Heartless (Starcrossed Lovers Trilogy 1)

14ElaineMaybe Harriet would save me from myself.

I sat there alongside her at Work Truths’ quarterly fundraiser and stared across at the tables around us. Faces I knew. Bishop’s Landing faces, and Regent Country Club faces, and celebrities hitching along for the tabloid ride. I was wearing a tight burgundy dress that showed off my cleavage, determined to at least make it as a family success in one paltry area. Better make the most of it. Even the looks department would bail on me soon enough if I carried on shoveling powder up my nose.

Harriet kept shooting me kind glances, knowing just how much I was struggling. I hadn’t told her the full extent of the Lucian Morelli bullshit, but I’d told her enough. Enough for her to know that I was on dangerous ground, and it wasn’t the Morellis themselves that were the main threat. It was me, losing my crazy mind over the evil prince at the heart of them.

I hadn’t snorted a single line of coke since the weekend. My palms were sweaty, and my foot was tapping under the table, fighting the withdrawal. But I was resisting. Hell knows how, but I was resisting.

There were a few seats still empty at our table, and my stomach was jittery from nerves as well as the withdrawal. Sure enough, I looked across the room to see my mother air kissing the surrounding tables and waving to all her ‘friends’ as she made her way closer. My heart shriveled in my chest as she looked at me, coldness glaring out from her eyes under her smile.

She hated me. She was ashamed of me. She’d given me up as worthless.

The little girl part of me wanted to leap up and run to her, and beg her to hold me tight. I wanted to tell her I was trying to give up my ways and wasn’t going to take drugs again, I promise, I promise.

Please, Mom. Please love me. Please.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t run to her. It would hurt too damn much when she pushed me away.

She sat herself in the seat opposite Harriet and me at our round table, placing her champagne glass down in front of her. I knew who was going to be joining her. Lionel Constantine. My uncle. My father’s brother.

The uncle that had been staying in my mother’s bedroom for a long, long time.

The uncle who made his marks on me, when I was too young to know what marks were.

Shh. Secrets.

Our family was built on secrets. Secrets and lies.

Even the very sight of him gave me shudders. He gave me a nod as he dropped himself into the seat beside her, and I felt my jaw tense. Cocaine screamed a fresh new tune to me, begging . . . begging . . .

He was wearing a tuxedo with a navy-blue bowtie, and his brows were heavy and laced with gray. He was attractive even though he was fading fast. I just wished he’d fade a whole load faster and say his farewells for all time.

I was almost considering giving up my efforts and bailing out for a line of coke, but Harriet gripped my hand under the table before I could move. Her eyes spoke more than her words ever could. She shook her head, just a little, and I took a breath, forcing myself to stay in my seat.

I barely had a second to gather myself together before I heard Mom’s voice lashing out in its usual iciness, quiet enough to keep her spite to our table alone.

“Nice to see you actually turn up for something, Elaine.”

“I’ve been busy,” I told her, praying that the event started up soon to stop her bitching at me.

I could read exactly what she was thinking. She was thinking I was a druggie disgrace and wishing I would fuck off and die quietly somewhere to save any more humiliation to the family name. That’s the thing about my mother – she was determined to keep the Constantine glitter over the drudge of our slimy ways. It was more important to her than any of us could ever be.

I didn’t dare cast my eyes at Lionel again since he reminded me so much of a nasty, seedy version of my father, and always had done. It always made me feel sick, especially when I let thoughts of him creep inside me.

Please, Uncle Lionel. No. No. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them hurt me.

I kept my attention firmly on the other chattering tables and the man taking up his position onstage. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to love being there, and love being away from my addiction weaknesses, just for one night. I wanted to love the people around me and believe, for just a second, that they truly loved me back. Me and not the sheen of the me I presented to the outside.