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Pale, almost translucent skin. Dark, ebony hair that’s going a little wild at the ends. Not straight and not wavy. Something messy and poufy in between. Brown eyes so deep that you could free-fall into them.
I don’t even like you, I snap at myself as I stand. I don’t like you.
But even as I walk away, I can’t stop myself from looking back at her.
I guess not only am I a traitor, but I’m also a liar. The worst kind, because I lied to my brother and I lied to myself.
Against all odds, Fleur Winterbourne is everything I never knew I wanted.
FLEUR
Ryan looks at me with guilt swimming in his ocean eyes, spearing through bottomless depths, straight into my chest and my soul. The only guilt I feel, though, is for not feeling it enough. For still being angry and needing to cause Casper as much hurt as he’s caused me.
He left me. He left me with a Judas kiss and without a goodbye. And I hate him.
I want him to watch from wherever he is, and I want him to ache and burn for leaving me. For knowing he was going to leave me. For abandoning me like this. Because I am alone. I am not seen or heard. I’m not brave…
“He knew,” I say.
My voice is hoarse, and my throat is sore enough that I wince.
“He knew it was always going to end like this, and he still let me believe that there was hope. He allowed me to believe that it could end differently…” And now I’m lost.
Ryan nods. No words come from his lips. Nothing. There’s only that languishing look in his stare that fans my angry flames. And then he’s gone, broad, inked shoulders and back pulling taut as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Why did I kiss him?
It hasn’t made me feel better. If anything, it’s only served to make the black hole inside me bigger. It’s made me hate myself that little bit more because I’m trying to desperately hurt a dead man. A man w
ho did nothing but protect me and our baby.
Picking up the small pouch from the bed, I empty it into my hand. It trembles as a small silver bangle and Casper’s sovereign ring land in my palm. Shame flickers somewhere deep inside. I can barely look at the ring without my anger turning on me. The words fide et virtute glow up at me in the soft light. They’re as faint as the demi-griffin in their middle and the small dragons circling it.
With faith and valour.
Seems fitting that it’s his family motto. The words are befitting of him entirely. And not in the way that you read about in legend and scripture. Casper was every bit the hero you could never fathom. There was no shining armour. No poetic disguise. Just a cold, calculated killer.
It was so easy to believe in him. To trust that everything would be okay because of him.
And what now?
What happens now that it’s only me looking after what’s left of him?
I thread the ring onto my index finger, hoping that somehow it will make things better. As though it’s some kind of magic talisman that will make the pain stop and the shame die. Because I am ashamed of my anger.
What was I thinking? What is wrong with me?
Spinning the baby bangle around my fingers, I focus on the delicate scrolls etched into the silver. Like waves twining around the small diamonds around the circumference. And then I stop. A smile pulls at the corners of my lips as I take in the tiny seahorse clasp with the tiniest emerald set in its middle.
Struck again by how Casper could be so prepared for this, when I wasn’t, I slip the bracelet back in its pouch. I pack everything away, leaving Mum’s jewellery box to the very end.
There’s no way I can open it right now. Something tells me that Mum hiding it here wasn’t about her unwarranted paranoia. So, I stash it into the bag, in the midst of the clothes.
“Are you ready? We need to get moving.” Lucian stops beside me, zipping up the duffle as I stick my Nikes on.
It feels good to wear something other than my wellies.
“What are we going to do about all that cash?”
