Read Online The Gates of Paradise by Melissa de La Cruz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa de La Cruz
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ferocity.
She looked at him and he was a stranger to her. She did not know who he was.
T HIRTEEN
Schuyler
he sound of breaking glass woke her from her sleep. Schuyler glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was four in the morning. She put on her robe and walked out to the living room. “Who’s there?” she called. She padded through the dark hallway, looking for the light switch.
She turned on the light and saw Kingsley in the middle of the room, with a broken wineglass in his hand. “Oh, sorry, sorry—we were trying to be quiet and I tripped over the damn rug.…” he said.
“I’ll get the vacuum.” Schuyler frowned and pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet.
“Bye, Dani,” Kingsley said, as a sleek blonde walked out of his room, dangling her stilettos on one finger. She was a dead ringer for Mimi Force. The same almond-shaped green eyes, the same mane of lustrous platinum hair. The same sexy-pouty expression.
“Bye, darling,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Mind the mess,” he warned, motioning to the broken glass on the rug.
“Always do,” she said, delicately picking her way
around it.
Schuyler gave Kingsley the look he had given her when he’d caught her holding hands with Oliver.
“What?” said Kingsley, with an innocent smile on his face.
“Bye, King-king,” another girl said, this one equally stunning and equally blond. She wore only a bra and a miniskirt. But at least she was wearing shoes.
“Bye, Antoinette.” Kingsley smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “We were playing strip poker,” he explained, just as a third lovely girl stepped out of the room. This one had dark hair cut in a bob, and brown eyes. Not a Mimi clone, then.
“See you, Parker.”
The one named Parker winked at Schuyler and pressed her finger to Kingsley’s mouth. “Don’t be a stranger.” She giggled.
Schuyler rolled her eyes. “Is that it? Or are you hiding more in your harem?”
“Schuyler, darling, it’s none of your business what I do or who I do it with,” Kingsley declared as he went back to his room and shut the door behind him. “Good night,” he called from behind the door.
The next evening was the same, but this time there were four blondes and no brunettes, while the next night brought the entire Farnsworth modeling class—the new girls who had arrived in London for the season—to their abode. “Fashion week,” Oliver said wisely, as he left to partake of the glamorous festivities himself, holding up a sheath of glossy invitations. “You sure you don’t want to go see Stella? I have an extra ticket.”
“Since when do you care about fashion?” Schuyler demanded.
“Sky, what’s with that face? It’s not flattering,” he teased. “Don’t wait up.”
“You’ve been hanging out with Kingsley too much.”
Oliver didn’t deny it.
Later that night, Schuyler had been awoken once again by a loud bump, and when she walked out to the living room, Kingsley was playing Twister with two girls, the three of them wrapped around each other in a braided mess of legs and arms and laughter.
She went back to bed, having rejected their invitation to join in, but the next day, as Kingsley was about to go out for another wild night, she stopped him at the doorway. She’d finally had enough of the constant partying, the loud music in the middle of the night, and the condescending looks of pity from the parade of paramours, who seemed to believe that Schuyler was “pining” for Kingsley.
“Do you mind?” he said, reaching for the door.
Schuyler crossed her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something wrong?” Kingsley asked.
“Why are you acting this way?”
“What do you mean?”
“The late nights, the girls, the partying…I mean, you’ve always been… social , Kingsley, but lately you just seem…desperate. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they all look a lot like—”
“Don’t do it. Don’t say her name,” Kingsley
She looked at him and he was a stranger to her. She did not know who he was.
T HIRTEEN
Schuyler
he sound of breaking glass woke her from her sleep. Schuyler glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was four in the morning. She put on her robe and walked out to the living room. “Who’s there?” she called. She padded through the dark hallway, looking for the light switch.
She turned on the light and saw Kingsley in the middle of the room, with a broken wineglass in his hand. “Oh, sorry, sorry—we were trying to be quiet and I tripped over the damn rug.…” he said.
“I’ll get the vacuum.” Schuyler frowned and pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet.
“Bye, Dani,” Kingsley said, as a sleek blonde walked out of his room, dangling her stilettos on one finger. She was a dead ringer for Mimi Force. The same almond-shaped green eyes, the same mane of lustrous platinum hair. The same sexy-pouty expression.
“Bye, darling,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Mind the mess,” he warned, motioning to the broken glass on the rug.
“Always do,” she said, delicately picking her way
around it.
Schuyler gave Kingsley the look he had given her when he’d caught her holding hands with Oliver.
“What?” said Kingsley, with an innocent smile on his face.
“Bye, King-king,” another girl said, this one equally stunning and equally blond. She wore only a bra and a miniskirt. But at least she was wearing shoes.
“Bye, Antoinette.” Kingsley smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “We were playing strip poker,” he explained, just as a third lovely girl stepped out of the room. This one had dark hair cut in a bob, and brown eyes. Not a Mimi clone, then.
“See you, Parker.”
The one named Parker winked at Schuyler and pressed her finger to Kingsley’s mouth. “Don’t be a stranger.” She giggled.
Schuyler rolled her eyes. “Is that it? Or are you hiding more in your harem?”
“Schuyler, darling, it’s none of your business what I do or who I do it with,” Kingsley declared as he went back to his room and shut the door behind him. “Good night,” he called from behind the door.
The next evening was the same, but this time there were four blondes and no brunettes, while the next night brought the entire Farnsworth modeling class—the new girls who had arrived in London for the season—to their abode. “Fashion week,” Oliver said wisely, as he left to partake of the glamorous festivities himself, holding up a sheath of glossy invitations. “You sure you don’t want to go see Stella? I have an extra ticket.”
“Since when do you care about fashion?” Schuyler demanded.
“Sky, what’s with that face? It’s not flattering,” he teased. “Don’t wait up.”
“You’ve been hanging out with Kingsley too much.”
Oliver didn’t deny it.
Later that night, Schuyler had been awoken once again by a loud bump, and when she walked out to the living room, Kingsley was playing Twister with two girls, the three of them wrapped around each other in a braided mess of legs and arms and laughter.
She went back to bed, having rejected their invitation to join in, but the next day, as Kingsley was about to go out for another wild night, she stopped him at the doorway. She’d finally had enough of the constant partying, the loud music in the middle of the night, and the condescending looks of pity from the parade of paramours, who seemed to believe that Schuyler was “pining” for Kingsley.
“Do you mind?” he said, reaching for the door.
Schuyler crossed her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something wrong?” Kingsley asked.
“Why are you acting this way?”
“What do you mean?”
“The late nights, the girls, the partying…I mean, you’ve always been… social , Kingsley, but lately you just seem…desperate. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they all look a lot like—”
“Don’t do it. Don’t say her name,” Kingsley
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