his room like a thief, then mistakenly walked in on Killian and Glyn making out in the game room and on Nikolai floating in the pool wearing nothing but boxers. I thought he was dead, so I frantically called Ilya, but it turns out, the incident was normal for the guy.
All in all, my sneaking-out session ended up with me seeing almost everyone in the Heathens’ compound before leaving. But hey, at least Jeremy didn’t catch me.
Now, I’m not sure if that was such a great idea. Because what I said is true. I do miss him. And I only got here yesterday.
“Cecy!”
“W-what?” I jump up and wince when I realize I’ve cut myself, and blood is dripping on the cutting board and some of the vegetables.
Mum snatches a tissue and presses it on my bleeding finger, her hand shaking. She’s always had this overboard reaction whenever I’m bleeding, even if it’s a minor cut. Papa, too. I think it has to do with the scars on her wrists, which is why I’ve never blamed them for being too overprotective.
“I’m fine, Mum.” I remove the tissue, showing her that the bleeding has stopped. “See? It’s nothing.”
She flips my hand back and forth and only releases a breath when she ensures the cut is minor. “You need to be careful with the knife, hon.”
She’d faint if she found out what Jeremy does to me with the knife, and that I actually enjoy it.
Mum gets me a plaster from the cupboard and puts it on my finger. After she’s done, I throw away the dirtied vegetables and get new ones, then I climb on the chair to start anew. Mum puts the stove on the lowest temperature, gets her own knife, and settles across from me.
“I can do it on my own,” I tell her.
“It’ll get done faster if I help. At least I’m not distracted.”
“Who says I am?”
“You’ve zoned out a few times and you keep checking your phone in an unhealthy way. Are you waiting for a text or a call?”
“No,” I say with an awkward smile that she must read right through.
“Uh-huh.” She fixates me with that ‘I’m your mother, and I know everything about you’ look. “Your aunt Silver was here the other day and told me something interesting.”
“And what is that?”
“Ava told her you were seeing some American boy, and she asked Silver to start picking her bridesmaid dress.”
That little snitch.