Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,60
the lies, which makes it all the more bittersweet.
He knows me too well.
This pain is my own fault.
I thought I could beat him at his own game.
My lifestyle comes with a price, and I’m paying for it in full now.
If only I had made a different choice.
***
Age 17
Phillip and I walk hand in hand as he shows me around his house. It’s huge, and I can’t believe I might live here one day. His parents say he’ll earn it once he’s head of the business his father owns. They don’t like maintaining the mansion, so to them this is the perfect solution. To me it’s like a dream come true.
“This is the foyer,” Philip says, as I walk through.
“Wow … it’s amazing,” I say.
Everything I touch feels velvety, and everything within eyesight looks expensive. From the corner of my eye, I spot Arthur reading a book while sitting in a chair, observing us closely. Well, mostly me. His constant glare makes me blush, so I turn my head away and look at Phillip.
“Why’s your brother looking at me like that?” I whisper.
He leans in. “Well, he’s kind of jealous that I have you.”
The smile on Phillip’s face makes me turn even redder. “Why? I mean, he looks like the kind of guy who could get any girl he wants.”
“Hmm … if you say so,” Phillip muses. “My brother just likes things he can’t have.”
“Like me?” I ask.
“Anything I have. You. The company. My life.” Phillip smiles at his brother, which makes him lower his eyes and dive back into his book. “Arthur’s always been hunting after whatever my parents give me.”
“Okay … no wonder.”
“But he’s not going to get it.”
I swallow. “What do you mean?”
Phillip narrows his eyes. “My father’s business is mine. I will take over as CEO after I graduate school, learn to direct a movie, and make my family proud. I’m everything they want in a son. Arthur … well, let’s just say that he always comes second.”
“Of course, he’d be jealous,” I say. “You have everything he wants. What anyone would want.”
“Exactly, which is why I intend to keep him as far away as possible.” The darkness in his voice gives me the creeps. Something tells me that they don’t really get along. There’s a lot of rivalry going on, I can tell. And yet, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to Arthur than what Phillip tells me. There is always more to a story than just one side.
Phillip places his hand in the small of my back and directs me away from the foyer before I get the chance to ask more questions. He escorts me to the kitchen where his mother is pouring drinks for the guests outside. They’re hosting a party for a lot of people, to which my family was also invited. My parents thought it was a perfect way for Phillip and me to connect a little.
“Oh, Vanessa,” his mother says when she turns her head. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I say. “Phillip was just showing me around your beautiful home.”
“Thank you, dear. You look lovely in that dress,” she says.
She fishes in her pocket and takes out some sort of small vial, opens the cap, and pours the contents into one of the drinks.
“What is that?” I mumble to Phillip.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says.
A smile appears on his mother’s face as she picks up the tray and walks over to us.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to hand these out to the guests outside?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Sorry to ask; it’s just that we’re so busy here.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, as I take the tray.
“Oh, and can you make sure that this glass is served to the lady in the bourgeois dress, the one with the fur collar.” She points at the specific glass that had the extra contents poured in.
I nod, frowning, confused as to what the idea is.
“Let’s go,” Phillip says, guiding me outside again. “We don’t want to keep our guests waiting.”
Before I know it, I’m outside on the porch, walking toward the table where the woman in the bourgeois dress is sitting. The closer I get, the more I seem to recognize her. She reminds me of one of those women my father had a debate with on national television, where they both strive for the same position. Only when I’m next to her do I realize that it is really her.
The woman looks up at me. My