Page 22 of The Passion

Something I long for but know I can never have.

“Fine, I have a meeting I need to get to.” I stand and this time don’t even look at him, turning my back and walking from theroom, collecting my bag as I leave. I can hear the eerie silence of his penthouse. There is something about this place that never felt like a home.

Sterile, no warmth, and of course, not an ounce of happiness.

I live alone and so does my mother, but that doesn’t mean that our homes have no soul in them.

Both places might be filled with wealth and designer furniture and pieces of art, but they still have parts of me scattered around. Photos of Harper and me as we grew up, my mum and me on a trip we took a year ago where we traveled through India and spent time in an orphanage with the children who had lost their families through Covid and had nobody to take care of them. We went in under aliases, as we didn’t want any media to see us. This was just about what we could do to help. My mother grew up with nothing, and although she is still making my dad pay for his mistakes, she also uses his money for good. We made sure there was enough money to supply food for a whole year and have the building repaired so that they were all safe and comfortable. There is a fine line with donating, as there is such a huge need that you don’t want it all concentrated in one place, so we made anonymous donations all over the country to different organizations, just trying to help as many people as we can to find a better life.

On my mantle above the fireplace in my home office is a drawing from Ishan, a young boy who, after I had a box full of pencils and paper delivered to them, spent the afternoon drawing me. He’s eleven years old and has the ability of a fine artist, even at his age. He could make a living out of his drawings if he’s ever given the chance.

There is so much gratitude in that picture from him for the gift I gave him to keep on drawing. It reminds me every day what I have and to never take it for granted. The only person thatknows I do these trips with my mother is Harper, and that’s the way I like it.

But my father’s home has not one photo or piece of his personality in it.

Not even a photo of his daughter that is supposed to be the heiress to everything he has worked hard to build for her.

You would think he would at least show that he is proud of me, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure he is. Because at the moment if you listen to his words, he sounds ashamed of me.

And as tough as I try to be, that still hurts.

When something hurts, I’ve learned to walk away.

“This is just what we needed. A weekend day-spa trip.” Harper’s voice wafts over me as we lie on the massage beds on the balcony of my villa in St. Tropez.

I wouldn’t exactly call it a day-spa trip when it’s in my house and the pampering comes to us, but hey, I’m not complaining.

“So you said when you marched me onto the plane without telling me where we were going.” My eyes are still closed, and I’m just trying to stay in the moment of bliss.

The masseurs have left, and we are still just lying naked under our towels with the soft ocean breeze drifting over my soft and supple exposed skin.

It’s been a month since the threatening email first landed in my inbox, and thankfully, nothing has happened after my father paid off the blackmailer.

Well, I shouldn’t say nothing, because it’s not entirely true.

Flynn and the Darby boys lost their shit at what my father did, just like I did on the inside when he told me, so part of me felt validated when they did too. Flynn wanted to come to theoffice and tell my father what he really thought of him, but I refused to let him anywhere near the building.

The only interactions I have had with Flynn since that night in his apartment are us yelling at each other over the phone and some very terse text messages.

Pretending to hate him has not been a problem, the more I see him all over my social media news feed, out with a different woman every night.

I was a fool for even thinking I could have been anything more to him than a one-night stand.

It was all I asked for, and I told him that straight up, but there was something different that night. A connection like no other I have ever felt.

If anything, it scared me enough to put up my walls even higher than they had already been. Because he is not the kind of man I would ever want anything more with.

We are too similar.

Dominant, controlling, opinionated, and workaholics.

Well, maybe I’m the workaholic and Flynn works enough so he can maintain his playboy lifestyle.

Anyway, I’m here to relax for the weekend and not think about anything back home.

“Do we really have to move from here?” Harper sounds like she is in her slowed-down state of bliss which is very rare. This woman is like me, usually moving at a crazy speed. It’s like she has something to prove and won’t rest until she does.

“I didn’t make the itinerary for this weekend, so talk to that woman… Oh, that’s right, that’s you.” We both laugh a little, and I know my moment of lying here in silence is gone, and I need to slip my gown back on and head to the shower. I love a hot stone massage, but the feeling of all the oil at the end, I’m happy to shower it off as soon as it’s over.

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