apology to Manuel. He accepted my stilted words and embraced me, kissing me on the cheek. His dark face showed dignified hurt while his eyes told a story that nobody could read but me.
Shortly after, Manuel and Aunt Isabel moved to London, blaming me for the ugly rumours circulating in Trenmore. But it didn’t matter—my relationship with my parents and the rest of the family was destroyed.
Afterwards Caroline looked at me just like she was looking at me now: with the haughtiness of someone who’s been caught with their hands in the till but refuses to accept their guilt.
My sister tilted her head and a small smile curved her lips. Her face filled with the kind of pleasure people get when they drop all pretence and let it rip.
“You want to know why I lied?” she said softly.
I held my breath.
Her smile grew wider. “I did it because...it felt good.”
I gasped, searching her eyes for more but finding nothing but gloating satisfaction. She hadn’t given me the true reason for her lies but her words were true nonetheless. I dropped onto my bed, winded by her hatred.
Chapter Six
Bull and Matador
I wanted Caroline’s wedding day to be stormy and cold, so of course it dawned sunny and warm, perfect for a summer wedding. The church ceremony would take place at four and James’s mother, Francesca, would be coming by for me at one. Busy with Italian relatives, she was giving the pre-wedding lunch with the bride a pass.
From my bedroom window I watched my family and the bridesmaids get into the fancy hired cars and leave. My eyes watered and I snorted disgustedly at my weakness. Pregnancy was making me soft, damn it—but not soft enough to wear the dick-deflator dress Caroline had bought for me.
I stared at it with loathing. Think convent novice without the sleeves and in beige, all the way down to my knees. My attempts to rip it apart proved fruitless, so I stomped on it and kicked it into the corner. Childish I know, but it made me feel better.
The few dresses that Caroline had left in her wardrobe were demure, suited for work at a law firm. I was just about to take out a boring navy shift when I caught a glimpse of something red under a plastic wrapping.
Interesting.
The tag was from Impress, the boutique Caroline had bought her first dance outfit from. I could see immediately why she’d rejected it. The skimpy style was strictly Jezebel—great for a celebrity dance competition. You know, the ones where they do the sexy Latin stuff and you hope there’s a wardrobe malfunction to spice things up.
My face hardened, remembering Caroline’s gloating satisfaction. If I had the guts to sleep with James in her bed, I figured I had the guts to wear this dress at her wedding. And her new Jimmy Choos. Now all I had to do was find something to hide my outfit from my parents’ eyes until the disco. That’s when they’d head off to bed and I’d act as slutty as Caroline said I was.
I held the dress against my body. Would James notice me if I wore this? Would he still desire me? Would his body respond and tighten with lust?
Oh, crap, I had to get rid of my fixation with James. Watching him marry Caroline should do the trick. It had to. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. I shied away from the memory of whispered caresses and guttural moans, wrapping his image in chains and sinking it into my deepest waters. Down where it could keep company with a lot of other images I wanted to forget.
Live in the shallows, I say. As soon as you delve any deeper the sharks come out to play.
Cringing, I looked into the mirror. There wasn’t much I could do with my hair so I let it hang long and loose. Amp the Vamp Red coated my lips but other than that I wore no makeup. Should I pull my hair over my swollen cheek? No, that didn’t help. I’d have to settle for sex kitten meets a bit of rough. I straightened my shoulders and sucked in my tummy. Slouching in the slut dress could be fatal.
Francesca was punctual. She
Shortly after, Manuel and Aunt Isabel moved to London, blaming me for the ugly rumours circulating in Trenmore. But it didn’t matter—my relationship with my parents and the rest of the family was destroyed.
Afterwards Caroline looked at me just like she was looking at me now: with the haughtiness of someone who’s been caught with their hands in the till but refuses to accept their guilt.
My sister tilted her head and a small smile curved her lips. Her face filled with the kind of pleasure people get when they drop all pretence and let it rip.
“You want to know why I lied?” she said softly.
I held my breath.
Her smile grew wider. “I did it because...it felt good.”
I gasped, searching her eyes for more but finding nothing but gloating satisfaction. She hadn’t given me the true reason for her lies but her words were true nonetheless. I dropped onto my bed, winded by her hatred.
Chapter Six
Bull and Matador
I wanted Caroline’s wedding day to be stormy and cold, so of course it dawned sunny and warm, perfect for a summer wedding. The church ceremony would take place at four and James’s mother, Francesca, would be coming by for me at one. Busy with Italian relatives, she was giving the pre-wedding lunch with the bride a pass.
From my bedroom window I watched my family and the bridesmaids get into the fancy hired cars and leave. My eyes watered and I snorted disgustedly at my weakness. Pregnancy was making me soft, damn it—but not soft enough to wear the dick-deflator dress Caroline had bought for me.
I stared at it with loathing. Think convent novice without the sleeves and in beige, all the way down to my knees. My attempts to rip it apart proved fruitless, so I stomped on it and kicked it into the corner. Childish I know, but it made me feel better.
The few dresses that Caroline had left in her wardrobe were demure, suited for work at a law firm. I was just about to take out a boring navy shift when I caught a glimpse of something red under a plastic wrapping.
Interesting.
The tag was from Impress, the boutique Caroline had bought her first dance outfit from. I could see immediately why she’d rejected it. The skimpy style was strictly Jezebel—great for a celebrity dance competition. You know, the ones where they do the sexy Latin stuff and you hope there’s a wardrobe malfunction to spice things up.
My face hardened, remembering Caroline’s gloating satisfaction. If I had the guts to sleep with James in her bed, I figured I had the guts to wear this dress at her wedding. And her new Jimmy Choos. Now all I had to do was find something to hide my outfit from my parents’ eyes until the disco. That’s when they’d head off to bed and I’d act as slutty as Caroline said I was.
I held the dress against my body. Would James notice me if I wore this? Would he still desire me? Would his body respond and tighten with lust?
Oh, crap, I had to get rid of my fixation with James. Watching him marry Caroline should do the trick. It had to. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. I shied away from the memory of whispered caresses and guttural moans, wrapping his image in chains and sinking it into my deepest waters. Down where it could keep company with a lot of other images I wanted to forget.
Live in the shallows, I say. As soon as you delve any deeper the sharks come out to play.
Cringing, I looked into the mirror. There wasn’t much I could do with my hair so I let it hang long and loose. Amp the Vamp Red coated my lips but other than that I wore no makeup. Should I pull my hair over my swollen cheek? No, that didn’t help. I’d have to settle for sex kitten meets a bit of rough. I straightened my shoulders and sucked in my tummy. Slouching in the slut dress could be fatal.
Francesca was punctual. She
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