Page 43 of Worth Every Moment
My mind feels sluggish. How has she flipped this around so fast? “Me? You think I’m being cruel?”
“I do. And you’ll pay for this cruelty. You’ll never get what you want, and all because you won’t get your boobs done. You think you’re good enough as you are? You’re not. You never will be. You’ll never get to Hollywood, not with a reputation like yours. Frosty, virginal little bitch with no breasts.”
I cup both hands over my mouth, stifling the cry that escapes beneath them. Confusion settles like mist in my brain; my psyche torn in two by the inconsistency.I can’t keep up. I stutter like a toddler trying to form a sentence. Finally, I gather myself enough to drop my hands and speak. “You were the one who wanted purity. Innocence. Chastity.” I sound like I’m shattering into pieces, and I hate it. “That was the whole thing. The wholeErica Lefroydeal.Untouchable.”
“Yes, but then you went and wanted the movies. Very selfish of you to want something different when we’re about to launch the fragrance and cosmetics. Only thinking of yourself.”
As much as I want to stand up for myself, there is a truth to this I can’t deny. I have been secretly trying to move away.Maybe it’s me. Maybe I really am a selfish little bitch.
“On the plus side,” Mum continues, “everything that article says about you shows what a wonderful job I did with theErica Lefroybrand, doesn’t it? You can’t be sexy in a way that isn’t wrapped up in virginal purity. You can’t get a lead role in a film likeTaming the Beastbecause I perfected this version of you.” She violently jabs a finger towards me. “And it worked. You’re worth millions. One of the most famous women in the world. You know what this shows?”
“What?”
“That your mother always knows best.” She holds out her hand to me, her face a mask of compassion that doesn’t fool me for asecond. “So stop being a silly little girl and come back inside so the doctor can fix you up.”
15
SEB
“Yeah, I’ll be there asap,” I bark into the phone. “I’m in midtown. Wimpole Street. I’ll be in the office in twenty minutes.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” Nico replies.
Arse. I am never late to work. I hang up without responding and stare out the car window as we cruise through town. I should have been in the office half an hour ago, but after meeting Dad for lunch, I didn’t fucking feel like it. On top of that, the moment I walked out of that restaurant, everything that’s happened with Erica hit me like a shit ton of bricks. Since the night she kicked me out of her flat, I’ve seen her once.Once. Where she let me go down on her and then screamed at me and ran away.
Maybe this time, it’s over.
Maybe I’ve lost her.
I should never have tasted her.
Fuck it.Having my head between Erica’s legs, her clit on my tongue, her taste in my mouth, is the highlight of my life. I don’t regret it for a second. Besides, I’ll likely lose her anyway, given how all this stuff with Dad and Diana is playing out. As much asI’d like to say I’m confident that I can outplay my father, I don’t know if I can.
I miss her. I miss EricafuckingLefroy with an ache that gnaws at my heart.
After lunch, I decided enough was enough, and instead of going to the office, I got my driver to take me to Vauxhall, where we sat outside her building for forty-five minutes while I wondered whether or not to get out of the car.
She could have contacted me. She could have called and apologised. But she never did. Maybe it doesn’t bother her that we’re not talking.
Maybe she doesn’t care.
I clench a fist and press it to my lips, closing my eyes as a blistering pain spreads through me.
In the end, I got out of the car, strode into the lobby, and asked for her, only to be told that Miss Lefroy wasn’t there. So here I am, on my way to the office.
“Sir, there’s a jam ahead. I’m going to take a turn down Harley Street,” comes the driver’s voice, bringing me back to the present.
“Sure.” I stare out the window, watching the passersby going about their day. But then I catch sight of a disturbance on the pavement outside one of the Harley Street surgeries. People appear to be arguing. I twist in my seat as we drive by, trying to get a better look. Is that...Erica?
She’s yelling at someone. An older woman who looks a lot like her. That’s got to be her mother. I recognise her from the fashion shows. Erica is flapping a piece of paper in her direction.Is she… crying?The older woman yells something, leaving a distressed-looking Erica in the middle of the pavement.
“Pull over,” I instruct the driver.
“Sir, I can’t park here.”
“I don’t give a shit. Fucking pull over. Now.”
The driver nods at me in the rearview mirror and the car cruises to the side of the road. It’s an obnoxious place to park, but I don’t give a fuck.
