Thorneless (Rose of Thorne Series) (26 page)

Movement in the corner of my eye catches me off guard and I notice a man walking down the opposite end of the row of graves. I can’t make out his face from here, but a dark black coat covers his tall, young, broad frame, and he looks to be wearing a suit. He holds a handful of beautiful pink lilies and stares down intently at the marker in front of him. This place holds so much sadness for someone else today too, or so it seems. I make my way to the car and hold my breath as I turn the key. It takes six attempts before I finally hear the engine turn over and roar to life.

SHIT! This is so damn embarrassing!

I turn the heat up in the car and make my way down the gravel drive. I notice the man has now turned his head in my direction as I carefully drive past his shiny black Ferrari.

Don’t worry there, guy. I won’t scratch your precious car
.

Man, I can’t even imagine how I’m going to put gas in my piece of junk for the rest of this week, much less how someone can actually afford a car like that. I am sure he has never once had to worry about car trouble. I can only imagine that my piece of junk and its failed attempts to start must disgust him. I pull onto the busy interstate and make my way back towards home. I need to hurry if I am going to make it in time to work the early lunch shift, and I desperately need the money right now. Happy Birthday? No, there is no more happy in this day for me. No more true happiness ever, really.

Sebastian

SHIT! Glancing over at the clock, I see its 3:49 am and once again, I wake up before my 5:00 am alarm. Sleep has never been my friend. Today is just more of the same. Disoriented, I turn my alarm off and get up to head to the bathroom. As I make my way across my penthouse bedroom, I step on a piece of red silk and recognize the panties from the girl I brought home the night before. Picking them up, I toss them into the trashcan beside the door. They are as disposable as the women that I frequently bring here. I never care to know their names, only what they can do for me. A couple of hours with them tops, and I send them on their way. Sure, I have a few fuck buddies that I call on from time to time, but they all know the drill. No strings, certainly no attachments, and absolutely NO overnight stays. I approach them as I do any business deal, only they negotiate on my terms and my terms only. Three things I love in this life: money, power, and fucking, all of which I am superb at doing.

I step in front of the mirror at the bathroom counter to splash tepid water on my face. Gripping the cold Italian marble countertop, I stare at myself. When the world looks at me, they see Sebastian Thorne, CEO of Thorne Enterprises, a young and wildly wealthy bachelor, who takes the world by storm, and never backs down when he wants something. Never. But, when I look into the mirror, I don’t see that man. No, I see a coward, a man who has grown up in a life that he does not deserve. No one knows my secret. Since my father passed away, I am the only living soul who knows what happened that night. Yes, my father made damn certain of that when he covered up any evidence of the accident.

It was seven years today. Seven long years and I still never know what to say once I stand before their grave. I have struggled to make peace with what I did that night, and I think that one day the words will come, and I’ll feel different. Like in some fucked-up way, I might be granted their forgiveness from beyond the grave. My dad never knew that I come here every year on this date. Hell, my dad never even thought of this day except to guilt me into doing something that he wanted. In some sick way, my humongous fuckup had sealed the deal for the ultimate blackmail between my father and me. Even in his death, I still hate the son of a bitch.

The hour-long drive seems to drag, and I feel as heavy as the dark clouds that are forming up ahead. I have always gotten here early in the morning to avoid anyone seeing me, and in all the years I’ve come here, I have never seen another living soul. That is, until today. I pull around the gravel drive and notice an old red car parked on the side of the main road. Pulling up and parking behind the car, I grab the flowers from the seat beside me. The cold wind slams into my face when I exit. “Shit, it sure has gotten colder this morning,” I think to myself as I begin buttoning up my long overcoat.

I walk down the familiar path to the old oak tree and freeze in my steps by what I see. It’s her. After all these years, the beautiful girl that I remember from that night is standing just a few yards from me. She isn’t aware that I am here, and I notice her back is shaking violently. As I watch, she braces herself on the stone and slides down to her knees. The white flowers in her hand shake violently as she leans her forehead against the ebony rock. And then, I sense it and the pain radiates in my chest. I feel her despair slamming into me over and over again. Images of their mangled bodies rush through my mind, and I think I am going to be sick. I caused this pain. I did this to her. All these years, I have convinced myself that she has probably been living a happy life surrounded by family and had moved on from that night. Obviously, this day haunts her as much as it still haunts me.

Slowly the pain subsides and I watch as she begins talking to the headstone. I can’t explain it, but I am so fascinated by her that I continue studying her from afar. I can’t see her face at this angle, but I can see her long glossy curls that cascade down her back. And then, as if she senses someone watching, she stands and turns to face my direction.

Panicked, I look down at the grave in front of me while she makes her way past. I observe her gliding across the cemetery like some wandering, lost angelic soul. With her shoulders slumped and her head hung low, she carries herself as though the weight of the world rests upon her. She lifts her face and tucks a long strand of curls behind her ear. It is then that I can finally see her perfectly. I considered her beautiful seven years ago, but now, she is absolutely breathtaking.

When she is a safe distance away, I glance towards her and see her get into the old red car that I parked behind earlier. It refuses to start on this cold morning, and I feel an enormous pang of guilt when I think about how she must be struggling. After several failed attempts, her car engine finally roars to life, and I bravely chance another glance as she pulls slowly around to the exit. Strangely, I find that when she leaves the cemetery, I am still drawn to her. I make my way to the grave marked ROSE, where she stood only moments before, and I reach down to place my hand on the stone in the same place that I saw her touch. In some crazy way, it is as if I am feeling her touch upon my skin. I look down at the picture of the two smiling faces. The words I pray for each time, yet again, do not come. As I continue looking at their picture, I think about how I have robbed this family of their lives together, all because of my stupid decision to get behind the wheel that night. It is a mistake that a stupid kid made with consequences so powerful that they can never be made right. I manage the only words that can ever seem to come out of my mouth. “I am sorry. I am so, SO sorry,” I say as I lay the pink flowers on top of their marker. Placing them in the vase is simply way too personal.

The rest of my day at work is absolutely horrible because all I can think about is her. She has captivated my heart and invaded my thoughts. I keep wondering what her voice sounds like, what her hair smells like, hell…I even wonder how soft her skin feels. But mostly, I just find myself wondering what her life has been like all this time. Who is the girl? I want to know all I can about her. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I cannot seem to get her out of my mind. Right now, I can’t figure out if it is curiosity, guilt, or perhaps even borderline obsession that I’m feeling for her. Either way, I am sitting in this boardroom meeting with nothing but dark curls and her angelic face on my mind. It’s a good thing that I had not seen her eyes today because I know that if I had it would have been my undoing. I pull out of my phone and text Max Harrison, my employee who serves a wide variety of roles for my company. Most of those roles are not legal and not necessary to go into. Let’s just say he is paid well for his confidentiality.

ME:
Harrison, I need everything you can find on a Skylar Rose, and I need it immediately.

HARRISON:
Yes, sir, I’m on it.