“I’m off!” I run down the steps, juggling my bag and the containers.
“Darling,” Helen calls after me, carrying my thermos. “You forgot the tea you made.”
“Oh, right. Thanks, Helen. You’re the best.” I hug her and slap a loud kiss on her cheek.
I feel like a cheater whenever I’m with Helen or with Mum. Why can’t I have both mothers?
She waves at me as I step out of the house. “Be careful, darling.”
“And you go write.” I usher her inside. “Deadlines, Helen. Deadlines.”
She smiles, joy sparkling in her eyes. “I’m going, I’m going. You’re worse than my agent.”
I wave at her again, grinning as I place my overnight bag, the thermos, and the food I spent the entire morning making — or rather, helping Helen make — in the passenger seat of my car.
When I’m about to head to the driver side, Papa’s car comes to a slow halt near mine. Derek gets out to open the back door, but Papa beats him to it.
Running to him, I wrap my arms around his waist. “Papa, have you had a successful party meeting?”
“Aside from Cynthia challenging every point I suggested?” He strokes my hair. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s just her and she’ll never change. I’m starting to think she’s double-crossing us using the Labour Party.”
“You know she’d never do that. Your principles run in her veins.”
“Only when I don’t voice them.” He watches me. “Are you going over to hers?”
I nod slowly. “I’m spending the weekend.”
“Do you have to? You can always stay. There are no custody laws that we need to obey now that you’re an adult.”
“She’ll just end up coming here.”
“Let her,” he says in a dispassionate tone. “We can continue the debate.”
“Papa.” I stroke his jacket. “I want to spend time with her. She’s my mum.”
There might have been times in the past when I disliked her choices and her decisions and what she turned me into, but as I grew up, and after I saw her in that tub, I realised just how fragile Mum actually is. Deep down, she’s being this strict with me because she doesn’t want me to end up as a shell like her, no matter how proud she is that I look like her.
“I understand.” Papa kisses my temple. “Do you know why she’s been grumpier than usual lately?”
“I don’t know.” Mum would kill me if I said something to him about her personal life.
That day she slit her wrist, she made me swear not to humiliate her and said that she’d do it again if I disrupted our oath. I cried as I begged her to go to the hospital. She didn’t, because that would have humiliated her and put her name in the headlines.
I watched her suture herself by following online tutorials. I’m pretty sure she had an infection, but she self-medicated with antibiotics and tranquilisers. She did everything herself and refused to have any medical staff take a look at her.
Since then, she wears thick watches to hide the scar.
“Is it because of that French businessman she’s seeing?” Papa raises an eyebrow. “Poor bastard. Maybe I should warn him that she’ll challenge him every step of the way and eventually suck the life out of him.”
“Papa, no. Lucien is great. They actually get along.”
“They do, huh?”
“Yeah.” I stop myself before saying, ‘They don’t fight like you two’, and instead I tell him, “You just take care of Helen, okay? She’s on a deadline.”
“Fine.” He kisses my temple again. “Have fun. Though I doubt Cynthia will let you in the midst of nagging about everything.”
Shaking my head, I kiss him on the cheek and wave at Derek before I get in my car.
On my way out, I watch the entrance to the house, searching for that familiar black car. Not that Cole comes home this soon.
He has late practice before the game tonight.
Ever since the day of his dad’s anniversary a few weeks ago, something has changed between us.
I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel it in the way he watches me, the way he seizes every chance to kidnap me somewhere out of view, yank my skirt up, and fuck me.
It’s as if he can’t get enough of me. And the more he does that, I can’t seem to get enough of him either. It’s like I’m caught in a maze with no way out.
He still sneaks into my room every night, no exceptions. He still takes me to that club. My favourite part about it isn’t the watching — though I love that — it’s the fact that we wear masks where no one can tell who we are.
At first, I looked over my shoulder, expecting someone to recognise us, but that anxiety withered away with time.
In La Débauche, I get to touch Cole and even let him kiss me in front of other people without worrying that we’ll be on the headlines the following day.
If anything, Cole recognises most of the people we watch. Even though they wear masks, he sometimes plays a quiz with me to guess that politician’s/influential figure’s/CEO’s name.
The game is simple — with every wrong guess, he gets something from me. Since I always lose, I usually end up against one of the sofas as he eats me out or fucks me until my voice turns hoarse.
Needless to say, all of Cole’s games lead back to sex. Seriously. He comes up with all sorts of schemes that result in me naked and splayed out or tied up.
If he’s sick and I secretly love the devious ways he takes me, what does that make me?
I guess we’ll never know, because I would never tell him I enjoy what he’s doing to me. It’s not about him and me; it’s about Papa, Mum, Helen, Frederic — who would kill me if Papa doesn’t — and the world, basically.
Cole and I are in a particular category and we simply can’t jump to another one.
As much as I’m careful so no one picks up on our relationship in public, I always feel like maybe someone will. Maybe someone will notice the way I absentmindedly watch him when he’s practising, or when he’s reading alone in the school’s garden.
Maybe someone will know I don’t shoo all those girls away because of the family image, but because the idea of him touching anyone else makes me a red bull.
It’s hard for me to show a facet of myself when, on the inside, I’m scratching at it, wanting to rip it away and be set free. That part of me wants to let Cole kiss me in public, to call him mine in front of the world while giving them the middle finger.
But that part is an idiot.
That’s not how the world works — especially not the one we live in.
This won’t only ruin our future, but also our parents,’ and for that reason alone, I know whatever Cole and I have will never last.
It’s a fling.
An adventure.
And like any adventure, there will come a day when it’ll eventually end.
Something in my chest constricts at that thought, but I shake my head, pushing it away.
He’ll get passive-aggressive today. He always is whenever I spend nights with Mum.
She hasn’t been doing that well lately, so I’m visiting, even if it’s not the weekend.
Truth is, I’m not really that selfless. While I do it to make sure she’s fine, I also do it to take time out from Cole.
Sometimes, it gets too raw and too…much. Sometimes, when I wake up and don’t find him beside me, tears come out of nowhere.
And that’s not okay. That’s not how flings are supposed to work.
So I detox at Mum’s.
It’s useless, though. The moment I go back and he takes out all the lost nights on my body, it’s like I’ve never been away.
My phone dings. I smile at Mum’s impatience. She must be asking if I’m there yet. For the third time in the past half an hour.
My smile falls when I read the text.
Unknown Number: You look so enticing in that short pink dress.
I swallow, my heartbeat picking up speed as the silence — and the emptiness — of the underground car park registers.
Does this mean he’s here? Or did he follow me from home?
Since I became almost sure it’s Adam, I blocked the number. A few days later, I had a text from another unknown number saying I can’t escape him.
So I asked Frederic to change my number a week ago, pretending some reporters have it and are bothering me.
I could’ve done it myself, but that would mean I’d have to register the new number with my personal details. Papa’s campaign team have special security measures to keep all our personal information classified.
Frederic immediately got it for me, and I thought I’d be done with Adam’s stalking habits.
The text in front of me is proof that it’s not over.
How the hell did he get my number? Sure, his father is a member of the party, but he wouldn’t possibly ask Papa for it, right?
Deep breaths. You can do this, Silver.
I can keep it to myself until after Papa wins the elections. Then I’ll tell Frederic all about Adam.
It’s not only the creepy, stalkerish texts but also the way he keeps watching me at school. I pretend I don’t notice how he follows me around, or how he glares at anyone who gets in my way.
When he greets me good morning, I greet him back because his type can’t and shouldn’t be provoked.
Grabbing my bag, I open the car door, only for it to hit something – or rather, someone. I gasp as Adam appears right in front of me. He’s wearing jeans and a simple black T-shirt, a smile grazing his lips.
My first thought is that I need to run.
Right now.
I pull on the door’s handle, but my rapidity and strength fail against his.
He grabs the door and leans in so he’s blocking my exit and caging me within the confines of my own car.
“Hey, Silver.” He smiles, showing me his teeth.
I plaster on my own fake smile. “Hey, Adam. What are you doing here?”
“My uncle lives here. Such a small world, huh?”
“Yeah.” I pretend to gather my things.
“Who are you visiting?”
I can’t tell him I’m here for my mum. I don’t want this psycho to know where my mother lives, but at the same time, I need to get myself out of this situation without being suspicious. “I’m meeting with friends.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Just Aiden and the guys.”
“I see.”
Still smiling, I motion at the way he’s blocking me. “Uh, excuse me?”
He doesn’t move. Not even an inch.
My heart is about to stop beating. What if he has other plans instead of letting me go?
Maybe I should call for help or Cole?
“Sure.” Adam moves away, still holding the door open.
I release a breath as I step out, carrying my bag and the food containers. “Thank you.”
He closes the door for me, his smile sinister at best. “No, thank you, Silver.”
I offer him a nod and walk as fast as I can down the car park without actually running. I keep peeking over my shoulder, expecting Adam to be following me.
My only relief is when one of Mum’s neighbours exits his car and uses the lift with me.
On the way up, I can’t erase the disturbing look on Adam’s face from my brain. Or the fact that the first person I thought about when it came to getting help was Cole.
I would’ve hit my head if my hands weren’t full.
Then I recall Adam’s reason for being here. He said he was visiting his uncle, but he didn’t come up.
In Mum’s building, you can’t go up unless you have the floor’s code.
Besides, I know all the residents in this building from when Frederic was screening them prior to Papa’s campaign. There’s no one with the last name Herran in the tenants’ list.
Of course, Adam could’ve meant an uncle from his mother’s side, but there’s only a slim chance of that.
I throw him and that thought at the back of my mind as I step out of the lift and go into Mum’s flat.
She squeezes me in a hug as soon as I’m inside, and I close my eyes, breathing her scent in.
Safe.
It feels safe to be here.
She pushes away, staring at what I’ve brought. “What are those?”
“Food and my special tea.”
Mum scowls, folding her arms. She’s wearing a blue satin gown and a robe. Her hair is wet, which means she recently came out of the shower. “Helen made them?”
“She just gave me pointers.”
“Yeah, right. You’re as hopeless as me when it comes to cooking.” She scoffs. “Sebastian must be delighted to have a wife who can cook. Good for him.”
“Come on, Mum. It’s just food.”
“Helen must think I’m a charity case that she can make food for.”
“That’s not true. She only helped when she saw me struggling.”
“Saint Helen.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m telling you, she’s a snake underneath it all.”
“Mum!”
“Whatever.” She hugs me again. “Don’t let her take you away from me, too, Babydoll.”
“You’re my mum. No one will take me away from you.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Does that mean you’ll eat it?” I ask hopefully.
“I’m only drinking the tea you made.” She strolls to the living area. “I’m on a diet, anyway.”
I place the containers in the refrigerator for when she gets hungry. Mum has so much pride, it’s insane.
Papa, too, I guess. That’s why they’re always at each other’s throats.
I pour us each a cup of tea and join her on the sofa. She’s watching The Notebook. Again.
“Mum, seriously?”
“What?” She takes the mug from me. “Romance in films and fiction is much better than real life.”
“You’re the one who told me it’s all lies.” I settle beside her.
“That’s why it’s better than real life.”
I run my finger over the hem of the cup. “How’s it going with Lucien?”
“Fine,” she says in a dispassionate tone.
“Mum, are you even trying?”
“Of course I am. Lucien isn’t a loser like the others. We talk a lot and he’s not intimidated by my brain.”
“That’s great, right?”
“Uh-huh. He wants to take me to France.”
“Why don’t you go? It’ll be so romantic.”
“What was I just saying? Romance doesn’t exist in real life, Babydoll. Anyway, I’ll think about it.” She faces me. “Now, tell me about you.”
“M-me?”
She smiles in a sly way. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your features have brightened up lately.”
“T-they haven’t!” My cheeks are so heated, they’re about to explode.
“Oh yes, they have.” She narrows her eyes. “It’s not even Jonathan’s son, is it? My daughter is a man slayer.”
“Mum!”
“What? You’re with two men at the same time and you get to choose which one is best. As long as you end up marrying Aiden, all is good.”
I swallow at that. Not only is Aiden so caught up in Elsa that he’s physically unable to see anyone but her, but there’s also no way I’d marry him.
The sole reason I’m still keeping up with the engagement is because of the camouflage and Papa’s campaign.
“Don’t let it consume you.” Mum strokes my hair off my forehead. “You’re the only one who’ll suffer.”
I abandon the cup on the table, wrap my arms around her waist, and hide my face against her chest. “What if it’s too late, Mum?”
“Oh, Babydoll.” She places the mug on the table and hugs me. “Why did you have to repeat my mistakes?”
I’m not repeating her mistakes.
I’m going one step further.
I’m making it so much worse.
Mum falls asleep on the sofa after drinking two glasses of wine. I cover her with a blanket and take away Papa’s campaign plan from between her fingers.
It’s the same one he presented to the party today — the one she criticised harshly. She said it can be better.
I kiss her on the temple and then clean the dishes before retreating to my room in Mum’s flat.
She decorated everything to make it like the one I have back home. Only, this one doesn’t have a balcony from which ‘someone’ can sneak in.
Pulling out one of my oversized T-shirts, I put it on and go commando. In the past, I used to wear knickers, but since Cole has become a constant part of my nights, I’ve developed the habit of wearing nothing underneath.
It’s…liberating.
I retrieve my phone and scroll through Instagram. Elites lost today because Xander and Aiden were too distracted.
Ronan posted a selfie with the other three horsemen a few hours ago — right before the game started. Cole stands in the back as Xander clutches him and Aiden by the shoulders.
He’s not smiling or scowling. It’s his default face. I zoom in on him and my heart does that same little flutter that happens whenever I look at him.
My fingers trail to my necklace and I close my eyes for a brief second, imagining him coming through the non-existent balcony and jumping me on the bed.
Is it healthy that I miss him when I just saw him this morning?
My phone pings and I startle, my eyes flying open.
If my heart could spill to the ground, it would right about now.
A text from Cole. It’s almost as if he’s telepathic and knows exactly when I’m thinking about him.
Cole: I’m in your room. You aren’t.
My breathing hitches as I type.
Silver: What are you doing in my room?
Cole: What I do every night, Butterfly. Getting my dose of you.
An involuntary smile grazes my lips.
Silver: But I’m not there.
Cole: Your sheets are. Your smell is. Even your underwear drawer.
Silver: Don’t you dare look in there!
Cole: Already did. Do you honestly think there’s something of yours that I haven’t already looked through?
Silver: You’re such a pervert.
Cole: Admit it, you’re turned on thinking about me lying naked in your bed as I jerk one off to you.
I wasn’t, but now I am.
I can’t get the image of Cole touching himself on my bed out of my head. My nipples strain against my T-shirt and I readjust it, only for them to ache more.
Still, I type the lie.
Silver: I’m not.
Cole: How come I don’t believe you?
Silver: I don’t care what you believe.
I type with shaky fingers as my other hand disappears between my legs and I let my head fall back against the pillow.
My fingers circle my clit and I muffle my moan with my teeth as I slip two digits inside me, pretending it’s him sneaking into my room again.
Cole: You know what I think, Butterfly? I think you’re wet and you’re aching to touch yourself. That is, if you aren’t already. You’ll imagine it’s me like you did in the shower. You’ll think of your fingers as my cock and you’ll thrust hard and deep, wishing it was me.
My moans echo in the air as I let the phone fall to the side and pinch my nipples under my T-shirt. The moment I run my fingers over the hickeys he left there, I come.
“C-Cole…” I moan his name in the silence of the room as a sigh falls from me.
I’m still panting as I grip my phone again.
Cole: Touch yourself all you like, but we both know it won’t be as satisfying as when I’m there.
The arrogant bastard. He’s right, though. It’s nothing, intensity-wise.
I hate it when he’s right.
Cole: Come back early tomorrow. I miss you, Butterfly.
I miss you, too.
I allow my brain that thought as I fall asleep, hugging the phone to my chest.
