“Arthur—”
“You were the good thing, princess,” he said, cutting me off. “You were the one good thing I had been given.” But now that’s gone, I finished for him, knowing that was his meaning. I brought his mouth up to mine and kissed him. I kissed him softly and lovingly, exactly like I had wanted to for years. And if this was truly it, I had nothing to lose. Arthur kissed me back, and I replayed his words in my head—I will become the devil on earth.
I didn’t believe he could ever be the devil.
I wasn’t naïve. I knew he had a darkness in him that I had never reached, that, frankly, was terrifying. But up until now it had been a mere fragment of the boy I had been obsessed with since the age of thirteen. A part of him that I had been exempt from knowing, except in the bedroom. The way he fucked was depraved. The way he kissed me was savage and revealed that he was made of anything but good and light. But he was still mine. That was my Arthur, one I cherished and, over the years, never wanted to lose.
I didn’t know what Arthur Adley, boss of the Adley crime syndicate, looked like. I didn’t know him as that man in that role. And I knew by his tone that I would never find out.
So I kissed and kissed him until my lips were bruised and he fell asleep in my arms. I stared down at him and wondered what path lay ahead of him. As I stroked his hair, the four-carat engagement ring Hugo had given me less than forty-eight hours ago glared back at me. In that moment, that ring seemed more menacing than Arthur could ever be.
I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be Hugo’s wife. But I didn’t know how to be anything other than Cheska Harlow-Wright, daughter of the Harlow dynasty, and soon to be spouse of Hugo and socialite of Chelsea.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think of my life’s bigger questions. I knew this time with Arthur was limited, and I strived to stay in the now. To hold on to this for as long as I could.
His body was warm on top of mine, his heavy weight keeping me calm. I still felt the echo of him inside me, of his tongue and his hands that had imprinted on my skin.
And I prayed the evidence would never fade.
A cool breeze slapped against my skin. I blinked, and the room slowly came into focus. My bedside lamp was on, and the events of the day slowly filtered into my brain.
Arthur … Arthur!
I scrambled to sit up and saw Arthur’s naked back. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, spine straight and shoulders tensed. I looked over to my clock; it read nine in the evening. We had fallen asleep and slept the day away.
Remembering how upset Arthur had been, I reached out and ran my fingers down his spine. He tensed, and I pulled my hand back. I felt more than the cold breeze wash over me. Arthur got to his feet and began to dress. I sat up, keeping my duvet wrapped around me.
“Arthur,” I whispered, my softly spoken words shattering the stillness.
Arthur wiped his glasses on his jumper, placed them back on his face, then slowly turned around. I immediately wished he hadn’t. Gone were the soft eyes that had fallen apart on me last night, trusted me with his need for comfort. In their place were chilling obsidian stones. Cold and darkness were the only things that lurked in their depths.
And, tomorrow, I will become the devil on earth. Those words ran on a loop inside my head. He was no longer drunk, and now he was sober, those words seemed to ring true. I knew every inch of this man’s face. I’d committed each mole and scar on his skin to memory. I knew his eyes—the looks, the pensive and the warm, the humorous and the hurt. This stare, this haunting and brutally aggressive stare, was nothing I’d ever witnessed before.
“Arthur,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat. “You’re upset. Please, I can help—”
“I’m not your problem anymore, princess.” He threw me a dark smirk. I lived for his smiles. But this smirk was one I wished I’d never been awarded. It was dismissive. It was patronising. And it made me feel cheap.
Arthur leaned down to the bed, and I wondered what he was going to do. He finally picked up my left hand and nudged his arrogant chin in the direction of the diamond. “I see it finally happened.” He tossed away my hand, and it fell to the mattress with a thud. He grabbed his wallet and phone and made his way to the door. Tears built in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall.
“Congrats, princess,” he said, and I met his eyes. “Seems like the white knight got you after all. Have fun in your fucking ivory tower.” He opened the door, and I reached out for his hand. I wrapped my fingers around his, praying he would hold mine back. Arthur stopped in his tracks, but without looking my way, he tossed my hand away and left.
And I knew. I knew that would be the last time I would ever see him. The Arthur I had known had died, and in his place was this cold devil he warned me he would become.
The boy I loved had sold his soul to evil. And even as I walked to my window and watched his driver usher him away, I felt as thought my heart was in that car with him. He may not have wanted it. May have hated the very thought of it. But it was his regardless. Even if I never saw him again, it was his.
I believed it had been since birth, and forever would be.
Chapter Six
CHESKA
Thirteen months later
Hugo pressed a kiss to my cheek and sat down opposite me. He gave me a fleeting smile before he checked his mobile. “Problem?” I asked, as the waitress dropped off my gin and tonic.
“No, just work stuff,” he said, but I watched him closer as the waitress placed his IPA before him. He’d been acting sketchy of late, and I didn’t know why. We were due to get married in less than a month. My stomach rolled at that fact. It was here. Just around the corner. I was actually marrying Hugo. It had always been on the cards, but having it come to fruition was surreal.
“Hello, children.” My dad took his seat in between me and Hugo. “You okay, Ches?” he asked me in his usual tight-lipped way. I loved my dad. I truly did. But it was no secret that he had never been the warm and loving father most people got to experience. My mum had been the affectionate parent. My father was a businessman through and through, and that occupied all of his time. Family had always been an afterthought to him. I knew he loved me. But I wasn’t his entire world and never had been.
“Are you ready for the wedding?” Dad asked me. The waitress placed his sandwich and latte on the table before him.
“I pick up the dress next week. Other than that, everything is sorted.” I sipped at my soup. “It’s my hen do this weekend. Arabella and Freya have it all planned. I have no idea what we’re doing.”
“Sounds nice,” my father said dismissively and patted my hand. He turned to Hugo. “I’ve just got off the phone to …” I zoned out as Dad started talking Hugo’s ear off about work. I found myself watching the other people at the café. My dad had made it clear that, despite having a master’s in business from Oxford and desires to join the Harlow Biscuit empire, it wasn’t my place.
I fought off my rising ire and refocused on the couples and families, all smiling and happy as they caught up over lunch. I wondered what it would be like to be them for a moment. To be that excited to see one’s parents or siblings. We had money, and I had never wanted for anything. But all the riches in the world couldn’t make up for the emotional poverty that came with lack of familial affection.