Scarred by You Page 26

  I zap the car as we walk away and slip my hand into hers. “I’ll ask you that in a couple of hours.”

  She smiles and nudges into my shoulder as if I’m joking.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” I tell her, watching her cheeks flush almost to the colour of her blouse.

  She rubs her skirt as if there’s something on it and squeezes my fingers tighter as her heels dig into the gravel, making her walk to the porch unsteadily.

  At the door, I pull her waist to mine and drop my forehead to hers. “What if I said I don’t want to share you yet?”

  “I’d probably ask what’s wrong with me.”

  I smile as I press my lips to hers, because that’s exactly what she’d say. I pull her tighter to me and dissolve into her kiss, just as the front door is pulled open.

  “Nice entrance, bud!”

  She tries to pull away from me, but I inhale slowly, keeping her close just a second longer before opening my eyes. “Dayna, meet my kid brother, Spencer.”

  She holds out her hand and looks startled when Spencer goes straight in for a hug.

  And so it begins.

  “Alright, Spence, that’s enough,” I say. He releases Dayna and punches me in the arm, running inside before I can pull him into a headlock.

  “He’s home from uni for the weekend,” I say, feeling the need to justify again why I’ve dragged her here. She smiles nervously and tucks her hair behind her ear.

  I hang up her coat and take her hand, leading her to the lounge. My tension dissipates as soon as I see Kathryn sitting on the sofa with her boyfriend, Joe. Kathryn stands, and I turn to Dayna to make the introduction, but she’s busy looking up at the high, grand ceiling and ridiculously over-the-top crystal chandelier.

  “Dayna, baby, this is my twin sister, Kathryn.”

  Her brown eyes light up and her mesmerising smile pulls on her lips as she extends a hand to my sister. “It’s so nice to meet you, Kathryn.”

  “And you, although I confess I only found out you existed yesterday,” Kathryn says, playfully knocking into my side.

  “Nice to know you’ve been talking about me,” Dayna says with a pout that I think is more playful than pissed off. I tuck her under my arm and quickly kiss her temple. I have no idea whether that’s an appropriate thing to do, but I don’t care. I can’t get enough of her.

  As Joe introduces himself, Spencer bursts into the room, his jaw working through a mouthful of something he’s stolen from the kitchen.

  “You could have made an effort, Spence,” I snipe as I take a seat on the sofa with Dayna. “Have you even showered?”

  He looks at his checked shirt, open and hanging loose over a white t-shirt. His jeans look worn, and his wrists are full of leather and rubber bracelets. His sandy-blond hair looks like he’s just crawled out of bed, and he hasn’t bothered to shave. He slops down into a chair, hanging a leg over the arm.

  “Dress up for you? You shitting me? I’ll shower right before I go out tonight. Chicks seem grateful for a clean dick.”

  I hold back a laugh, but Dayna giggles, giving me the green light to go ahead.

  “Is that your chat-up line, Spence?” Dayna asks, leaning forwards to take an olive from a ramekin on the coffee table.

  “I don’t need a line, Dayna. They just have to look at me.”

  We all banter back and forth, Kathryn and Joe joining in the fight. I slip my arm across the back of the sofa behind Dayna and cross my ankle over my opposite thigh, finally relaxing. I shouldn’t have worried; Dayna has enough sass to hold her own.

  “Clark, darling, good afternoon.”

  My mother has gone to town, playing up to appearances. She floats into the room, her arms out wide, pearls draped around her neck and hanging low on her tailored dress.

  Kathryn rolls her eyes at me before I stand and hug my mother. “How are you, Mother?”

  She pinches my cheek hard and turns my head left then right. “I’d be better if you came here more often than when your brother’s home. Now, where is this beautiful girlfriend I’ve heard so much about?”

  Massive exaggeration based on the three-minute phone call earlier in the week when I first mentioned Dayna.

  “I think Clark might be biased,” Dayna says bashfully as she stands.

  My mother holds her by the shoulders and looks over her, head to toe, in a way that makes my blood boil. “Nonsense, you are just divine. What do you do, Dayna?”

  “I’m in oil, actually. I rotate positions right now because I’m still training up.”

  My mother lifts her eyes to the ceiling over-dramatically. “Another one. Well, I’m sure you’ll fit right in with Harold. Who, incidentally, is going to be late. Apparently his golf game was delayed teeing off or some such, and one of the men playing is particularly slow. We’ll start; come on everyone, let’s go to the dining room. Elspeth is almost ready to serve.”

  We file out of the lounge behind the matriarch, but I tug Dayna’s hand and keep her back behind the others. “We’ll get out of here as soon as we can.”

  “No, it’s fine, I’m enjoying myself. Your brother is home; you should see him.”

  “Why do you have that look in your eye, like I’ve done something wrong?”

  “I just wonder why you didn’t tell your family about me?”

  I take hold of her face. “You’ve seen the best of them so far, trust me. I just wanted to keep you to myself, in our bubble. Is that so bad?”

  Her lips curve upwards, and she shakes her head.

  “You’re incredible,” I tell her before kissing her deeply. I just can’t ever sate my need for her.

  We sit around the large walnut table in the dining room, and Elspeth serves a lunch of sea bream and vegetables. Conversation is easy between my brother, my sister and Dayna. My mother even starts to relax and doesn’t perform at her usual level of show-off.

  I hear the front door open and close, then my father’s footsteps coming down the hall. “I’m going to change!” he shouts, not bothering to come into the dining room. He knows Spencer is home, he knows I’ve brought my girlfriend to meet the family for the first time, yet the wanker doesn’t bother even dipping his head around the door to apologise.

  Dayna must feel my temper flare, because she rests a hand on my knee and squeezes gently until I look at her. “It’s okay”, she mouths.

  I take her hand and raise it to my lips. I respect my father for everything he is. The head of the house, an astute businessman. I fucking despise him for everything he’s not.

  Our plates are almost empty by the time my father, the mighty Harold Layton, graces us with his presence.

  He takes a seat at the head of the table and looks at my mother at the opposite end. “Tell Elspeth I’m ready.”

  “I’m here, sir. Your lunch.”

  Elspeth places my father’s plate in front of him and pours him a glass of wine. He takes a bite and subtly nods to Elspeth, then turns to Spencer at his side. “Hello, son.”

  I’m seething.

  “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Dayna.”

  He looks up and finishes chewing as he stares at Dayna. “I recognise you,” he says. Not “nice to meet you”, “pleasure to see you”, not even “hello”.

  Dayna clears her throat and nods. “You might have seen me at a conference, perhaps. I also work in the oil industry.”

  My father stops eating, places his fork down and dabs the side of his mouth with a napkin. My skin starts to prickle, and my fists clench beneath the table.

  “Is that right? Who do you work for?”

  “Subsea Petroleum.”

  “And what do you do?”

  “I’m rotating at the moment. I finish my last role in a few weeks and I’m going into operations management. My father owns the company.”

  “Cross?”

  My mother coughs then takes a gulp of wine. Dayna flicks her eyes to her, then back to my father.

  “Yes, Roger Cross. I’m Dayna Cross.”

&n
bsp; My father finishes his meal without speaking, and the conversation at the table is minimal. Dayna turns her wine glass in her fingers, obviously uncomfortable. I hold her hand beneath the table, but she’s subdued.

  After lunch, the others head into the lounge, but my father asks, or rather instructs, me to speak with him. If he hadn’t got in first, I would have demanded to speak with him and ask him why he was a complete, utter arsehole the first time he met my girlfriend. The only time he’s met a girlfriend of mine.

  We head into the library. My father closes the door before moving to stand in front of me, tall and broad — not quite as tall and broad as me, but a big man. “This is the first and last time you will bring a Cross into my house.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I will not have a Cross under this roof.”

  “How can you say that? What’s Dayna ever done to you?”

  “It’s not the girl, it’s her father and SP. I won’t have the Layton name associated with scum like Cross. And you won’t be associated with his daughter.”

  “I’ll do what I goddamn want.”

  My father shocks me, reaching out and grabbing my throat. I have to fight not to punch the bastard in the face. “Do you know how that man is talked about in the industry? Do you?”

  “Take your fucking hands off me.” I ram my hands against his chest.

  “You are being trained to take over Layton Oil. You are my son, and you will continue the Layton name in the business. I will not let you ruin everything I’ve built by dragging our name down to the filth that is Cross. You’ll end this thing you have going on with that girl.”

  I laugh and rub my face. “No fucking way. You’ve lost it, old man. You’ve fucking lost it.”

  His face flames red and the vein at his temple protrudes. “Layton Oil. Our name. Your position at the helm of my company one day. Is it worth losing it all to fuck that girl?”

  My entire body tenses, and my words leave me as a snarl. “If you weren’t my father I would tear you up.” My fists ball at my sides. “Don’t ever speak about her like that. She’s not just a fuck, not even close.”

  He laughs ominously, throwing his head back. “That’s all you know, boy, fucking women. You’re a reprobate. Fighting, getting drunk, gambling away your money. It will take everything in my power to convince a board to listen to you one day. This stops, now. You’re going to grow up, Clark, and accept your responsibilities as my eldest son.”

  “What if I don’t want it?”

  “You’d pick that girl you’ve known two minutes over everything you’ve always wanted, that we’ve always wanted? You’d choose her over your own family?”

  I take a breath, and my shoulders sag on its release.

  “I don’t see why it has to be one or the other?”

  “Yes, you do. You know what people think of Cross. Cheap. Dirty. It’s not worth throwing everything away, son. You have to get your priorities right. You need to focus on what’s right for the company, and you have to start becoming a man who can lead. Focus on that, not a relationship you’ll fuck up anyway. She’ll find you out, son, all your bad habits. Then she’ll leave. Are you willing to risk all that we’ve worked towards for a few weeks with that girl before she sees what you really are?”

  I hate him. I hate him because he’s right. I’m not good enough for Dayna. I’ve known it from day one. And when she finds out who I really am, she’ll leave.

  Rage burns my eyes, and I charge out of the room. When I see her, laughing with Kathryn in the lounge, I feel more inadequate than ever. She’s perfect, and I’m anything but.

  “We have to go,” I tell her, offering my hand.

  “Can’t you stay for coffee?” Kathryn pleads. “Spencer just came home.”

  I grip Dayna’s hand and pull her towards me. “Not this time. Come on.”

  I drive too fast back to the city, my father’s words replaying through my head. I don’t care what shit he said about Cross being underhand or cost-cutting. I’d deal with that. I could get around that. I could marry her, make her a Layton. People would forget she was even a Cross, because she’d be mine.

  But me fucking things up… I can’t bear the thought of that. I could never hurt her.

  “What’s going on, Clark?”

  I glance to her and look away quickly. Looking at her makes it worse somehow.

  When we reach her apartment I keep the engine running.

  “You’re not staying?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Not tonight, baby.” It’s all I can say before my voice breaks.

  That look on her face right now, that’s what I have to avoid. I’ve known for four weeks that I’m not the right man for her. That I’m not worthy of or ready for something as precious as her. My father just brought it home. She waits, her eyes pleading with me, and damn it, I’m close to caving. Then she’s out of the car, slamming the door and heading to her apartment.

  I grip the steering wheel, staring at the closed door, then I shift the car into gear and speed off. As I drive, I bite the knuckles of my fist, digging my teeth into my flesh until it’s the only pain I feel.

  Back at my apartment, I fumble with my keys in the lock. By the time I’ve opened the door, I’m ready to kick the thing down. I settle for slamming it behind me and pressing my back against it, sliding to the floor.

  I’m not who she needs. I’m not what anyone needs. I’m a fucking train wreck.

  My father’s red face and bulging sinews come to mind. He knows what I am. And he’s not wrong about the Cross name being dirt. It would pull me down, too. But right now, I couldn’t give a damn. All I can think about is how she makes me feel. Like I can breathe, like I could be a better man, be wanted by somebody for the first time.

  Even if I could be the man I want to be for her, Harold will make her life hell. He’d make our life hell. He’s made his feelings clear. I can’t be with Dayna Cross. He’d ruin her career before it even got started.

  I don’t know what love is, but this feeling in my chest makes me think I’m finding out.

  I head to the bathroom to clean up my face but find myself staring into the mirror at the reflection of a waster. I rear my fist and smash it into the glass, already too hurt to feel the pain shooting through my hand. I brace myself on the sink and try to breathe through my anger, but all I see is her toothbrush, her spare bottle of perfume.

  I walk through to my bedroom. The bed that she’s slept in, the bed I’ve lain her in to make love to her.

  I make a beeline for the kitchen and pull out a bottle of Jack, but I don’t pour it. I stare at it. This is half the fucking problem—drink, women. I launch the bottle against the kitchen wall and it shatters, spilling out across the tiles.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  I get back in my car, fighting against the fog across my eyes. I don’t know where I’m going. I’m not thinking straight. My head is an ugly concoction of anger and desperation. I’m standing on a ledge and there’s no way back.

  I have to fall.

  I only realise I’ve driven to her when I’m sitting outside Dayna’s apartment block, staring at the door she slammed just hours ago.

  She buzzes me in, and I head straight up to her apartment, a darkness settling over me, adding to how much I want to beat the shit out of something.

  She answers the door, wearing a short black robe, her hair pulled across her shoulder, her skin clean and fresh. She’s outstanding.

  “Hi,” she whispers.

  “Hi.”

  She reaches down and takes my hand. “What happened?”

  “I got in a fight with my reflection.”

  Her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn’t press me. She’s seen me lose it once before, when a guy dared to lay a finger on her in a bar. I close my eyes and try not to picture her with another man when I’m gone.

  I thought about what I’m going to say, how I’m going to end this, as I trudged the stairwell up here. Now, seeing her, I’ve forgo
tten everything.

  She steps back from the door and holds it open.

  “I should go.”

  “You just got here.”

  I stand motionless, my legs not carrying me either way.

  “What if I asked you to stay?”

  I step inside, close the door and press her back against the wall, wrapping the ends of her hair around my fingers.

  “What happened today, Clark? Talk to me.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut until they stop stinging.

  “I can’t. And I can’t be here. I’m too angry.”

  “Let me help you, Clark. Let me be what you need.”

  I drop my forehead to hers. “I’m afraid to let you see me.”

  Her touch against my cheek is soft, tender and so goddamned welcome. I’m going to miss it. God, I want to smack something. I want to beat the shit out of my father. Tear his face off. Beat him until he can’t walk or talk.

  Dayna presses her lips to mine. It’s gentle, like the kind of man she wants me to be. A man I’m not.

  I pull away, take one look into those wide brown eyes then crash my mouth against hers, yanking her hair and lifting her hips around my waist.

  I carry her, walking her backwards into the lounge which is set up for a night in — wine, book, candles. It smells like her, sweet vanilla. The scent doesn’t soothe me, it breaks me.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her, grating the words through my teeth as I sit her down on the sofa.

  She lifts my face to hers. “Do what you need to do.”

  I push her back and peel the silk from her chest, taking a nipple and biting down, too hard. She only squirms.

  I pull the belt of her robe and open it, letting my hands roam across her breasts, her stomach, digging my fingertips into her thighs. Unable to control everything I’m feeling. Not able to think straight but knowing how much I need her.

  I part her knees and crawl between them. She sits up, unbuttoning my shirt and doing exactly what I need her to do, biting down on my pec, hurting me, giving me what I deserve. Killing the other pain I feel right below the spot she’s digging her teeth into.

  I lift her hips towards me and suck her clit, moving my tongue down, tasting her excitement, readying her. I don’t waste time, freeing myself from my jeans but not taking them off. I have to be inside her.