—RORI—
On Monday morning, chaos ensues.
Although the press do not print anything, they are made aware of the fact our brother is in rehab. And in school, all kinds of rumours further spread.
My brothers and i have not yet sat down to discuss the situation of Teddy — seeing as the eldest have been busy dealing with it — and so i do not know the full extent of how he landed himself in rehab.
All i know is that Yakov found him to be taking drugs and harming himself, though i know there is much more to the story.
Speaking to Teddy, though it feels impossible at this moment, is the only way i am going to get an honest answer.
The only problem: we are not allowed to visit Teddy at the moment. And by we, i mean anyone except the eldest three.
Also, no matter what my brothers say to convince me otherwise, i am sure that he wants nothing to do with me...
My conscience is guilty. Zephaniah was right when he said that i am no angel. I fractured my brother's nose, for God's sake! And, yes, he shouldn't have strangled me as a retaliation. But what else was he supposed to do? Sit there and take it?
Teddy is one of the worst people i have ever met, but he happens to have a drug problem — not for the first time — and is harming himself, which could mean literally anything.
I feel wrong for feeling under appreciated when this is what he is going through.
I mean, i could never put myself through that. Or my family, for that matter.
Doesn't he know we are worried sick for him?
Doesn't he know i have barely eaten in two days?
...At lunch time, i have had enough. Enough of the whispering, enough of the weird looks, and enough of the godforsaken rumours.
In the lunch line, i overhear someone mentioning my brother and best friend's names, and i think to myself, not again.
Listen, i have no problem with what people talk about in their own time, but at school, when there's a chance any one of us triplets could overhear them talking, they ought to think before they speak.
Otherwise, i'll have to teach them the same lesson i did Lindsay...
"Kissed?" i hear a girl say. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, i'm sure," the other girl says. "Well, apparently they were doing a lot more than just that...Carly went to look for Anna after she ran off and she saw the two of them making out in her room...like, full on French kissing, and apparently they were really touchy too..."
"You don't think they...did anything, do you?" the first girl asks.
"Who knows?" the other girl says. "I mean—"
To avoid scarring myself for life, i promptly leave the lunch line in the midst of their conversation.
This is the first time i am hearing somebody discuss my brother and Annalise since Lindsay, and it makes me so very uncomfortable in every way.
If what they're saying is true — and i am choosing to ignore the details mentioned — then Annalise's first kiss was taken by my twin brother.
Seamus has always argued how much of a bad influence she can be but the girl is far more innocent than i am. And although we live in the same world, we come from completely different ones.
Annalise was born and raised with catholic values — i suppose like my mother — and, although they are not prudes, i imagine her parents would be less than impressed if they found out what their 'little angel' gets up to when they are out of town.
Annalise is prim and proper. Her first kiss is supposed to be with her future boyfriend, who is exactly her match, and most definitely not my brother who she is most definitely not in love with.
It can't be true. I know that it can't be true. But deep down...deep down i realise there is truth to every rumour...
Mikey greets me with a single wave as i approach our table, but it is not he that i pay attention to.
Annalise beams at me but when she notices the determined expression on my face and the manner in which i am walking, her smile falters and is replaced by a look of uncertainty.
"Hey, Ri—"
"Annalise Marie Kingston."
Mikey's eyes widen at the sound of me addressing her with her full name.
"What did you do?" he mutters to her.
"Are the rumours true?" i ask her, both of us ignoring Mikey's intrigue.
"Rumours?" she repeats, feigning innocence. "What rumours?"
"Don't play dumb with me," i snarl. "You know exactly what i am talking about. Did you or did you not make out with my brother at your party last weekend?"
Her gaze lowers but there is no hiding the guilty expression on her face.
I relax into my stance and fold my arms across my torso, my watchful gaze unrelenting as i await her response.
"Don't make me ask you again, Anna, i swear to—"
"Rori," she begins.
I hold my breath in anticipation, though i already know the answer.
"I'm sorry," is all she says.
I shake my head at her, the all too familiar feeling of betrayal clawing at my throat.
It shouldn't bother me, right? But what girl would be elated at the thought of her best friend and brother liking each other...like that?
It's not even what they did that that fills me with such disgust, it's the fact that they kept it a secret from me.
I mean, how would Seamus feel if i just started kissing Christian behind his back one day and he found out from some girls gossiping in the lunch line?
How would he react to that? Would he clap Christian on the back and tell him all is well?
Of course he wouldn't.
Knowing him, he'd probably feel like beating the shit out of Christian if he ever so much as caught on to the fact the boy likes me. Hell, he might even go ahead and do just that.
But i can't do that to Annalise because i am not some overprotective brother who shivers at the mere possibility of his sister being with a guy.
No. I can't do that. But what i can do is ignore her existence until i figure out where my head is at.
And when the two of them are forgiven, after i am assured that this was all some grave mistake — God knows when that will happen — maybe, just maybe, i will be ready to trust them again.
"Sit elsewhere," i demand.
"Ri," Mikey begins, his voice defeated. "That's unfair."
"No. What's unfair is the fact she went behind my back after seven years of friendship and kissed my twin brother," i tell him, my tone of voice nothing short of apathetic, and his eyes soften sympathetically. "That's what's unfair," i continue. "So, Traitor, you can take your tray and eat elsewhere, with one of your many other friends, because i am most certainly not moving."
Mikey spares a glance at my brothers' table — no doubt wishing that he chose to sit with the guys on his first day, rather than befriending us petty bitches — and with a heartbroken look on her face that i do not care for, Annalise gathers her things and moves to a different table.
And it's not just any old table she chooses to go to, either.
It's Lindsay's.
— SUCKER PUNCH —
Wyatt picks us up from school today (on time for once) but it is only me and Quentin who go with him.
Seamus is nowhere to be seen and i am not even sure he is aware of what happened earlier on.
Quentin knows. I know he knows. He and Mikey shared a look in the canteen.
My younger brother knows he is not to blame — after all, it was not he who kissed my friend — but remains silent on the drive home because he knows that i will snap at him if he says the wrong thing.
When i am mad at one twin, it is very easy for me to become mad at the other. For when i look at Quentin's face, as unique as he appears to me, i can't help but think of Seamus.
When i am mad, they may as well be the same person.
Wyatt can clearly sense the tension in the air, glancing at me every so often and glancing at Quentin in the rear-view mirror, and he turns up the radio, singing along to the tune of Salt-N-Pepa's 'Whatta Man'.
There is nothing even he can do to alleviate the rage i feel in this moment. The same goes for the rest of my brothers...
"Can you drop me off at The Clubhouse?" i ask Wyatt.
He sends a look of concern my way.
"Of course," he says, before adding, "Everything okay?"
I scoff a humourless laugh and look him dead in the eye.
"Tremendous," i say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Things have never been better."
"There's no need to use that tone," my brother admonishes me. "I'm not living under a rock, you know. I know how bad things are," he says, obviously referring to the fact Teddy is in rehab, amongst the many other dramas of our family.
"Mhm," i muse, not caring for what he has to say.
"Are you sure i can trust you to be on your own right now?" he asks, ignoring my attitude. "I'm worried about you."
I sigh, my icy expression melting a little at his words.
I can't be mean to Wyatt. No matter how hard i try.
"I'm fine," i tell him, my tone softening ever so slightly. "I just need to blow off some steam."
He nods in understanding.
"I get it," he says. "Just remember, i'm here for you Rori. I hate to see you like this...I really wish you would open up more."
I face him, my eyebrows frowning at his words.
It strikes me that we've been here before — things start to get tough and we fail to open up to one another.
Opening up to Wyatt should be easy — after all, he has always been my most favoured confidant — but it feels impossible in this moment.
How do i explain to my older brother that i feel as though i am carrying the weight of a thousand men on my back? That each day i wake up and i am saddened by the struggle of simply being me?
My brothers feel it. We all feel it.
And we mask it so very well.
But i am failing more than ever right now. And what of Teddy? He is in rehab, after all.
Masking is easy when it is all you know, but, eventually, the mask falls.
The question is: how much longer can we keep this up?
How much longer can i keep this up?
— SUCKER PUNCH —
I leave the gym crying, feeling worse than i did before i went in.
How can it be possible that i feel worse after exercise? It is scientifically proven to make us feel better, after all.
The truth is, i had a panic attack of a sort. I went in, aiming to box, only the memories of me and Teddy fighting came flooding back to me.
The words that he said.
The words that i said.
How we harmed each other.
Following this, i ventured to the main gym. It was quiet for once, though i suspect that might be to do with the fact it is a Monday afternoon, and the only people there were a few guys who appeared to be in their early twenties.
They didn't bother me but i felt their stares from time to time. I doubt they could have heard about what happened between Teddy and i, so i'm not sure where their curiosity came from.
Perhaps another rumour i have yet to find out about...
In the end, i did not ask Wyatt to pick me up. I called an Uber instead and headed into town.
I haven't been shopping in months now...The last time was probably July, when i did my back to school shop.
Annalise and her mother had joined me then, and it makes me sad when i think about it.
If our friendship does not recover, i will probably be most sad that i will no longer get to spend time with her mother. Perhaps it is because i do not have one of my own, but i find myself growing quickly attached to older women in my life.
It's amazing that Josephine makes so much time for her daughter...After all, she is one of the most renowned casting agents in LA, and maybe even America.
My mother was a full-time housewife and so, theoretically, she should have had all the time in the world to spend with me.
But i remind myself that i am one of ten, whereas Annalise is Josephine's only child, and that, aside from these facts, my mother chose not to spend very much time with me...
My monthly allowance isn't much at all, considering my family's wealth, at just one hundred dollars.
And i know that me saying one hundred dollars is not much sounds completely entitled, and it is, but one hundred dollars soon equates to the same worth as ten dollars when you become wealthy.
The good news is, i am good at saving money and so (aside from the five thousand dollars Yakov gave me, which i have yet to find a use for) i have a whopping three hundred and thirty-seven dollars in my bank.
Once again, the bad news is, in Los Angeles, i would often be expected to spend this amount of money in one store, depending on what it is.
Luckily for me, Brandy Melville's prices are just fine.
Since it is the middle of Autumn, i buy myself some long-sleeved tops and sweatpants. Granted, it is currently eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit outside. I also buy myself plenty of jewellery.
You know what? I deserve this.
I've had one heck of a day, that's for sure. One heck of a month, too. Thank God it is almost over.
I spend just over one hundred dollars in Brandy Melville and so i still have money left over.
I need new shoes, so i could go get a pair...but i also need a new book to read...but i also feel as though i should buy something for my brothers.
Not all of them, of course, but Zephaniah's birthday is fast approaching and surely i should get Teddy something also?
What would i even get them, though?
We never really get each other gifts. Well, when we were younger, some of us used to make birthday gifts seeing as we could not afford to buy any.
But i will feel foolish either way; i cannot afford to buy Zephaniah some fancy watch for his birthday, and he would surely laugh if i were to give him something homemade.
I suppose i could bake him a cake...i could bake both he and Teddy cakes.
Only, Zephaniah doesn't have much of a sweet tooth as far as i can remember. But it's birthday cake, after all.
Who would refuse birthday cake?
For Teddy, his cake can be a peace offering — a sign that all is forgiven —even if i do not feel like i am ready to move on.
It is such a simple gesture, though. I would be taken aback if either one of them refused me.
Well, if they do, i will simply shove the cake in their face. I shan't tolerate any ungratefulness.
Only...am i even allowed to bring a cake into a rehabilitation centre?
What if they think i have laced it with something?
And what cake do my brothers even like?
I'm starting to think it would be a whole lot easier for me to just not get them anything at all...
As i'm walking along the busy LA street, a man bumps into me.
"Excuse me," he apologises, rather stoically.
He glances up from his phone screen immediately after and his eyes widen as he locks eyes with me.
"You're excused..." i say, blankly staring at him through my long eyelashes.
He nods and moves to the side in order to walk past me.
I step in front of him, successfully blocking his path.
"Are you serious? Don't ignore me," i tell him, my tone one of disbelief.
He raises his eyes to the sky momentarily and then returns his gaze to me.
"Keep walking, Rori," he tells me, an underlying warning in his tone. "You shouldn't be talking to me right now."
"Penalty if i do?" i ask him.
He narrows his eyes at me, and, before i know it, he is leading me into the entrance of the hotel directly beside us.
My eyes widen as i take in the beautiful interior: the renaissance style mural on the ceiling high above, the extravagant chandelier that hangs from it, the woman playing a harp in the centre of the room. It truly does feel magical.
And then i catch sight of it...
A logo embedded on the wall behind the man at reception: the letters A and C, intertwined in a cursive style font, in the form of a light fixture.
I gaze up at Damiano, the question evident in my eyes.
He nods his head in silent conformation.
"Antonelli Corporations," he says, in a slight whisper, leaning down slightly so i will be able to hear him.
"So...is this place...kind of yours?" i ask him, curiosity gleaming in my eyes.
Damiano nods his head, though he appears to be amused by my question.
"It's kind of yours too, Little Red," he tells me, and the ghost of a smile creeps onto my face.
"Really?" i say. "Well it's a good job i like it then."
He places his hand on my back and guides me towards the reception area. I am glad i do not flinch at his touch, though, now that i have taken in the interior, i become angered slightly when i realise that he tried to ignore me on the street and has now dragged me into this hotel — as pretty as it may be.
We met for the first time just over a week ago, he threatened me with the knowledge of a murder i committed over two years ago, and now we are walking side by side into this hotel that belongs to our mother's family...
Why must he be so courteous and indulgent with me when he, though he tries to do so through a professional façade, is also being manipulative and cunning?
I know he cannot be trusted, and i imagine he feels the same about me, so why are we ignoring such intuition?
Is this all part of his ruse?
"Ah, Mr Antonelli," the man behind reception greets Damiano in a Mexican accent, surprising me when he does not use his father's surname. "How might i help you?"
"Can you have someone bring my niece and i tea?" he asks the man. "We will be at The Rooftop Cafe."
I stare at him in confusion when i register what he says.
First of all, i know our family dynamic is weird, but i am most certainly not your niece, Damiano...Unless he lied to me?
And, second of all, rooftop cafe?
"Why, of course!" the man answers him in a gleeful tone. "I'll have someone send it up right away."
The man glances at me momentarily and offers me a warm smile, and Damiano has to once again direct me to where he wants to go.
We reach a fancy elevator and only then do i speak.
"Niece?" i ask him. "Last time i checked, it was either sister or cousin...not niece."
"It is less suspicious," he tells me. "In the chance that people gossip and it gets back to your brothers, they will know i was here with my niece and not my sister."
"Right." i nod my head in understanding. "That makes sense."
I go to check the time and panic when i realise that i do not have my bags on me.
They were with me downstairs. I know that much. So how can it be possible that, in the space of a few minutes, i have lost my bags?
Only i then exit my forgetful state and remember that Damiano had handed them to the guy behind reception while i was staring at him with a shell-shocked expression.
Luckily, i have everything i need on me, including my phone, and i sigh in relief when i see that it is still only four-thirty. I quickly send Wyatt a text, informing him that i am in town, picking up a few things, and that i will leave in about an hour.
He responds pretty much instantly, with a thumbs up emoji, and i pocket my phone.
At least he will not be suspicious when i return, as i actually have evidence that i went shopping. But still, all this sneaking around i have been doing lately is making me feel guilty...
The elevator stops at the top floor and after that we are required to walk up a flight of stairs in order to get to The Rooftop Cafe.
I am truly shocked when Damiano opens the French doors, revealing the cafe in all of its glory. It is decorated beautifully, and i can tell that a lot of work has gone into designing it, just like the hotel itself. It is bohemian style, adorned with many plants and vines that hang from the walls. There are also dozens of fairy lights above our heads and lanterns placed on each of the tables.
Though the cafe itself is not in use at the moment, all of its tables empty, and the staff nowhere to be seen, i spot an afternoon tea stand on on one of the tables, filled with finger sandwiches and sweet pastries galore. There is also a tray of tea beside it and a note that invites us to help ourselves to any of the drinks from the refrigerator.
"Wow," i say. "That was very quick."
Damiano pulls out a chair for me, which i thank him for, and makes his way to the opposite end of the table.
"We only hire the best in the business," he tells me, before adding, with a tinge of amusement, "Though it does help that the hotel is kind of ours."
"Why did you bring me here?" i cut straight to the chase. "Surely you won't treat me to afternoon tea and then bombard me with your plans for my brother?" i ask him.
"You told me not to ignore you," he responds, appearing slightly confused.
"So?"
"So...this is me not ignoring you."
I stare at him for a moment, intrigue in my eyes.
This is my first time analysing his appearance outside of the dingy, basement style, interrogation room that i first met him in.
His hair looks slightly different in the daylight — the lighter hairs standing out in the sun, making it appear almost golden — but the rest of him looks the same, and, though he maintains a powerful aura, he appears slightly less intimidating than before.
Only slightly.
He wears a trench coat once more, only this one is brown as opposed to black, and the rest of his outfit appears to hold the same formality.
His expression is just as i remember it: severe and calculating, even when he is smiling.
"Oh..." i say, surprised by his reasoning. "Well, all i meant is that i was displeased that you pretended not to know me. Couldn't you have at least acknowledged me?" i ask.
"And risk your brothers find out that we have met?" he points out.
"I never thought of that," i admit, before adding, "I wasn't following you, or anything," i clarify.
"I know." he offers me a slight smile. "Nor was i."
There is a moment's silence and then Damiano offers to pour me some tea, to which i hesitantly accept. I go for the option of raspberry and lemon tea, as opposed to the traditional that he drinks, and i also help myself to some finger sandwiches: one filled with cucumber and the other filled with smoked salmon. I admire the tea pots from which he pours the tea, marvelling at the Moroccan style patterns which have been hand painted on them.
"Weren't you on your way to somewhere when we bumped into each other?" i ask him. "You seemed as though you were in a rush."
"I was on my way to a business meeting downtown," he tells me, unbothered. "I was running late."
"Well, why didn't you go?" i ask him, slightly concerned.
"Because you told me not to ignore you," he repeats his words from earlier. "Besides, the meeting was pointless and i did not want to go. Now i have an excuse," he says, with a slight shrug.
"What will you tell them?" i ask.
"I'll have the hotel send a gift basket for their troubles and apologise that i could not make it," he answers.
"You should get them to send some of these sandwiches round," i tell him, taking a bite of my third one. "They're really great," i say, through a mouthful.
He raises his eyebrows slightly as he observes the way in which i ravenously eat the sandwich, but he does not seem to care. In fact, he still appears to be amused by my company.
I tell him he should try one, and he does, complimenting it afterwards and agreeing with me that the finger sandwiches would be a good thing to send. I then try one of the pastries — a mini pain au chocolat — and i hum in delight at the sweet taste of it, already eyeing a mini lemon meringue pie.
Only, the blissfulness i feel soon dissipates when i begin to make more realisations.
I am on the rooftop of a hotel owned by my family, who i didn't even know of until last week, having afternoon tea with my half-brother who, the first and only time i have met him, forced me to become involved in his revenge scheme for our brother.
What's more: i am not unsettled to be in his company but, rather, this is the most content i have felt all day...and in fact, our spontaneous meeting has completely distracted me from the betrayal i faced earlier on, as well as the unwanted negative thoughts that have been popping up from the moment i found out my brother is in rehab.
It feels wrong for me to be sitting here with him — as though i haven't betrayed Zephaniah — and the memories of earlier on resurfacing fills me with another spout of rage.
Damiano notices the shift in atmosphere, his gaze so intense that i can feel him observing me as i stare at the skyscrapers in the distance.
"Is everything okay?" he asks me, using that blunt tone of his.
I nod my head, not uttering a word, not even turning to meet his eyes.
The last person i want to discuss Annalise and Seamus's betrayal with is the man who has been a cause of my recent stress. Not to mention, a man who i have insisted i do not trust in the slightest.
It's not like i haven't got bigger fish to fry right now, but their abuse of my trust just adds to the pain i feel.
Not to mention, my relationship with Seamus is so sacred that, when anything causes it to rupture, it begins to feel weak and unsound.
Quentin must feel hurt by his actions from time to time, but it seems to be me who is the victim the majority of the time. But that's the thing: the relationship i share with each of the boys is much more complex than the relationship they share with each other.
Because, no matter what, they are boys and i am a girl. And it is an entirely different dynamic.
I have known so since day one...and unfortunately, our falling outs only seem to get worse as we grow...
I avert my gaze, finally acknowledging just how high above the ground we are. It's a good thing i'm not scared of heights. If anything, i prefer the view from up here. God knows if Quentin were here right now, he would be unable to look at his surroundings.
I still can't fathom that Damiano brought me here. The only time i have enjoyed afternoon tea is, once again, with Annalise and her mother — usually once a month at their country club. And never with a view as beautiful as this, on the rooftop of a hotel that i can call...kind of my own...
As much as i appreciate his hospitality, and know that his issues with my family do not apply to me, i still cannot say that i feel any kind of positive emotions towards this man.
For, at the end of the day, i am still involved with his scheming against my will. All in the name of his pride.
Still...maybe i should sympathise a little more. If it wasn't bad that his own brother betrayed him by sleeping with his long-term girlfriend, then the fact that he wrongfully spent eighteen months behind bars is.
I want to ask him more.
More about our family, more about what happened between he and Zephaniah, and more about what exactly his plan entails.
I want to hate him so desperately for putting me in such a difficult position...but what if he ends up being okay?
Still, does he really have to hurt me in the process?
Zephaniah will not die at the hands of his brother, like his father did. That is all that matters.
Stopping history from repeating itself once more is all that matters.
(Edited)
A/N: I got Mels to look over this chapter since i was so conflicted but she suggested a correction, reassured me that all was good, and here we are. You can thank her for me updating on time! I was unsure of including Damiano so soon after their first meeting but i thought it would be interesting for them to meet under different circumstances. It seems to me as though he is trying to make an effort but what do you guys think? Is he being genuine or does he only care to know Rori in order to get to Zephaniah?
UPDATE: When editing this chapter for grammatical errors, the comments on the A/N disappeared entirely, even though i changed nothing in it...so i promise i wasn't ignored.