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“God, I’m sorry.” He sat on a small sofa and pulled me onto his lap, rubbing my arms. “I lost my mind.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I replied through chattering teeth. “I loved that.”
He held me until the chill had seeped from my bones, then set me gently down on the sofa. I watched him throw logs into a wood burner and set light to it, then he opened cupboard doors and took out a bottle of whisky and two glasses.
My brows were raised when he faced me.
“What?” he asked, twisting out the cork.
“We’re in the remotest part of the island, yet still, there’s a bottle of whisky to hand.”
“Of course,” he frowned, pouring out double measures. “What do you think sustains me while I’m here?”
I didn’t give in to the urge to roll my eyes. I was almost afraid of what might happen if I triggered him in some way. He seemed on edge in a way I’d never seen before.
“Why were you so tense?” I asked, taking the glass from him. “Don’t tell me it’s because I make you crazy. There’s something else. Is it the meeting you have with the Consortium tomorrow?”
He sighed and sank down beside me. “Maybe. I need them to give me money to pay for the rehab centres. Hector ran some numbers and we need to build three if we’re going to make a dent in the damage Ossian has caused. It breaks my heart to know there are so many people suffering now.”
I stayed quiet, letting him talk.
“A lot of our customers, they may be rich and powerful but drugs don’t discriminate. Before long, no amount of wealth will save you. Those city boys, as much as people dislike them, they probably worked their arses off to get those jobs. Money can be addictive too. It’s not their fault they fell for that lifestyle. The politicians, well, they all have an agenda, don’t they? Even the good ones. None of these people asked to be given opioids.”
My eyes rounded and my heart expanded. Despite being raised in unimaginable luxury, wealth and privilege, Rupert had compassion for every human, from the rich to the poor, the entitled to the neglected. He turned to see me staring at him.
“What?” He tried to stop a smile forming but it took hold of his eyes and couldn’t deny me.
“I love you,” I said, softly.
His smile dropped and he studied me from a short distance. “That means everything to me,” he replied. “I love you too.”
We sat for a moment, absorbing the giddy feeling of mutual adoration – of being in love, then he took my empty glass, placed it on the floor of the lighthouse and pushed me back into the sofa. Then he made love to me slowly in the glow of the fire, under the light of the moon.
Rupert
I looked up at the council building, fighting the desire to burn the whole place down. Many layers beneath the surface was the vault. It wasn’t only the place where Dexter Lamont stored the families’ personal documentation; it was also the Consortium’s designated meeting place, away from the prying eyes of the island’s public, closeted into a windowless grey room.
I wished Aro was going to be here, as Sinclair’s deputy, but his new position as grandfather to a cherubic baby girl had taken priority over everything else.
The security guard stood as I entered, showing reverence for my new title. I’d never entered the Consortium meeting room before. My first time doing so was to be as the leader of the organisation. I’d always assumed Ossian would walk in these shoes, not me, so my attention to what happened in Consortium meetings was never absolute. I would have to wing it.
A doorman stood by the stairs. “This way, sir.”
I followed him down a spiral stone staircase into the depths of the island. Gas lamps lit the stairwell, giving the damp air a small amount of warmth. He stopped outside a medieval-looking wooden door peppered with large cast iron studs. He knocked twice then pushed down the stiff handle. The door creaked open and I was suddenly confronted by eighteen faces, mostly male, all recognisable, all certified billionaires and all evidently pissed off that I had superseded Sinclair so soon and at such a young age. I boasted half the number of years as the next member in age to me.
Not one of them stood as I entered. Right now, while my secret was safe, I had the power to strike any of them out of the Consortium if I wanted, but I needed something from them first, so I settled for looking down my nose at each of them.
I walked to the top of the table, feeling their eyes on my back as I did. Then I sat and lifted the agenda placed before me. It was printed onto thick cream paper embossed with the official emblem of the Isle of Crow Consortium. I stared at a list of agenda points that frankly weren’t worth the paper they were printed on, not in light of the fact half the island had just burned down (no mention), the Chairman of the Consortium and his heir had died (no mention). The points were all about trade agreements, legislative amendments and forthcoming Consortium celebrations. A list of names outlined which male family members were next up for their arranged marriages. I noticed Hector’s name halfway down and worked overtime to stop a smirk from forming. There would be no arranged marriage for him. He was free now.
“I think we can defer most of these,” I said, placing the agenda face down on the table. A few coughs of protest could be heard from the assembled faces.
“I want to talk about the labs and what is going to happen next.”
Bertie Barrington leaned his weight on his elbows and snorted. “With all due respect, Rupert, the labs are a Thorn issue, not a Consortium issue…”
“Ah, I see,” I said rubbing my rapidly growing beard. “So, it was okay for you to take cash hand-outs and drug supplies when the labs were performing well, but now they’re gone you don’t want to have anything to do with it?” I glided my focus to a wooden plaque hanging on the wall. “If my eyes are not mistaken, the number one rule of the Consortium is we each share responsibility for every asset on the island that collectively makes us money. The success of Thorn Pharmaceuticals, whether we wanted it to or not, brought us a lot of attention. I have no doubt that you, Dexter, acquired more clients; that you, Bertie, sold more stocks; that you, Miles, shipped more yachts as a result of that extra profile. Would your businesses have made as much money in the last four years had Basidiomine not drawn buyers’ attention to our island?”
A satisfying silence followed.
