After our meal, the guests gathered back to the great hall and continued with their boring affair of passive gloating as they flaunted their respective wealth back and forth. Some couples took to the dance floor as the string quartet performed livelier music while the bachelorettes either watched in envy or attempted to bag a bachelor who was more or less interested in them. At least for the night.
There were a lot of vices to enjoy when you're a young, rich, well-bred, and single man in New York, one of those was the women. The only guy who never let himself taste such vices, let alone enjoy them, was my brother. One of the most eligible bachelors in the world and every socialite's dream boat.
He was surrounded by the desperate vultures and it was the only entertaining spectacle of this night, watching him get dragged to the dance floor by a successive roster of beautiful women and looking like he wanted to run away after the fifth number but was far too polite to reject a lady. Alas, he was saved by my father cutting off the music, much to my dismay.
"Vivien, darling, where are you?" I heard him call, turning around and about in the middle of the crowd with his back to a pile of gifts. The guests laughed in unison, humoring my father.
I was sitting at the top of the stairs, out of sight. My feet hurt too much and I didn't think I could have carried on another conversation without fainting while being suffocated by the wretched dress I was strapped into.
"I'm here. I'm here," I slurred as I stood, the wine and champagne starting to go into effect.
Jude came up to help me down, steadying me as he looped our arms together. I smiled at the guests when we reached the middle of the crowd that gathered around my father.
"It's time to open your gifts, darling!" he announced, grabbing my arm and giving it a firm grip, too firm for my comfort.
"Wonderful," I said as he led me to a chair and pushed my shoulders down so I could sit.
"Largest to smallest, I guess," Father directed at the guests and they laughed even more. He turned to me, handing me a box cutter. "Careful now."
I smiled, slipping my pocket knife from between my cleavage and whipping the blade out. I chuckled at the gasps and wide stares I got from the guests. I took the first box from the maid and read the card aloud.
"Every princess deserves a crown."
It was from Andre Gustav, the man I was officially in a relationship with and whom had no qualms feeding the public by making grandiose displays of affection. I couldn't stand the guy.
I tore the box open with a swift slash of my knife and unfolded the satin cloth wrapped around the diamond tiara. I dropped the thing back into the box, revolted by the gruesome image in my head of mining slaves bleeding, dying, and starving for this useless piece of crap. It was one thing to be forced to wear diamonds out of duty but to own such a thing was just beyond any despicable thing I could ever be capable of doing willingly. Fuck that shit.
While I was on the verge of vomiting, awed gasps and mumbling erupted from the crowd as they gossiped in hushed voices about how many karats the tiara was and that Andre's grandmother had worn this when she married the King of some insignificant European nation and then they started talking about how this might be a hint to Andre and I's supposed future nuptials. The man in question was approaching me, smiling his handsome smile. When he took the tiara and placed it atop my head, I wanted to cut his handsome face into pieces.
"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, embracing him. "I'm going to stab you if you don't get that thing off my fucking head," I whispered in his ear.
He drew back, smiling still. "You're welcome. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the world."
I was about to stab him when the photographer I've been hiding from all night from some magazine who had exclusive coverage for the party appeared in front of us, wielding his camera and demanding for us to look at him. I gritted my teeth as a series of quick flashes erupted, blinding me. I quickly turned my head away but he kept going while Andre did different poses, always one to take advantage of a photo-op.
In a panic, I glanced at Jude who was standing in front of the crowd and he made a gesture with his hand. Two men blocked the photographer's view and escorted him away immediately. I took a deep breath and removed the tiara from my head, placing it back in the box before handing it to the maid standing beside me.
I carried on opening more gifts, some of the guests just put a fat check addressed to the Lastor Foundation inside scented envelopes, the others ranging from China tea sets to a few dresses and shoes which I was sure were a size too small. Then there were a lot more jewelry from my family and a few bottles of scotch and wine, but what really made my night was Andrea's gift, of course.
"Alexandrea Allen," I announced, searching for her.
I spotted the shit eating grin on her face amongst the crowd and she blew me a kiss. "Cheers!" she exclaimed cheerfully while raising her glass.
I cut the box open and a fucking purple dildo with a cut-out of my face pasted on the tip of the cock popped out like a demented Jack-In-A-Box. I shot my head up and stared at my best friend in horror as she hollered beside her boy toy for the night while the guests gaped at me in disbelief.
"I'm going to kill her," I muttered to myself.
"Here. I'll just.... take that," the maid said, blushing furiously.
Recovering from Andrea's prank, I carried on opening the rest of the gifts. By the time I'd finished unwrapping every damn box there was on the table, my hands were sore and had dozens of paper cuts.
"Thank you so much for your presents, I really appreciate it everyone," I said as I stood.
It didn't take a minute for the guests to move along and start chatting again. I turned to the maid beside me and asked for a glass of champagne. I went back to my hiding place by the stairs and sat in relief. Finally no more 'come heres' for the rest of the night. This was the first time in years that I ever stayed through a party and didn't sneak out before dinner was served. Jude had better go through with the deal.
I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. I haven't had any decent sleep in five days and when I tried taking sleeping pills, I ended up blacking out most of the day after. I've just been consciously trying to keep myself from losing my fucking mind but it was hard enough that I wasn't sane to begin with.
"Why are you hiding?"
I shot my eyes open, glaring at the sight of Frederick standing at the foot of the stairs. "Just can't get away from me, can you?"
"You're the only interesting person in this party," he said with a shrug. "And I enjoy talking to you."
"You enjoy flirting with me," I muttered. "Tough luck though cuz I don't fuck Jude's friends."
"Well, even if Jude and I weren't friends, I wouldn't try sleeping with you," he said almost smugly.
I arched a brow at the claim. As if. "Look at me, and I mean look at me, and tell me you would be able to resist me if I was sprawled naked on your bed begging to be fucked."
He raked his eyes over me, swallowing hard as his obvious attraction towards me betrayed his gentlemanly principles.
"I'm just a man," he said, his voice low. When his gaze met mine, I felt myself burn with excitement. "And you, Miss Lastor, are a fucking goddess. It's a given that no one can resist you but-" He paused, letting out a soft breath before giving me an almost innocent smile. "- I'd rather not be used as a distraction for your boredom. So kindly stop messing with my head."
I chuckled lightly. "Whatever. Your loss."
"I'll live." He shrugged, coming up the stairs and sitting next to me. "So, why are you hiding?"
The maid arrived with my champagne and I eagerly took it. "I'm not hiding. I'm just-" I paused, downing the champagne in one breath. "-resting."
"Tell me something…"
"Boy, you don't quit, do ya?"
He chuckled before carrying on, "What's a girl who obviously hates attention doing with a guy who has made a career out of constantly being on the cover of a magazine?"
"I'm not with anyone," I bit out. "It's just for publicity. I barely know the guy."
"Well, that's pathetic."
I tilted my head to regard him. "Did you just insult me?"
He smiled. "I didn't. I called him pathetic for using you to gain fame."
I rolled my eyes. "It's not the worst thing anyone has used me for." I snapped my fingers repeatedly and the maid appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Get me a bottle."
She bowed and scurried away, returning moments later with an open bottle of champagne. I grabbed it, sighing as I took a large swig.
"You know, you're not quite the character I expected you to be," Frederick was saying as we watched me. "Your brother and I have known each other since our freshman year in Yale. You're supposedly a pretty wild thing, at least that's what he's told me."
"Well, I'm glad he speaks fondly of me," I muttered sarcastically, taking another swig from the bottle before handing it to him.
"He does actually, among other things that is." He leaned back, taking a swig while regarding me with a curious look. "What's your story, Angel Lastor?"
"God, drop it already. I don't fucking have one."
He gave me a look, that look again, is if he was trying to read me and I was growing to hate that look. "Yes, you do. You're nothing like your brother so far."
"Well... that's just pretty much it." I let out a deep breath, struggling to get air in with this ridiculous corset of a dress. "I'm Jude's walking contradiction."
I took the bottle from him and took three consecutive swigs. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to breathe properly. When I opened my eyes, Frederick was just staring at me. I could feel my breathing growing shallower as the dress tightened at every breath that I took and the discomfort of having someone look at me so intently was not appreciated at all.
He's playing with me, isn't he?
I slowly leaned in, closing the space between us till our faces were inches from each other. He drew back when our lips brushed together and I smiled before kissing him. I closed my eyes, gripping the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer to me. Sliding my tongue through his lips, I tasted him, so sweet and warm, it made me want to taste more of him.
He was stiff, as if afraid of making a move. I shifted, kneeling as I straddled either side of him before lowering myself to his lap. With a slow roll of my hips, he groaned, his hand slipping under my dress and sliding up my thigh, resting on my hip. He let out another groan at the realization I was naked underneath this dress, his fingers pulling at my bare skin as he squeezed me tight in his grip that had me pushing down against him.
His other hand slithered through my tresses, placing a gentle hand on the back of my head. He released a harsh breath, the heat fanning my skin and, as I felt my pulse flutter with excitement, I realized I wanted to take him. To burrow into every inch of him that I became everything to him. To bring him to the edge and then push him back in over and over again until he couldn't stand it. To make him beg and surrender himself to me. To own him so completely he'd be ruined for anyone else.
I haven't taken anyone in a while. No one was worth the effort. I've just been playing with the desperate fools who chased after me under a misguided illusion of devotion but none of them could entertain me long enough to remember their name. They were dull, pitiful, and worthless little things who saw me as some God to be worshipped blindly. I could have them without even wanting them, which made them worthless to me. But this guy... so gorgeous. So confident. So unwilling to back down. I could almost smile imagining how much I was going to enjoy breaking him and tearing him apart, but before I could set the game in motion, he hit the brakes and pulled away.
"This is wrong," he whispered, panting heavily. "So, so fucking wrong. You're Jude's sister."
"He doesn't have to know," I whispered back, nipping at his bottom lip.
"You're drunk."
"Barely," I said before kissing him again.
He groaned, drawing his head back and pulling his hand out of my skirt. "Jesus. You're gonna get me killed," he muttered, letting out a breath. "I can't."
"What's the point of flirting with me all night if you won't seal the deal?" I said in confusion.
He laughed shakily. "I wanted to get to know you. Not sleep with you." He looked at me, shaking his head. "I'm not that kind of guy."
Frowning, I held either side of his face, pressing our foreheads together. His eyes were hooded, lust darkening the blue. He couldn't hide it. No righteous man could. Lust was the most debilitating emotion a person could feel. It wasn't even truly an emotion, it was pure animalistic instinct, rendering one susceptible to influence and making them disregard morals and reason. And yet, this guy was able to hold onto his morals and see reason as he refused to let me intoxicate him with my influence.
Any guy would probably foam at the mouth if I so much as hinted that I wanted his cock inside me but this guy was fixing my dress to cover my decency after I'd literally pounced on him. I've never been rejected before and it was an odd feeling.
"You're turning down a night with me because you just want to know what my favorite color is?" I muttered in disbelief. "Are you Amish or some shit?"
"Jewish, actually." I gave him a flat look. "You know what? I'm just gonna say it." He licked his lips, looking at me with a sense of sincerity in his eyes that made me uneasy. "Do you wanna grab dinner with me some time?"
I laughed. "Fuck no."
"Oh. Okay." He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry. You must think I'm a complete idiot."
I frowned, looking at him intently. "You actually want to get to know me, huh?"
His brows furrowed. "Yeah. Does that surprise you?"
"Every guy who's ever talked to me only really wanted to fuck me." I tilted my head, raking my eyes over his face. "But you... you actually want to talk and... get to know me." I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of this man. "Are you a journalist? You want to sell a story about me, is that it?"
"What? No. I'm a doctor. I told you that already."
"Then why the hell do you want to get to know me so bad?"
He laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe it's because I have a feeling that you're actually not the person people are saying you are and I'd like to know who Angel Lastor really is beyond the name."
My face fell. "What makes you say that?"
He tilted his head, smiling solemnly as he brushed my cheek with gentle fingers. "Because I've been staring at you all night and whenever you think no one sees you, you become someone else. Someone so miserable it's like she's dying inside and I can't stand the thought of her faking every smile she makes for the rest of her life."
I let out a harsh breath, feeling so fucking terrified it was unreal. I wasn't one to be easily shaken and there was only one person in the world who could ever spark fear inside me but this guy, this guy terrified me on a completely different level because unlike my father, he had no interest in causing me pain. No, he wasn't going to do any of the things Father does to me. He was going to do the exact opposite of everything. I knew he would because so many people had already tried to before and they used to look at me the way Frederick was looking at me right fucking now. Like he wanted to take my pain away and make me whole again.
Aya ruined herself trying. Gramps spent every ounce of his strength attempting fix me. Maria died right before she could place the last piece of me. Jude had sacrificed his youth seeking my salvation to no avail. There were countless of others more who wanted to but upon meeting my demons, they either ran screaming for the door or were convinced I was hopelessly psychotic. In the end, they all left and I was still fucking broken.
I sighed, pressing my forehead to his. "Put your arms around me."
"What?"
I took his hands, placing them flat on my back. "Unzip me, Frederick." I closed my eyes, struggling to get another breath in. "Do it before I suffocate to death."
"What?" he repeated.
I snapped my eyes open, glaring at him. "Unzip me." He nodded uncertainly and obliged, slowly dragging the zipper down. "Now undo the knots of the corset."
He yanked the knots loose and I closed my eyes, taking in a gasp of breath. I clutched the dress to my chest as the corset finally came off. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me. It was only then did I realize that he wasn't breathing at all.
"Breathe, sweetheart. It's just a pretty face."
He took in a shaky breath, letting it out harshly. "Goddamn you're beautiful."
I shook my head. "Good night, Frederick," I whispered and kissed his nose before getting up.
"Uh, wait." He stood, reaching inside his jacket and producing a small box. "Happy Birthday."
I arched a brow, taking the box. "If this is some diamond crap, I'll-"
"It's not. Open it."
I sighed, rolling my eyes and tearing the box open. I frowned as I looked at the miniature piano keychain.
"I remembered you were a pianist so I thought you would like it," he mumbled, shrugging. "And I kinda didn't think you'd want anything expensive since you already have every possible material thing you could ever want in life. I would have put it in the pile but I got intimidated. Your boyfriend gave you a freaking tiara for crissake." He chuckled.
I swallowed, staring at the piano in my palm. "Andre isn't my boyfriend and I hate jewelry. Especially diamonds. Their only purpose is to give people an outlet to waste their money on while millions are victimized and forced into slavery just to mine those useless rocks. It's disgusting." I closed my eyes, sighing. "And I don't play the piano anymore."
"Oh, why?"
"Because I just don't." I opened my eyes, looking at him. "You're messing with my head and I'm gonna get away from you now because I don't like it when someone does that. Thanks for the gift. This might be the only thing I'll keep."
I walked up the stairs slowly, making sure I didn't miss a step as the alcohol tampered with my inhibitions. When I reached the top, I looked back at him. He was smiling.
"Happy Birthday, Angel."
I managed to smile. "Happy Valentines Day, Frederick," I said before turning to the direction of my room.
*********************
I laid on my bed, my consciousness returning as my high began to drift away. The relief I'd been yearning for all day felt akin to water being poured into a cracked bowl, never truly fulfilling. I was pondering on whether to take another hit when I realized my phone was ringing.
I rolled over, pushing through the sluggishness that lingered and picking up the call.
"Yo."
"I just got in my car. Where the hell are you?" Andrea said on the other line.
I rubbed my thumb over the needle mark the syringe had left on my skin. I dug my nail into the mark, hating myself for being so fucked up that only a shot of heroin could make everything better. It was pathetic and my fingers itched to dig open the faded scars on my wrists.
"Gel? Hello?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus. "I'm in my room. I'll meet you in a few minutes. Go drive around the back," I said before hanging up.
I went through my closet, looking for something to wear. I heard someone knocking on the door and I quickly put my robe on.
"What?"
"Open."
I flinched at the sound of my father's commanding voice and slowly opened the door. He stepped in and closed it behind him. He walked closer to me, bringing his face close to mine and sniffing.
"You reek of alcohol," he growled lowly, making me take a step away from him.
I bowed my head, swallowing hard when I caught sight of the belt in his hand. "I had a few glasses."
"You've been drinking yourself into stupor all night!" he snarled and I froze. "You think I didn't notice?! Do you know how rude and embarrassing that is? We planned all this for you and you humiliate us in return? How selfish could you possibly be?!"
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that I was high off a cocktail of drugs, perhaps both, but I was actually stupid enough to talk back.
"I didn't want this party in the first place!"
His eyes went dark and he swung his arm, hitting me across the chest with the belt.
"You ungrateful whore!"
He started beating me with the belt, leaving swollen marks all over every inch of skin he hit. He shoved me to the wall and yanked my robe off to lash at my back. I didn't make a sound and just took the hits. I zoned out his loud growls and curses and closed my eyes, waiting for him to grow tired.
After a while, I barely felt anything but I could feel blood trickling down my skin as the buckle tore at my flesh. When beating me with the belt wasn't enough anymore, he started beating me with his fists. I kept myself curled into a ball, covering my head. My lips were pressed tightly together as my whimpers became hard to hide as the pain grew harder to ignore. I didn't know when Jude came in the room but I only noticed his presence when he was holding me in his arms, cursing our father and screaming at him to get away.
He headed for the door, saying something that I didn't hear before slamming the door shut. Jude fussed over me, asking if Father broke anything and trying to tend to my injuries. I pushed him away and forced myself to get on my feet.
I wrapped my arms around my naked and bruised body, keeping my eyes down. "Get out."
"Let me-"
"I said get the fuck out!" I screamed.
He sighed. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks, now everything's magical again and I got rainbows and sunshine shooting out of my ass," I spat sarcastically, glaring at him. "Just get out. I can handle myself."
With a rueful look, he went to the door. The moment it closed, I broke down, covering my mouth to keep my cries from being heard. I staggered to the bathroom, falling in a heap under the shower and letting the water wash off the blood. I trembled from the cold, each cut on my body stinging from the relentless pummeling of water. When I finally managed to pick myself up, I quickly got dressed, choosing one with long sleeves along with thigh high boots to hide the evidence of my indignity. Once I finished doing my makeup, I was perfect again.
I smiled.
"We're okay," I told the girl in the mirror.
My phone was ringing and I answered it. "Where the fuck are you? I've been sitting here for forever!" Andrea screeched on the other side.
"I'm sorry, I just had to make sure," I murmured, getting up from the vanity. "I'm on my way down. Bye."
Slowly, I opened the door, trying hard not to make a sound as I headed down the stairs. When I finally got off the stairs, I let out a breath and started sprinting to the main kitchen, the staff who were washing the dishes halting with plates in their hands as I entered. I put a finger in front of my lips, shushing them as I opened the back door. I saw Andrea parked just across the street and I sprinted towards her car, quickly jumping into the passenger seat.
"Go.. go.. go.. go.. go," I said hurriedly as I shut the door.
And now here I was at 3:40 in the morning, at some street in the Lower East Side, alone and drunk and high.
I muched the chips I tossed in my mouth and downed it with another can of beer. Ah! Life! How fucking perfect.
"Angel!" a voice called from the car stopped across the street.
I tilted my head and grinned at the sight of Jude. "Hello, dear brother!"
He strode out of the car, marching towards me and yanking me to my feet. "Come on."
"Wait, where's my fries?"
"Are you kidding me? Just get in the car." He shoved me to move and I stumbled. He cursed under his breath. "When are you going to stop doing this to yourself, Gel?"
"When are you going to let me fucking die, Jude?"
His jaw clenched but he said nothing. I scoffed, shoving him aside and heading to his car. I got in, wiping the unbidden tears that tried to escape my eyes. Jude got in the driver's seat, sitting in silence for a moment while holding the steering wheel in a tight grip.
"I'm sorry."
I laughed humorlessly. "Of course, because if you apologize enough it might make my fucking world a better place," I spat sarcastically. "Just drive."
"Gel…"
"Don't worry," I said, smiling brightly. "It was a quick one. He didn't even break my ribs this time."
He looked anguished, blaming himself for my suffering as usual. What a fucking joke.
We spent the drive in silence and he followed me to my room, taking a seat on a lounge chair by the fire place. He always did this after a beating, as if guarding me would make things better. It didn't. Nothing can make this better besides death. Only death.
I walked towards my bed, bending over to reach under the bed where I had instructed the maid to hide the liquor I received as presents.
"Little Angel, please don't," I heard Jude plead in a quiet voice.
"Make the pain stop and I won't."
"How?" he asked helplessly. "Tell me how and I will."
"You know how." I turned, looking at him through the darkness. "I breathe for you. I suffer for you. I bear all this pain for you. You own every part of my existence and only you can grant me release from the burden of living for you."
"I can't," he cried. "You're asking for too much."
"All I'm asking for is mercy, brother."
"No," he whispered. "You're asking for death."
I laughed weakly. "At this point, what's the difference?"
I opened the bottle and took a swig, screwing my eyes shut as I chugged it down to a half. I nearly threw up but I kept it down, desperately trying to make the pain go away but it wouldn't. It just fucking wouldn't. It made so angry.
I dropped to my knees, embracing myself as I let myself break down. This time, I let him hear my pain.