Had I been like Knightly earlier with Amelia, even though I wouldn’t dare to lay a hand on a female, she could’ve gotten hurt through words. You see, I had a lot of resentment, so considering that, I had a let go of a lot of aggression, but I would attempt to hold it back until she gave birth.
Even though I had a lot of colorful things to say to Amelia, I couldn’t hide behind the fact that I, too, was a reckless moron who had succumbed to a scathing woman with different intentions. Though at that time, I’d had no idea she had been involved with Knightly months before. She was in love with him, but the moment Sienna became more than a friend, Knightly didn’t have eyes for anyone else. Amelia, distraught and broken from losing the man she was in love with, had thought it would be the ultimate revenge to spite Knightly by dating me. And dear, old, idiotic me hadn’t had a clue that she used to shag my best friend until that eventful Christmas week in France.
It had been an absolute shock. I had not dated anyone that was Knightly’s before; the same went with him towards me. It was a respect thing—a code between brothers that shouldn’t be crossed. Not only had I been ashamed to have Lucy see me with another woman, I’d also had to come to terms with the fact that Amelia had used me to get to him.
I had apologized profusely to Knightly about my mishap, however he hadn’t been worried about that. In fact, he had been more worried about her conniving behavior. He’d warned me about her, and I had paid heed… for a while anyway. Nevertheless, after weeks on end, I had become lonely again. So, when she’d spotted me drunk and belligerent, she had immediately come on to me. At the time, I had been drunk, lonely and hadn’t been thinking with the right brain. That one night was all it had taken to bring me all these nightmares—one fucking night.
I had made tons of mistakes, but I was trying to fix it all. I just hoped that it wasn’t too late.
One could only hope.
Chapter 8
Toby
“You ought to celebrate your impending freedom, mate,” Clive Barrington said as he handed me a glass of cognac.
Impending freedom… was still just impending. God only knew how long this could take now that she was out for blood.
Taking the glass, I drank a couple of gulps, finishing it like it was water before I studied the reflection of the lighting on the glass. There I sat, thinking that I could be very much fucked from here on out if she were to go public with this information. All the while, Clive was somewhat rambling about marriage and so forth when I heard him say, “My cousin should’ve stopped that rubbish from coming. You weren’t fucking thinking—all you cared about was the good shagging.”
Yeah, this man was surely related to Knightly, although they were opposites. One liked the media while the other stayed out of it. One was light, the other dark. Both contrasted in so many things, and most of the time, they bickered like old ladies; but I knew, deep down, even with the competitive streak these two had going, they cared deeply for one another.
Clive was a couple years older than us, however the age sure didn’t stop everyone from comparing him to his magnetic cousin. He was living in the shadow of his kin, and deep down, I knew he resented Knightly for being so perfect all the time.
Knightly sure as fuck wasn’t a saint—more like a devil incarnate if you were opposed to him. Apart from that, he did come close to the word perfect. The man excelled in everything. Surely one couldn’t hate on a man like that, could they? Unfortunately, yes; there were quite a few who hated him for just that reason. I wasn’t one of them, but sometimes I worried that he might just make the wrong kinds of enemies—ones that would inflict not only financial pain but personal as well. I prayed that it wouldn’t come to that because I would not even think twice about putting my life on the line to save his. He had been there for me through thick and thin, and would I gladly pay that back with gratuity.
“…hate this rubbish…” Clive trailed off, looking depleted.
“What’s rubbish?” I managed to ask, though I was far from interested. The man had called me earlier to catch up and drink at a private club somewhere in Chelsea, and since Knightly had been gone awhile, I’d missed having a chat with someone. Sure Chad was there, but he was more of a girl than a man—though a man couldn’t look man enough as Chad went. So, yeah, he would connect more with Lucy or Sienna when it came to gushy bits and all those talks about clothes, male models, his thrilling sex life, and the lot. I hadn’t a clue about that, which forced me to accept Clive’s invitation because I needed some sanity back.
“You know, when you’re ready to be in a committed relationship and it never happens? I think the universe has some twisted conspiracy to fuck me good in the arse,” he muttered, completely ticked off.
“Universe. Right.” I shook my head, thinking that this bloke had finally lost it. It was safe to think that this man might probably have been in worse mental shape than I was.
Nodding towards the oncoming waitress for another glass, I muttered under my breath, “Maybe you’re bound for twosomes for the rest of your life. Don’t count yourself unlucky, you bastard.” He had gone on for years with two women by his side, so why was he being so whiny?
He snorted before grabbing the nearest bottle of champagne that was chilling in the silver bucket and taking a quick swig at it. “I liked her too much, yeah.” He paused, deep in thought, brows furrowing. “Too fucking much.”
“Who?” I had no idea the bastard had been interested in one particular woman. I mean, he sure was with women all the goddamn time, but to be so gutted by one woman? It was unheard of.
“Stella…” he said the name as if it was hurting him to say it. “Stella von Berg.”
Stella… oh, right. “The lonesome heiress.” I met her once a couple of years back in one of those social gatherings. She was gorgeous, but she was somewhat of a shy type. I’d had no idea that Clive liked the shy types. “She declined your ravishing advances? She must be nuts,” I mused. His forlorn face made me feel for the damn prick. Fuck. He sure was truly gutted.
“No point really. She was married to Callum Kensington. Had no idea then—stupid bastard. Why the fuck was he so fucking lucky? Not like he wasn’t a blasted horny fucker like the rest of us! I doubt he even likes her that much. Bet he kept her to spite me all these years. Stupid cunt.”
Callum Kensington was the man he was up against? Yeah… “Good luck with that, mate. Kensington is a tough opponent.” It was best to let go of that dream.