Part 3 (2/2)
”Am I right?” I prod.
Violet shrugs. ”It's only for a month. And he adores you.”
Even if that's true, they'll want their privacy. ”I should go back to New York.” I sigh and shake my head, my gaze going to the window to my right. All of London is spread out before us, an endless view of nothing but buildings and British flags, the sky a brilliant blue scattered with fluffy white clouds. It's a perfect late spring day in the city and I have the sudden urge to go outside. Run around and pretend I have zero responsibilities, at least for a little while.
”No,” Violet says vehemently. ”Stay here with me. Back in New York, you're restless. Unhappy. And that'll only lead you into trouble.”
I frown. ”What in the world are you talking about?”
”The way you behaved at the premiere, it was so unlike you. First there's the dress. Have you seen the papers, by the way? Talk about a scandal.”
My stomach sinks. I haven't seen the papers. I've avoided them. ”Is it that bad?”
”Probably worse.” She rolls her eyes and reaches into her desk drawer, pulling out one of the tabloids that are so popular here. She tosses it across the desk so that it lands in front of me with a plop. ”They're saying you're giving Lily a run for her money.”
I barely glance at the photo on the front of the paper. That I actually made the very front of the Daily Mail's gossip page is both thrilling and horrifying. Finally I'm recognized for being me, though they have to mention Lily too, of course. And huh. It's not the most flattering article either, showcasing the fas.h.i.+on faux pas at Cannes yesterday. Great. ”I can't believe you waited this long to bring it up.”
”I didn't want to upset you. I'm upset enough already.”
My gaze drops to the photo of me on the red carpet, both of my legs on blatant display what with the slits up to my hip bones. I look ... amazing, and completely exposed. The necklace glitters around my throat, the pink stones vibrant against my skin. ”Did Grandma see this?”
”I don't know. She's probably only just landed in New York since her flight was after ours.” Violet s.n.a.t.c.hes the paper away from me and shoves it back into her desk drawer. ”You're lucky no one found out about your mysterious man who felt you up after you skinny-dipped in the pool,” she retorts.
Leaping to my feet, I glare at her, anger coursing through my veins. ”I thought you wouldn't judge.” I should never have told her what happened. I didn't give her all the details, but I did let it slip that I stripped off my dress and jumped into the pool.
Her words ring in my head and I feel foolish. I don't measure up. I'm in Lily's and Violet's shadows and I hate it. The biggest obstacle I've ever had to overcome is being their baby sister. They'll always be ahead of me, no matter what I do or what I say.
Being the youngest sucks.
”I worry about you, Rose,” Violet says, her voice steady, her demeanor calm. She folds her hands together on top of the desk, looking every inch the successful businesswoman. While I'm the floundering, trying-to-find-my-place Fowler sister. Clearly I'm the only one worked up here. ”I was afraid something like this would happen, what with the flashy dress and wearing that necklace.”
”You're jealous of the necklace, aren't you? You hate that Grandma gave it to me and not you,” I throw out, trying to hurt her the way she's hurting me.
And it works. Somewhat. She flinches at my accusation but otherwise, no reaction. ”I don't care about the necklace.”
”You so do.”
”I'm concerned about your behavior and how you're acting, not the stupid necklace,” she says, her voice rising the slightest bit. She's angry now.
Good. I'm angry too.
”Did you ever think I'm just acting like ... me?”
Leaning back in her chair, she frowns. ”Rose ...”
”I'm serious. Maybe I'm just being myself, you know? I've always been in your shadow or Lily's shadow, and I've never done anything on my own. Just for me.” I grab my purse from where I set it on the floor by my chair and start to exit her office.
”Rose, don't go,” she calls, and I pause in front of the closed door, my hand resting on the handle. ”Stay and talk to me.”
With a sigh, I glance at her over my shoulder, offering her a pitiful smile. ”There's nothing left to discuss. I just ... I need to be alone for a little bit, okay?”
”Okay.” She nods, looking contrite. She doesn't like to fight and neither do I. ”You'll come over for dinner tonight?”
I'm staying at a hotel for the next few nights but if I do decide to prolong my stay in London, do I really want to move in with my sister and her boyfriend? ”Are you cooking?” I ask cautiously. Violet can't cook. None of us can.
”No, we're getting takeout. From this great little Indian restaurant that's not too far from our flat. Ryder would eat there seven days a week if I let him,” Violet explains, amus.e.m.e.nt tingeing her voice.
”Fine. Yes. I'll come to dinner. See you later.” I hurry out of her office before she says something else and convinces me to stay with her.
I want to be alone right now. So I can try to process my turbulent thoughts.
Not that I have much faith in myself at the moment.
Chapter Four.
Caden
”So how long do you plan on staying with me?” Whitney purrs, wrapping her arms around my neck, her fingers diving into my hair. I've barely shut the door and she's already pressed her body against me, her hips nudging mine.
I disentangle myself from her grip. The woman is like an octopus, hands everywhere, all at once. ”I don't know,” I tell her, dropping my bag on the floor right by the front door. ”A few weeks? Maybe a month?”
The smile on her face is nothing short of pleased. I've been friends with Whitney Banks for what feels like forever. More like since we were little kids and we went to the same private school together. Her banker father-always loved that their last name is Banks, so fitting-got a job transfer just before junior high ended and she moved with her family to London. We would see each other on occasion when she came back to the States and one night, while she was in New York the summer after we graduated high school, we were at a party together and got drunk.
And we had s.e.x.
Ever since then, whenever we see each other-which is rare-we usually end up f.u.c.king. I'm never with anyone and neither is she. We both have zero interest in relations.h.i.+ps, but our friends.h.i.+p with a little f.u.c.king on the side works quite nicely.
Though right now I'm exhausted. The last thing I want to do is f.u.c.k. I need a shower first. And then a nap.
Whitney, on the other hand, appears raring to go.
”Put your bag in my room.” She comes for me once more, her arms going around my waist this time as she tips her head back, waiting for my kiss. I dutifully deliver it, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.
”You don't want me in your room,” I murmur against her perfectly glossed pink lips.
Whitney smiles, her hands slipping down to grip my a.s.s. ”Oh, I definitely want you in my room. Easy access.” She is beautiful and she knows it. Perfect blond hair cut into a fas.h.i.+onable bob, plump lips, sparkling blue eyes, and a willowy body that can wear just about anything. She's usually clad in as little clothing as possible and can get away with it, since she's more on the slender than the curvy side.
I think immediately of Rose Fowler's curves. She has a woman's body. Full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, nipped-in waist, and rounded hips, and her a.s.s is a perfect handful. Hard to believe I walked away from her like I did.
Not that I had a choice. I needed to get out of there. The lynch mob didn't find me, thank G.o.d, and while I heard rumblings about the bracelet being stolen, there was no public notice made.
<script>