Page 17 of Scandal
He flinches, seemingly taken aback by my harsh tone. But this is where I draw the line. I’ve studied music my entire life. I know how good he is, and that’s not a compliment. It’s just a fact. Hearing him reduce himself to something ordinary is unacceptable. “You aren’t just any lead singer, Ash. You’re the guy they’ll give lifetime achievement awards to and makedocumentaries about. You’re a once-in-a-generation kind of talent. You arenotreplaceable.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but then he just shakes his head, his expression downtrodden. “No, I’m the one they ridicule online and stalk in the streets. I’m just a spectacle for people’s enjoyment. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m done.”
He sounds so defeated, and I try to come up with something hopeful to say, but before I have the chance, the car comes to a stop, and I find myself in front of a very intimidating iron gate.
“Welcome back, my lord,” a young blond man says to Asher. He eyes me but doesn’t say a thing.
Oh god, does he think…
“Hi, I’m Mercury,” I say, leaning over to give a nervous wave in his direction. “I’m just here visiting. From the US. As a friend.”
His brow rises ever so slightly as he tips his head in a slight nod. “Very good, miss.”
The gate draws open, and Asher pulls ahead. “You handled that well,” he says with an amused grin.
“I didn’t want him to assume that we…that I…” I trip over my words as my cheeks flame red.
Asher’s grin deflates instantly. “That you were another one of my meaningless conquests? Like all the girls in those photos?”
“What? No.” I try to apologize, realizing how my reaction must have come across, that my embarrassment might have seemed more shameful than bashful. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s fine,” he grits out, his voice still stiff and stilted. “But you have nothing to worry about. You’re Hen’s little sister, so that basically makes us family, right?”
I suddenly feel nauseous. Family? Is he serious?
I know I’ve never looked at any of my brothers the way I look at him…
“Right.” I force a smile.
“Good.” He nods. “That’s good.”
“He called youmy lord.”
“He did.”
“Do they all do that?” I ask awkwardly.
“Despite my protests, yes.”
“Aren’t you just an heir apparent?”
His brow rises. “Looking me up, Mercury Creed?”
“What? No!” He chuckles darkly, and I grumble under my breath. “Maybe a little.”
He lets out a long sigh and says, “My father has two titles. As the heir apparent, I’m given the lesser a courtesy title.” I furrow my brows in confusion, and he must notice. “It doesn’t really matter. But, because you’re curious, I’m known as Viscount Blackstone. That’s why they address me as such.”
My eyes widen.
I notice the way he keeps looking out the window. When I check to see why, I realize we are driving away from the lights of the grand manor and toward the shadowy darkness of the grounds.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not staying at the main house,” he explains. “I’m staying…elsewhere.”
I start to picture a dilapidated tent in the middle of the woods. “Elsewhere?”
“A cottage.”
