SHE’S BEEN QUIET since we left my parents’ house. A quick glance shows her in my passenger seat, head resting back, and eyes closed. The drugs starting to hit, if they haven’t already. I’ve never been one to do drugs. I’m not even much of a drinker, to be honest. Part of being a Lord is always being at the top of your game. You don’t want to be called out on an assignment and be too fucked up to complete it. Or worse, be too fucked up and get yourself killed.
I’ve never thought much about why she does them. I should have asked after the first time my sister called me crying in a bathroom at a party while Elli lay unconscious on the floor.
SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD
I push my way through the kids at the house, Corbin right on my ass. We were hanging out with a couple of girls when my sister called me, frantic and hiding while at a party. Coming up to the bathroom door, I try to open it but find it locked. “Open the damn door,” I yell over the music, pounding my fist on it. “Kira.” I hit it again.
It swings open the next second and I meet my sister’s wide eyes. “Oh, thank God, Sin. I can’t wake her up.”
I push my way in, and Corbin enters, shutting it behind him. I see her best friend on the bathroom floor rolled up into the fetal position. Her skirt has ridden up on her thighs, showing off part of her ass. Her hair fanned out and covering parts of her face. “Elli?” I ask, shaking her shoulder.
Nothing.
“Ellington?” I push her hair away and open her eyes to see they’re dilated. “What did she take?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” My sister sniffs. “I didn’t see anything. Elli doesn’t do drugs.”
“She took something,” I bark.
“Maybe she was drugged,” Corbin offers. “How do you feel?” He turns to Kira, his hands on her shoulders, checking her eyes as well.
“Fine,” she answers.
“Did anyone give you two drinks?” he snaps, making her jump.
“Yeah, but they poured them from the same bottle, and I feel okay,” she cries, wrapping her arms around herself.
I roll her on to her back. “Ellington?” Still nothing. I place my fingers on her pulse and feel it racing. Yanking the hoodie up and over my head, I order to Corbin, “Hold her up.”
He kneels behind her, lifting her to sit up by her underarms and I place my hoodie over her head. It’s longer than the skirt she’s wearing. And the last thing I need is a bunch of guys taking pictures or recording her pussy on display while I carry her out.
Once it’s on, I place my arms underneath her legs and back, picking up her unconscious body. Corbin helps pull the hoodie down into place to cover whatever it can. “Get the door. And clear me a path,” I bark out.
“Come on.” Corbin grabs my sister’s hand and yanks her out of the bathroom as I carry Elli out of the party with all eyes on us.
I took her home and placed her in her bed. I had every intention of going back to that party and demanding who the fuck drugged her, until I went to leave her room that night and found a bottle of pills on her nightstand. It pissed me off. My sister was right, Elli had never done drugs before. Not that I knew of anyway. Before her father passed, our families spent a lot of time together. I knew her.
I never thought to ask her why she started doing them. I should have. Maybe then I would have paid more attention to her life changing right before my eyes. It had to have been James. I saw the signs but pretended not to care. That I didn’t have the time to get involved. She was sixteen, for Christ’s sake. I knew not to fuck her. Because I’d be going into initiations soon. I knew touching her once and then not being able to for three years would be the worst kind of torture. Plus, I knew that she would one day be mine. I’d have the rest of my life with her.
That night was also the night that rumors started flying about her at our high school. They said she hooked up with several guys that night. She never denied it. I knew the truth, and she didn’t seem to care what others thought. All she had to do was ask me, and I would have ripped their fucking heads off. I would’ve done anything for her then, just like I will now. The only difference is, now she doesn’t have to ask for my help. I’ll do whatever I think is necessary.
“You okay?” I ask, reaching out my hand to her leg. I gently grip her thigh and squeeze.
Her head falls to the side, her heavy eyes meeting mine, and she gives me a small smile. “I will be soon.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into the driveway of her mother’s house and the valet opens my door. I walk around, thanking the man who opens hers, but I grab it. “Elli, we’re here.” I reach in and grab her hand.
She manages to open her eyes and turns in the seat to place her heels on the ground. I pull up her dress, so she doesn’t step on it and rip it. Once she’s out, I don’t let go.
Even though she’s been mine since the last time I attended a party here two years ago, this is our first official public night together. By the time we leave this house, everyone will know that she belongs to me.
ELLINGTON
TWELVE YEARS OLD
“DAD? DAD?” I scream. The words so loud it hurts my own ears.
I run over and wrap my arms around his thighs, trying to lift him. “Dad, please,” I beg, trying to lift them again. But he’s too heavy.
I rush into the adjoining ballroom and grab a chair. I drag it across the floor until it’s right beside him. I stand on it, grab his waist and try to lift once again. But my feet slip off the side of the cushion and I fall off the edge. The chair tips over with my arms still wrapped around him. The extra weight making the rope break, and we both go falling to the marble floor.
I can’t breathe. My chest hurts and I grit my teeth trying to lift his weight off me. “Help me!” I manage to shout out. “Someone … help me…Dad.”
I’m able to roll him off and I straddle his stomach. “Daddy!” I shout, yanking on his shirt. Sobbing, my fists start hitting his chest, trying to bring him back but I know he’s gone.
I blink, my heavy eyes adjusting to the second-story banister where I found my father’s body hanging when I was twelve. I never visit the west wing. Not since that day.
The coroner had said there was nothing that I could have done. Or anyone for that matter. When I found him, he had been dead for several hours. I had just arrived home from school. My mother was out of town for the week.
I lay there with him on the floor for over an hour before someone found me. They had to pry me away from him. Mrs. Sinnett arrived and took me home with her to their house until my mother returned early from her trip the next day.
Sin stands silently next to me. He’s been hovering more than before. I can’t breathe without him watching ever since I had my breakdown on the side of the road and then again in his shower. Thankfully, he doesn’t speak. He too stares up at the banister that once had a rope wrapped around it. Today, the grand staircase that leads up to it is decorated with white roses and twinkling lights. Makes me want to vomit. It’s like she’s celebrating my father’s death. This house is over fifteen thousand square feet, and she couldn’t do this in another wing? Or outside? Any other place on earth?
“Miss Asher. Mr. Sinnett.” My mother’s head of the house—Francis—nods to both of us. The way his eyes linger on mine tells me he knows I’m on ecstasy. He’ll probably run to my mother and tell her. I hope he does.
He picks up one of the three candles that sits on the round table in the center. It’s a got picture of my mother and Lincoln. They’re hugging, both smiling on a beach. You can see their wedding rings. It’s obviously very recent. Since they married. Why she chose to elope with him and then come back here and have a reception is beyond me. I can assure her that no one here gives a fuck that the Lords have passed her onto to another piece of shit. It’s an endless cycle. I’ve already fucked four Lords. I can only hope that I’ll never fuck another, let alone marry one.
Francis takes a box of matches and pulls one out, lighting the candle. Then the other two. Waving the match afterward blowing it out.
I shake my hand free of Sin’s and numbly pick one up. Holding it to my face, I feel the heat from the flame. I’ve never been suicidal. But then again, is it something that takes time? Or do you just think I want to die and end it all? My father never seemed to be unhappy or gave the impression that he hated his life. Not that I could see. I think that was one of the biggest questions I had—why?
Why that day? Why this banister? Why no note to say goodbye? Had he decided he was going to end his life when he kissed me goodbye that morning before his driver took me to school? Did he have it planned the night before when he tucked me into bed and read me a bedtime story?
None of those things were out of character for him. He was always in a great mood. Made time for me and my mom. Of course, there were times the Lords called him to serve. And his work was very demanding. But he made sure to include us. To make sure we were aware that we were loved and valued.
The flame between my fingers blows around from my heavy breathing. It’s crazy what one little match could do. What a flame so small could destroy. I want to see it light up the sky. I walk over to the stairs and hold it out, letting the tip of the flame kiss the flowers where they start to wrap around the banister, lighting them up.
“Ellington!” Francis yells at me and runs over, throwing water from the flower vase that sat on the round table to put it out.
I watch the smoke rise before disappearing with disappointment and jealousy. I wish I could do that. Just float away, fade into nothing.
He continues to curse under his breath and barks out orders to have the flowers replaced. Just like my mother did my father. I know she wasn’t the same after he died. But it didn’t take her long to fall in love with James. She thought he could do no wrong. He came in and swept her off her feet and made me fall to my knees.
When is it my turn? When do I get to destroy shit and get rewarded? Maybe I’ll try my hand at that tonight. See how far I can get. Giving Francis my back, I walk off. I’m in the mood to fuck some shit up.
