“And you have Hugo,” Arabella said. “You’ve been with him for years. His father worked with yours before he died. Now he’s cared for by your old man, he’ll always be with you. You know you’ll marry him just like your daddy wants. And he adores you.”
My stomach sank when I thought of Hugo. I loved Hugo—he was sweet and kind and I knew he would be loyal to me. But I didn’t burn for him. Nothing he did set me alight. But Arabella was right. My daddy wanted us to marry—no, he expected us to marry. He never entertained anything else.
“Speaking of …” Freya nodded in the direction of the living quarters. Hugo and Percy—his best friend—came toward us. Hugo leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was soft and gentle and loving. I knew, in my gut, that Arthur kissed nothing like that. His kiss would be savage and all-encompassing.
“I’ll be back in a few days.” Hugo looked across at the Adleys, a hint of worry in his stare. When I followed his gaze, Arthur hadn’t even acknowledged Hugo; he was still looking directly at me. “What the fuck is he looking at?” Hugo said. But it wasn’t loud enough for Arthur or his friends to hear. Hugo wouldn’t dare take them on.
“Barcelona?” Freya asked Hugo, distracting him. Hugo turned to her.
“Yeah. George asked me to close a deal there while we were here. When we get back, we’ll take the yacht to Ibiza, yeah?”
“Sounds good,” I said. Percy and Hugo left the yacht and took a car toward the airport. Hugo had been working alongside my dad for a couple of years now, during holidays while he finished up sixth form at his boarding school. This summer he started full time. He didn’t need university or a degree. He was primed to follow in my father’s footsteps in the company—qualifications meant nothing when nepotism was a factor. Hugo was a good man. I knew that. He was the son my father never had.
My father loved me. But I wasn’t a son. He’d always wanted a son. His relationship with Hugo was arguably better than his with me.
My eyes drifted to Arthur again, only to see him heading inside the yacht. My eyes were fixed on his tattoo of London on his stomach and chest. He was muscled and toned, but not overly bulky.
He was a living, breathing cocktail of deadly sins.
“Come on,” Arabella said. “We’re meeting Ollie and everyone tonight for dinner.” She laughed and shook her head. “We can watch him moon all over you with Hugo not being there. It’s tragic.”
I grimaced. I liked Ollie, but not in a romantic way. He clearly liked me, though, and when Hugo wasn’t around made no bones about it. Hugo and Ollie had attended sixth form together. It was how we all became friends.
Freya threaded her arm through mine. “Come on, Cheska. Let’s have a good night. It’ll help you forget the devil on the neighbouring boat.”
Devil. That seemed a good title for Arthur. Most people were terrified of him. He was unapproachable, with eyes that could cut you where you stood. And he had the allure of Satan too. A magnet to sin and temptation, stirring wants and desires inside of me that were anything but chaste and holy. And if the rumours were true, he had the evilness of the dark lord too.
We entered the club, Ollie placing a hand on my back as he led us through the packed dancefloor to the VIP section. We sat at our roped-off table, and the waiter brought us bottles of Cristal, Grey Goose, gin and a ton of mixers.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” Ollie asked.
“Gin,” I said and immediately thought of Arthur. Ollie poured me the gin and automatically added tonic.
“So?” he asked. “Did you enjoy dinner?” He leaned in close and ran the tip of his finger down my arm. I shifted in my seat, backing away, hoping he didn’t get offended.
“It was nice.” I gave him a friendly, hopefully platonic smile. “Hugo would have loved it. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here.”
The grin on Ollie’s face fell so hard I was sure it hit the floor beneath us with a deafening thud. He took a long drink of his vodka, then turned to me and said, “He’s not good enough for you.”
I tensed, blinking in shock at Ollie being so forthcoming. He usually danced around his dislike for Hugo. There was no tiptoeing around this one.
“Ollie,” I warned. “Don’t. You’re my friend. Hugo is my boyfriend. I won’t do this with you.”
Something akin to darkness appeared in Ollie’s eyes. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck pricked. It seemed to take Ollie a second to pull himself together before he smiled again. “Forgive me,” he said, but his words seemed forced and rigid. “You’re right. I shouldn’t speak about him that way. He’s okay, really.” Ollie checked something on his phone and let his eyes drift over the club. He suddenly froze. “Twats.”
I instinctively followed his gaze. It landed on a couple of the Adley boys, who were at the opposite side of the VIP section in a high-walled private booth. I recognised Charlie as he got up from his seat to let Eric Mason out. Charlie’s eyes fell on us. He turned and said something to someone in the booth. My heart slammed in my chest as I wondered if Arthur was in there. If he had another girl on his lap, sucking on his neck, his fingers deep inside her.
“Nick,” Ollie said, pulling his best friend’s attention away from Freya. Ollie nodded in the direction of the Adleys. Nick followed his gaze, then nodded, some unspoken conversation I wasn’t privy to happening between them.
“You don’t like the Adleys?” I asked.
Ollie sat back in his chair and moved his arm around the back of mine. “No.” I didn’t think he would expand on that, as his eyes narrowed and he drank his vodka, but then he said, “I don’t particularly like East End cunts like his scumbag family. They cause my dad’s business no end of problems. They think they’re entitled to run all the docks in London just because of who they are. They’re a cancer to honest enterprises. I’ve only had to deal with Arthur a few times. And that’s a few times too many.” His hand froze in mid-air as he lowered his drink. “Why? You don’t know the Adleys, do you?”
I shook my head, the lie rolling off my tongue. “No. Just heard of them like everyone else has.” I felt Arabella’s eyes boring into me from across the table but didn’t look her way for fear Ollie would see through my deceit.
Ollie exhaled a long breath. “Good.” His hand wrapped around my bicep. “Don’t fuck with them,” he said, his voice deep and brooking no argument. Unease rolled through me like a thunderstorm. I tried to move my arm, but Ollie’s eyes only darkened and his grip grew harder. “I mean it, Cheska. Don’t get involved with the Adleys. Especially Arthur. He’s not right in the head.”
Ollie finally released his grip. My arm throbbed, and even in the dimly lit nightclub, I could see the red marks from his fingers. I was in no doubt that they would bruise.
My eyes widened in shock. Ollie quickly plastered on a soft smile. I flinched as he gently rubbed his hand over my bruising skin. “I just don’t want you getting mixed up with the wrong crowd, Cheska.” His voice was like silk, but underneath that silk I now knew hid jagged, sharp blades. “I care for you.” Ice ran down my spine as he leaned closer. “You know that, don’t you?” He moved my dark hair from my shoulder. “I like you … a lot.”