A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (27 page)

BOOK: A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1)

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Still laughing, I give a small nod and hold out my hand. Taking the ring from me, he slips it on my little finger.

“A plastic ring from me to you, given with love. I saw it in a charity shop this morning and thought it was perfect. It’s not about money any more, it’s about you and me; it might be made of plastic, but it means so much more.”

I peer down at the clear stone as he slips his hands into mine.

“I want you for keeps, and I want us forever,” he whispers. “Please give me a chance; believe me, I will earn your trust.”

He lowers his head into my lap.

“I’m nothing without you. I’m a mere shadow of the man I once was; all I am today is a bum dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. You know me, Darcy, inside and out; all that’s changed is my name. I’m begging you, come with me. We can start a new life, have an adventure together. I’m not going to lie, it isn’t going to be easy, it’ll be damn hard, but we will get there, and most importantly we’ll have each other.”

“We may have each other, but we’ll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. Tell me I’m wrong. We’ll never be able to settle anywhere. What about children? What future will they have?”

“You don’t need to worry about any of that, no one will recognise us. We’ll have the life, a family, I promise.” He squeezes my fingers.

I pull my hands free.

“Was my dressing up as Mercedes a practice run?”

He nods. “Kind of…”

“So you always knew there was a possibility of something like this happening?”

“Well yes, but not the way things have turned out. I had to be sure if you could play someone else and carry it off.”

“You make it sound so easy, like we can just walk out the door and start a new life.”

“But it is that easy.” His eyes widen. “I spent time on the street, I know the right people who can help; they can arrange fake IDs and passports.” He glances towards the window. “We haven’t got a lot of time, so go upstairs and pack, we need to go. I’ll make a call, we’ll rent a car, we’ll be out of England in a matter of hours.”

I pull the chair away from him.

“And if I decide to stay?”

“That’s your choice to make, but then all I’ll ever be to you is a memory of the summer of 2015, the summer you spent with Snow.”

He reaches forwards and pulls me up from the chair, clasping me into his chest.

“If you choose to come with me, you can have so much more.”

I glance up, tears in my eyes.

“Like what?” I ask.

He breaks into an open-mouthed smile.

“That’s easy … a lifetime with Snow.”

Continue reading for a preview of book 2 of the Frosted Seasons series,

A Summer with Rayne

A Summer with Rayne – COMING in 2016

S
now walks around the table so that we stand shoulder to shoulder.

“You took your four-year-old sister out on the ice that day, even though your mum had already told you it wasn’t safe. But did you listen? Did you fuck! You snuck her out anyway. It’s for you to live with, because yes, Rayne, you killed Summer, it was all your fault. It should have been you who drowned in that freezing cold water, not that sweet little girl. Now why don’t you do us all a favour? There’s a vast ocean out there, waiting for you.”

My eyes narrow.
Cheeky cunt, who the fuck does he think he is?
If he wants to play games, that’s fine, game on.
My intention wasn’t to stoop this low, to come down to his level, but all that’s changed now. Francesca had the right idea suggesting we set him up, frame him for my murder.
Well, fuck having him done for fraud, I’ll watch the bastard go down and rot in jail.
I pick up my glass and swig the remainder of my wine, turning towards the door.

“Rayne,” Snow calls after me. “Rayne, I’m…”

He can fuck his apology. My mind flashes back to Summer. I hate to admit it, but Snow was right, it was my fault my little sister lost her life. I couldn’t cope and drank myself into oblivion, ending up in rehab. I can remember when I sat and told Snow what happened; it had to be the lowest time of my life. He was a friend in whom I felt I could confide, yet tonight he stands in front of me and has the gall to throw it back in my face. I turn and gaze towards him, but it’s no friend I see; the man I look at is no more than scum. My eyes burn.

“Snow, you know what? Just fuck off.”

I leave him to drink alone in the dining room and make my way to the top deck, where I gaze out at the dark waters below. I strum my fingers against my thigh. I should have told Darcy the truth last night when I had the chance, but again he managed to convince me otherwise and I let him have his way. It was Snow who suggested we spend today out on the yacht. When I told Darcy the truth about his identity, this was somewhere he knew she couldn’t run away; he wanted time on his own with her to talk her round.

I take a deep breath in, exhaling into the warm night air.
God, that man can talk his way out of anything, and I know Darcy would have softened and forgiven him
. We could have shaken hands as gentlemen do and parted amicably. When I returned to London I would have contacted my solicitor and advised him to drop the fraud case. Darcy and Snow could have lived their life, and likewise myself and Francesca. But not now, this is way too personal, this time he’s pushed me just that bit too far.

I listen to the waves as they crash against the yacht. I laugh into the oncoming breeze, and a smile lifts my lips and narrows my eyes. ‘There’s a vast ocean out there, waiting for you,’ he had told me.

“Well, Snow, you should have bitten your lip and held onto those words, because very soon you’ll be eating them.”

With my disappearance comes a ready-made crime scene; let’s see him talk his way out of this one. I pull my phone from my trouser pocket, scroll down to Francesca’s name and begin to text:
The hotel’s profits are set to fly; the money, whatever amount you need, is yours xx
. I press the send button. Then I call Chase; lifting the phone to my ear, it rings out.

“The plan’s going ahead. Meet me in the dining room in an hour,” I tell him.

“And, Snow, what’s going to happen?” he quizzes.

“Remember who got you your job! Fuck Snow, you’ve known me since school, your allegiance should lie with me.”

“It does, Rayne,” he insists. “I’ve been your eyes and ears, and everything you’ve asked me to find out I have, and reported back. But you’re forgetting something…” Chase pauses. “He’s a friend too; he came to me tonight and told me the truth.”

“Took him fucking long enough,” I snap. “You’re just another one of his pawns; he uses you like he uses everyone else in his life. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word friend. So, Chase, no fucking about now, just tell me, are you in or…” My throat tightens. “Or are you out?”

“Rayne, I’ve not been entirely honest with you.”

“Chase, stop stalling.”

“I’m not; it’s about Francesca…”

“'What about Francesca?”

Hallie Swanson is the pseudonym for J & L Wells