Page 56 of Scars of Silk

“He was so tortured. I saw Will in his depths, that silence that used to emanate from him. Dan had it too. Like he was waiting for everything to come crashing down and then surprised when it didn’t. Do you remember the day Will passed his A-levels? He almost looked disappointed he hadn’t managed to fail himself. Dan looked like that when he woke up that morning. He looked surprised, but not relieved.” I pause, my heart sinking. “He was so handsome once he was up and about, Mum. That smile. God, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. It just spoke to me. And the way he kept calling me darling, because he knew it pissed me off, when really…” I run out of words there. Mum doesn’t need to know how when he called me darling, his voice dripping with latent sarcasm, it make me hot on the inside and wanton on the outside.

No, my mother definitely doesn’t need to know that.

“Maybe it would have been nice to have him around a few more days.” I shrug to myself. “I’d love to have known about all his tattoos. He was like a masterpiece. I probably should have told him.”

Mum’s fingers squeeze mine and I stop talking. There in the small hospital room, with the air warm and stuffy, I let go of my wild dreams of Dan Smith and the brush of the Brighton sea against my skin and that wild and hot sensation of freedom.

I let them go and then I focus on the room and what my family need of me.

“Sienna, you look truly fabulous.” I hold in a breath as Scott Harrington leans in towards me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I don’t want to smell if he has alcohol on his breath. I’d rather not know if he had to be drunk to see me.

“Sorry, my secretary was a bit muddled. I was working on a case and didn’t know how long it would take.”

I keep my smile in place. He doesn’t need to know that I slept on a high-backed chair in a hospital last night.

“You’ll be pleased to give it all up won’t you when you get married?”

Honestly, what century do these men my father finds me live in? “Well, probably not at first.”

“So tell me. We didn’t have time to speak, what with all that unfortunate business with your brother.” He rubs his hand on his knees. “I apologise if I made you uncomfortable. I genuinely had no idea.”

“No one does, Scott. My father had it all hushed up.”

“So there are people out there who have no idea Will is dead?”

“Not close people, not family friends. I mean the Faircloughs for example came to Will's funeral. Elijah was a rock to me then.”

Scott leers a little, but I ignore it.

“Well,” he blusters. “It’s probably best if something like that is kept quiet. Scandal when it gets out can be damaging.”

“Damaging for who?” I take a tiny sip of my champagne. I don’t really want to drink, I rarely do.

“Well, everyone. The papers pick up on these things, and you, little Sienna Richards are quite high profile.”

I grimace and take another sip. This one longer. “You mean my social status?”

“Fascinating.”

“What’s fascinating? The fact I’m known as a socialite and no one knows that I actually work hard for a living, and more than that, I care about what I do?"

“Ah, but Sienna, darling.” I scowl at his overfamiliarity. “You don’t have to work. Your father has told me about your trust fund and the fact you have half of Will’s too already in line for your own children.”

“He had no right to share that information with you.”

“Well we’ve discussed finances, taking into allowance what more would be transferred over to me should we marry.”

My mouth flaps open. The champagne isn’t going to be enough. I wave at a waiter and motion him over. The staff at The Ritz are always keen to please. It had been Elijah’s idea to suggest this as a venue for my rendezvous with Scott. Once he’d got over laughing at the fact I was meeting Slimy Scott in the first place. But then I’d told him about Mum and his laughter had stopped pretty damn quick.

I order a whisky without asking Scott what he wants. I’m sure he’s had enough, anyway.

He merely chuckles at my behaviour like I’m some child who needs calming down. Maybe a time out followed by some strict guidelines on how to behave in an appropriate manner.

My memory skips back to the way Dan had made me remove my clothes in his living room the other night. He got it. I don’t need to be told what to do. I like to be told what to do in certain situations.

Scott here would never have the balls to Google dominant sexual practices to learn what I like. He’d just assume he’d know.

“Anyway, anyway, we are getting way ahead of ourselves. Nothing is set in stone yet,” he said, but the florid tinge on his cheeks tell me that everything about this is set in stone. I’m an investigator, this is what I do. I read people. And sadly, Scott Harrington has as much depth as a 'celeb' magazine.