High (5 page)

I approach the coffee shop on Bond Street where I’m supposed to be meeting Felix for coffee and am greeted by flashing cameras.

“Blake, is it true you ran away because you were pregnant?”

“Reports suggest you were drunk when you crashed your car last year. Is this true?”

“Did your father pay off the authorities?”

“Tell us about your relationship with Vincent Le Blanc.”

Really?
Vincent?
Shit, that’s old news.

Question after question. I’m about to answer them when a black limo pulls up to the curb, and my father’s driver gets out, opening the back door.

“Miss McQueen.” He greets me with a nod and gestures for me to get in.

I smile. “Oh, Charles, give Daddy a message from me.” I give him the middle finger and he drops his eyes to the ground.

The cameras go wild. The questions come thick and fast, all shouting over each other until I can’t hear any of them. I wink and blow a kiss at the photographers who are furiously shoving each other, all scrambling to get their shot. Someone hooks an arm around my waist and I look to my right to see Felix grinning as he pulls me towards the coffee shop.

“Meet me
in
the shop I said.” He sighs. “You and the press.”

I shrug. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”

He holds the door open for me. “I see your dad is trying to do damage control.”

“Standard.” I order a Latte and follow Felix to a table in the corner.

He lowers himself into the leather chair, propping his ankle on his knee as he drags a hand through his chestnut hair. I missed him.

“So, want to tell me how you developed a full on drug problem?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

Oh, here we fucking go.

After spending hours convincing Felix that I am not a drug addict, or perhaps just a temporary drug addict, I come home to find Milly wrapped in a duvet on the sofa, watching
Snatch
. Brad Pitt with an Irish accent—never gets old.

We’re staying in her parents flat in London. They live in The Cotswolds most of the time but her father keeps a flat here for business. Needless to say, I’m not going back to my parents’ house. Milly’s parents love me, probably because they’re drunk most of the time, but hey, they know how to have a good time.

I’ve barely put my bag down when there’s loud banging on the door.
What now?

I open it and find my mother standing on the other side. “You couldn’t even have called to say you were coming back?” She snaps, pushing into the flat. She’s wearing her uniform, Chanel suit and heels, her hair pulled into a perfect French twist. If there is one thing Annabelle McQueen can be relied upon for, it’s her immaculate presentation and the stick that’s permanently shoved up her arse.

“Mother.” I grate.

“Hey, Annabelle. Um, I’ll just…go.” Milly hops up, retreating to her room with an apologetic glance my way.

“This is a PR nightmare!” She screeches. “And then your father sent the car for you, and you disrespect Charles in front of all those cameras!” She turns her piercing glare on me, and I instinctively want to shrink away from it, but I don’t.

“Nice to see you too, Mother. Now if you’d please, I have a hangover.” I actually don’t for once. I open the door and wait for her to leave.

She takes slow steps towards me, closing the space between us. “I gave you everything, Blake, and yet you continue to throw it all away. You’re a bitter disappointment.”

I laugh. “I haven’t got pregnant, caught AIDS, or got arrested yet…well, okay, I haven’t spent a night in a cell. Technically there was that little possession charge.”

Her face turns bright red as she steels her shoulders. “If you talk to the press...”

“Yes, yes, you’ll cut me off. You should really change the speech Mother, and honestly, we both know you won’t cut me off. You know I’ll have my tits out and my legs wrapped around a pole in about two point five seconds.” I smile.

“You’re an embarrassment to our family name.” She spits.

“Yep. Ship sailed. Now get out. The embarrassment needs to get ready to go out tonight.”

She huffs and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

“God, your Mum is a fucking bitch.” Milly says, coming back out of her room.

“Yep. What time are we going to Toby’s?” Toby is Felix’s older brother, his insane, hot, party animal older brother. He’d be my type if he weren't such a dick, but no one ever said that personality was required to throw a good party.

“You always end up on a two-day bender after you see that bitch.”

It’s true. My parents have this way of making me want to shove a giant middle finger in their face, preferably while face down in a bag of blow with my minge out.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Combine your inclination to make snow angels and his general lack of morals, and it’s very likely you’ll accidentally over dose.”

“Nah,” I snort. “It’ll be fine.”

Apparently Toby’s home for the summer. He’s been doing some apprenticeship in Brazil, something to do with his father’s company. Who knows? The Knight boys have every opportunity afforded to them. Toby is probably studying the art of fucking Brazilian women knowing him while Felix was bought a strip club. Some people get all the luck.

The second I walk into the penthouse I feel the eyes on me. Why? Because I’m Blake McQueen. The London social scene is tight, and of course, I’m the bad girl, the rebel. I’m the girl they say ruined her life and tarnished her family name.
Good.
I’d take a shit on it if I could.

The trust fund babies pout and judge, and it makes me laugh.

I sway my hips a little more as I walk to a nearby table, grab a bottle of vodka, and swig straight from the bottle as I continue on my way. I watch them whisper behind their hands to each other and smile as a couple of people snap pictures with their phones. That’s right bitches.

“Babe, you look great.” Felix brushes my hair off my neck and presses a kiss to my shoulder. I glance at him and smile, leaning back into his body. More pictures, more scandal. I love it, I thrive on it. Felix always says I live as a fuck you to my parents when the truth is I live as fuck you to everyone and everything that the upper class touches.

I watch Blake walk into the room, and every eye seems to focus on her. She moves through the room like she owns it, meeting the stares around her with that defiance of hers. She pauses and a mischievous smile plays over her lips before she picks up a nearby bottle and drinks straight from it as she continues to make her way through the crowded room. She drips attitude with every movement. The first time I met her, she was just a pretty girl with a smart mouth that I wanted to sink my dick into. Now, though,
now,
she’s Blake McQueen. That name holds weight and consequences. It also makes her fuck-you-attitude fucking hot. Whether she knows it or not, here, in this city, she’s Queen.

I’ve done my research, learned what I need to learn, and I can no longer just pass her off as a girl I want to fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to fuck her, but I also have to catch opportunities where they arise.

She’s just…different. Wherever you go in the world, there’s always social bullshit, a hierarchy of sorts. But Blake stands apart from it like it’s all beneath her, not even worth her time or thought. She does what the fuck she wants and screw the consequences.

Felix walks up behind her and brushes her hair off her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her shoulder. She smiles and leans back into his body.

Friends.
You cannot be friends with a girl like Blake, but then you can’t keep a girl like her either. She’s too wild, too untamed. If you cage her, she’ll just break out. So you’re left with what I can see written all over his face. Longing.

I study her every move, trying to work her out, break her down.

She looks up and straight at me, holding my gaze for a moment and ignoring whatever Felix is saying to her. She tilts her head to the side and those mismatched eyes seem to penetrate my fucking soul like she’s studying me. I turn away from her and run straight into some girl that’s been hassling me since I got here. She glances over my shoulder with a sneer. “That’s Blake McQueen. I wouldn’t even bother. She’s a whore.”

I laugh. “Ah, but those are always the best ones.”

She frowns. “She’s ruined. Her family disowned her.” My ears prick up at that. “They were so ashamed of her they sent her away, but now she’s back.” She glances at Blake again and I can see the jealously threatening to eat her alive. “I heard that her father has refused to even see her.”

Surely a father wouldn’t turn his back on his own daughter? But then the question is, would Miles McQueen turn his back on his drug taking, party animal, rock star fucking daughter? He is, after all, the Minister of Justice. For a man in his position, her antics are more than just a rebellious daughter, they’re his shattered public image.

I look over my shoulder at Blake again. Never has a daughter been more of a ‘fuck you’ than this one. I’ll admit, it’s a huge part of her appeal.

I walk away from the girl and head for Felix. I need to know everything there is to know about Blake, because well, what is it they say? Knowledge is power and preparation is key. “Felix, do you have a minute?” I ask.

“Rhett, you made it.” Felix smiles, and then glances between Blake and me. Her eyes lock with mine, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been to one of Toby’s parties.” My father and Felix’s were good friends. Our families used to hang out when they were in New York, or we were in London.

Felix is one of the few people who knows my story, the whole story, the real story. 

 Rhett. The beautiful stranger. Or at least, he was, but now he’s here, in London. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to know every fucking inch of him, preferably with my tongue. I’d forgotten how hot he is, but shit, men like him aren’t exactly ten a penny. Felix and I might have to have words as to why the fuck he’s keeping friends this hot hidden away.