Page 48 of Cruel Dynasty

“I thought you were in love,” I said dramatically.

“We were,” he murmured. “That’s why I never went to bed with her.”

“Wait? You never…”

“We were young. We had time,” he said. “It’s easy to jump into bed with someone, but Kerrigan wasn’t just anyone.”

I tilted my head, wishing the light wasn’t fading so quickly outside the window. I wanted to see the secrets he kept—the ones he struggled to hide when he spoke of her— better. “What do you mean?”

“She was alive,” he said. “Fearless. She lived like she was on borrowed time. We could talk for hours. One time, she got up on a table at a pub and sang God Save the King just to embarrass a friend of hers. She was joy and chaos rolled into the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Holden had said he was in love with Kerrigan. He’d used the past tense, but as he spoke I realized he was still in love with her. It was palpable. It made my chest hurt, like my own heart was trying to break free to search for that kind of love.

“But you never slept with her?”

“You’re really hung up on that.” He gave me a sidelong look. “No. She wanted to wait until we were at university. And I didn’t care because kissing her was better than the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“You expect me to believe that?” I laughed.

“It was,” he said seriously. “The only regret I have in life is that I’ll never kiss her again. Not like that.”

Pain echoed in his words, and I believed him.

“What happened?” I asked quietly, starting to feel guilty for asking about something so personal. He’d questioned me about who I was and all I wanted was to dig up dirt. But I had to know if there was a link between their starcrossed romance and her running away.

“An argument. I was being thick. I don’t even remember what it was.” He shook his head. “It should have blown over, but then she got into Oxford, and Spencer wanted to go to St. Andrew’s.”

“So you followed your brother instead of the girl.” They really did have a complicated relationship. “And Spencer didn’t know about you two? He didn’t come with you to London on weekends?”

“Not once. I don’t know if he was more worried about his grades or getting bad press.”

“No seventeen-year-old is worried about bad press,” I snorted.

“Spencer was,” he said flatly. “He was groomed to care. Everything he did had to be perfect. He had to be at the top of every class. There was no room for failure. We were best friends at school, but we lived two completely different lives outside of it. Fuck, he didn’t even lose his virginity until we were at St. Andrew’s.”

“Why do I suspect you had something to do with that?” I arched an eyebrow.

“In my defense, it was a birthday present,” he said, adding a cocky, “for both of us.”

“So you were a virgin, too?”

This earned me another laugh. “No.”

“And his first time, you and he?”

“Dirty girl,” he said in mock outrage, “you’re asking very personal questions.”

“I was told I could ask you anything.” I held up a hand in defense.

“You just seem so interested in hearing stories about the two of us. It might be easier if you just let us show you,” he purred.

I squeezed my thighs together, squirming in my seat. Just the insinuation was enough to make me wet. I found myself thankful for the night blanketing us in darkness, because my face felt as hot as my knickers.

“I was just thinking that’s where it all began,” I said with a casual shrug that didn’t match with my rapid pulse. I needed to douse these flames—and quickly. “Besides, Spencer doesn’t want to share me.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

“And you…” I trailed off. It took me a moment to gather my wits. “You said you wouldn't want to, either.”