Chapter 27

Grayson

DAY 21

I’ve been living in a parallel universe. Before I stormed out, I felt strong. I almost felt like the old Gray, the Gray who wasn’t bothered by anyone or anything. The Gray who could do it all on his own, bankrolled by Eddie.

But nothing feels easy anymore. When I stepped out into the dark street, out of Isabella’s apartment building, everything assaulted me. The wind was too strong. The evening was mild, and I began sweating in my jacket. Then when I took it off, I was cold. Picking up the phone to get Eddie to transfer money into my account didn’t feel the same. Before I was cheeky, funny, confident. Yeah, I knew I was a sponge. But I was a charming sponge. This time, I felt like a loser. There was no other word for it.

When I walked into the nice hotel, I felt like a fraud. I couldn’t even look the receptionist in the eye. I kept fiddling with the zipper on my overnight bag. I looked at all the other people in the lobby. The suited men and women. The casually dressed men and women drinking at the hotel bar. I wondered if they worked hard for their money. Or if they were money-sucking leeches like me.

In the privacy of the hotel room, it got worse. I tried to do my standard “forgetting” routine, which is eating and watching action movies on TV. I ate two whole pizzas and watched three movies of car chases and gun fights and things exploding. But by the time it was all done, I felt worse. The worthlessness of my life was beginning to suffocate me.

I tried to wash it off me in the shower, but I soon realized it was inside me. Like a deathly parasite I couldn’t flush, even with all the water in the world. When I was done, I stepped out and stared at my fuzzy reflection in the condensation-covered mirror. My eyes were like lights, reflecting back at me. I hated it. Hated myself. In the old days, I would have marveled at my muscles. Proudly studied the handsome face that so many women fell for. Gazed into my dark eyes. Maybe even practiced some pick-up lines. But now all I could do was stare, looking at this shell. This pathetic shell.

I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Isabella. Of my future without her. I didn’t even have any motivation to find a new woman to fool Mr. Fink with. The whole thing felt empty and fake and ridiculous. That’s one thing that felt the same as always. The whole aristocratic thing, the duke title, the big house, all of that. It still felt ridiculous. Not relevant to life. But now nothing at all felt relevant.

In the early hours of the night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the TV buzzing along in the background was infuriating. I punched the off button on the remote and drowned in the silence. Isabella kept floating into my mind. Not in a sexual way, really. But in all the other ways. What my life would be like with her. What it would be like without her.

I imagined us cashing our check. How happy she’d be. The pure joy that would spread all over her face. She’d finally be able to save her father’s business. I’d have millions upon millions in my account. But I wouldn’t jet off to Dubai for a yacht and a thousand beautiful women. I wouldn’t whizz off to Monaco and blow thousands in a casino, as I’d planned. I wouldn’t head for the nearest Bentley dealership and wow them all with my cash purchase. No.

Isabella and I would get on an airplane back here, back to Seattle. We’d work together on restoring her business. I’d learn about business. Once her business was thriving, we’d turn our attention to our angel-investing company. We’d find meaningful businesses like hers. Businesses where people are trying to protect a legacy, or independents trying to stand up to huge mega-corporations. Businesses where the owners really believe in what they’re doing. And we’d be like angels swooping down from heaven with bags stuffed full of cash. The joy on their faces. I could just picture it. Then their business would become our next success story. How cool would that be? I know Isabella would just love that, too.

But she doesn’t want me around. I have to face that fact. Even though it feels like a stake being speared into my heart, I have to accept it. She’s not going to respond to charm. She’s not going to respond to domination. She’s not going to respond to anything at all. It hurts like hell.

As I was staring up at the ceiling, something happened that hadn’t happened in a long time. A very long time. My mouth opened, and from somewhere deep inside me, a wail escaped. A deep, distressed cry. No tears. A wail. The sound of my deepest, darkest pain. The pain of being sent away. The pain of being unwanted. The last time this happened was the night my father told me he was sending me away. In the mansion, in my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling in just the same way as a twelve-year-old boy. Wailing into the night. Wailing into that unfriendly, hostile, cold manor house. That house was only ever home in fleeting moments, when Mother would escape from Father’s clutches and tell me nice things and draw me into warm hugs. She always smelled of sweet tea and expensive perfume and the dust of the library. She loved to read. In the hotel room, the wail escaped out of me and curled its dark tentacles into the air around me.

It’s the same situation. I’m going into a new life I don’t want. Then, it was a life away from my mother, from my cousin, from the familiarity of England. The arrogant, cheeky Grayson Fairfax II grew out of that unwantedness. It was my means to survive. How many times I’d be laughing when I felt like crying inside. How many times I’d be pushing a girl who I had led on away, when I really wanted to say, “I’m so sorry I did this to you. I don’t understand why I do it.”

I wonder what new character this new unwanted life will bring out in me. The arrogant, confident, rule-the-world Grayson Fairfax II just isn’t cutting it anymore. I could see a new Gray emerging when I was with Isabella. Or perhaps it was an old Gray. A very old Gray. Before the days of boarding school. The innocent boy, but now grown into a principled young man who holds his values and wants to make a difference in the world. But without Isabella, I know that man is going to wither away. I dread what I’m going to become.

I don’t know when I fell asleep. Nightmares merged in with my thoughts, and I thrashed and called out all night. The next day I felt like a zombie, halfway between life and death. I stayed in the hotel room all day with the curtains drawn. I ordered a lasagna like Isabella liked but didn’t touch it. I expected to have another night of nightmares.

But when I awaken, I feel like I’ve been touched by an angel. Now everything feels softer again. Magical, even. The world seems pregnant with possibility. Like something that was closed has opened up. I sit bolt upright in bed. Yes! I glance at the clock. It’s 3:33 a.m.

Before I can talk myself out of my idea, I call Eddie.

“Jeez, Gray, what time is it over there?” Eddie sounds pissed. He doesn’t talk to me the same way he used to.

“Three thirty-three,” I say. “Three thirty-four now.”

He sighs. “Are you in a police cell or something?”

“No, no.” I laugh, for the first time in days. “I have this wonderful idea. You see, Isabella, she’s really pissed with me. There’s something I want to do. Something I have to do. Now, I don’t like doing this. But I’m going to have to borrow a little more money. A couple thousand dollars.”

“You don’t like doing this?” His voice has an edge as sharp as a knife. “Hasn’t stopped you from doing it continuously for the past however long. Ten years?”

“That’s going to stop,” I say decisively. “And you know I’m going to drop a lot of mills on you, bro. As soon as the inheritance comes through.”

“You’d better make sure you get it,” he says. “For your sake. You remember it’s all going to me if you can’t get your act together? Well, let me tell you something, I won’t be buying you Bentleys and yachts out of that money. It’s getting a little boring, your whole helpless-guy-who-can’t-make-money act. I work pretty hard on all this FX trading, you know.”

“You’re right,” I say. Before, I would have exploded and probably cursed him out. “I haven’t done a day’s proper work in my life. But that’s all about to change. Trust me.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“I know you don’t believe me. But I’m going to prove it. My life isn’t going to be the same anymore, bro. It can’t be. It was too empty. Devoid of meaning.”

“I don’t know anything about that ‘meaning’ crap,” Eddie says. “But it was certainly devoid of hard work or any kind of responsibility.”

His tone is a slap in the face. I never knew he thought any of this about me. “But we had a good time, didn’t we?”

I hear a smile creep into his voice. “Of course, we did. Gray and Eddie, the masters of a good time. A drunk time. A get-all-the-girls time. But I have another life that you don’t. I have my work. I can provide for myself.”

“You’re right.” I feel something constrict in my throat. “I have a plan for the money. I’m going to change my life.”

“Yeah, but remember when you said that a few years ago? After you trashed the hotel suite at Claridges? You swore blind to your father you were going to change your life. And nothing happened.”

“I didn’t mean it then,” Gray said. “I meant it the tiniest bit. But I said it mostly just to shut Father up. I always knew I would go back to causing mayhem.”

His voice tightens. “So, why should anyone believe you this time?”

I pause. “I guess I can only prove it to you.”

“If you buy something crazy with this money, I swear I’m going to wring your neck.”

“I won’t, trust me. This will be the best thing I’ve ever spent money on. Something I’ve kind of wanted to do for a long time but didn’t know how.”

“Oh god, you’re going to go skydiving, aren’t you?”

“No!” He’s starting to get on my nerves now. But I only have my past self to blame. “I’m doing something for Isabella.”

“Taking her skydiving and proposing to her mid-air?” Eddie chuckles, almost sounding like his normal self.

“Nothing to do with skydiving!” I reply with a laugh.

“So, what is it?”

For some reason, I want to keep it a secret. I open my mouth to tell him then shut it again. “I’ll send you pics after the fact.”

He laughs smuttily. It sends the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

“Not those kind of pictures,” I say.

“All right, whatever you say,” he says, mischief in his voice. “But don’t forget your boy. And once your fake engagement crap is over, I’ll be making a move on her. Is she a good fuck?”

It’s like my blood’s running cold. “You won’t be making any move on her.”

“Oh, shit!” he says, with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re actually catching feelings now. The notorious Ditch-Them Duke has fallen in the trap every man tries to avoid. Didn’t you learn from the whole Lilly fiasco?”

This is so weird. Normally when I speak to Eddie, I feel cheeky and strong and like we can conquer the world together. Now I feel drained. I was full of energy at the beginning of the call. Full of excitement. Now I’m like a deflated balloon.

“So, will you transfer the money?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s not like it’s all that much,” he says casually. I think he’s trying to make me feel small.

“Cool, bro,” I say. “Thanks for that.”

I hang up, feeling confused. But I try to focus on the future. All I need is the money. The next few days are going to be the best of my life, and I’m going to focus all my attention on something I’ve never really thought of before—doing something really nice for someone else.