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Is that really how I come across? I guess I have become rather closed off. People have hurt me—it’s natural for me to have become wary of strangers.
I opt not to reply, too lost in the voice, but also the words and the new melodies. I close my eyes, feeling a smile stretch my lips.
“I’ve never seen you this relaxed,” Marius says when we’re at the sixth, or seventh song. “Who knew all it’d take was a playlist from Specter.”
“I’m his biggest fan. The original songs are even better than his covers.”
“Yeah?” he glances at me before returning to the road. “You can air drop the album to your phone.”
“Oh my god, please!” I gasp at the offer, excitement making my heart race. “Wait, is that okay? Won’t he mind?”
He shrugs. “Not unless you post them online.”
I look at Marius, considering his words. “So, you do trust me not to release private shit online, huh?” I ask pointedly.
It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “If there’s no benefit to you, it wouldn’t make sense. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt your precious Specter, would you? You’re hisbiggest fan, after all.”
I childishly stick my tongue out. I don’t care if he’s mocking me. Specter’s voice was there for me when I had no one and nothing else. He can’t possibly understand what that means to me.
35
MARIUS
Idon’t think I’ve ever been this amused. Sarah’s adorable. I watch her get lost in the music, ignoring the chatter from the back, eyes closed, sighing wistfully as the voice from the speakers hits the low, trickier notes.
If we were alone, I’d sing it for her—but Vi would tell Rhys, who’d love to get some ammunition against me. We might be friends, but he makes no secret of the fact that he’s still pissed about me taking his wife on her first date.
And Vi notwithstanding, Damian would tell everyone in the Shark House. Then my brothers would hear that I sing online and my life might as well be over from that point. They’d never let me live it down.
“We’re here!” Bex announces as we reach the end of the very long driveway leading up to her grandparent’s plantation.
Sarah gasps, and I grin. She’s quick to roll her eyes at our wealth, but the little hypocrite loves luxuries anyway.
I park in front of the house, when a beautiful, blonde, sixty-something woman I know too well exits the house.
Bex’s grandmother is the kind of older woman any straight dude would gladly fuck—she looks like Nicole Kidman, and her resemblance to the younger woman is striking. Bex’s fiancé is one lucky man.
Bex’s grandfather, however, is your typical rich, old guy: podgy around the middle, with a red nose and the posture of a hunchback.
Anyone looking at the couple would assume Franco has a lot of money, and Mariann puts up with him for a stipend, when in actual fact, she’s a Carmichael, with the large fortune and the noble origins, while he was her chauffeur.
Mariann was disowned by her posh family back in Astria, so they moved to the States. She eventually ended up getting all her money when her father died.
I know the dirt because Mariann isn’t just Bex’s grandmother: she’s also Beaufort’s. I’ve known her my entire life.
She and my own grandmother have a bit of a friendly rivalry going on, and the result is that both of them spoil us to death in an effort to become our favorite.
“Bexie!” she opens her arms wide to squeeze Rebecca in a tight hug, but her eyes remain on us. “And you brought me my boys, too!”
Yeah, she also adopted Damian as one of her own.
We both grin, shaking Franco’s hand.
“We couldn’t stay away. Especially after Bex mentioned brunch.”
“You made apple pie, didn’t you?” Damian asks with puppy eyes.
“I did,” she retorts with an eye roll that make it clear she considers that question completely unnecessary.
