Areston thinks he can shield me from his past, but what he doesn't realize is I'm already part of it.
The darkness that haunts him? It's the same one that's been chasing me for years.
I've given him everything-my body, my heart, my soul-and still...
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Wasn't gonna update, but it's my birthday today so I'm feeling extra awesome and so... 💗
Fourteen years ago
"Good morning, Miss Juliette. Breakfast is here." Harriet's trilled voice stirs me awake.
I am jetlagged and severely drained having returned home late last night from a two-week long family trip to Tanzania and South African safari.
The four round-the-clock maids walk in, clacking their heels against the floor, one of them holding a heavy tray. Three of them draw the thick aquamarine drape curtains shielding the massive window walls, letting the entire room flood with the sunlight.
I extend my hand to grab altoids and an enormous tinted Prada aviators and slide it on. I am in no mood for the sunlight in the state I am in.
"Where is Ares? He was supposed to wake me up," I murmur groggily as I pull myself into a sitting position.
The maid adjusts the tray above my thighs. I check my phone to see if he has left me any texts. This is the first time I had to be away from him for so long.
We always vacation together. He, however, as promised, didn't make me feel like he was miles away. We would Skype every morning, afternoon, and night and would talk for an hour or so. Except for last night when I was so dizzy that I fell asleep within a few minutes of our video call.
"He hasn't left any message, Miss Juliette. Do not worry, he could be stuck somewhere. He'll come as soon as he's free."
"I should be his priority." I scowl at the phone's screen, typing him a message. Where are you?
"Of course you are, Miss," she brushes my hair away from my face, finger combing them, and adjusts the strap of my cami slip. "You need to eat. Your mother wants you to eat properly so you do not look jetlagged at the Thanksgiving dinner tonight."
Something came up. Still in the Hamptons. I will see you at dinner tonight?
"I don't want to eat, Harriet," I groan, tossing my phone away on the bed. "Do I really need to attend the dinner? I am so exhausted."
"Your Bubbeh will be very upset and so will your mother," she says, lifting the heavy silver cover off the mahogany tray to reveal my favorite French breakfast.
Toffee praline croissant, a fromage blanc served with homemade granola and fresh fruits, crêpes, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
I jump awake. "Is this really for me? Does mama know about this?"
"Of course she knows. She is indulging her beloved daughter, Miss Juliette. It's a very important day today," she smiles, handing me a copy of The New Yorker. "Eat your food and read. Martha will get the bath ready for you once you're done."
