Refusing to let him see his words hurt, I said sternly, “You stepping back might be a good place to start.”
“Why? Afraid ye’d like whit ah could might make ye feel?”
A shiver cascaded around the curve of my breasts and between my legs. Furious that even when he was drunk I could be attracted to this asshole, I was rendered momentarily speechless. He seemed to understand my silence.
North cupped my hip, drawing me against him as he murmured silkily in my ear, “Ye wouldnae let me near ye wi’ a barge pole, wid ye? Aria Howard, ice queen. Dae ye even like men?”
Angry with him, with myself, I stepped back, curled my hand into a fist, and punched it between his legs with as much force as I had in me.
North’s knees buckled and his lips parted in anOof pained shock seconds before his eyes widened and he fell to the floor, holding himself. His expression turned mottled with agony as he nodded frantically, fell onto his back, and gasped, “Aye. Ah deserved that. Ah deserved it.”
With one last look of disgust, I marched out of the room and walked straight into Theodore Cavendish.
“Mr. Cavendish.” I nodded and moved to step aside.
Theo gestured to the now closed door. “Has he finally arisen?” he drawled in his incredibly posh British accent. Theo was an English screenwriter and director. He wrote and directed the TV showKing’s Valleythat had launched North into superstardom. They’d both won awards for the show. Theo was also the second son of a viscount. Good-looking and urbane, I gathered most people found Cavendish charming. But there was an underlying hardness and superiority about him that made me wary. Very few people intimidated me, but Theo Cavendish was one of them. Not that I’d ever let it show. His friendship with North surprised me. They were from completely different backgrounds.
“Right now, he’s on the floor clutching his balls.” It was unprofessional of me, but I had no doubt North would tell Theo about the encounter, anyway. “Maybe you can get him to shower, sober up, and stop being such a cliché. I’m sending in housekeeping to clean his room in two hours, and if I have to, I’ll send security with them.”
Theo smirked but nodded.
“Oh … and tell your friend that if he ever insults me again, I’ll make sure his career isn’t the only thing that’s canceled thisyear.” I swiped the door lock with my spare key card to let him into North’s room.
Theo bit back a bark of laughter and tapped two fingers off his head in a salute before he pushed inside. Before the door closed, I heard him say, “Look at you, old boy. This is the most animated I’ve seen you in weeks.”
“Ah think she broke ma fuckin’ balls.”
“Well, to be fair, you haven’t been using them much lately.” The door closed behind Theo just as an unexpected burst of laughter swelled in my throat.
Realizing I was struggling with a complex mix of pity, concern, annoyance, satisfaction, and amusement, I shrugged my shoulders, trying to shake it off. North’s emotional state was none of my business, and beyond doing my job, I didn’t want his world to affect mine.
Three
NORTH
Let it blow over.
That’s what my agent suggested.
To give it some time, stay at Ardnoch for a while, and let it blow over.
Yet it had been two months since the tabloids leaked that dreaded fucking story and it felt like at least a year. Why did it have to be that story? The one that raised ghosts and the guilt I had to work every day of my life to compartmentalize. I hadn’t been doing a very good job with compartmentalizing lately. Instead, I’d drowned myself in alcohol.
Shame prickled my cheeks as freezing cold air surrounded me. It was a calm winter’s day, the water lapping rhythmically at the shore as I stared out at the gray expanse of the North Sea. The sound slowly soothed my frayed nerves.
After Theo helped me off the floor of my room, I was so fucking ashamed of myself that I didn’t dare go against Aria’s orders. The things I’d said to the woman made my fists clench at my sides. It had taken ages for the throbbing to dissipate after her triumphant punch, but I welcomed the ache. I deserved it.
Theo had forced copious amounts of water down my throat, and then I showered. When I emerged, he’d laid out clothes for me, followed by a sandwich he goaded me to eat. Afterward, he slapped me on the back and said, “Go take a bracing walk, old boy. Let the staff in to clean this midden.”
Now the sea called to me as I stood on the estate’s private beach, isolated, a speck against the vastness before me.
Aria Howard was right. I’d spent the last few weeks wallowing in self-fucking-pity. She was also wrong. It wasn’t just self-pity. Guilt had wrapped its hands around my throat, and I wasn’t sure how to loosen its grip. But I couldn’t go on like this.
Lying low didn’t mean giving up, and that’s what it seemed like I’d done.
My parents would be ashamed.
Of course, I didn’t know that for sure. But I liked to think the parents I remembered would be the kind who gave a shit about my life choices.
