Page 64 of Pleasure Payback

‘So I take it you enjoyed your Fantasy Room experiences?’ I mimicked his words.

‘I finally realised a teenage dream. What’s not to like?’

I pulled back to look into his eyes. ‘A Bowie party for two was what you dreamt of?’

His expression tightened. ‘I would’ve takenanysort of party. That just happened to be on a list of many things I never got to have.’

‘Why not?’ I asked, tentatively because I didn’t want him to clam up again.

His lips firmed for a moment. ‘You know about my parents.’

I nodded. ‘I know they left you behind when they went to Greece—’

‘Not just me. My sister, Gemma, was seven and my brother, Jasper, was six.’

‘Who looked after you?’

‘Like any wealthy, dysfunctional family, we were conveniently shipped off to boarding school. During the holidays we were looked after by a procession of nannies and occasionally visited by the odd uncle or aunt when they remembered we existed.’

‘So you never saw your parents?’

‘My aunt Florence attempted to guilt my parents into behaving like responsible human beings at one point.’

He gave a half-smile, despite the pain searing in his eyes.

‘What did she do?’

‘She organised a lavish party for my thirteenth birthday. Bowie was on the list somewhere if I recall correctly.’

‘And she invited them?’

‘No. She had the event planners and caterers fly everything—from the dozen race-car simulators I’d been bending everyone’s ear about, to the birthday cake I didn’t want but she insisted I have—to my parents’ island. She flew my cousins and everyone I’d so much as nodded to at boarding school and their parents to Greece. Close to a hundred people turned up. Besides my own relatives, I only knew about a handful of the rest. But I bet every single one of them never forgot what happened.’

Concern welled inside me. ‘What happened?’ My question was little more than a hushed whisper.

‘My mother ordered her household staff to throw us off the island. When Aunt Flo refused, she threatened to have us all arrested for trespassing.’

My heart lurched in pain and sympathy. ‘Oh, my God.’

‘It was fascinating,’ Damian said, his tone almost conversational. But I heard the flatness layering it. The distance he sought from his pain. It was the same way I’d dealt with my mother all these years.

‘Fascinating?’

His smile was humourless. ‘Yes. I found it fascinating that a mother could feel nothing for the children she’d brought into the world. That she would hate me so much she’d threaten me with jail just so I’d be taken out of her sight.’

‘Damian—’

He pulled away, cutting me off before I could speak. ‘Save your pity, Neve. I learned a valuable lesson that day.’

Hurt darted through me. I smothered it, reminding myself that we all needed coping mechanisms. This was Damian’s. ‘What did you learn?’

‘That it was stupid and pointless to get swept up in someone else’s agenda. That I was the only who controlled my path to wherever I wanted to go. Success. Failure. Happiness or contentment or whatever label you want to slap on what drives you. It all comes down to me and me alone. My mother couldn’t have made it plainer that I was no longer part of her life. Aunt Flo, as well meaning as she was, shouldn’t have swayed me into going along with her. She wanted to shine a spotlight on my parents’ irresponsibility, guilt them into loving or, at the very least, acknowledging that their children still existed. And I went along with it.’

‘You were only thirteen years old.’

‘Old enough to accept what I’d known since I was nine, or, hell, even before then.’

‘You had hope. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

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