PROLOGUE
Victoria
‘You knowyou don’t have to do this, right?’ My sister, Sasha, flutters her pristinely manicured fingers over the small of my back.
‘I know,’ I lie.
Idohave to do this. Deep down, I’ve always known I have to do this.
The very same night my seven-year-old body was pulled from a car wreck, I vowed to become a doctor. To save lives. I owe my life to the doctors and nurses at Dublin Hospital. I’ll never be able to repay them, but I can pay it forward.
It sounds noble, but don’t be fooled. Undoubtedly, it’s an honourable vocation, but the temptation of six years living the college high life is equally alluring. A fresh start in a new country…
College is supposed to be wild. It’s half the appeal. If I don’t get trashed on cheap shots and cider at Freshers’ Week, am I even a real student? Waking up stark bollock naked in bed with a new classmate and a banging headache is practically a rite of passage, isn’t it?
The opportunity to find myself away from the rules and restraints of my well-meaning, but over-protective, famous family, and the castle I grew up in, shines like a beacon of light across stormy seas.
The need for normality gnaws at my soul. Sheer ordinariness and the freedom my peers take for granted. Residing in student digs, embarking on messy nights with new friends where the shots are free-flowing and my body has no choice but to surrender to the rhythmic beat of the music.
The only problem is, now I’m here in Edinburgh, in my brand new three-storey Georgian house, days from starting my six-year degree at the university, I can appreciate that a normal student experience was never going to be a remote possibility.
Not for me.
Not for any Sexton.
I might have moved to another country, but it looks as if I’ll never be at liberty to escape my family.
Or my life.
Or who I am.
It sounds terrible. I adore my sisters more than any goosebump-evoking words can ever express. But every family has their woes, and ours is that we can’t take a step out the door without risking being mobbed.
It’s a first world problem. Believe me, I know.
Chloe, my middle sister, is a ball-breaking businesswoman currently storming the world with her events management business. And my eldest sister, Sasha, is about to marry the hottest rock star this world has ever seen.
Sasha raised me while single-handedly running our parents’ luxury castle estate. She’s a sister, a mother, and the best friend I could ever ask for all rolled into one sassy, spirited, glamorous package.
I’m even super fond of my effusive, almost-brother-in-law, Ryan. Half the female population is in love with him. But to me, he’ll always be my big sister’s goofy boyfriend.
Their wedding is two months away. They’ve been offered billions for exclusive access to their big day. The media’s snorting up their whirlwind romance, inhaling it like it’s the purest form of crack cocaine, and they’re hopelessly addicted.
Hollywood’s leading film producer is currently writing the script for a movie telling the love story that has captured the hearts of the entire world. There isn’t a person on God’s green earth who doesn’t want a slice of them.
Which unfortunately means they want a slice of the rest of us by default.
My heels click across the sanded, varnished original mahogany flooring of the master bedroom, towards one of many immaculately restored sash windows. The view from my new townhouse boasts a rich history that my curious feet itch to explore.
My heart skips a beat as my gaze roams the Scottish skyline. The setting sun renders it a warm shade of coral above the unfamiliar but iconic horizon. The famous medieval Edinburgh Castle towers proudly over Princes Street Gardens in the distance.
Tourists and locals swarm like ants across the manicured lawns, revelling in the last of the August sun. Princes Street is thronged with attendees of this year’s Fringe Festival. Buses and trams crawl by, starting and stopping with accompanying hisses and chugs. Distant wailing sirens erupt from a fire engine somewhere close by.
Will I ever get used to the noise?
‘What do you think?’ Sasha crosses the room to stand beside me, the silky fabric of her shirt brushing against my bare shoulder.
Pastel pink painted fingernails gesture around the spacious master bedroom. ‘Paint it any colour you like. Decorate it however you like. It’s yours to do with whatever you want.’
