But, right now, I didn’t give a damn.
As I wrote the last digit, I pressed a slow, soft kiss to his fingertips, inhaling his scent and vowing to commit it to memory. I released Arthur’s hand and found him studying me. “Just in case you’re ever in Oxford,” I said and edged forward. Arthur watched me approach him. I placed my hands on his cheeks, unsure if he would push such affection away. When he didn’t move, I pressed a single kiss to his lips. “Goodbye, Arthur Adley.” I hurried from his yacht, never once looking back.
I crept onto my yacht and headed straight to my room. I locked myself inside, immediately going into the bathroom. I was breathing hard, the implications of what I’d just done finally hitting home. I switched on the vanity mirror light and looked at my reflection. I looked depraved. My red lipstick was smudged all over my mouth, my mascara had run under my eyes, and I had red marks on my skin from where Arthur had gripped me by my neck, from where he had held me down and fucked me.
A disbelieving laugh slipped from my swollen lips. Arthur had come through on his promise. He had ruined me. He had spoiled me for all others.
And he had well and truly wrecked me.
Chapter Four
ARTHUR
Aged twenty-three
“Here.” Freddie passed me a glass of gin.
I took it from him, and he sat down on the chair opposite me with his whisky. The fire roared beside us. We were all in my converted church, suited and booted and ready for a fucking visit to some of our fathers’ business associates.
“What time are the old ones coming?” Charlie asked.
“Midnight,” Eric answered and sat beside Charlie on the couch. He ran his hand over his face. “Can you actually imagine ever doing business in the daylight?” Eric said. “I mean, I don’t mind this fucking vampire life, but I often wonder what it’s like doing business with the sun in the fucking sky, where everyone can see.”
“I’m sure we could arrange a nine-to-five job for you,” Charlie said. “Office job? Shelf stacker? A bobby in the Old Bill?” Charlie shrugged. “It might be good for you, old boy. Keep you in check.”
“Then who’d save your arse on the daily?” Eric said, smiling at my cousin. “Nah, I’ll just fucking stick to drug and gun dealing and cold-blooded murder. Seems that’s where my talents lie.”
“I like killing,” Vinnie said casually, his arm over the back of his seat. I knew Pearl was beside him in his head by the way he leaned his body inwards toward her. I often wondered what she looked like in his mind. How she would have looked older. Beautiful, no doubt. “Do we get to kill again soon? I get a fucking hard-on when I get blood on my hands.” He smiled at Pearl. “Pearl likes me fucking her after I take some cunt’s life. She screams more. Claws my back more. Says it’s better for her.”
“Thanks, Vin. That’s a visual we all fucking needed in our heads,” Freddie said dryly and looked at me, shaking his head in disbelief. It used to piss me off that Vinnie spoke about my dead sister that way. But I was used to it now. Let him imagine her alive and well if he wanted. If it kept him from topping himself, what the fuck did I care? I wasn’t losing anyone else in my life. I was one death away from insanity at this point. I knew it—they all did.
The door opened and Vera, Ronnie and Betsy strutted into the room. “Look at you miserable fuckers.” Vera stopped in front of us, looking at our bored faces. “Who pissed on your bonfires?”
“Hello, sis,” Eric said, kissing Vera on the cheek. “Been called to arms by our old men. Waiting for them to get their wrinkly arses in here so we can get going and I can get back to fucking my latest conquest.”
“Prostitutes again?” Betsy said, brushing past Eric and sitting next to her brother, Charlie, on the arm of his side of the sofa. “They’re the only ones desperate enough to shag you, aren’t they? No one would actually fuck you of their own volition.”
Eric smiled at Betsy, but there was fuck-all humour there. “That make you a hooker then?” he said, and Betsy’s smile slipped into a familiar snarl. “You’ve ridden this dick plenty to qualify.” Eric lounged in his chair like he was the king of the fucking world. “Of your own volition.”
“You make me sick,” she snapped, eyes narrowing.
“Keep telling yourself that, treasure.”
“Now now, children,” Charlie said to Eric and Betsy. “We don’t need to hear any fucking more about your sordid history. Spare us, please. It was hard enough to deal with when it was happening. This constant tug of war you both now engage in is fucking tiring.”