“So,” she repeats, flinging her hands in the air. “You can say whatever you like, Luca. It doesn’t change anything. You’ll be gone and I’ll still be here, listening to the same disgusting comments I’ve been listening to my whole life.”
“Come with me.”
Willow scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
I cross the room and cup her cheeks in my hands. “Come with me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
She groans, and I catch the sound with my lips.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Closing my eyes, I let out a deep breath before I turn to face my father who is standing in the open doorway. Gwendoline stands behind him, still clutching at herprecious pearls. I sneer in her direction, unable to hide my disgust and contempt for the woman.
“Nothing that concerns you.” My reply is flippant. Willow clutches my arm like a lifeline and presses up against my back.
George’s narrowed eyes dart between the two of us, and I step in front of Willow, shielding her from whatever spiteful shit he’s about to say.
“I will not allow this debauchery in my house, son,” he replies calmly. “Think of your future. You’re not throwing it away for some sick infatuation with your sister.”
“Stepsister,” I remind him. “And I’m not throwing anything away.”
A look of relief crosses his face. “Of course you’re not,” he says with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Well, let’s just leave this little mishap within the confines of this room, shall we, and?—”
“Willow’s coming to the UK with me.”
The look on Gwendoline’s face would be comical if she wasn’t such a vindictive bitch.
“W-what?” my father stammers.
I level my stepmother with a look. “If you think I’d leave her under this roof with the likes of you, you’re clearly delusional.”
The woman actually has the audacity to look shocked. “I don’t know what?—”
“Save your breath,” I interrupt. “We’re leaving Beckford, and this fucked-up family, and there’s nothing you two can say about it.”
“Now, son, let’s think about this for?—”
I laugh in his face. “I haven’t been your son since Mum died. You’re done controlling me.” My father’s face pales and Gwendoline gasps. I turn my wrath on her. “You’re done messing with the both of us.”
“Son—”
“Get out of her room. This conversation is over.” Without another word, I stalk across the room and slam the door. My chest is heaving as if I just ran a marathon, and the adrenaline slowly ebbs out of me. I push my hand through my hair before turning back to face Willow.
My heart surges at the sight of the beautiful woman standing in front of me, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs.
“Come with me,” I repeat. “I want you with me.”
Willow shakes her head. “Why?”
“My whole life I’ve been playing some kind of role—son, football star, teammate, boyfriend—but no one ever saw the real me. No one ever cared to look, or even to ask. These past six months, I’ve shed that mask. I’m tired of acting. All of that fades away when I’m with you. I can be who I truly am without fear of judgement or someone wanting something from me in return.”
“I’m your stepsister, Luca. The tabloids will have a field day with…” She pauses and waves her hand between the two of us. “Whatever this is.”
