Desired, p.30
Desired, page 30
Sarah warned us against being ‘too obvious’ about drugs, which was a lesson lost on probably half of our student body. Freddie left me her cucumber vape and a little flask of alcohol, but I was going out of my way to avoid both of them. My friends hadn’t noticed how I completely avoided alcohol or drugs since the last night I’d had with Crispin. I hadn’t wanted to tell them the very stupid thing I’d done a week before that last night, which led to what happened that night. Sort of.
I’d wanted to tell Crispin the truth before everything too but… everything just happened so quickly and it just slipped my mind. Even if it was super important...
I hadn’t planned on it being our last night together. I wanted more time with him to explain everything. Whatever. This secret wouldn’t kill us and it wasn’t really a secret anyway. I’d tell Crispin the second he came back.
I changed my mind about the black velvet dress with the cut-outs at the hips. I’d gained a healthy amount of weight, but I wasn’t as confident wearing some of my other dresses anymore. I was still working on that part of eating disorder therapy with my psychologist, but I wasn’t perfect. I chose a more modest black dress with lace details and a flared skirt. I pulled black fishnets under it and found a cute pair of combat boots.
I had my outfit nailed, but that left my hair to contend with. I was in a bad situation with my hair. We were normally in a bad situation together. First, my hair refused to cooperate only on the most crucial days. I would have the most perfect twist-out to head to the bathroom halfway through Ethics class but a clump of matted coils for my dates with Crispin. My hair was sometimes my best friend and other times my worst enemy.
“You want to play hard ball, huh?” I muttered to myself upon discovering a lost black rubber band in my mass of hair that had attached and tangled together deep in my strands. I slowly worked the dumb rubber band out, but my arms hurt from being in the air so long. I dramatically flopped on my bed for a moment to recover, wondering why I was putting in so much effort to go to the stupid dance when Crispin wouldn’t be there.
I guess I just wanted my friends to know I could handle my shit. And I was strong. I hated being the weak girl they would have to force feed fish and chips. I hated feeling weak. Being stronger was all a part of Amina’s Master Plan and it was working perfectly.
I regained my motivation to fix my hair and pulled myself together. We needed the three most important ingredients. Liquid. Oil. Cream. Or something like that. During the early days of my natural hair journey, I’d followed specific methods but now I did my own thing. I sprayed my hair with water, got my jojoba oil well moisturized into the strands and covered it all with a creamy goop that my favorite hair care expert swore by.
I twisted my hair into two tight buns at the top of my head with cornrows weaving into the buns. I added a few pearl and gold clips to my buns to accessorize at the front and a couple cute clips at the back. I quickly texted Violet that I was on the way, assuming she would spread the word that I was coming.
I rushed out of the dorm, through the archway and paused at the road. There was a car coming down the road off campus, so I paused to let it roll by. But the car slowed down and stopped right in front of me. The window rolled down and I saw the barrel of a weapon sticking out of it. I froze. Someone’s pointing a gun at me.
Before I could think about what to do next, there was a sharp sting in my neck. My first thought was that I’d been shot, but there hadn’t been the loud crack of a firing bullet. My hand rushed to my neck. A needle.
My legs buckled and Rapetti Academy faded to brown and then black.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was my own breathing. Hours must have passed. Maybe longer. I thought I was dead for a second. My head was incredibly heavy and my body couldn’t move. I heard voices. English men. But that wasn’t a surprise, because I was in England.
My chest rattled. It was cold back here. Wherever “back here” was. And the voices. At least one of them sounded familiar. I coughed — against my will and totally because of the cold — alerting my captors to the fact that I was awake.
Chapter 47
“Are you fucking serious? This is Crispin’s girlfriend. You had us bloody kidnap Barclay’s girlfriend.”
The recognizable voice rose, incapable of concealing rage.
“I thought I mentioned.”
The second voice was languid and entitled, a tone I’d become tired of in a short space of time. My head was groggy as hell and I didn’t want to move. Too bad I had to move. I had to do something about my situation other than lying there. I recognized both voices now and although this time I anticipated my kidnappers would be easier to deal with than my adopted family, I couldn’t exactly remain sure of that. They’d still kidnapped me after all. I would never make it to the Sadie Hawkins dance and my friends would probably freak out. I had to convince these idiots to take me back once I opened my eyes properly and assessed my situation. I groaned and my eyes blinked open.
Barnaby Fox continued with a sneer built into his posh accent. “You bloody moron. We’re dead. We’re totally and completely dead. After Benjamin uses my bollocks as Christmas ornaments, Crispin will pluck your eyes out and probably shove them into his own sockets.”
Jude grunted in frustration.
“What’s the big deal? You promised to help. Your fault for not doing your due diligence.”
“You lying cock,” Barnaby snarled. He turned to me with a menacing stare, as if it were my fault his idiot cousin orchestrated my kidnapping. Everything around me was hard to see, shrouded in darkness. Where was I?
“Hello, darling. Do you remember me?”
How could I have forgotten Barnaby Fox? He made other people uneasy the way his brother could make other people feel warm and comfortable. Despite being physically identical, there were several, several ways to tell them apart.
“Fuck off,” I snapped at him. I didn’t care if Jude (allegedly) tricked him. He’d still kidnapped me. Unfortunately, my protests had literally no effect on Benjamin Fox’s twin brother.
Barnaby grinned pleasantly as if we’d reunited over a pint and not because someone had shot me and knocked me unconscious
“So yes. You remember,” he said, taking a sip from what appeared to be a flask of coffee. His grin fell away when his gaze returned to his cousin. “Jude, you fucking wanker. We’re turning this car around and we’re taking her back.”
“No. We’re not.”
“You tricked me on purpose, didn’t you?”
The slightest smile teased across Jude’s face.
“Fucking hell, Jude,” Barnaby snarled. “Do you know who you’re messing with? My brother made me promise to leave Barclay alone. I don’t go back on my word.”
Jude shrugged, entirely disinterested in his cousin’s honor. “That wanker Barclay stabbed me. I owe him revenge.”
There he was again with that stupid lie. Wouldn’t his time be better focused on finding out who really stabbed him? Boys (especially Jude) could be so stupid.
“Crispin didn’t stab you,” I snapped. “Now can one of you assholes untie me? Or I promise, when I tell Crispin about this, I’ll remember every detail.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Jude groaned. “Don’t untie her. We’re almost to Toulouse.”
“Toulouse!?”
I wasn’t an expert in geography, but wasn’t that in another country? How long had I been knocked out?
“We aren’t almost there,” Barnaby said. “You’re the stupid cock who chose to take a car. We have several hours left.”
“Leave her tied up. I can always shoot her again if she talks too much.”
Barnaby glowered at him and then gave me a look that might have been an attempt at being comforting, but only made me think that he was going to eat me alive.
“I’m untying her,” Barnaby replied. “She’s not going to jump out of the car. She’s skin and bones, she’d die instantly from the impact.”
I could tell he meant it as a warning.
“Thanks,” I snapped at Barnaby, my mind slowly growing less foggy and ideas for escaping surging through my head.
“You’re welcome,” Barnaby answered without a hint of irony.
“Where am I? Where are you taking me? Actually, I don’t care. Because you’re taking me back to campus,” I yelled, hoping at the very least to make an attempt at intimidating Jude Fox into doing what I wanted.
Jude kicked his feet up in the back of the limo and leaned back.
“We should tranquilize her again,” he grumbled.
“We? I did nothing,” Barnaby said. “When you told me you needed me to hire a car to France so you could get a girl, I assumed it was a bloody romantic getaway.”
“Is that what I said?” Jude answered languidly. “I don’t remember. Did you bring any coke?”
“Yes of course,” Barnaby said. As he was about to hand it over, he snatched it back and slapped Jude hard across the face. I was still tied up and impossibly annoyed about it. But I couldn’t help taking pleasure from Jude getting a much-deserved slap in the face.
“Fuck! What was that for?”
“UNTIE HER,” Barnaby snapped. “And I’m turning this car around.”
“You’re really not,” Jude said. “And I’m not untying her.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
Barnaby leaned over and untied me. I rubbed my wrists, which were definitely sore and glared at both of them. I didn’t have my phone. The air smelled damp here. That was the best clue I had about where I was.
“TAKE ME BACK,” I screeched.
“I can’t,” Jude said. “Actually, I don’t want to.”
“Listen, once you get to France, I’ll take you back myself,” Barnaby said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Jude sat up, glowering at his cousin. They both bubbled with tempestuous intensity. I didn’t know if it was to my advantage for my attackers to be at each other’s throats. I’d never properly witnessed a Fox blow up, but I’d heard rumors from Crispin of all people about the infamous Fox tempers. I didn’t exactly want to experience either of their tempers up close, but trapped in the back of a limousine with them, I didn’t exactly have a choice. Their tempers were the least of my concerns anyway. My sole motivation here was escape. I just needed any information I could use. At least I had Jude’s motive: revenge.
Maybe I could prove to him that Crispin didn’t stab him. Having proof of who had stabbed him would have been helpful, but I didn’t have that.
The last time I tried to escape from one of Crispin’s white boy compatriots, it had been Theo Hargreaves, and that had been an utter failure. My adopted father had kidnapped me too, but I hadn’t exactly “escaped” from that due to my own quick wits or anything. Theo didn’t even have it out for me. But this time, I had Barnaby Fox, who could be an unexpected ally if I played my cards right.
I watched them for a moment, considering both of them and soaking it all in so I could find a way out. Barnaby almost looked like Ben Fox. They were identical, so they looked alike in that way, but Barnaby’s eyes had dark rings around the bottom. He wore eyeliner sometimes, making his eyes lighter and his other features even darker.
He had rings on all his fingers. Tattoos covered his fingers and neck. He wore a black button down shirt tucked into black pants. I appreciated Barnaby’s all-black aesthetic, but that didn’t mean I was going to trust him. At least right now he was taking my side against Jude, which counted for something.
“You’re not taking her back,” Jude said. “Crispin Barclay stabbed me and I’m getting revenge. You’re my bloody cousin. Take my side.”
Jude was imperious and demanding — as usual.
“Firstly, Jude, my uncle knocked up a whore, you’re not my full-blooded cousin.”
“Thanks, Barnaby. Very mature.”
“You’re welcome,” Barnaby responded, grinning. He turned his gaze on me. “You have nothing to worry about, Amina. Trust me.”
Jude scoffed. “Trust Barnaby Fox? If you’re a bloody idiot.”
“Well I don’t trust you. I don’t trust either of you. Why are you even taking me to France?” I snapped.
“Brothel work,” Jude said. “Thought it would be a laugh.”
Barnaby snickered. “That’s a laugh.”
“What? No. It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all,” I said. “Crispin didn’t stab you, okay? Why would I lie about this? How would that benefit me?”
“Oh, I’m tired of listening to her,” Jude yawned.
He pulled out his stupid tranquilizer gun and the last thing I remembered before waking up was protesting and screaming along with Barnaby Fox.
The next time I woke up, Barnaby Fox wasn’t there. Well, he was, I realized. But he was tied up too and slumped over the seat. Jude had covered him with his navy Barbour jacket. Jude had the white sleeves of his button down rolled up and his feet resting on Barnaby’s back as he considered me.
“I wasn’t going to let him ruin my plans,” Jude said. “But it took three needles to knock him out. Giant bastard.”
“Fuck.”
There was nothing more to say. Jude had kidnapped both of us now. Couldn’t Barnaby have been smart enough to take away that stupid tranquilizer gun or whatever the hell it was he used to knock us out? The car swerved slightly. Jude smirked at me.
“You’re stuck with me,” Jude said. “Don’t worry. I won’t rape you or anything.”
“Wow, I’m honored.”
“I was joking about the brothel work. I just want to fuck with Crispin.”
“So you’re bringing me to France?”
“Toulouse. I own a cottage there. I think you’d make a good slave, Amina. And right now, I could really really use one.”
He was taking advantage of Crispin’s absence. Counting on that to keep me captive. And for all I knew… his plan would work.
Chapter 48
Crispin Barclay
I dressed up to see her. I knew it would be a surprise, but Jack was right. I needed to do this.
I had to pay a very large price to get Christian back in time to make it. I’d tell my girl about that once I saw her. Once I surprised her. Mum always made us dress up for dinner as kids. August taught me how to knot a tie when I was three and I’d mastered several knots before turning seven.
I did the same for the Sadie Hawkins dance. White button down. Lime green patterned tie. Hair brushed a bit. Navy pants. Shoes, obviously. I thought I looked great. I knew twiggy would look amazing, of course, probably wearing something black that made her look like a fairy princess. I scrambled around the cottage searching for my wallet before leaving. I had Christian back, but I wasn’t stupid enough to leave him where someone could find him.
I wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. At least I knew he was safe and after the semester, I’d find twiggy and take her back with him. I couldn’t wait to see her tonight. If only I could find my bloody wallet.
Turns out the wallet was in the blender. Odd place for it, but I’d been distracted all day from the anticipation. My phone was ringing off the hook. Money managers, trust managers, security companies, my assistant manager of the staff at Happydale, my cousin Kit asking for some final assistance with his essay to apply to the Fox Academy. After finding the wallet, I dashed off to the car. Once I started the engine, Jack called.
“Hello?”
“Are you still coming?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Jack said. “She’s not here yet but… she ought to be soon.”
“She didn’t come with her friends?”
I could hear Violet giving an impassioned (and very loud) lecture about Muslim women’s rights to someone in the background.
“She was on the phone with Sylvia,” Jack said. “She’ll probably be here soon. I know she’ll be surprised. It’s going to be good, mate.”
I tried not to drive recklessly on the way to campus, but I couldn’t help myself. When you’re behind the wheel of a Rolls Royce, a certain reckless instinct takes over, and with these empty country roads, what was a young man to do? I sped over, arriving much faster than I expected to. Macron and Doukas, the teacher supervisors for the party, stood outside smoking together and speaking in rapid Italian. They smiled when they saw me. Macron had been particularly sad to hear about my leaving school and expressed that she was “only pleased to hear that I hadn’t been expelled for being a scoundrel”.
“Ciao, Crispin.”
My Italian was very rusty — although I’d learned several languages as a child — so I muddled through a greeting which amused Macron and Doukas, the native speaker, even more so.
“We can stick to English if you’d like. Have you forgotten that you’ve left school?”
“I’m here to surprise my girlfriend, actually.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, feeling my ears turn red at the mention of my girlfriend.
“The charming Amina Hewett,” Doukas said in his thick accent. “She has finally applied herself to mathematics this semester and the results… chef’s kiss.”
“Yes, she’s been incredible,” I said. “I hope to see her and celebrate everything. I heard she had a big cross country win recently.”
There was a pang in my chest just talking about her. I missed her. It was only when the Dyson people got in touch with me — I don’t bloody well know how — that I heard everything I’d missed. My twiggy. I couldn’t spend another moment without her.
“Perhaps you’d better go celebrate with her then. Unless you’d like to smoke?”
