“What makes you think I care?” I say through clenched teeth.
She looks up at me, tears running down her face.
I take her arms from around my neck and push her away. “You can come here to ride your horse and have me fuck you, but that’s all. We’re not friends.”10AubreyThe breakfast table is set with gold-edged plates. There’s a basket of warm croissants before me and a soft-boiled egg on my plate. Daddy is sitting across from me, reading the paper. Even while he’s concentrating on something else, his face glows with happiness over his impending marriage.
And I’m all alone.
I can just imagine what Cassian would say to that if he heard it. Wah-wah poor you, go ahead and cry, nobody gives a crap about your rich girl non-problems. Maybe he’s right, but he’s still horrible, and I let him have sex with me in a horse stall. And then, I let him do it again. If there wasn’t a clearer way to tell a man please walk all over me, I can’t think what it could be.
I make a frustrated noise and shift about in my seat.
Daddy looks up from his newspaper. “Aubrey? Is anything the matter?”
“I’m fine. I’m just…” Wistfully, I remember how he confided in me about my mother a few weeks ago. I felt close to him, then. I wish I could talk to him about this, but his temper would erupt if he knew about even a tenth of the things I’ve been up to with Cassian. “I’m just worried about whether our clothes will be ready for the engagement party tomorrow night.”
He turns the page of his newspaper and shakes it out. “Why don’t you take Wraye and go to the dressmaker to check on them? She’ll be here shortly.”
“I don’t want to disrupt your plans.”
Daddy scans the page, and then folds up the newspaper with an air of finality. “There’s no disruption. I have some work to do before Wraye and I continue with the wedding arrangements.” He stands up, buttons his jacket and then heads upstairs.
“Yes, Daddy,” I mutter, picking up a finger of toast and ramming it into my boiled egg. The yolk spurts all over my plate. Damn. I’ve ruined the best bit.
When Wraye arrives, she smiles at me tentatively, like she’s expecting me to be cold, and I feel a flash of guilt. She blindsided me with the news that she was in love with my father, but maybe I’ve been a crappy friend, too.
I tell her about Daddy’s idea that we go and check on our dresses, and she agrees immediately.
The day is sunny and warm, and so we decide to walk. It’s almost like the old days. Strange that the ‘old days’ were, actually, just a few weeks ago.
As we walk along the tree-lined street, Wraye asks, “How have things been with you and Devrim since…?”
“Since I disgraced myself in every newspaper in Paravel?” I exhale heavily. “Not great. But they were never that good to start with.”
“Sorry. That’s probably my fault.”
“No, it’s his. He can be a pig-headed ass.” Then I remember I’m talking about her husband-to-be. “Sorry.”
Wraye smiles at me. “It’s all right. Everyone will forget about the incident with Onyx, and Devrim’s moodiness will pass. He loves you.”
“I could just make things worse again.”
“You won’t.”
“Maybe I will, though.”
Wraye turns to me with a frown. “What do you mean? On purpose?”
Her amber eyes are large and worried: for me, but for Daddy, too. I open my mouth to tell her the mistakes I’ve been making with Cassian, but change my mind. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I’m putting you in a position where you’ll have to keep secrets from the man you’re going to marry.”
“No, stop that. You’re my friend. You can talk to me about anything, and it will stay between us.”
“But what if Daddy gives you a telling off for keeping secrets from him?”
Wraye smiles. “He can try, but he’s as soft as butter under that red coat.”
For her, maybe. Wraye knows exactly how to wrap him around her finger. I wonder what it’s like to hold that sway over a man, where he gazes at you adoringly and tells you you’re his perfect, sweet angel and he’d do anything for you.
I snort. As if Cassian would ever look at me like that.
Wraye raises her eyebrows. “Come on. I know you want to talk about it.”
“Well, all right. But you can’t tell Daddy. I met someone.” Wraye’s eyes widen in delight. I can tell she’s about to exclaim how delighted she is, so I hurry to head her off. “It’s not like that. He’s not what Daddy would call one of us. He’s the opposite, actually.”
“I don’t understand.”
We arrive at the dressmaker’s shop, and I try to describe Cassian without letting on who he really is. “His jeans cling to his ass in a way that would make an angel horny, and he doesn’t pretend to have any manners or even know what they are. I hate the way he talks to me, and the things he makes me say.”