All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(56)

‘Is that it?’ I asked.

‘How rude of me. Would you like a drink, too?’

I shook my head. ‘I meant, is that all you have to say about the matter?’

‘Listen, Anya, I advised you against dating Win, and it would probably make my job simpler if you’d gone in a different direction here. But I’m not such an ogre. If my son’s in love . . .’ Charles Delacroix shrugged. ‘We are where we are. I like you, Anya. And I’d be the worst sort of hypocrite if I held your parentage against you. We, none of us, can escape the circumstances of our births. Now, if you decide to marry Win, that might be another story. My advisers tell me that my campaign – my theoretical campaign, I mean, and mind you, nothing’s been decided yet about that – can handle Win dating you, but marrying you, they weren’t so sure.’

‘I promise you, Mr Delacroix, I’m not planning to marry anyone any time soon.’

‘Good!’ Charles Delacroix laughed and then his face grew solemn. ‘Did Win ever tell you about his older sister, Alexa? She died when she was about your age now. I don’t like to speak of it.’

I nodded. I could understand not wanting to speak of things.

‘My point is, despite what I said to you that day on the ferry, I want my only living child to be happy, Anya. But I also want him to be safe. The one thing I ask is that if you ever think my boy’s in danger because of any of your familial associations, please come to me. Do we understand each other?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Good. And, of course, if you ever commit any legal indiscretions, I will have to prosecute you to the fullest extent of my office. I can’t be seen to show you favouritism.’ This was said in as friendly a manner as it’s possible to say such things, so I told him that I understood.

Win and his mother arrived home then. ‘Charlie!’ a woman’s voice called out.

‘We’re in the study!’ Mr Delacroix called back.

Win and his mother entered the room. She had long ink-black hair and light green eyes and was about my mother’s height and build. ‘I’m Jane,’ she said. ‘You must be Anya. My, you’re very pretty.’

‘You . . .’ And then I had to stop because I felt as if I might cry. ‘You remind me of someone I used to know.’

‘Oh, well, thanks, I guess. I suppose I should ask you if it was someone you liked or someone you didn’t like.’ She laughed.

‘Someone I liked,’ I said. ‘Someone I miss very much.’ I knew it was an awkward thing to say but I didn’t want to tell her that she reminded me of my mother.

After dinner, Win walked me home. The paparazzi had left for the night, or maybe they’d simply gotten bored of the story. Win wanted to know if his father had been awful to me. I told him that he hadn’t been. ‘He mainly wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t get you killed.’

‘What did you say?’ Win asked.

‘I told him I’d try not to, but I couldn’t make any guarantees.’

And then we were back in my room.

We didn’t have sex, or even get particularly close, but I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I could feel myself opening up towards him like a rose in a hothouse.

I just couldn’t, though. I thought of my parents in Heaven or Hell and I thought of God. Daddy once said, ‘If you don’t know what you believe, Annie, you’ll be a lost soul.’ I realized something very important that night. It had been easy to resist losing my virginity to Gable because I had never really wanted him. In other words, there had never been much temptation. It was far more challenging to stick to my principles where Win was concerned.

That night, Win asked me about sex, like what my beliefs were, etc. And I told him that I didn’t want to have sex until I was married. Without missing a beat, he nodded and said, ‘So let’s get married.’

I hit him. ‘You’re that desperate to have sex?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve had sex.’

‘I’m sixteen! And we barely know each other.’

He held my chin in his hand and looked in my eyes. ‘I know you, Anya.’

He might have been serious, but I made a joke of it. ‘You’d probably marry me just to annoy your father.’

He grinned. ‘Well, that would certainly be a bonus.’

‘Why don’t you like him?’ I asked. ‘He seems all right.’

‘In five-minute doses,’ Win muttered. ‘I imagine you’ve noticed that he’s pretty ambitious.’

‘Sure. My father was, too. In the opposite way though. But I still loved him.’

‘He . . .’ Win began, and then he stopped. ‘I admire Dad. He came from nothing. He was raised in an orphanage. Both his parents were killed in a car accident, but he lived. He thinks I’m soft, but who can compete with that?’ He looked at me. ‘Oh, right. You can, can’t you? My poor, brave girl.’ He kissed me on the forehead.

I told him that I didn’t want to talk about me. ‘Why does he think you’re soft?’

‘Because I got in some trouble a long time ago . . . Boring kid stuff. I’d tell you but it’s embarrassing.’

‘Now you have to tell me!’