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Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Cast of Characters
  7. Part One
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Part Two
  28. Twenty
  29. Twenty-one
  30. Twenty-two
  31. Twenty-three
  32. Twenty-four
  33. Twenty-five
  34. Twenty-six
  35. Twenty-seven
  36. Twenty-eight
  37. Twenty-nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-one
  40. Thirty-two
  41. Thirty-three
  42. Thirty-four
  43. Thirty-five
  44. Thirty-six
  45. Thirty-seven
  46. Thirty-eight
  47. Thirty-nine
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-one
  50. Forty-two
  51. Forty-three
  52. Forty-four
  53. Forty-five
  54. Forty-six
  55. A note on the Author

“I used to do that to my sister,” he sniffled. “She was so independent, even when she was four years old. She would never let me hug her. So I would pinch her, scratch her, bite her good and proper until she was so upset, she’d let me hold her. She’d be in so much pain, she would temporarily forget that it was me who hurt her in the first place.”

“I know,” I soothed, kissing his cheek, “I know.”

We paid the check and walked back to his apartment arm in arm. We lay on his bed, swathed in Irish linen, listening to Air and stroking each other’s faces. He kissed me gently and smiled.

“I know how hard it is for you to be straight with me. And I want you to know, I believed you from the first moment you told me that you loved me. I know how much you care about me.”

I kissed his forehead and, in tones of silk and sugar, sing-songed, “I don’t love you. I don’t love you and I don’t care about you. I never did. I just had nothing to say to you and ‘I love you’ seemed as good a sentence as any.”

Leaping out of bed, he backed himself against the bathroom door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ruby? Why are you so fucking cruel?”

Following him out of bed, I leaned my head on his chest and laughed, “So much Louis Vuitton!”

“What? Speak in fuckin’ English,” he cried as he slammed me against the wall. “Speak in fuckin’ English, you fucking bitch.”

Sebastian sank to the floor, so tired of this, so ashamed that he had laid his hands on me, something he had never, ever done before.

I leaned against the wall, marks on both my arms where he had grabbed me, a smile tickling my mouth.

“So much baggage.”

Seventeen

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Costarring

Sean showed rushes of Mean People Suck to the backers. They hated it. They thought I was too unattractive. They thought he had indulged me too much. It was more graphic in its violence than they had expected. Most damning of all, they thought I had no chemistry with my costar. Was that Aslan’s fault or mine? I had had over five years’ experience as an actress. It was Aslan’s first movie. He hadn’t even wanted to act, but the casting director discovered him strumming a Gibson Sunburst in a guitar shop and persuaded him to audition.