Chapter 169
“Okay,” Lara says, crossing her legs on her bed, clutching a silk pillow. “Talk.”
1 blink at her, taking in her open, expectant expression.
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We’re in her room–all warm neutrals and soft blush walls, with sleek furniture in pale oak and cream. It’s like a Pinterest board brought to life–if the board had a gigantic trust fund.
Lara’s gaze makes me feel like I’m under a magnifying glass, all my ugliness and imperfections bare.
“April,” she presses gently. “I’m listening.”
I exhale, perched on the edge of her king–size, fiddling with a tassel on my dress. How do I start? Where do I start from?
“You promised me an explanation,” she says. “And if you don’t give me one, I’m going to continue feeling like my friend stabbed me in
the back when she-”
“Samuel beats Nathan,” I blurt out.
Lara blinks. “What?”
Well, here goes.
“Samuel beats Nathan,” I repeat. “Like black and blue.”
Lara shakes her head slowly, frowning at me. “No… No, that can’t be right, Samuel would never—”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” I say softly. “I stopped his nose bleed, held an ice pack to his bruised eye and chest.”
Lara’s breath hitches. “But…why?”
I shrug. “Does it matter? Is there any reason that justifies a man making his son bleed?”
“No, of course not.” She exhales. “Shit. Does he beat Lucas and Peter, too?”
“I don’t know about Peter–I hope not–but not Lucas.”
I can’t keep the resentment out of my voice, and Lara notices it. “But what does that have to do with you choosing to go on a date with
Lucas?”
I take a deep breath. “I did it for Nathan,” I whisper. “He caused such a ruckus, and I was scared that Samuel would hurt him again.”
Her brows knit. “I don’t understand… The ‘ruckus‘ already happened. How did choosing Lucas avert the beating?”
“Choosing Lucas meant Nathan lost, and if Nathan lost“-I shrug, my shoulders inexplicably heavy-“then Samuel wouldn’t feel the need to punish him again.”
Heavy silence hangs thick in the air. I can see Lara absorbing the information, processing it, trying to make sense of it.
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“He always seems so…composed, poised. I can’t believe he would-” She sighs. “Poor Nathan.”
Then she looks at me. “You’ve explained why you picked Lucas, but…” She swallows. “Why did Lucas pick you?”
And here’s the part of the conversation that is as difficult as open–heart surgery.
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Lara shifts, moving closer. “He picked you for the date. He danced with you first at the ball. And I heard you got eliminated because you were caught in the west wing–because Nathan and Lucas were fighting over you.”
I rub my sweaty palms on my dress, trying to ease the anxiety prickling up my spine. There’s no backing out of this conversation.
I hold my breath for a moment, trying to savor the few seconds before I rip off Lara’s rose–colored glasses and force her to see the man she loves for the monster he is.
“Lucas…” A deep, grounding breath. “Is sexually depraved.”
She blinks. “Excuse me?”
I tell her everything. About seeing Lucas and Sarah during the banquet, his proposition to me during the ball, him cornering me in the woods when we went camping, the date. Every lewd look and crass word.
And then I tell her about Lucy–the chain of events that led to my expulsion.
When I’m done, I feel a hundred pounds lighter. But Lara…
She looks like I transferred all that weight to her.
She’s frozen, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. She’s clutching the pillow for dear life, and I can almost hear the wheels in her mind
turning.
“That’s…” She whispers. “No.”
“Lara, I know this is hard to believe, but-”
“No.”
She climbs out of the bed, tossing the pillow behind her. I watch her pace, guilt replacing the weight I just lost.
“That’s not…” She shakes her head. “Lucas wouldn’t do that.”
“He would,” I whisper. “He did.”
She shakes her head again, viciously, like she’s trying to shove the information out of her ears.
“No. I’ve known him since high school. He would never-”
She pauses, her gaze shifting to me. “But then, why would you lie?”
I give her a weak, apologetic shrug. “I didn’t.”
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A shudder runs through her. “This is…”
I nod. “I know it’s a lot.”
🙂)
Her eyes flash with panic. She looks like a trapped animal. “A lot? April, we’re engaged.” She holds up her left hand, and her ring catches the light. “He’s going to be my husband.”
She presses her hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I stand up from the bed. “Lara-”
My eyes widen as her face turns a sickly shade of green. She bolts for the bathroom, and I’m right behind her. I drop to my knees just in time to hold her hair back as she leans over the toilet and throws up.
I gently pat her back as wet, retching sounds fill the pink–tiled bathroom.
When she’s done, she sits back on her haunches, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. “Fuck Julian and his MacDonalds,” she whispers.
I let out a breathy laugh. “I’m so sorry, Lara.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Oh, April,” she whispers.
She leans forward, and I gasp in surprise when she throws her arms around me. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she says. Her voice still holds incredulity. She’s still in shock.
She gently strokes my hair. “Knowing you, you probably drove yourself crazy keeping it all a secret from me.”
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
She nods. “I know, babe. I know.”
She pulls back. “What do we do?”
I blink. “Huh?”
“Lucas has to be stopped.” Her voice takes on a razor–sharp edge. “He’s not fucking invincible and he needs to be taught a fucking
lesson.”
My mouth opens and closes. “Are you serious?”
“He’s abhorrent, April. He has to be stopped.”
“How?” I whisper. “He’s an Ashford.”
A smirk tugs at Lara’s lips–shrewd and devious. “And I’m an Ellington.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
