Filthy Rich Vampire Husbands (Filthy Rich 2)

Flynn’s eyes lit up.

“That’s it!”

“That’s what?”

“You talk about the four of us being wealthy and you feeling like you don’t contribute enough but, Serena, you actually made the biggest sacrifice of all. You risked a turning. We were born that way. But for us, you were willing to sacrifice your humanity. That’s priceless, Serena.”

Realization came over me at just what a large commitment I had made.

“Flynn. You sure know how to make a girl feel good.” I laughed, and he joined me. A beat passed where we looked at each other with desire, but then I broke it. As much as I felt I wanted Flynn right then that wasn't what today was about.

“Right. I’d better go see if my belongings are still in the apartment or whether they got donated to a thrift store.”

My keys still worked, and I opened the apartment I had shared with two other women. One of them used to work for Revealed; that’s how I’d known about their need for a new roommate, and the other was an old college friend of Pam’s. I’d carried on paying my rent and called Pam to tell her I was coming to empty my room, so I wasn’t surprised when she wandered out into the hall. “Serena! My God you look amazing.”

“Thank you. You too. How are things?” It was polite chat, I’d never been good at making friends and so I barely knew Pam and Meghan even though we’d shared the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m good. Still with Ben and waiting for him to propose! Meghan says hi and that she’s sorry she couldn’t be here. She’s at the hospital.” Meghan was a nurse.

“It’s fine. I’m just going to pack my things and then I’m meeting my boyfriend for lunch.” It was a crock of shit but I didn’t want her prolonging my exit. Her face fell for a split-second making me feel bad. I should have tried with these girls. Should have been a better friend. I realized I needed to say it out loud and not do my usual closing down.

“Pam. Thank you for the room here. Sorry I wasn’t great at joining in with things. I find it difficult. I’m socially awkward. It wasn’t anything about you guys, it was all me. I just wanted to say that.”

Pam tilted her head at me and smiled. “Serena, do you think we didn’t realize that? Yes we wish you’d joined in more with things but you were a great roomie. You paid your bills on time, did your share of the housework. So don’t sweat it. We wish you all the luck in the world in Malibu, and four guys… Serena. Shit. I’m not even gonna ask, but I didn’t expect you to be able to walk straight.”

I started laughing. “Some days I don’t feel I can.”

She laughed too.

“We wanted to get you a leaving present, but we knew you’d not want to carry much so we settled for this.” She handed me a small box. I opened it to find a charm of the Statue of Liberty. “So you think of us.” She said. I did something then that I’d never done before. I stepped forward and I gave Pam a hug. She stepped into it naturally and when we parted I noticed her smile had grown larger as had mine. “Right, I’d better get to it. I’ll say goodbye before I go.”

“You do that.” Pam said and then she walked in the direction of the living room and left me to it.

I walked down the hall to my room and pushed open the door. It smelled as you’d expect when the window hadn’t been open for a while, so the first thing I did was to push it open and let the air come in. I bent down and reached under my bed, knocking dust out of the way and bringing out a set of two suitcases, one was slightly smaller and stored inside the other. Pam had left a couple boxes in my room for me to fill one with trash and the other with items for the thrift store. She’d labeled th

em. It was such a Pam thing to do. She was always so organized. The first thing I did after laying the cases on my bed was to open my closet. Looking through everything, I realized there was nothing here I was bothered about taking back with me. I had a wardrobe full of clothes that the guys had bought me as a housewarming gift and I’d taken my favorite things with me when I’d gone to Carbon Beach to research the FRAP boys. Most of my closet ended up in the thrift box. My converse and designer shoe collection went in my case as did a few nice purses, but the trash and thrift boxes had more in them than my cases did. Then it was time to go through my personal items. I had very little. A few photos of me growing up with my adopted parents, my school yearbooks. I packed these. They would give my boyfriends a laugh when they saw the hairstyles I rocked back then.

I sat with my back against the bed and looked at the other photos. My relationship with my adoptive parents had not been a good one. They had wanted a perfect daughter and I wasn’t one. The first few years I spent with them I was grateful for a home and things were fine, but then the teenage years set in. Hormones, and my bitterness about my mother giving me up for adoption and then dying without giving me a clue as to who my father was, led to a period of me acting out, sleeping around, and getting stoned. I had more in common with Smith than I think he realized. In the end I’d parted ways with my adoptive parents. I’d heard that afterward my mom had fallen pregnant naturally at the age of forty-two, to her and my father’s complete shock, giving them a chance to do things all over again. I hoped for their sake this one behaved. It was why I made no attempt to visit them and apologize. It was done and I’d rather they carried on their life with their new child. I wasn’t one for looking back.

I drew out the only photo I had of my real mother, contained within a faded blue envelope. She was smiling at the camera, her eyes twinkling at whoever she was looking at. I had no idea why she’d given me up for adoption, only that my adoptive parents had told me when I was older that she’d passed away when I was three. Carefully, I placed the photo back in the envelope and put it in my purse. I couldn’t risk my luggage going astray with the photo inside.

Pam brought me a coffee and checked if I needed any help. I carried on going through my things until the last item was placed in a box and I stood back and looked at my home of the last few years, now bare. The closet doors open with nothing on the hangers. The bed stripped back and the bed sheets in the trash box.

That was it. I was leaving New York.

I returned my mug to the kitchen where Pam wouldn’t allow me to wash it, and then with a quick goodbye, another hug, and a polite ‘keep in touch’ which we both knew would never happen, I left and closed that part of my life off forever.

10

Jayden

Not having a vocation had never made me feel guilty before. While I lived life, enjoying every moment, I didn’t care who saw me partying or any of the other things I did to spend my time. I’d been on camera for years when my parents and I were one of the main families on the reality show ‘The Real Business Women of Malibu’. I’d been eleven years old when that show began and used to our wealth but also used to the privacy that my father had previously maintained while he ran his own business empire—he was an analyst. Mom had also been an analyst when she’d been approached for the show, but as she worked on the series her interest in the television and movie world had led her on a different career path. A few years later she was directing and producing the show and riding high as a successful business woman and reality star. Until I hit eighteen.

I’d only featured in the show in pre-scripted scenes where I was shown arguing for expensive toys or to hold parties. They’d had me looking like a spoiled kid and I’d not cared. If it made my mom happy, I was happy. It took little time, made me semi-famous in the press who loved to follow my wild ways, and the rest of the time I could hang with my friends and party.

At sixteen I’d lost my virginity to a girl from school and it had been clumsy and awkward. When the fashion designer Gabriella Marrant started flirting with me, I’d thought I was misreading her signals. She was a friend of my mom’s and in her early thirties. My mom had a closet full of Gabriella’s clothes, all the reality show women did. Her fashion design business and her stores led to scenes at New York fashion week and scripted arguments between the women on who got first dibs on the new designs. Gabby—as she was known by her friends—was recently divorced, and they liked to script her flirting with her friend's husbands even though she joked they were far too old for her as soon as the filming ended.

At first she’d done nothing more than walk toward me on set between filming and ask me about myself or compliment me. “Liking the suit, Jayden.”