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Adelaide watched from the shore as the boys splashed in the water for a bit. Her towel was folded beside her, beckoning her to unravel it and bask in the sun, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead, she watched the lapping waves, studying them as she kept Beaudan in the corner of her vision. Far out, and off to the left of the boys, she could see the waves crashing into each other, pulling the water out to sea- not quite a riptide, but enough that she was wary of Beaudan's every move towards it. He was graceful in the water, splashing and toying with Hollis and Dallas for some time. The three were perfectly at ease, comfortable in the water, and Adelaide felt a slight twinge of regret that she couldn't bring herself to join them. When Beaudan made his way to the shore, she exhaled a breath of relief, running her hands along his arms as he encased her in a splattering of salt water.
"Cliff diving?" She couldn't help the alarm in her voice, nor the way her eyes flared slightly at the thought. "No, I don't think that's a good idea..." Beaudan stared at her with a sly look in his eyes, his charm turned to full blast. Despite her growing unease, she smiled back at him, her lips wobbling slightly as she attempted to mask her fear. "Maybe I can just climb up with you? I'll still be there, I'll watch you jump." At Beaudan's expression, she took another breath, willing her nerves to still. He wanted her to do this, wanted her to be part of his fun. She could at least climb the cliff - the view would be stunning, she was sure of that. She entwined their hands as they walked the beach to the looming cliffside - much higher than she anticipated, it's daunting length growing as they neared. When her hands started to become clammy, she pulled them from Beaudan's grasp. Luckily, they had reached the base of the cliff, and if he asked, she could use the guise of keeping her balance as they climbed the sloping path. The climb itself was relatively easy. There were a few boulders they had to skirt around, but the path had been worn down by years of use, and Adelaide found herself climbing at the same pace as the boys in front of her. Beaudan was only slightly in front of her, enough to talk to Dallas and Hollis after she had refused to speak to him for the first few moments. She hadn't meant to be rude, tried to convey it in a smile as she pushed him to talk to the other boys. She just didn't want him to catch wind of her apprehension, nor the growing fear that festered in her chest. He would jump with Dallas and Hollis, and she would meet them at the bottom. No need for her to enter the water - she could deal with Beaudan's disappointment later, once they were off the beach and away from the salty air. At the top, the three boys jostled around, playfully pushing each other towards the edge. Beaudan looked back at her again, and she smiled, waving him forward before crossing her arms over her chest. Her foot tapped nervously against the ground, stirring a bit of dust as she watched them prepare to jump. Were there rocks at the bottom? What if Beaudan hurt himself? A hungry, errant shark could always decide that he looked rather tasty. What if the waves grew stronger, some freak event from the wind, and he couldn't get back to the surface? There were too many variables at play, and as her anxiety mounted a high, she took a step towards Beaudan to voice her concerns - only to find him leaping off the side of the cliff, his echoing laugh ringing in her ears. Panic overtook her, and she practically ran to the edge to watch as he plummeted into the water, the splash bouncing off the cliff wall. She began to count the seconds he was under, growing increasingly distressed as they passed. One. Two. Three, four, five. Six, seven. Eight seconds later, his head emerged from the water, and she swore she could hear him laughing, despite the wind whipping around her head. She waved at him, a grimace plastered onto her face. "Adelaide?" Dallas called, grabbing her attention. "Are you going to jump with us?" The hopeful look on his face almost crushed her nerves entirely. Surely, he knew what his puppy-dog expression did to people, giving them no option aside from what he offered. She didn't answer him at first, and his face fell slightly before Hollis cut in. "Adelaide, you have to! It's so much fun!" His voice was bright, cheery as he bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. In that moment, watching his smile arc across his face as he encouraged her, she felt the stinging dislike dull. "Besides, it's tradition. Dal will jump with you, and there's no rocks down there - I promise, if there were, we would have hit them by now." His tone, so optimistic, coupled with his words of encouragement that struck the center of one of her fears, caused her to nod her head before she could reconsider. Damn him and his likeable personality - between the two of them, Adelaide wasn't sure she'd have been able to say no regardless. Hollis shot her a quick thumbs up, calling, "See you in the water!" as he took off, jumping over the edge with a shout. She took a deep breath, wringing her hands together as her anxiety mounted once more. "It's okay, Addie," Dallas said, holding his had out to her. She stared at it for a moment, fighting between her desire to make him happy and her fear of the water, before she took it, walking a few paces back with him. "The jump is the scariest part, I promise. Once that's over, your going to feel so high on life that you'll want to do it again and again." "I'm scared of the water," she admitted, her voice a hushed whisper. Dallas looked at her with sympathy, nodding his head as he squeezed her hand. "I won't let go until we swim up, I promise." "Okay," she murmured, tightening her grip on his hand. Together, they counted to three before racing towards the edge. She had a momentary bout of anxiety, wanted to pull back and stop, but before she could put action to the thought, they were over the edge and she was screaming as she plummeted towards the lapping waves. Her first thought, as they fell, was that they had been in the air forever. Her second thought was that she had freaking jumped off a cliff! She barked a quick laugh before sucking in a breath as they hit the water, cool salt flowing over their heads. True to his word, Dallas only let go of her hand once their descent had stopped, and she kicked her feet frantically to break the water. When she did, she was laughing, whirling to look at Dallas, who floated a few feet from her. She swam the short distance before barreling into him, kicking her feet to float as she exclaimed, "That was SO cool!" Her fear of the water was temporarily assauged, despite its vast presence all around her. Instead, she focused on the younger boy in front of her, who was beaming as he hugged her back. She might smack him upside the head later, for making her do such a stupidly insane thing, but for now, she was content to laugh with him in the glory of the moment. |
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Darkseeker
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Beau had chatted casually with the other boys as they made their way up the winding trail, but his thoughts were tethered to the clearly uneasy girl at his elbow. He hadn’t known Adelaide was afraid of the water until she’d hesitated at his invitation to jump with him. Her excuses were polite but transparent, and the way she subtly pulled her hands away from his touch spoke volumes. The realization stung more than he wanted to admit. Her fears were her own, and he could respect that—he had his own share of irrational ones—but this was different. The ocean, the cliffs, the wild thrill of the jump—these things weren’t just hobbies to him. They were an extension of who he was, a lifeline to the part of himself that felt free and untamed. Her reluctance felt like a rejection of something intrinsic to him, and it gnawed at the edges of his carefully held composure. Beau ran a hand through his damp hair as they reached the top of the trail, casting a glance over the edge of the cliff. The view was breathtaking, the jagged rocks below framed by rolling waves, their foamy crests reflecting the midday sun. This was his sanctuary, a place where he could let go of the weight he carried daily. But today, it felt heavier. Determined to shake off the prick of disappointment, he quickened his pace to fall in step with Hollis. Their usual banter sparked easily, the playful shoves and mock protests offering a brief distraction. When the time came to decide who would go first, Beau’s assertion as the eldest carried the day. "Oldest gets dibs," he quipped, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Standing at the edge of the cliff, Beau inhaled deeply, letting the anticipation fill him. The drop below was a thrilling mix of danger and freedom, and as he dove, his body cut through the air like a blade. For a few precious moments, there was nothing but the weightlessness in his stomach, the wind whipping against his skin, and the sound of his own heartbeat. The rush was intoxicating. It washed away everything—the ache of Eden’s absence, his irritation with Hollis, the regret toward his little brother, and even Adelaide’s quiet refusal. When he hit the water, the cold was a shock but also a balm, and he surfaced with a holler, signaling the others to follow. He swam to the beach with powerful strokes, dragging himself onto the warm sand and lying back to catch his breath. Beau’s gaze drifted upward in time to see a figure leap from the cliff. He knew that body as well as his own—the precise twist midair, the effortless grace. Only Hollis could make recklessness look so elegant. Beau’s stomach tightened. He sat up, watching as Hollis entered the water with barely a ripple, his landing perfect in a way Beau could never quite manage. Hollis. Hollis was a piece of him he could never fully escape. Beau knew that now. He knew that body, those curls, and those eyes better than he knew his own. The memories of nights they’d shared clung to him, bittersweet and inescapable. The warmth of Hollis’s cinnamon-toned skin, the whispered confessions, the stolen moments—they weren’t just memories. They were scars etched into his heart, impossible to erase. As Hollis emerged from the waves, dripping and radiant, Beau felt himself rising halfway to his feet before he caught himself. He sank back into the sand, forcing himself to look away, to pretend his chest wasn’t tight with longing. But when his gaze shifted, it landed on something worse. Adelaide. Dallas. Hand in hand, falling through the air, laughter and happy cries spilling from their happy faces. The gesture was innocent, likely platonic, but it didn’t matter. Beau’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as jealousy flared hot and unbidden. It felt like a betrayal, like a slap across the face. Adelaide was supposed to be his. Dallas was his brother. Seeing them together, even in such a harmless context, twisted something ugly in his chest. He didn’t notice Hollis until it was too late. Warm hands pushed him back into the sand, and Hollis’s weight followed, grounding him in a way that was both familiar and electric. Beau didn’t resist. He didn’t fight the pull of the moment. As Hollis’s lips pressed against his, soft but insistent, Beau let himself drown in it. It was a poor substitute for what he craved—a shadow of the night he’d shared with Adelaide, the promises left unspoken. But the nostalgia, the longing for something simpler, something easier, was overwhelming. So he gave in. When Hollis deepened the kiss, Beau’s lips parted willingly, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to fall entirely out of line. |
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Adelaide and Dallas had been nearly back to shore, still lightly chattering about the cliff as they made their way to dry land. Her heart was thrumming in her chest, a wild tempo that matched her racing thoughts as she watched Dallas laugh, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect him surge through her. He was so young, so carefree, yet the perfect amount of warmth and welcome shone through him. None of her siblings had been like him, so boyishly charming and easy to be around. Beaudan was her favorite of course, would always be her favorite, but she couldn't help Dallas' climbing placement in her heart. He was the little brother she would have never been given, filling a hole she didn't know existed. His face dropped suddenly, and though he tried to cover it with a halfhearted grin directed at her, she had been watching him, unable to miss it. "What?" "Addie," Dallas murmured, voice tense as he latched onto her wrist. "Do not react." His words, so vaguely forboding, forced her to follow his line of sight. She stopped, waves still lapping at her ankles as she felt her heart drop. Not even thirty feet away, Hollis was pressed into Beaudan, eagerly kissing him in the fading sun. As Adelaide watched, she couldn't help but think of the sand getting on Beaudan's towel. There was so much of it, he'd be covered. Even as her mind screamed at her, tried to get her to respond, she could only think of the sand now coating Beaudan's calves, slowly riding up his thighs. That would be terribly uncomfortable on the ride back. His skin would be chaffed raw. She hadn't realized she was walking, didn't hear Dallas calling for her, didn't bother to see whether Beaudan was watching her. Her head was airy, empty of all thoughts except for the damned sand and the horse she was quickly approaching. She was thankful she hadn't lay in the sand. Her legs were too wet for her jeans, and that wouldn't have been nice in the saddle. She threw one foot into the stirrup, swinging her other leg over the mare with ease as she gently petted her neck, her mane, anything she could reach. The act was grounding, though she still couldn't think much. Her body was on the horse, her hand firm, and she allowed the sensation to fuel her as she spurred Astoria into action, urging her into a gallop as she raced down the beach. Astoria knew the way home, which was nice, because Adelaide couldn't form a coherent enough thought to direct herself. She felt nothing but the jolt of the mare below her, solidifying that she was, in fact, atop the horse and not floating away. The ride felt much shorter than she had thought it was, and before she knew it, she was back in the stable, silently removing the tack from her mare. She brushed her, the motions fluid, getting all of the sand off of her coat before latching the stall and walking out of the stable. She could hear the pouding of hooves, knew somewhere in her mind that the others were approaching, but she didn't turn, her body pulling her towards the house. As she walked, she felt warmth pooling on her cheeks, and she reached up, pulling away to stare at the water flowing down her face. She was crying, then. Because Beaudan had been kissing Hollis. Right. Reality crashed into her quickly, nearly knocking her off her feet as she sucked in a heaving breath. Distantly, she realized she had been in shock, and the effects were quickly wearing off. Her hand found the sill of a fountain as she sobbed, tears flowing faster than she could breathe. Dallas had jumped with her off a cliff. She had been in the water. Beaudan had kissed Hollis. She allowed herself a few seconds more of heaving before she forced herself to breathe. They would be coming to find her soon - she needed to go, needed to get away, find somewhere that Beaudan wouldn't go and run. Another minutes and she was wiping her cheeks dry, tears stemmed as she boxed her feelings away, tucked them into a far corner that she wouldn't access until she was ready. Her breaths were stilted still, coming in short waves as she fought to regain herself. Straightening, she pushed herself forward, shoulders back and chin up. She wouldn't allow them to see her break. Wouldn't give Hollis the smug satisfaction of seeing that he had won. As she rounded the front of the house, she was prepared to pack her bags quickly and board the next flight out - Greece, perhaps? It was always lovely this time of year. Instead, she felt the ground pull from her feet once more as she was met with a frown she hadn't been privvy to in decades. "Hello, Adelaide," her father said tersely, crossing his arms as he stepped away from the front foor. |
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Beaudan’s chest tightened as if the very air conspired against him, each breath a battle, each step up the rugged trail towards where Spela was waiting a punishment. The sand clung to his skin—abrasive, unyielding—a stinging reminder of his lapse in judgment. Hollis had been everything Beau remembered: soft, familiar, a bittersweet echo of a time when life seemed simpler. But now, in the unforgiving clarity of the afterglow, those moments felt hollow, like a melody stripped of meaning. Guilt gnawed at him, relentless and consuming, a weight too heavy to bear. It wasn’t Hollis’s fault. Beau told himself this over and over as though repetition could absolve him. Hollis couldn’t be blamed for wanting him—for pushing until Beau gave in. Yet, the smugness in Hollis’s gaze after, that honeyed smile that had always unsettled Beau, felt like a quiet victory. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. The guilt churning in his stomach made him sick, made him hate himself for the weakness he couldn’t overcome. Hollis had taken a piece of him, a piece he hadn’t wanted to give, and now Beau was left hollow, his heart tethered elsewhere. Adelaide. The thought of her name was a knife in his chest. He could only pray that she and Dally had been far enough away when it happened—far enough not to hear the quiet, desperate cries that had filled the beach. The image of Addie seeing, of her knowing, sent Beau’s thoughts spiraling. The shame was unbearable. He had ruined everything. Again. By the time Beau reached Spela, his gelding flicked his ears back, sensing his turmoil. Even the horse seemed to judge him, his deep brown eyes filled with a silent reproach that twisted the guilt tighter in Beaudan's gut. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as he hoisted himself onto his back. His bare thighs pressed against the horse, raw and vulnerable, the sand and horsehair scraping his skin like an accusation. He hadn’t thought to grab a shirt, pants—anything—before they'd set off in the hours before, and he was regretting it now. The roughness of his suit against his legs was another cruel reminder of how exposed he was, how far he’d fallen. The ride back to the Villa was torturous, each jolting step of the horse shaking him from his numbed haze. His thoughts circled endlessly, a carousel of regret. Adelaide’s soft smile no doubt turning cold. Dally’s quiet disappointment. Hollis’s hands on his skin. The crushing weight of knowing he’d let everyone down again. The mantra he clung to offered little solace: Better for me to hurt than anyone else. As though his suffering could somehow undo the pain he’d caused. When Beau finally reached the estate, the familiar sprawl of the villa offered no comfort. The grandeur of the place seemed to mock him, its elegance untouched by the chaos inside him. Sliding off Spela, he let the horse wander toward the pasture, tossing his halter carelessly onto a bench. He stood there for a moment, trembling, dragging in shaky breaths. There was no time to lose. He had to find Addie. He had to explain—though he didn’t even know where to begin. Letting this fester, leaving things unsaid, would only destroy what fragile connection they had left. Beau found her on the garden path, her silhouette framed by the golden hues of the setting sun. She stood with her back to him, her posture rigid, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Relief and dread warred within him, and before he could think better of it, he broke into a desperate sprint, his feet slapping against the stones. Maybe, if he hadn't been lost in the mirror house of his mind, maybe, if he hadn't been choking back every excuse, he would have noticed that she had stopped because of a man. Maybe he would have cared. But he didn't notice. And he *didn't* care. When he reached her, he slowed, hesitating. His hand hovered for a moment before gently brushing her shoulder. The touch was tentative, pleading, his fingers trembling with the weight of everything he needed to say but couldn’t put into words. “Baby?” The word fell from his lips, cracked and raw, barely audible. His voice wavered, thick with emotion. “Shit, Addie, don’t leave. I could never…” The words choked him. He raked a hand through his salt-tangled curls, frustration mounting as he struggled to articulate the chaos inside him. “You don’t get it. Hollis… when we… it wasn’t…” His throat tightened, each word harder than the last. “I made a mistake, Adelaide.” Her name broke on his lips, a prayer, a plea, his gaze searching hers with a desperation that made his chest ache. “Can’t you forgive a boy for one mistake? Just one?” The silence stretched between them, unbearable. Beau felt raw and exposed, his disheveled hair and bruised lips a testament to the storm he had weathered. Tears shimmered in his eyes, threatening to spill as his chest heaved with uneven breaths. He had no idea what he was hoping for—for her to yell, to cry, to forgive him. All he knew was that he couldn’t bear the thought of her walking away. Not now. Not like this. And then he noticed the man. "Oh," he breathed. "Hello. I know you." |
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Distantly, Adelaide felt Beaudan's touch. Recognized that she should shake it off, perhaps slap him across the face like he deserved. Instead, she stood, still as a statue, staring down her father, who glared back with equal menace. "Oh. Hello. I know you." She recognized Beaudan's voice, had heard him talking before. That sentence snapped her out of her stupor, and she wrenched her arm from Beaudan's grasp harshly, whipping her head around to glare at him. "You. Don't. Get. To. Touch. Me." The words were snarled, every bit of hurt and anger poured into them as she stalked away from him, refusing to look back. Her hands moved, clasping behind her back as she approached Theodore Valdaro with practiced grace. "Father," she said, voice cool and detached. "What are you doing here?" Theodore smiled wanly at her, wrapping his arms around her in some sort of embrace that felt more akin to a cage. "Adelaide, that's no way to greet your father," he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "But, since you must always get right down to business - I received word from Christopher that you flew the jet to Italy. I've always been nosy, you know that, so when I heard that you had used your inheritance for the first time in years, I simply had to come investigate." Adelaide scoffed, shaking out of his arms. She placed her hands on his elbows, holding him at arms length as she stared into his face, scrutinizing his expression. "Father. What I do is none of your-" "Yes, yes, none of my business, I know," he retorted tone skillfully matching her own. "But you cannot expect to use the family jet and not have to explain. Especially with the-" a scornful look in Beaudan's direction, "-delightful company you've come to keep. Tell me, dear, how did you come to stay in Beaudan's villa?" She refused to look at him. Knew he was watching, knew that he probably still had that wretched heartbroken look on his face. "Alistair Morcant has involved me in his will. Would you happen to know what that's about?" Theodore laughed, throwing his head back with an elegant flair. "That old bat. Always a tricky one, wasn't he? No, no. I'm afraid I've no idea what he's got up his sleeve this go-around." Adelaide sighed, pulling her arms away and taking a step back - before rethinking it and shifting to her left. She wanted as much distance between herself and Beaudan as she could muster. "Well, father, if that's all-" "Nonsense!" He cut her off quickly, waving his hand dismissively. The action was designed to infuriate her, and it showed in the way her fingers began to tap together quickly. "I've flown all the way to Italy to see you. We should eat, perhaps have a drink to catch up. I've missed you terribly, my darling bird." The nickname threw her off, breath lodged in her throat. What was he doing? He knew why she had left, knew why she refused to speak to him and yet - here he was, acting as if they were still the father and daughter they had once been. He knew she was unable to deny his request, especially as Dallas and Hollis rounded the corner, stopped by what she assumed was Beaudan waving them off. The last thing she wanted was to dine with the four of them; she had had enough drama for the day. Nevertheless, the words that escaped her were, "Of course, father. I'll prepare a meal now." As she stiffly walked to the house, she called over her shoulder, "Dallas? Would you be a darling and fetch Callum for dinner?" - Inside, her hands wrung together as she stared at the pantry. Once again, she was lacking creativity for a meal. Pasta wouldn't do, her father wouldn't stand for something so poverish. Salad, perhaps? She turned to the fridge, thankful to find a fresh dish of Dorado, already filetted and seasoned. She would have to thank Callum later - he had handled the groceries thusfar, and she was sure the quality dish was of his choosing. She got to work quickly, throwing cabinets open until she found a large enough pan. She allowed the oil to simmer for a moment before tossing the fish onto it, revelling in the searing pops as it cooked. As she tempered the fish, she worked on the salad, throwing ingredients together in what she hoped was an appetizing combination, before grabbing a bottle of unlabelled dressing and bringing the two to the dining room. It took her a moment to find the table - she still hadn't explored the house, not that she planned to now. As the fish finished cooking, she grabbed plates, setting the table with practiced efficiency, before bringing the platter of delectible meat to the table. "This will be fun," she muttured to herself, before clearing her throat. "Dinner is done!" |
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Darkseeker
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The second the halting, sharp words fell from her lips, Beau was already gone. Physically, he stood behind her, shell-shocked, silent, and aching. But mentally, his walls slammed up in an instant, a swift, protective barrier against the sharp sting of her words. *Stupid.* He had done exactly what he had spent so much time avoiding—he had fallen for the girl who was clearly wrong for him. He had promised himself he wouldn’t, yet here he was, standing at the edge of his own undoing. And despite the bitterness, the pain in his chest tightened at the memory of how she had looked at him in the hot tub earlier, her gaze soft but charged with something he couldn’t name. That look lingered in his mind, pulling him back into the warmth of it, even as it clashed with the coldness settling around him now. But it was already fading, retreating into the recesses of his mind, sinking next to the memories of Eden and her games. Next to Clementine, with her strawberry blonde hair and the way she could weave happiness like a second skin. His chest ached, and he stood there, unmoving, for what felt like an eternity. Laughter suddenly broke through the fog of his thoughts, jarring him back to reality. His head jerked up, catching Dally's eye, and then Hollis, the two of them slipping back into the house, leaving the moment hanging, lost between them. For a brief instant, he wondered what had been so funny. The thought was so painfully refreshing, so reminiscent of the carefree boy he once was, that it made his chest tighten. But as the laughter faded, Adelaide stalked off toward the kitchen, and Beau was left alone with the man on the terrace. But Beaudan had nothing to say. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Beaudan picked up a bottle of wine and locked himself in his bedroom. The isolation was a comfort, a numbness he welcomed. His thoughts were foggy, the wine clouding his mind as he tried to find some peace. But it was short-lived. Irritatingly, he was only halfway through the bottle when the trapdoor in the corner of his room creaked open, and a familiar figure emerged. Beau opened his mouth to tell whoever it was to sod off, that he didn’t want company. But when Callum appeared, looking like a force to be reckoned with, Beau chose the coward’s route. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to face anything right now. Instead, he took another long, bitter sip from the bottle, his gaze avoiding his brother. Callum didn’t push him. He sat on the edge of the bed, ever the perfect child, and Beau felt a surge of resentment. But it was quickly overshadowed by the old, familiar knot in his chest. The knot that came with knowing, all too well, that when he had needed his brother most, Callum had always been there. That thought softened Beau’s harsh exterior for a moment, just long enough for him to pass the bottle. The two of them sat in silence for what felt like hours. The only sound was the faint rhythm of Callum’s breathing, steady and calm. It was unnerving, the silence between them, so unlike the usual jabs and banter they exchanged. Finally, Callum broke it, his voice low and uncharacteristically tentative. "Eden's coming," he said, the words feeling like a bombshell, dropping with a weight that hung heavily in the air. Beau froze for a moment, processing the words. His heart stuttered in his chest. For a horrible minute, he thought Callum was referring to the mess he’d made with Adelaide, that this was some kind of consequence of his actions. But Callum wasn’t finished. "I called her on the way here. I knew... I knew there would be problems. First of all, your little lover girl used her father's jet without thinking of the consequences, and I knew we'd be receiving a visitor." Callum's voice hardened with concern. "We need Eden. She's the best Morcant representative now that the old man's gone. And I knew Hollis would be here." Beau’s stomach twisted at the mention of Hollis. He didn’t need his brother’s commentary on that, not now, not with the wreckage of his emotions scattered across the room. Callum caught his eye, his tone slowing, weighed down with something that almost sounded like... fear. “I always thought you two would be together like you were. He's just like you. And I don't like Adelaide.” Beau scoffed, his lips curling with bitterness. “That's already very obvious, darling brother. Did you think we couldn't tell?” Callum shushed him, his gaze unflinching. “I don’t like her because she sees you too well," he continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. “She knows just how to push your buttons. Knows how to have you trailing after her like a lost child. When you were with Hollis—” Beau didn’t want to hear it. He cut his brother off, his voice tight, but Callum would not be interrupted.
“Whether you like to believe it or not, you were. And when you were, you were wild. You were bright. I saw you happy.” Callum’s eyes softened, just a hint, before his gaze became even more serious. “All I’ve seen with this girl is hurt. And I will not have my baby brother being hurt.” The finality in Callum’s voice made Beau’s throat tighten. He wanted to argue, to snap back, but all he could do was watch as his brother stood up, taking the bottle with him. “Make good decisions, Beaudan,” Callum said, his voice soft but insistent. And with that, he disappeared back through the hidden door, leaving Beau alone with the weight of his words. Beau collapsed onto the bed, curling around a pillow, his thoughts a swirling mess. His head was spinning, and the wine was only making things worse. Too much was happening. His door opened again, the lock picked, and Beau scowled in frustration. What did it take to get some peace and quiet around here? But it wasn’t Callum this time. It was Hollis, looking contrite, holding out a plate of food with an apology in his eyes. Beau didn’t know if he had the energy for this, but he accepted the plate and the apology anyway, grateful for the comfort even if it felt fleeting. The door clicked shut behind Hollis, and once again, Beau was left alone with his thoughts. One thing was clear: everything was slipping through his fingers. But there was one thing, one looming thing that consumed him more than anything else. Eden Mirren Morcant was coming to Villa Nesquizia. Eden Mirren Morcant didn't like her family being threatened, or talked down to. And an angry Eden? She was a force to be reckoned with. Adelaide’s father was going to be in for a reckoning. |
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