A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (25 page)

“Well, it seems you managed to get her alone,” I spit out, thrusting him forward.

His forehead hits the walnut veneer and I let him go. He spins on the piano stool, holding his head. With his other hand he gestures towards the table, which is laid.

“Where is she?” he demands.

“After your earlier performance, did you really expect her to show?”

He lowers the lid of the piano and rests his arm on it.

“I thought if I kissed her, it would jog her memory.”

I frown. “Remember you from a kiss, why should she?”

“It was 2005; we shared a kiss when I left her at the airport.”

“Rayne, you fucking pervert, she was twelve years old!”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head. “How do you manage to twist things round to your sick way of thinking?”

“What am I supposed to think? At eighteen you snog a twelve-year-old girl.”

He jumps to his feet and kicks the piano stool to the far end of the room.

“Snog? Are you fucking serious? It was a kiss, a peck goodbye and no more!”

“Well, you scared her shitless tonight.”

“I can assure you it wasn’t intentional; when I realised she was upset, I apologised.”

“Bollocks it wasn’t intentional! Telling her it was something she owed you, what the fuck?”

“It was a joke I made before I boarded the plane. I really thought she’d remember me.”

“If you fancy her, just come out and tell me.”

Rayne shakes his head. “I’m in a relationship, I love Francesca! I could never see Darcy in that way; she’s like a sister to me, not someone I want to fuck.”

I walk across to the dining table. Corking the wine, I pour myself a large glass of red.

“Make that two,” he utters.

Begrudgingly I pour another and watch his hand as he reaches forward and picks it up.

“When are we going to tell her the truth? When are you going to tell her I’m Snow and you’re just an imposter?”

“It won’t be tonight; she’s in bed … she’s taken some of my sleeping tablets.”

Still holding the drink in his hand, Rayne sinks down onto a chair. Leaning his arms on the table, he buries his head in his hands.

He sits quietly for a moment or two and then drags his fingers down his face.

“Gabriel,” he says, looking up at me, “how did things go this far?”

I sit at the opposite side of the table rocking back on the hind legs of the chair.

“My name isn’t Gabriel, it’s Snow; I changed it by deed poll a long while ago.”

Rayne slams his fist down.

“This is the shit I’m talking about! You were supposed to be my friend, I trusted you enough to run the business when I couldn’t. All I asked of you in return was to sign a few cheques, deal with some outstanding paperwork. There was nothing in your job description that stated you were to become me.”

“And tell me, Rayne, how was I supposed to do that when everyone I met wanted Snow? I did what I thought was right, I turned into what they wanted me to be; it wasn’t hard to do, all it took was one small lie, a few fake documents, and in a matter of days it spiralled. But is it really surprising when you give an actor a lead role to play?”

“Ha!” he utters sarcastically.

“What gets me most of all is that you seemed fine with things the way they were.”

“It was nothing to do with being fine. How could I run the business myself, visit the hotels when I couldn’t leave the house? I couldn’t even make it off my front porch … I was fucked. I was diagnosed with agoraphobia! It was only through Francesca’s hard work that I’m where I am today. So here I am, Gabriel, I’ve come back to reclaim my business and my life.”

“Be my guest, but before you do, check the ledgers, check your figures, and you’ll find that the hotels are making far more money than they ever did when your old man was in charge.”

“Leave my dad out of this!” he snaps.

“Fair enough, but just remember one thing—the success your hotels have is with me at the helm. So why not leave me to run things? Travel the world, enjoy your billions.”

His eyes bore into me. “I don’t think so,” he snaps. “You’re getting far too cocky. Don’t underestimate me, not for one moment; I can more than double the figures you speak of, and not in the years it’s taken you, but overnight.”

I lift my feet from the floor and put them on the table top, then lean back.

“Go on, tell me how, because I’d love to know.”

“I suggest you don’t push me.” He shakes his head. “Okay, I hold my hands up, I’m partly to blame; maybe to begin with I didn’t care too much … I was happy to play ignorant and for you to run the business; I was even happy for you to use my name.”

“Well,” I probe, narrowing my eyes, “what changed?”

“Are you really asking me that? I heard everything you said, every God damn word, when you told Darcy about Summer’s death. You spoke to her as if it was your story to tell, and worse still, you even had the audacity to change the facts of what really happened that day. How dare you? She was my little sister; what happened was my story, and if anyone had to tell it, it should have been me.”

He stands up, pushing his chair back.

“That’s when I knew this facade had to stop, you were taking things too far; it wasn’t business any more, things were becoming way too personal.”

“Personal? You’re making me laugh! You were the one who begged me to go to your foster parents’ funeral; you filled me in about them all, telling me things about your past, Darcy. If you didn’t want personal, why the fuck did you ask me to do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I couldn’t face Darcy, Jenny or any of the family, and you owed me big time. All you had to do was show your face and keep your mouth shut. Gabriel, Snow, whatever you call yourself, it’s too late, things have got way out of control. I’ve been to see a solicitor and sought advice; I’ve been told I have a good case.”

“A good case? A good case for what?” I probe.

“Fraud. I’m suing you for fraud.”

“You dare to play the injured party here?”

I stamp my feet down on the floor and jump up.

“You ungrateful cunt! It’s me who’s kept the business going, kept your nose clean, and all your associates thinking your wonderful. Well, I know different, because you’re the biggest jerk living.”

I walk round the table so that we stand shoulder to shoulder.

“You took your four-year-old sister out on the ice that day, even though your mum had already told you it wasn’t safe. But did you listen? Did you fuck! You snuck her out anyway. It’s for you to live with because yes, Rayne,
you
killed Summer, it was all your fault. It should have been you who drowned in that freezing cold water, not that sweet little girl. Now why don’t you do us all a favour? There’s a vast ocean out there, waiting for you.”

I’m quite expecting him to hit out, but he stands still and says nothing. I can see from the change of expression on his face that I’ve hit a nerve. He picks up his glass, swigs down the rest of his wine, then turns and walks towards the door.

“Rayne,” I call after him, an apology waiting on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back.
Fuck me, I’m getting a conscience
. “Rayne, I’m…”

As he turns back round, I look into bloodshot eyes.

“Snow, you know what? Just fuck off.”

I pour myself the remainder of the bottle and grab the decanter of whisky. I’m left to finish my drink alone and anticipate when Rayne will speak to Darcy.

N
o matter how many positions I tried, I couldn’t sleep. That fucking whisky didn’t agree with me, and I spent an hour in the en suite throwing up. When my stomach did eventually decide to settle, I spent the remainder of the night sitting on the bed covers, gazing down at Darcy’s face through the shadows as she lay sleeping.

I feel my phone vibrate against the side of my leg.

“Chase, it’s 6 a.m. What the fuck?” I whisper.

“I think you know what… Get dressed and meet me in the dining room.”

Already dressed, I straighten my clothes.

The door to the dining room is open; Chase doesn’t greet me with his usual jovial smile, but moves aside so that I can pass. I don’t know where to look, and I turn back to him.

“What happened in here?”

He shakes his head. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Blood has been smeared over the walls; I can see that it’s not fresh, as it’s dark, and where it has dried, globules seem to cling to the broken furniture. Smudged red fingerprints stain the piano keys.

“Where’s Rayne? What the fuck happened here last night?” he asks with unblinking eyes.

Still trying to take everything in, I shake my head.

“I’d had a skin full, we had words, but I don’t remember a fight. I’m sure he left me and I finished my drink alone.”

“I’ve checked every deck, every cabin on the yacht and he’s nowhere.”

I catch the narrowing of Chase’s eyes.

“For God sake, you don’t seriously think I’ve killed him?”

“After yesterday and what you told me, I don’t know what to believe.”

“Chase…”

I take a step towards him, but as I do, he steps back.

“There’s not a lot I can do,” he tells me. “It’s a crime scene.”

I’m seething inside. “Chase, for fuck’s sake, I haven’t murdered him.”

“Well, if you’re so certain, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I fall quiet, and I think my silence betrays me.

“Thought so,” he adds. “Look, we’ve been mates for a long time. I don’t want you to go down for this, and more than anything I don’t want you ending up in a Mexican prison. Get Darcy off the yacht, go back to England and get yourself a bloody good lawyer. All I can do is buy you some time. We’ll dock and then I’ll go back out to sea for a few hours, give you time to get out the country.”

“I’ll take my private jet.”

“You won’t. Vanessa’s already taken it.”

“Thanks, Chase, I owe you one.”

I look down at my knuckles; there are no scratches. I hold my hands out towards him.

“Do these look like the hands of a murderer?”

“If the police are called and they find out you’re a fraud and had the motive to kill him, there’s no way you’ll get out of this one; you’ll be done for murder.”

He pushes me towards the door.

“Go back to your cabin, wake Darcy and pack your bags.”

S
tanding next to the sink, I grab a knife and start chopping salad for dinner. Humming to myself, I peer out of the window across the gardens. I sigh to myself; it’s really starting to feel like home. I look up at the clock. It must be an hour since Snow went out. I smile; he knows it’s my birthday tomorrow. It’s not what he will surprise me with that excites me, but the fact that it’s my first ever birthday we’ll share. Staring almost trance-like at a passing bird, I think back ten years and how Snow missed my thirteenth birthday by a couple of days.

I remember how angry I was that he was leaving us; I didn’t think it would have hurt him to change his flight and go a couple of days later, but he insisted and there was no talking him round. It may have been a childhood crush I had at the time, but I had feelings for him and he hurt me. I watched him kiss my parents goodbye and then look at me, holding his hand luggage under his arm. But I couldn’t face him, so I turned my back on him. I was far too angry for his kiss. Mum grabbed my arm, and I remember her words vividly; she told me to stop acting like a stroppy teenager and grow up. But, too stubborn to obey, I stood my ground. It seemed Snow wasn’t taking no for an answer, and he circled me, taking my shoulders in his hand and holding me at arm’s length.

He smiled, but all I could do was scowl back and shout out how much I hated him. He dropped his bag on the floor, saying he wouldn’t get on the plane till I let him kiss me goodbye. I felt Mum’s eyes boring into me, so relenting slightly I leant forward, turning my cheek. His fingers released my shoulder and lifted my chin so that I couldn’t avoid his eyes. ‘I love you, little sister,’ he whispered. He moved forwards, pecking me on the lips. My heart almost stopped, and I could feel myself melting in his arms. Then he moved away, and turned the situation into a joke. ‘Hey, kidda, next time I see you I’ll be the one playing hard to get. Don’t forget you owe me one.’ I wanted what he said to mean so much more than it did; if only I could have clicked my fingers and in an instant grown up.