Way Down We Go

Chapter Seventeen

"Francis!" I squealed as I jumped into my love's arms, finally seeing him after a long day of going without. He let out a breath as I leaped into him, stumbling back and and murmuring a French curse that I perfectly understood, before steadying himself, meeting my smile with one just as big and bright.

"Hey, you." he grinned. "You're happy today," he noted, twirling a loose braid that hung from the side of my face. I sighed in bliss, enjoying the heat of his hand and the warmth of his gaze. I felt him fix my messy black hair, before pressing my chiffon orange and white came top and white shorts closer to him in a deep embrace. He looked equally stupid and adorable in his smart uniform, complete with tie, blazer and button down.

"I am." I agreed. "It's sucked without you, but you're back." I smiled, cupping his face in my hands. With myself being home schooled and my love slash kinda step brother attending a super smart and fancy private school, finding time to spend with each other was hard. But all that mattered was that he was mine for the next few hours and nobody else's.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

My eyes opened to see a dark ceiling. A light illuminated from inside the room and I frowned in confusion. I sighed in a mix of sadness and exhaustion, slowly sitting up from my warm bed and looking around. The bed curtains were drawn, just how I left them, and the lights were off. The curtains were closed and there was no light in between. I cleared my dry throat and leaned to the bedside table, gripping a cool glass of water and slowly sipping it. 

A drip onto my thigh caught my attention. I frowned again, looking over at the piece of skin that suddenly felt wet, and the small white satin nightgown that I wore. A large splodge of red was on the material and the skin. I swallowed the last of my water, turning my forearm around.

Some mistakes were harder to recover from than others.

I huffed at the drying blood, wondering how the hell I managed to hide the same scars and injuries all those years ago at the second stay at the Valois-Angouleme's residence. I managed it, but it didn't seem so easy in this part of my life. A million cameras everywhere and  a life in the spotlight made me reveal my secret years ago, and I knew that I would eventually be forced to once more.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

I now noticed that my phone was ringing. Strange, I thought, how long had it been making noise? I leaned over a few sleeping Pomeranian's bodies, reaching over to answer it before it awoke my surrogate children from their adorable slumber that we all craved.

4:17 AM,

The screen screamed. I winced at the bright light, the pain unprovoked and completley unprepared for. I grumbled, hating to be up so early when there wasn't need to be.

3 missed calls from Greer Castelroy

4 missed calls from Kenna de Portiers

I answered Kenna's relentless calling first, deciding to talk to the more forceful and hedonistic of my girlfriends than the more gentler, wiser one. I swiped right and turned on the speaker, absentmindedly playing with Da Vinci's soft fur as I spoke to her. My body found the pillows once more. An arm was slung around my hair and I lay the phone on the bed.

"Kenna?" I asked. "It's four o clock in the morning, what are you doing calling me at this time? You know how hectic the last few weeks have been, the media's had a field day with everything." I grumbled, laying back further against the overstuffed pillows. 

It was true. In the two weeks since the paternity test, the media had somehow found out about it and the scandal put almost any other to shame. God knows how they found out that Francis fathered Lola's whelp, let alone their one time affair, but it made for good publicity, according to management. Ever since, we'd been working like maniacs, putting out new songs and dances, more merch and PR, trying to capitalise on the media and make the best of a bad situation. Nobody had put out a statement just yet, we didn't really know what to say.