Page 52 of Break My Rules
“Dammit!”
I reach uselessly with my racquet as another killer squash shot flies past me, careening off the polished walls with a loud ‘thwack’.
Hugh laughs, gleeful beside me. “You’re getting sloppy,” he gloats, barely breaking a sweat in his workout gear. “Too many late nights will do that to you, old friend.”
“Au contraire,” I pant, trying to recover. “Just hitting my stride.”
“Of course you are. You’re up.” Hugh tosses me the hard rubber ball, and I slam it against the wall in a serve. I’ve been putting off this squash game for a while now—ever since I learned he could be behind Wren’s attack—but I made an early appointment with him today at Tessa’s urging. She’s still pushing to try and figure out if he has an alibi for that weekend.
I can’t believe for a second it could be him, but I know the possibility will drive both Tessa and me crazy, so here I am, serving another shot, and wondering what questions I could possibly ask to rule him out. This time, I manage to keep up a decent rally, before Hugh sends it flying at an angle I just can’t reach.
“About that stride of yours…” he teases, and I scowl good-naturedly.
“Remind me again why I ever agree to play you, when you crush me every time?”
“Because it’s good for that enormous ego of yours,” Hugh replies, pausing to gulp from a bottle of water. I grab mine and take a drink, too. “We’ve all known it for years, the Great Anthony St. Clair needs to be humbled, and often, otherwise you’re just unbearable.”
I can’t help but laugh. Hugh and I go way back. We all do. “You don’t need to worry about that,” I remark wryly. “Tessa keeps me humbled every damn day.”
Hugh arches an eyebrow. “Still going strong, then?”
I nod, mopping sweat from my brow. Strong. Deep. Wildly, recklessly out of control… Whichever way you look at it, I’m mad about her. “What about you?” I ask, not in any hurry to try and describe the hold Tessa has on me.
Or the way it felt, watching her orgasm with another woman’s head buried between her legs.
“Weren’t you seeing that Belgian chick?” I continue, “The one with the vineyard.”
Hugh shakes his head. “Didn’t last. And these days… Well, it’s a circus, with the leadership contest. Journalists sniffing around anything remotely connected to our family. Not many women ready to sign up for that level of scrutiny.”
“And the ones who are, are the wrong ones,” I agree. I’ve never been in the public eye the way Hugh or Max are, but we’ve all had our share of fortune-hunting party girls chasing after us, eager to have their photo inTown & Countrymagazine. “Remember that Tara girl you were seeing last year?” I comment, finding a way to steer the conversation to his whereabouts the weekend of Wren’s kidnapping. “Didn’t Max say she tried to crash the Blackthorn party?”
“Christ, I forgot about her.” Hugh chuckles. “Yes, she showed up with a coterie of school friends, already drunk on cheap Lambrusco. We had to tactfully steer them out the back door, before Cyrus threw a fit.”
“Wild…” I reply, casual. “I heard the after-party was crazy that year. Sorry I missed it.”
“I didn’t stick around long.” Hugh gives a shrug. “You know it’s not my scene. Just another networking event for my father, to mingle with all his donors.”
I’m about to ask what else he was doing, instead, when Hugh leans back against the wall of the squash court with a sigh. “Christ, I’m telling you, this campaign can’t be over too soon. I’m counting the days. I feel like I’m under a microscope,” he adds, mopping his brow. “And the memos… All these damn consultants, vetting every move. Should we go out for a family meal at the curry house, and show Dad’s commitment to a multicultural United Kingdom? Or get a full roast at the pub, to signal his traditional English values?” Hugh rolls his eyes. “I made the mistake of showing up late to a strategy meeting the other day and got a full-on lecture about family responsibility and obedience.”
“Ah yes, I know it well.” I raise my own water bottle in a rueful toast. I can’t help but feel for the guy, we’ve commiserated about our fathers and all their expectations many times before over the years. “Legacy. Commitment. Protecting family name.”
“It’s true, though.” Hugh looks serious for a moment. “At the end of the day, that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? Making sure we don’t fail them. Securing the legacy that they’ve built… However high the price. We owe it to them. We owe everything to them.”
“Someone’s been listening to too many Blackthorn Society speeches,” I tease him, surprised. Hugh’s never gone in for much of the whole tradition routine. He’s not a black sheep like me, but I thought he wanted to go his own way. “Next thing, you’ll be quoting Latin. What is it Cyrus likes to say, the past points our way to the future? The past chains us to it, more like.”
“Right.” Hugh shakes his head, giving a faint smile again. “Prime Minster. Christ, as if my father wasn’t holier-than-thou already. He’s going to be unbearable once he’s the leader of the entire nation.”
“Think of it this way, there won’t be a VIP ticket in town out of reach. Never mind the club, you’ll be jet-setting to Davos with the best of them.” I point out. “And those Parliamentary fangirls, desperate for a taste of power… They’ll be all over you, mate.” I whistle, teasing, and he chuckles.
“I’d say you don’t need those kind of perks to make them come flocking around, but you’re a bloody Duke-in-waiting, after all.”
I groan. “And you know I’d give it up in a heartbeat, to be free from all the family bullshit that comes along with it.” I think of my father, and his affair with Valerie. He swore he’d end it right away, and I’ve checked into the finances: The payments have stopped at the very least.
But does that mean it’s over, or just that he’s figured a different way to cover his tracks?
Hugh and I head back to the locker room, and hit the showers, but the question stays with me. I just hope that my father finds a way to get out of it, before anything blows up in our faces. Hugh’s right about one thing, we’re all under a ton of scrutiny right now: his family with their political campaign, and mine with the Ashford Pharma business, and our upcoming drug announcement. And, of course, those two fates are tied now. Our families are connected, and scandals are the last thing we need.
A scandal like Hugh being revealed as a violent predator…