Prologue
TALLULAH
When I was a child, my father used to perform magic tricks for me.
I would sit on his lap and clap excitedly as he performed one after another. Looking back, they weren’t complicated or that hard to figure out, but as a little girl, I loved them. I would put my chubby little arms up with delight and clap my small hands.
Mom always looked at us with affection. But sometimes, I saw that look on her face change. She’d clear her throat, look away. She’d wipe away the smile from her face and we’d carry on as if nothing had ever happened.
Since my younger sister was born, I’ve known I’m not my parents’ favorite child.
But until my fifteenth birthday, I did not know why.
That one birthday changed everything and my life as I knew it was over in a split second the moment the truth came out. Everything made sense after that - my parents keeping their distance, keeping my baby sister away from me. I finally understood it all.
On the morning of my fifteenth birthday, I wake up with a bright smile on my face.
Nothing will stop me from feeling happy today, not even my parents, who congratulate me in quiet voices and hand me their gift. Tearing into the wrapping paper, I light up as I pull out a beautiful necklace. It’s a silver cross pendant on a rope chain.
“I love it,” I tell my parents with a delighted smile, and they nod to acknowledge my words. “Thank you so much!”
Just then, my little sister comes through the door. She’s a sulky eleven-year-old right now, and she’s obsessed with me.
Perhaps it’s because my parents don’t pay me much attention and she feels sorry for me. Perhaps it’s because I’m her older sister and a built-in role model for Mathilda. Either way, she loves me, and I’m grateful to have at least one person who seems to enjoy my company.
Mathilda runs up to me and wraps her arms around me, giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek as she says, “Happy birthday, big sister!”
“Thanks, baby,” I say with a bright smile. “It means a lot.”
All of us call Mathilda baby since she’s the youngest of our little family, but I think she only really likes it when I do it.
She sits next to me and we eat breakfast together. Nobody offers to put my necklace on, so I do it myself, admiring the way the cross falls against my skin. My heart is beating into overdrive with anticipation as I prepare myself to ask what I know my parents are already dreading. Finally, I gather enough courage to ask.
“When is Xavier coming?”
Instantly, my parents share a troubled look.
“He’ll be here soon enough, I’m sure,” my father says in a clipped tone. “Finish your breakfast, girls.”
Unsatisfied with the answer, I know I won’t get much more out of my parents. They’re strangely annoyed by Xavier, which is why I don’t understand why they allowed him to be my godfather. Surely, if they hate him that much, they’d try to keep him out of my life. And yet, without fail, every year on my birthday, Xavier shows up bearing luxurious gifts my parents begrudgingly allow me to accept. And every year, I get more and more excited about seeing my guardian.
I’ve always been in awe of Xavier. He’s older than me by quite a lot, with jet-black hair that has a few silver streaks. He’s tall, towering over me, and so muscular I sometimes watch his muscles stretch his shirt with wonder. I know he’s my father’s adoptive uncle, so we’re not a blood relation. I’m grateful for that, otherwise my little crush would be even more inappropriate.
I shake my head, reminding myself Xavier would never look at me twice. He’s so much older, he has no interest in a stupid young girl like me. Besides, Mom and Dad say he’s quite the womanizer.
The doorbell rings and I’m instantly off my seat and running toward it as my parents call out after me to slow down. But I’m too excited to listen to their warnings.
I take a deep breath, standing in front of the door. I can hear giggling and laughter on the other side, and I know I’m about to finally see Xavier after a year of being separated. I live for my birthday, not for the gifts, but because I get to see him and be in his presence. Something about Xavier is so damn electric, making me want to be near him at all times.
With another deep breath, I open the door.
On the doorstep, there’s a scantily dressed woman in a barely there dress that shows more than it covers. She has dark red hair and her arms are all over my guardian. Xavier stands beside her, his eyes darkening as they meet mine. He smirks at me.