Page 117 of Worth Every Moment
Nothing.
Fucker’s probably still asleep.
I pace on the veranda, palm trees waving in the breeze. It would be idyllic if I were in any state to appreciate it.What the hell was he thinking, bringing Diana here?
I’m about to thump on the door again when it opens. A uniformed member of staff, the butler I assume, opens the door, but I don’t give him a chance to speak before I shove past him.
“My father. Where is he?”
The butler trots behind me. “He’s not to be disturbed, sir.”
“Fuck that.” I grab the banister and swing up onto the first step, racing up the stairs to where I know his bedroom is. “Dad?”
The butler follows me up, muttering about the fact I shouldn’t be here.
On the first floor landing, a door creaks open. My mother steps out into the hallway, blonde hair in soft waves around her face, a silk gown wrapped around her.
She opens her arms wide, a weak smile quivering on her lips. “Sebastian. My blue-eyed boy. My baby.”
Her eyes are glazed, and she can’t read the emotional temperature. She can’t tell that I’m furious. I want to shove past her too, but I remind myself it’s not her I’m mad at. I let her embrace me, and she’s frail as she wraps her arms around me. Each vertebrae on her spine stands out through her robe as I return her hug.
“Where’s Dad?”
She cups my face in her hands. “You get more handsome every time I see you. Such a beautiful boy.”
“Dad,” I repeat. “Where is he?”
“He’s busy.” Her focus drifts off. “You know how he is. Always busy.”
I extricate myself from her hold and pace down the hall towards Dad’s suite. If he’s in the house, he’ll be there.
Mum follows me, the butler following her, both of them traipsing after me like lemmings. My mind is a blur, emotion rocking to the forefront as I approach his room. I don’t know what I’ll say or if this is the best way to handle the situation. It’s almost certainly not, but I’m not in a state to think clearly.
I bang on the door. “Dad?”
Mum is right behind me, clinging to my shoulders, her fingers thin. Old. Beneath the rage, pity gathers like a stagnant, helpless pool. I can’t save her, not when I need to do this for me. For Erica. I try to shrug her off. “Not now, Mum.”
“You haven’t said hello. My baby hasn’t said—”
The door opens and Dad stands there, looking far healthier than when I saw him last.Damn. He looks me up and down. “Fuck do you want?”
“The Marchettis are here? Diana’s here?”
Dad’s eyes widen, shooting to Mum over my shoulder, then taking in the butler who’s also lingering in the hall. “Take heraway,” he instructs, and the butler nods and ushers Mum away, her shoulders sloping as she trudges back down the corridor without another word.
“You invited the Marchettis here? To the wedding?” The words burst out unrestrained.Angry. “You said four months. You said I had—”
“You’ve been fucking about. Publicly cavorting with another woman. It was jeopardizing the deal. I had to bring it forward.”
“I’m not doing it. You can fucking ruin me, destroy my reputation, but I won’t do it.”
His left eye twitches. “Is it the woman? The one who wants to be an actress?”
“Erica. Yes. I love her. I won’t give her up.”
He sneers. “Actresses are little more than prostitutes. Everyone knows that.” A cruel laugh cracks from his lips. “But that’s always been your type, hasn’t it?”
A bomb goes off in my chest, radiating a toxic heat. I clench my fists, trying to hold it in. “You’re lucky I don’t carry a gun, because I’d blow your fucking brains out for that.”
