Page 89 of Worth Every Penny

“You don’t remember?” Her chest falls, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes—disappointment, perhaps—that tugs at my heart. “At Mum’s house. It was late and most people had gone home and you were in the hot tub and…”

“Ah. Yes.”

She relaxes a little at my admission, letting her hands fall into her lap, but when she speaks, there’s a wariness to her gaze. “I took off my bikini top, and you covered your eyes like I was the most hideous thing you’d ever seen.”

I hold back a burst of laughter, but I know she sees the smile I’m attempting to hide. “Is that what you thought?”

“Yes. It was the most brutal rejection I had ever experienced. I nearly died. In fact”—her eyes scrunch—“it still kinda hurts to think about it.”

My hand finds hers, fingers sliding together, locking in. “You’re beautiful. You were beautiful then, and you’re beautiful now. But you were too young. Sixteen. Seventeen?”

“Not that young. It’s legal. I could have been having sex.”

“It’s too young to know what you want.”

“I’d strongly disagree with that.”

I tilt my head, frowning. “I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing when I was sixteen.”

“I was a very advanced teen. I knew what I wanted back then. Same thing I’ve always wanted.” She releases my hand and strokes a fingertip down my chest, idly circling my nipple a few times before ceasing the motion and tentatively raising her gaze to meet mine. “You,” she whispers.

I sit on the edge of the bed next to her. “That long, eh?”

“That long,” she confirms. “Does it put you off?”

“No.” I lean over and kiss her, feeling the soft heat of her lips against mine. “I’m sorry. I’d had some bad news that day. I could barely focus. And Jack was in the other room. If he’d found me ogling you, he’d have gouged out my eyes and burnt them. I like my eyes. They’re useful. I wanted to keep them.”

She laughs. “He wouldn’t.” She pauses and looks to the ceiling. “I mean, heprobablywouldn’t have.”

“He’d have knocked my teeth out at least, and I kinda like those, too. And—”

“And your girlfriend came out onto the terrace. Dark-hair. All leggy. Like a race-horse.”

I frown. This I don’t remember. “I didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“You did. She walked out onto the terrace and the two of you had this awful staring contest while I was trying to get my bikini top back on. It was horrendous.”

My stomach twists. “She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“Who was she then?”

I rub a hand over my mouth. “The bad news.” Kate says nothing, waiting for me to explain. “Her name was Lilah. She was one of our friends from uni, who took a job as Dad’s PA. They were having an affair, and I found out that day.”

“Oh.” Her fingers tug at the bedsheets, her attention focused there. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it. Even back then, I was used to it… more or less. Constant affairs. A stream of younger women coming through the house. Dad didn’t even bother to hide it and Mum always turned a blind eye.”

“Why would she do that?”

I take a deep breath. “The money. Status. Life was better as William Hawkston’s wife than his ex. She endured the shit so she could enjoy the benefits. That’s still how their relationship works, even now.”

Kate looks so disturbed at the idea of my father’s infidelity and my mother’s compliance in it that I want to scratch the entire conversation. Her father might have been a gambler and a liar, but he worshiped his wife, even though Debbie Lansen is a difficult woman. When I was younger, I couldn’t get my head around it. I thought all married couples were fucked up and loathed each other.

I think of my brother, Matt, and his wife Gemma.Miserable. Maybe it’s the Hawkston way.

“Are your parents happy?” Kate asks.

I flop back on the bed, running both hands through my hair. “Fuck, no. I don’t think they know what happiness is.”

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