Page 2 of Desperate Lies
“Delirium,” I instruct, giving the driver the name of the sex club.
If it means anything to him, he doesn’t let on.
“Please, quickly,” I say before panic swallows me up. “Please drive.”
Dad reaches us, shuffling foot-to-foot in front of the cab with his arms spread, like he thinks this hulking vehicle is a bull in a field he can convince not to charge.
The driver mutters something and swerves out of Dad’s way. As we pass, Dad clenches both fists and shakes them at the window, yelling a barrage of abuse at me. Some words are muffled, butselfish bitchcomes through loud and clear. I cringe, curling in on myself, willing the cab to drive faster.
But this can’t be it.Come on, Diana. Thiscannotbe the last vision he has of me—huddled in the back of a car—before I’m finally free of him.
I inhale sharply, force myself to sit straight, and flip him the middle finger as we drive away.Very mature.
He halts, shoulders falling as his mouth drops open, and I feel the tiniest bit of pride that I’ve really fucking done it. I’ve turned my back on the man who has controlled me for all of my twenty-one years.
The cab speeds up, and Dad grows smaller and smaller as we leave him behind.
I collapse again, breathing hard and trying to ignore the uneasy thump of my heart. Am I doing the right thing?
I have to believe I am. I have to believe that my freedom is worth fighting for.
The cab takes a few turns down Mayfair streets, passing redbrick townhouses lit up by the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. I press a hand against my racing heart and sit that way for a few minutes, but as the adrenaline rush of escaping fades, a gloom as dull as the overcast night sky swoops in and takes its place.
I might not be marrying the man he chose for me, but I’m not really free at all. Dad manages my finances and controls my allowance. He controlseverything, and all I have in my name is a bank account with very little in it.
Sitting in this overly warm black cab, sweaty palms now clasped between my knees, my decisions look questionable, if not downright stupid.
How the hell am I going to survive after this?
I can’t think about it now. If I do, I won’t get through the night. Even thinking about it has panic rising again.
I stare out of the window.It’s okay. I’m okay.My dad isn’t here. I can deal with him tomorrow.
For now, I’m in control. I get to be the one making choices about my life. Me, Diana Marchetti. In charge of her own destiny.
That sounds good. It’s exactly what I want.
But I still don’t feel good. I slump in the seat again, head in my hands. I should be elated that I’ve taken the first steps towards freedom, but I can’t shut out the truth, no matter how hard I try.
I am so alone.
While Seb Hawkston walked away from our engagement straight into the arms of the woman he’d been in love with for years, the world-famous supermodel Erica Lefroy, I walked away with nothing but a change of clothes and a stolen sex club membership card.
Seb’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong. I begrudge him nothing, but he wanted out as much as I did. He’s just lucky that someone was there to catch him at the end.
“All right, Miss?” comes the driver’s voice, and I sit up, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
“Fine. Yes.”
“That was…” His eyes dart away. “That was rough back there.”
“Yes.” I rub the thumb of one hand against the palm of the other, over and over. “Yeah. Pretty rough. I’m okay now though.”
“You don’t need me to stop? I can pull over.”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, really. Thank you for asking though.”
He gives me a nod in the rearview and focuses on the road, while I rifle through the messy contents of my handbag. Finally, I find what I’m looking for: the gold membership card withDeliriumin black script on the front, and my sister’s name embossed in the bottom right corner.
