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Compared to my cold mother, who couldn’t give a shit about me, my grandmother’s constant looking out for my back meant the world to me. She’d even promised to match Rey’s offer if I didn’t sleep with him. She never used those words, but I wasn’t stupid. I could read between the lines. We all knew what Rey wanted. My grandmother more than anyone, because I figured she’d slept with him when she was my age—a thought that left a bad taste because I hated the idea of her with someone like him.
Yes, I’d gotten attached to her.
That she let me stay despite my crappy behaviour also meant everything to me.
I think I’d been testing her.
Her offer was a huge win for me. I would have even settled for less. Rey seriously creeped me out. He’d already touched my tits. And I’d sent those doctored porn images, which weren’t me, just to keep him close.
I might have been ambitious at any cost, but I’d promised myself never to suck a dick or fuck an old man.
Just in case my grandmother discovered all the bad things I got up to, I had to keep stringing Rey along by making myself valuable to him. Recruiting young, but not too young, girls had proven easier than I’d imagined. Girls were very willing to lose their cherries for money.
I couldn’t sell mine. That ship had sailed.
Crisp thought I’d never fucked.
He had that wrong because I started illegally young.
No one forced me. It all came down to desire.
Not for sex or for the man in question, but for nice things like expensive clothes, makeup, and lingerie.
In short, my mother sold me to an older man when I was fifteen. He was kind of hot, in that at least he was in his twenties.
He also taught me to like sex.
I liked Peyton. He treated me well. I would have married him, but I got too old for him, and by the time I was eighteen, he’d found a girl whom I’m sure wasn’t quite sixteen.
I never cried—I was tough. Maybe I was frozen just like my mother. The only reason she wept when Will got locked up was that the cops, dragging her away, had screwed with her carefully crafted sophisticated woman-of-the-world look.
Savanah was another woman I looked up to. She hated me, but I didn’t hate her. I respected her effortless style. And it was fun having someone close to an older sister to poke fun at.
The biggest highlight of her wedding reception for me was seeing Drake filling his suit so well, I nearly fainted. He looked seriously hot, like a carbon copy of Harry Styles but with more muscles and tats.
He kept looking at me. Only there were all these older women circling. One, in particular, seemed very fucking familiar—a beautiful blonde with big tits and wearing one of those dresses with a long slit. I’m sure she didn’t wear knickers. She laughed at everything he said, and he seemed chatty too.
He hardly said a word to me. All he gave me was a grunt or a nod.
It was at the wedding reception that my grandmother hugged me for the first time. Whether it was for show, I couldn’t say. But it took me by surprise because my mother never ever hugged me.
“Manon, you look lovely,” my grandmother had said. She had softened a lot. She used to frighten me a bit. All tough and take-no-shit approach, another quality I liked in her, but now that she’d fallen in love, she was all smiles.
I never thought I’d like being part of an extended family, but they were all growing on me. Despite all the shit I’d given them, they still seemed to tolerate me.
My mum put it down to guilt on Grandmother’s part. Whatever. I just loved being at that fairy-tale mansion with my own en suite, a balcony, and a walk-in wardrobe. And I was about to get a car. Yay. Which meant trips to London, where I planned to buy a ritzy apartment somewhere posh.
“How lovely to see you in that gorgeous dress,” my grandmother had gushed. Instead of going for showing off my body, something I’d been doing since puberty, I’d decided on copying Savanah by adopting a more modest, stylish approach.
Taking my lead from her, as always, I’d visited some of Savanah’s favourite designer stores, where I picked up a red Dolce and Gabbana knee-length dress. This time, I even paid. They had too many security cameras, so I couldn’t feed my habit of freebies that started at the age of five. First, it was candy and toys, and then, as a teenager, having become an expert, I stole makeup, lingerie, and anything I could get my hands on. I’d become a little addicted to the thrill. A credit card with an eye-watering limit couldn’t even stop me because pinching stuff had become second nature.
I liked this new modest look, as my grandmother put it. I guess it was her nice way of saying I wasn’t dressing like a streetwalker.
The wedding was the highlight of my month if it weren’t for Rey hanging around. Then his friend, the just as cringey Lord Pike, crashed the party and caused all kinds of issues.
“You killed my boy,” he yelled, pointing his finger at my grandmother, and then he turned to Carson, who at the time had his arm around Savanah like it was glued to her waist. He hadn’t shifted from her all day.
When the red-nosed creep yelled abuse at Carson, Drake removed his jacket, which made me almost melt on the spot, and I swear I heard a chorus of “aahs.”
