Page 29 of Scars of Silk

She shuts the door without another word and my stomach crashes to my feet. Fuck, if Vinny finds out this was to do with me, I’m a dead man walking.

But isn’t that what I wanted? Isn’t that why I’ve been getting in that ring, anyway?

So why the fuck is it the worst news I’ve had in a while? I listen to the sound of Sienna’s car starting outside. Why does her leaving seem worse? Why do I even care? She’s no one, just a casual shag? Just a onetime shag. I need to forget about her.

Fuck.

Fuck it to everything.

Eight

Sienna

Scott Harrington… As I pull the car up alongside my parents Surrey home, I try to remember what little facts I can about him. High achiever, but not naturally. He always had that air of desperation around him.

I don’t remember him being natural about anything. He kissed me once, but the less I thought about that night the better.

I shut the door on the Mercedes, staring at it balefully. It’s fair to say I’d do anything to jump back in and drive as fast as I could anywhere. In the moment, I’d be tempted by a Thelma and Louise dive off a cliff.

I knock on the door, although I have my own emergency key hanging on my keyring.

The door opens and I smile up at my mother. She’s immaculate in a pale-blue silk shirt and cream skirt, her feet wedged into cream court shoes. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re on time.” Her gaze skims over my black blouse, pencil skirt and knee-high boots and I know she’s assessing whether my outfit will meet my father's standards.

I smile and lean in to kiss her on the cheek, careful not to disturb her make-up. “Am I ever late?”

She titters a laugh and loops her hand through my arm. “Never. You’re a good girl. It’s why your daddy loves you so much.”

I hold in a groan at the fact she still insists on calling him “daddy” for me. It’s been about a million years since I last called him that. But I don’t say anything.

“He loves me because I come to dinner every week and he likes to hear all the gossip I can give him.”

She nods and smiles, but the stretch of her lips is the same as it always is—just a fraction too tight. “Thank you for rescheduling this week.” Her tone lowers. “And for today. I know you hate this.”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze her arm tighter to my tummy. “You know I always will."

She sweeps a gaze over my face and I hate the window of desolation and loneliness I see in the depths of her eyes. They remind me a little of Dan’s. I spent my whole drive up the motorway trying not to think about him. He had another woman to call, and that’s okay with me. Of course, it is… he’s too young for me, not the right type of guy for me. And he reminds me of someone who hurt me. Maybe I shouldn’t go back. I definitely shouldn’t go back. As soon as dinner is over, I’ll ring a hotel and book a room.

“You look lovely, Sienna.” Mum leads me into the kitchen where Greta the cook is stirring a saucepan at the hob.

“Thank you. You should have seen what I had on earlier.” I chuckle a little but don’t elaborate. What would be the point?

“Scott and Daddy are in the drawing room.”

Just shoot me. Someone.

“How is Scott?”

“Lovely, what a handsome man. I know he’s keen to work with your father on an investment. I’m sure you will both have plenty of time to spend together.”

“Marvellous. Shall we go through?” I watch and bite my lip as mum straightens herself up and puts on a tight smile.

“Yes, let's. How lovely. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

I cast her a side eye. Sometimes, I want to shake the woman. Want to wake her up, tell her there are other things out there. Other paths, other futures, and that they are all ours for the taking. But I don’t. My thoughts travel to hard muscles and tattoos. My body warms, tingling its way down into my underwear.

Jeez. The last thing I need is to walk in there all flustered and repressed and give Scott the wrong idea. As mum pulls on the handle of the sitting room and I can hear my father's booming laughter from the other side of the door, I pull myself together—it’s all I can do. It’s what Richards do.

I need to not think about the Dan from last week when he was in between my legs and filling me up with every dark craving I have. Instead I need to remember him being an arsehole this morning. And then I need to goddamn forget about him. For good.