9. Quinn

9

QUINN

" O h, Quinn." My dad took a seat next to me. I stared out of the window, the stunning mountain view barely registering as I blinked back tears. "We're so sorry you've had such a difficult time here. We only ever wanted what was best for you." He sighed. "I've spoken to the executive team, and I've arranged to finish up the remainder of the financial year in England."

Settling on the other side of me, my mum patted my knee. "You're going back to Hatherley Hall. Your father and I agreed that it was in your best interest, as long as ? —"

"You stay away from trouble. All trouble. Any bad influences. That includes the Cavendish boy." My dad's voice hardened. "There will be consequences if you disobey us. Consequences for him. Consequences that will affect his future. Listen carefully, and I'll explain everything so there's no confusion…"

The sky gradually lightened, so slowly that I wouldn't have been aware if I hadn't been lost at sea in a small boat, attuned to every tiny change that was happening around me. I hadn't slept, and my stomach was churning, my entire being focused on Roman.

He has to be okay .

I'd reassured myself over and over again, but nothing made a difference. I wouldn't feel any better until I saw him for myself. And…I'd also feel better when I was rescued. There was a thought at the back of my mind, wondering if he'd left me for dead, but I ignored that. I had to ignore it. Otherwise, I'd fall apart.

The rain had stopped overnight, and the sun was high in the sky.

And still, no one came.

The sun had moved, the shadows beginning to lengthen, and I guesstimated it to be some time in the afternoon. I curled into a ball, pressing against the side, swallowing hard as the gentle sloshing of the waves sounded next to my ear. My stomach ached with hunger, and the motion of the boat made nausea rise in my throat. Thankfully—if there was anything to be thankful for—the rain had stopped soon after Roman had left, but I was still damp, and despite the sun, I hadn't been able to chase away the chill that had settled in my bones.

Amidst my despair, there was a tiny thread of anger wrapping itself around my consciousness, hot and savage. If I got out of here, and if Roman Cavendish was okay, he was going to pay for leaving me here.

The monotonous lapping of the waves was broken by the purr of an engine, followed by a shout.

"Quinn!"

My body was aching everywhere, but I gradually unfolded my stiff limbs and carefully rose to my feet, grasping onto the nearest part of the boat to keep myself steady. Figures swarmed the deck, and I turned to face the person who had called my name.

"Elena."

She blew out a heavy breath, her eyes brimming, and then she pulled me into her arms. We barely knew each other, yet she didn't hesitate to comfort me, rubbing my back with soothing strokes. "Quinn, I'm so sorry. We're going to get you back to the house as quickly as we can." There was a pause, and then she added, "I want to make it clear that Knox and Tristan knew nothing about this, and believe me, they are not happy with Roman after he did… this ." Her final word was spat between gritted teeth.

It took me a moment to wrap my head around what she'd said, but when it registered, I inhaled sharply. When I spoke, I couldn't disguise the tremor in my voice. "He left me here on purpose ?"

"I'm so sorry," she said again. Releasing me, she handed me a water bottle and instructed me to drink. "None of us realised what had happened. Everyone was drinking and partying, I was with Knox—not that it's any excuse—and by the time we found Roman, he was so drunk he'd passed out. He was still drunk on the boat back to the mainland. Tristan made him drink some coffee when we got back to the house, and that sobered him up a bit. By that time, it was already close to midday. I asked him if he'd seen you, and he suddenly shouted, ‘Fuck, isn't she here?' I said no, and it was like the colour drained from his face. He was…frantic. He kept asking where you were, and none of us could work out what was going on. The second he said that you were out here on the boat, we came as quickly as we could."

"So he actually left me here. On purpose," I managed to say after I'd gulped down the rest of my water, gripping the bottle with shaking hands.

"I know, and he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. I wasn't even the one affected and I want to castrate him. He's such a—" Her hands waved in the air.

"Fucking heartless bastard?" My voice cracked on the words as I blinked back tears.

"Yes. At least." She glanced at Knox, who was directing a random guy to pull up the anchor. Moving closer to me, she lowered her voice. "Roman deserves nothing. Even though he told us you were here, it means nothing because the fact is he left you . He deserves to pay."

Amidst the relief I felt, knowing he was okay and hadn't drowned at sea, my anger was morphing, turning into rage. He fucking left me . Who cared if he told his friends that I was here? The fact was he'd made it back to the lighthouse, and instead of telling someone I was stranded in the middle of the fucking sea, he got drunk. Who did that?

Squaring my shoulders, I cleared my throat. "You're right. Roman Cavendish is a callous, heartless bastard who deserves to pay. And he will."

"Quinn?"

Glancing up, I found Knox with his hand outstretched, concern in his dark eyes. He handed me a bar of Dairy Milk.

"Chocolate's good for shock. Eat it." As I unwrapped the bar, he continued. "If you want to go back to school, I'll drive you."

Elena nodded. "Honestly, Quinn, I think it'll do everyone some good to have a chance to cool off. If I see Roman now, I might commit murder."

"You and me both," Knox muttered under his breath, and my brows flew up. "Yeah, he's one of my best friends, but he was completely fucking out of line." His gaze slid to Elena's, and his mouth curved into a wry smile. "I did some things to Elena in the past that I'm not proud of, but there's a line you shouldn't cross, and he went way over it."

"Thanks," I whispered. "I think I'd like to go back, if you're sure you don't mind taking me. Otherwise, I can?—"

"We're taking you," Elena said firmly. "Don't worry about anything else. We'll take care of it all."

A tiny bit of the tension I was holding drained away at her decisive words. And then my fingers brushed against soft fabric.

Roman's T-shirt. I'd done as he instructed, putting it on under my hoodie.

Bile rose in my throat. I mumbled something about feeling sick and staggered towards the bow. When I was alone, I stripped the T-shirt from my body while covering myself with the hoodie, a process that took far longer than I wanted. But finally, I was free, and with another glance around me to make sure no one was paying attention, I balled up the T-shirt and dropped it over the side of the boat.

Saltwater licked up the fabric until it was soaked through, and then it sank beneath the waves.