'I see a nose that belongs on a coin'

He first notices her beauty at the age of fifteen, her long legs and skinny waist being accentuated by the curve of her hips and the fullness of her bust. She begins to curl her hair, letting it bounce on her shoulders as she laughs, and sway down her back as she walks away from him, fully knowing that he is watching her retreating figure.

"You're really beautiful."

He works up the courage to tell her one day when she is at his house, the two of them playing a game of marbles in his back garden. She tenses for a second, probably in shock, then straightens her back and looks up at him. Her puckered lips curve into a sly smile, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you, Monty. That's sweet of you to say."

He nods, his own face going red as he looks at her. Brown eyes, blonde hair, pink lips. She looks positively regal in the sun's light that is poking through the trees, and he resists the urge to tell her, lest he make an even bigger fool of himself. After all, he's just a stupid boy who has a crush on his best friend, there's no point in even considering the possibility of a relationship.

'And there's that smile with a secret inside'

There's a wedding. One of his old school friends (Henry- a man whose hair had started greying before the age of 20) gets married and they're both there. Him with Phoebe, and her with Lionel. He didn't even think Sibella and Henry knew each other, but apparently his old friend is an associate of Lionel's. He can't help but feel like it's a cruel trick of nature that they should be forced to sit across the hall from each other, pretending to be interested in what some posh stranger is saying when his mind is still full of memories of the previous day; them both lying in his bed, alternating between fornicating and telling terrible jokes to each other.

It's the reception, and he has already gone through three glasses of champagne, and the toasts haven't even started yet. He isn't feeling tipsy yet, but he can feel a strange buzz. However, whether that is from the loud chatting around him or the alcohol is lost to him.

He doesn't even look at Thomas (another old school friend of his who had brought his mother as his date) while the man speaks, although Phoebe is listening attentively. He thanks Phoebe silently for her ability to be polite and cordial, no matter how tedious the matter. He does, though, find his mind, and consequently, eye line, wandering towards Sibella.

She's sat sideways in her chair, her hand resting on Lionel's shoulder as his arm is wrapped stiffly around her waist. It would look loving and affectionate if Monty didn't know Sibella completely, yet he does, and the awkwardness and annoyance on her face as her husband speaks to a man with white hair and wrinkles on the back of his neck is clear.

He wants desperately to shout her, to find a way to get her attention, if only to save her from being bored to death like he is. She's clearly only there so that Lionel can show her off, something Sibella loves because she is good at it, but hates due to the leering looks people give her.

Somehow, she must notice that he is staring at her, because she looks around the room in confusion. When she finally spots him, sees that he is watching her with a small smile, her eyes light up. A smile tugs onto her lips, but she gets distracted as Lionel pulls her closer, pressing an over dramatic kiss on her cheek, to which Sibella smiles at him, with poorly concealed disgust pouring from her eyes.

As her body stays rigid against the side of her husband's, she turns her head discreetly to him. Slyly, she smirks at him, a sexy and deceptive smile being created by her red painted lips. He finds himself looking away from her, smirking down at his lap as he plans their next tryst.

They'll find each other on the dance floor as she finishes a dance with her husband, and Phoebe goes off to socialise with the women in the room who laugh too loudly and keep pinching his cheeks. They'll slowly make their way towards each other, embracing each other as innocently as they possibly can, quiet secrets and plans being whispered into each other's waiting ears. Then, they'll part ways, content with the fact that their affair isn't over yet.

'And here are two eyes that are bright with a mischievous light'

No matter what he does, she will always be one step ahead of him. She always has been, and he has consistently been there, sprinting after her in fear of losing her.

He's sat at his desk, his shirt still unbuttoned and his trousers hanging loosely on his hips. She pulls her gloves on slowly, clearly trying to not rip them or affect her newly painted nails. He sits and watches her, fully knowing that she likes it. She needs attention, and he's all too happy to give it to her.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

She turns to him, her curls tumbling over her shoulder. She shrugs at him slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "I have plans."

He frowns at her, standing up. "What plans?"

"Plans with Lionel." She raises an eyebrow at him, then turns towards the mirror to check her make up. "You remember him, he's the one with the mo-"

"The motor car, I know." He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Their meetings had been cut short for the past week due to her having plans with Lionel Holland, and Monty had therefore began to dislike the man. For that reason, and because Sibella seemed to be smitten with him and his wealth.

She is silent for a while, but he knows she is thinking of something to say, because she is watching him through the reflection of the mirror. She lifts her chin a bit. "He's very handsome, as well."

He nods, his irritation growing inside of him. "Indeed? Most men his age aren't too good looking." He shrugs, walking towards her and watching her select a lipstick from her small handbag.

"Well, he is. It is really surprising, I thought that because he was rich, smart, powerful, and because he owns a motor car, well-" she looks up at him, opening the lipstick, "I expected him to be ugly and boring." She reapplies her lipstick, and his eyes get drawn to her lips. The rouge colouring is currently smeared across his body as well, kisses and bite marks strewn across his neck, chest, and hips. He isn't allowed to leave marks on her, she deems it too inappropriate; but she enjoys leaving them on him, so he doesn't stop her. "But he is very handsome, almost painfully so."

He doesn't realise he is glaring at her lips until he looks up to find her eyes dancing with delight and mischief. She had been purposefully making him angry and jealous to create a reaction, and he had fallen for it.

He wishes one day that he will have the courage to do the same to her, but he knows that he could never do that to her, not when he knows she will leave as soon as he treats her as anything less than his queen.

'You try, but can't quite hide'

He knows she has an affinity to hide her feelings. To everyone else she is an untouchable statue, so picturesque and perfect that there is no room for emotion or affection. Which, to her, is the easiest way to live.

He understands, he really does, why she doesn't want to discuss the feelings in their relationship. They have been friends for about seven years now, but they are both still teenagers, and their hormones are crazy. They had worked out their system a while ago. If Monty was feeling frustrated about exams? Sibella was there slowly unlacing her corset. If Sibella needed to vent her anger at what her ex-boyfriend had recently said to her? Monty was there with sweet words and a loose shirt.

And, sure, it did make him angry. He was always so vocal about his feelings towards her. He had, in fact, proposed to her once. He had been in awe of her as they caught their breath, both laid side by side in bed, her beauty shocking him. She had looked at him with wide eyes, scanning his own before somehow detecting humour instead of sincerity. She laughed at him, turning over to draw circles on his chest as he caressed her back and dismissed the proposal wordlessly.

It was irritating and frustrating how she didn't seem to show affection at all unless she wanted something, but he knew it was there. There were moments when she let her guard down, but you could only detect them if you were trained. And, lucky for Monty, he was an expert.

He often finds her staring at him like he stares at her. Out of the corner of his eye while he is writing an essay and she is supposedly reading a book, he will notice her smiling at him slowly. When this happens, he begins to feel a warm sensation in his chest, almost as though his feelings are reciprocated emotionally, if not vocally.

It's all he can ask for, those few secret moments when she thinks nobody is watching. Because as soon as he looks up at her to smile back, she panics and looks at her book, her brown eyes scanning the page furiously for a distraction.

'Oh, there's that voice with a promise of sin'

The was she looks at him when she wants something from him is overpowering. Her eyes darken and she raises a single eyebrow, silently inviting him to join her on the bed. It never takes much convincing, because a simple look at her; hair wild and cheeks red, and he's completely lost in her.

So he makes his way over to her, crawling towards her smirking face as she lays before him.

And then it's the way she touches him. She's gentle at first, slowly dancing her nails on the back of his neck as they kiss, squeezing him lightly as he lies above her. But as soon as she moves on top of him, she knows she holds the power. She bites his lip and nips at his neck, and while he likes to pretend he hates it, he doesn't. Seeing the lust in her eyes as she grabs at his chest is intoxicating, so he never stops her.

Her voice is something she rarely indulges him with during these moments. She mostly stays silent, apart from a few sighs and moans, her actions making up for the loss of sound. He, however, makes up for her silence, groaning her name and whispering things into her ear; she likes it, so he won't stop. But when she does speak, it's always important. To him, anyway. A simple 'Monty' is all it takes, the sound of her sugary voice making him lose control.

'And, oh, those lips are a promise of bliss'

When he turns seventeen, he starts realising that all of these feelings he has for Sibella are love. The affection he feels towards her when they hug, the jealousy he feels when she speaks of another man, the warm feeling in his heart when she smiles because of him. It seems like something has changed, now that he knows, and it almost feels like everybody else knows as well.

His mother brings her up a lot more, and her smiles seem more secretive than before. His friends smirk as they speak of her, and he finds himself getting paranoid that they all somehow found out. But then he speaks with Sibella, and she acts the same- as long as she doesn't know, he's fine.

But he does, however, find himself wondering what it would be like if she did know. Surely it would feel better than being in a constant state of guilt, because, after all; she is still his best friend. Despite whether or not he sees her as his future bride, she is his best friend first and foremost.

But that doesn't stop him from fantasizing. She's beautiful; in fact, he doesn't know of any teenager at his school that doesn't think she is gorgeous. Which, of course, infuriates him when they speak of her as though she belongs to them. If only she knew, she would yell at them so fiercely, they wouldn't find her cute and dainty any more.

Nevertheless, he finds himself scrutinising all of their meetings. That time laughed at him when he fell into the lake near her house. Had she been laughing at his misfortune, or at how pathetic he looked dripping wet? When he had bought her a new book for her birthday. Did she really like it, or was the kiss on the cheek fake?

But his mind always defaults to their first kiss. Had she wanted it as much as he did? She had been more skilled and experienced than he, was her kissing back merely out of pity? He finds himself doubting it, what with how she clutched his shoulder and leaned into his touch. But his mind over analyses it anyway.

When he sees her, it's all he can think about. Had all of his special memories involving Sibella been fake? He hopes not, hopes that it really is just his terrible mind fooling him because he was stupid enough to fall in love with her. After all, as cliché as it sounds, he's not good enough for her. Never has been, and never will be.

But, as he watches her speak as she tells him about the new dress her daddy had bought for her the night before, his gaze drifts to her lips. Painted pink, they match her current dress, her outfit perfectly matching. Of course, his mind conjures up the memory of when he was kissing them, and he remembers how blissful everything had felt in that moment. He can't help but wonder whether or not it would feel even better now that he has accepted his feelings, and then his mind ventures to whether or not it would feel even better if she were to know of his feelings too.

"I'm sorry, Monty, but what are you staring at?"

His eyes snap up to her confused ones, a slight danger in them. He opens his mouth in shock, he hadn't thought she were looking at him. She was admiring her dress the last he had seen.

"Nothing."

Her eyes lighten, but the danger stays. "Seen something you like?" Her words are sly and she smirks at him, her lips widening when she sees his shocked face.

He stutters. "Well, I mean-I suppose I think-yes." He nods affirming his choice. She moves closer to him as he sits on the chair near her bed, her dress swaying as she walks.

"You're so sweet, Monty." She sits beside him, and his eyes immediately fall to her lips again. Her smirk deepens, and he knows that she is fully aware of her power over him.

'And I know that your embrace is a treacherous place'

The first time he meets her after his wedding, he feels guilty. He suddenly understands why Sibella had seemed so distracted during those first few meetings after her own honeymoon, and it isn't a nice feeling. He left his loving wife at home to come and continue their love affair, and the shame he feels is unimaginable.

He's stood outside of her house, fully aware that her husband is away working for the weekend, so she will be there alone. He hadn't arranged to meet her, but he had found himself missing her, so he had acted upon impulse and told his wife he was going to meet his auntie. It wasn't until his fist was poised to knock that he remembered how Phoebe was probably waiting at home for him to return.

The door opens quickly, and two small hands grab his arm and pull him inside. He stands there in shock, regaining his balance as the hands leave him. He takes in Sibella, frantically closing the door and locking it.

"Monty, you know my neighbours are nosy, if they see a random young man at my door they'll automatically assume I've got a man on the side." She leans on the door in a huff, frowning at him.

He shrugs. "Well, you have got a man on the side."

She huffs again, but frowns at him. "Why are you here?" She begins to walk up the staircase at the end of entrance, her heels clicking on the floor. He automatically follows her as usual, and he scans his eyes over her red dress and curled hair.

"I missed you." He jogs up towards her, trying to catch her reaction.

All he receives is an eye roll. "You just got married a few days ago."

He nods. "I know, I feel very guilty. How did you do it?"

They reach the top of the stairs, the two of them knowing to go straight towards the master bedroom. "I suppose Lionel is a lot easier to ignore than Phoebe is."

"Perhaps."

Opening the door, Sibella immediately begins undressing. Taking her jacket off, she turns to him. "How was the wedding? I'm sorry I couldn't show." She unzips her skirt, shimmying out of it and leaving herself in only her corset and her underskirt, a sight he is all too familiar and fond of.

He too shrugs off his blazer and takes off his tie. "It was wonderful, a beautiful day. Yes, it was quite sad that you weren't there." He was, actually, quite relieved that Sibella couldn't attend due to a gala that Lionel had been invited to. If she had been there, he may have been tempted to postpone, or maybe even cancel the wedding.

About an hour later, as he lays in her bed, her blonde hair splayed across his chest, he smiles to himself. Here, with her in his arms and her body entangled with his, he barely feels anything but happiness. He doesn't dare to move, lest he ruin the perfectly affectionate moment they have created.

It turns out that he doesn't have to, because all of a sudden, she is sitting up. "You need to leave."

His smile drops into a frown and his eyes become pathetically desperate. It's terrible how dependent he is on her, and her power over him is something he will never truly understand. Yet, he doesn't question it. Dressing himself as she sits at her dresser and applies her lipstick again, he wishes he could go over and kiss her goodbye. But, he understands that if he does, he probably won't want to leave.

As he walks home (Sibella argues that taxis are far too untrustworthy, who know who could be keeping track of their whereabouts?) he curses himself for letting her proximity to him fool his mind into being happy. She changes her mind far too quickly for him to keep up with, and it's frustrating beyond belief, yet he still somehow manages to find himself planning to call around to her house tomorrow. Of course, this time he will ensure to knock as fast as possible.

'There's danger in your kiss'

When he first meets Phoebe, he instantly becomes enamoured. She is perfect; smart, beautiful, witty, funny-everything one could ever want in a woman. She trusts him, smiles at him, and he finds himself trusting her, even after one conversation. She seems to ooze affection and love, which is something Monty longs for.

And, of course, when he tells Sibella about Phoebe, she doesn't react in the same way he did.

"Okay, and you expect me to like this girl?" She glares at him.

"Well, I see it as the exact same way you gushed about Lionel when you first met him. You were utterly infatuated, and I just had to sit there and listen to how much better he is than me." He crosses his arms at her, frowning at her as she paces her bedroom in her corset and underskirt. He is in a similar state, merely his underwear and shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders covering his body.

"Yes, and look how things have changed now." She walks towards him, settling down next to him on her bed, one hand settling on his head and the other on his knee. "Don't let yourself be fooled by how perfect they seem to be- everybody has flaws, and they only get highlighted during marriage." She sees this as a perfect way to sway him away from Phoebe, and Monty recognises this straight away. "I don't want you to end up resenting Phoebe in the same way I hate Lionel." Her lips near his, and he can smell the rose perfume she is wearing so vividly his mind almost blurs.

"Is that what you want? For me to not hate Phoebe?" His eyes flicker between her eyes and her lips, her brown eyes wide and affectionate, while her lips are red and whispering.

"Among other things." She smiles a little at him, and then suddenly her lips are on his. His hand immediately goes to her head, while the other travels to her waist in an attempt to keep her as close as possible.

It's during that kiss that he genuinely contemplates never seeing Phoebe again, because surely if he is lucky to have such a girl as Sibella kissing him and wanting him, he doesn't need anything else. Because, after all, no matter what he does or who he marries, his heart will always belong to Sibella.

'This is the face of a woman a man could easily worship for all of his days'

The day before her wedding, Sibella comes to see him. He has to admit he had been waiting for her to call by, especially after she had told him not to come to her house during the week-Lionel would be there and she couldn't risk him finding out about Monty.

She's all sultry eyes and sweet kisses when she enters, practically forcing him to find her flawless. It's almost unbelievable how she can do this to him. In these few moments, the couple of hours she stays with him, he can convince himself that he is the one she wants. That she doesn't care about money or society or motor cars, that it is Monty she loves.

When she is fluffing her hair in the mirror afterwards, he sits and smiles at her. There's a bitter-sweet tension in the air; it would be their last time together before she was wedded to another man, despite the fact that Monty had always imagined himself as her groom.

"Don't do it." His voice comes out a lot deeper and assured than he feels.

She giggles at him. "Don't be silly, Monty. I want to marry Lionel, so I will." Her voice comes out soft and happy, and he almost believes her.

"You don't love him."

She shrugs, but her smile falters. "So? I hardly think that matters."

Annoyance pricks at him, and he groans to himself. "What is your aversion to marrying for love?"

She just shakes her head at him, huffing under her breath as she checks her lipstick.

He stands up, moving behind her in the mirror. Placing his hands on her waist, he stares at her in the mirror, and her eyes reluctantly find his too. "You can't deny that if you and I were to marry, we would be happy."

She shakes her head at him. "You don't know that." She tries to move away from him, but he keeps her there.

"I do."

She spins around to him, and the danger in her eyes is deadly. "How?"

He finds himself pressing her back into his chest, and the need to kiss her once more is undeniable. "Because we love each other. And that means more than anything Lionel can offer you." Tilting his head down, he captures her lips once more. She doesn't struggle, but he notices that she doesn't possess any force during their ministrations.

Of course, she pulls away first. "I'm marrying Lionel tomorrow." He can sense a few things in her tone: regret, guilt, assuredness, and most of all, pride. He knows that she enjoys putting him in these situations, places where she knows she has the upper hand. But he's too in love to not be submissive towards her. If she has her mind set on something, there's no way she won't achieve it. His only hope is that one day, after all these years, she will finally choose to pursue him.

She takes a few steps back, grabbing her bag from his bedside table, not even glancing at him as she walks out of the door. He just stands there, watching her in awe.

As her hand reaches the door knob, he speaks. "You are absolutely breathtaking."

She barely falters as she opens the door, closing it gently behind her. He doesn't watch her out of the window, and he doesn't find himself wondering about when she will return. Because he knows she will, sooner or later, and he'll still be waiting for her.

'But a man could as easily loose his sanity, deciphering your gaze'

Before his own wedding, he doesn't really consult Sibella. He knows that she will try to convince him against it, and he isn't prepared for the embarrassed tears that will surely fill her eyes. After all, Sibella is perfectly fine to have two men following hopelessly behind her, but if she happens to become somebody's mistress, she would be disgusted. She's worth more than that, obviously.

"So what did she really want?"

Phoebe left a few minutes ago, but he selfishly wanted Sibella to stay, even after the news he had just received from his-dare he say it- fiancée.

"Nothing, I swear."

He understands that she is angry with him, furious probably. He had never been thrust into a situation like that before, in fact, if he had been told to sit idly by, hidden in another room, while Sibella spoke of wedding plans to Lionel, he would have gone insane. Yet here she is; she hasn't stormed out yet, and she hasn't yelled at him. However, just looking into her eyes, he isn't sure what to feel.

She's definitely angry, that he is sure of. But she also looks a little scared, or perhaps that is just him reading into her too much. It may seem plausible though, her being afraid of Phoebe. He had spent almost all of his life being focused on Sibella only, if another girl were to come into the picture and steal the attention, she would be left alone with her boring old husband.

But he thinks that she also kind of knows what Phoebe was doing there, and the look of understanding becomes clearer in her brown eyes the more he considers it. She's angry and scared because she knows.

"I'm not sure I believe you, Monty." She moves towards the back of the room, walking to the door.

He spins around, following her. "Where are you going?"

She turns to him, and the mixed emotions in her eyes have changed. Gone is the fear and anger, now her brown eyes are clouded with pride and power. She's smirking at him. "Lionel and I are going out tonight, and I need to freshen up at home before the big dinner. It's going to be very fancy, so I will need to spend as much time as possible making myself look flawless."

He just nods. He knows how she works, dangling her marriage in front of him in a way to show him that she is above him, that no matter how many other women he knows or marries, she will always be one step ahead of him. It's infuriating, but by the time he can think of a response, she is blowing a kiss to him and slamming the door.

'You are vain'

It is plain to see; Sibella is beautiful. More so, even. Her beauty is almost otherworldly, obvious for anybody with eyes. And she knows it as well, constantly applying make up or changing outfits to show off her looks the best she can. Which is, for some part, admirable. She knows what she is good at, so she is striving to perfect it.

"Of course, she does have beautiful eyes, and her hands are so delicate and small, anybody would fall in love with her." She's talking about Lionel's cousin, a girl she met a few hours ago at Sibella and Lionel's engagement party. He had been invited, but, of course, he hadn't gone. "But the way she looked at me- oh, Monty. You would have been appalled." She clasps a hand over her heart and shakes her head at him. "She looked at me with such disgust, it was truly shocking."

He tilts his head at her. "Do you know why she looked at you in such a way?"

Sibella considers herself in the mirror, smoothing down her dress once again. "Perhaps she feels threatened by me. I mean, I am superior in looks, am I not? Of course, you haven't seen her." She giggles at him, and he unconsciously smiles at the sound of it. "But, imagine this: a woman, just over 25, with brunette hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a cream gown that looked as though she were almost trying to upstage me at my own engagement party." She scoffs, and turns to him. "Would you say she had the right to look at me in that way?"

He doesn't dare to think what would happen if he told her 'yes, I do believe she did'. He would be kicked out of the house for sure. So he just shakes his head at her. "Of course not, it's preposterous to even consider. You're too beautiful for anyone to look at in such disgust, especially if she looks as you describe her."

How attractive a person is happens to be one of the main reasons Sibella speaks to them. When Monty longs for an 'I love you' he receives a 'you're very handsome' instead. It does frustrate him, and a lot of the time, he does tell Sibella. But this is her language, and he's all too happy to keep feeding her ego if it means she'll continue seeing him.

'And you're heartless'

He knows many things about Sibella: she is beautiful, she is smart, and she knows what she wants out of life. And, of course, he understands why she is all of these things. But one thing he will never understand about Sibella, the one thing after so many years of knowing her and being able to tell her mood just by being in the same room as her, is how she can be so cruel. He doesn't even know if she understands either, because she does it so naturally, so carelessly, that it shocks him.

"You know, we could run away together."

Her head is on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy stars on his bare chest as their limbs stay entangled under the covers. He runs his fingers through her silky hair and stares at the ceiling, utterly content.

"Hmm?" She doesn't seem to be bothered about what he is saying, but he tries to keep her attention anyway.

"You and I. I bet that nobody would be able to find us if we just left everything behind."

She shakes her head a little against his chest, humming amusedly. "Don't be silly, Monty."

He looks down at her, frowning. "We could, if you wanted."

"Monty, we would hate each other within a day." She doesn't look at him.

"I'm certain that we would be perfectly happy together. I love you, and you love me and that's all that matters." He is frowning now, determined to find a way to make her see that if she truly wanted to, he would give everything up.

"I don't love you."

He tenses up beneath her. His voice is a soft quiver when it finally escapes his throat. "What?"

She sits up on her elbows, and even now, even as she sits and tells him how she doesn't reciprocate his feelings for her, he still finds her beautiful. The darkly lit room contrasts against her light skin, her blonde hair is ruffled from his hands, and her eyes are almost black. "I don't love you. I love Lionel. I know you're not stupid enough to believe I would ever run away with you."

She shakes her head at him, and he sits up as well. There's a strong ache in his chest now, something he only ever feels around Sibella. "Why would I be stupid to believe that?"

"Because I'm married." She spins around and huffs, standing up and finding her corset from the floor and placing it around her waist.

He scoffs. "But that hasn't stopped you from having an affair with me."

She glares at him. "You're just a bit of fun, Monty. You know Lionel, he can be so awfully dull at times."

Something cracks inside of him as he watches her throw those words at him without a care as she ties her corset. "So I mean nothing to you then?" He swallows.

She shrugs, and the passive look on her face makes him grimace. "Well, you know that you are one of my dearest friends. But this; what we're doing? It's replaceable."

He nods and doesn't reply. He watches her get dressed, watches her lace up her boots, watches her reapply her make up. It's silent when she turns around to him, fully ready to leave.

"Thanks for today, Monty. It has been fun." She smiles at him slyly, and he just shakes his head at her.

"It was my pleasure." His frown is still etched onto his face.

She walks towards him, and he automatically sits further up to see her better. She leans down towards him, one hand behind his head, and kisses him. He can't deny her, so his hands find her neck and shoulder, and once again he is under her spell. Then, all of a sudden, she slips through his hands. She smirks at him and turns towards the door.

"When will I see you again?"

There's a slight smile on her face as she speaks. "Lionel and I have to attend a few gathering this week, so perhaps next Monday?"

He hates how she always has to mention Lionel in a way to remind him that she is married, that she is legally bound to someone else while he longs to hold her in his arms for at least another hour more. He merely nods at her, and then she is gone. He lays in bed for two more hours before leaving to go and call on Phoebe, but the ache in his chest does not dissipate until the next Monday.

'And yet I can find in you a shade of sadness that's barely detectable'

There comes a time, of course, when the four of them are thrust into an awkward conversation. Phoebe smiling as she clings to his arm, while he stands rigid across from the other couple. They look like the picturesque pair, Lionel's arm wrapped around Sibella's small waist, while her hand rests on his chest.

They're both laughing at something Phoebe must have said when he tunes back into the conversation. "So, what did you two do for your honeymoon?"

Lionel speaks so loud Monty doesn't even know if Sibella attempted an answer. "We went to Derbyshire for the week, enjoyed a little," he leans towards Sibella and grins at her, "alone time."

Sibella giggles and turns to them both. "It really was quite perfect."

Monty knows for a fact that it wasn't perfect, because as soon as she returned, she was in Monty's bed, complaining about how boring it had been while he pressed kisses down her chest. Her smile seems genuine though, and he marvels at how good of an actress she has become after wedding Lionel.

Sibella carries on, her smile increasing. "And what did you two do?"

Monty narrows his eyes slightly at her. She knows exactly what the answer is. Phoebe replies for him. "Oh, we didn't get to do anything. What with the trial and everything, we thought it best to just skip the honeymoon phase and go straight into the domesticated married couple life."

Sibella sighs. "Oh, that sounds dreadfully boring."

Monty notices something in her tone though. It's teasing, yes, but there's also a hint of regret. Does she regret marrying Lionel instead of him? It was impossible, but from the conflicted glimmer in her eyes, he finds himself frowning at her. Phoebe is saying something from next to him, but Sibella is barely listening. He can tell, he knows when she is just pretending to be interested in something to seem polite. Her eyes find him after a few seconds, and the sadness in them disappears, quickly replaced by her default feeling of pride.

'That I still want you at all, I may live to regret'

It's when she tells him the big news that he begins to panic. What should he do? How would he tell Phoebe? There is too much to think about all at once.

"You're sure?"

She huffs at him. "Of course I'm sure Monty, I'm not an idiot."

He nods at her. And it's in that moment that all of the possibilities come shooting through his head. Will Sibella and Lionel divorce? Will he and Phoebe break up? And, in doing so, will Sibella and him finally marry? That is, of course, granted that Sibella will tell Lionel. She wouldn't be cruel enough to withhold that type of information from him.

"So, what should we do now?"

She's stood up, fiddling with her corset as she glares at herself in the mirror. "What do you mean? There's nothing to do."

He frowns as he sits on her bed, his back fully upright. "Well, we have to tell Lionel and Phoebe."

She whirls around to him. "No." She shakes her head.

He stands up, his face contorting into a dangerous frown. "Excuse me?"

"We can't." Her eyes are wide with fear and disgust. "Imagine the scandal. Lionel would go insane, Phoebe would be heartbroken." She clearly tries to appeal to him with this, but he's too riled up to care.

"I understand your points, Sibella, but this is much more important than either of them." He can feel anger seeping into him. Did she really believe he would just let her continue her happy life even now? "Sibella, we need to be together. If this isn't a big enough sign, I don't know what is."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You can't be serious. The only reason I told you is because I knew you would eventually start asking questions, and we need to discuss how to keep it a secret beforehand alone."

He shakes his head at her, his eyes wide with anger. "Sibella, I don't understand how you think I could ever just let this be a secret. Lionel and Phoebe need to know, it's their right to find out." She tries to interrupt him, undoubtedly with something about scandals and propriety, but he speaks louder. "No, Sibella."

He finds himself glaring at her, and she has the decency to look afraid of him in that moment, perhaps frightened of what he may do. He groans. "God, I can't even look at you right now." He turns his head and, with his tightly balled fists, he leans against the wall.

She's silent, but her breathing is even and steady whilst his is harsh and sporadic. There was no way Monty would let Lionel father his child, no matter how disgraced him and Sibella would be afterwards. He considers how Phoebe would never do this, how she would always be truthful with him, despite how much it might hurt him or shock their friends and family. Sibella cares too much for appearances.

"Oh, Monty." She's walking towards him, her voice sympathetic and soft. "I just don't see how it would work. We're both so," she struggles for the words, "happy where we are right now."

Her hand reaches his and he turns his head towards her. Her brown eyes are soft and large, and he instantly feels himself calming down. "Can we discuss this later?"

She smiles, a small victory in her eyes."Of course."

He pulls his other hand up to cup her cheek, and pulls her lips onto his. Sure, he will regret ever making this choice, but it keeps Sibella happy, and he'll do anything for that cause.

'You're deceitful'

He doesn't ask for much. Considering how much he gives to Sibella, whatever he asks for is truly a necessity. And, of course, sometimes he does get a little bit grumpy and moody when she doesn't act in the way he wants, mostly in regards to affection.

"Monty, don't be silly."

His scowl deepens as he crosses his arms, admittedly acting like a child but unable to stop the feeling taking over him. "I'm not."

She's laying on the bed her hand lightly dancing up his arm as he frowns at the sheets beneath him. "What do you want me to do?" She huffs.

"Nothing." He looks to the side, glaring at the deep red curtain of her and Lionel's bedroom. "It doesn't matter."

She sighs, and he waits for her to speak, fully prepared to give her the silent treatment that she loves to bestow upon him so regularly. All he wanted was the truth. Although there was always the chance that he may hate the truth, he would prefer it over some stupid lie she made up to please him.

"Monty." She moves closer to him; her dainty hand, perfectly lacking her wedding ring, rubbing up his chest. "What do you want me to tell you?" She smirks up at him, her voice a sly whisper. "How much you mean to me?" Her breath ghosts past his ear. "What you do to me?"

He turns his head to her then. "I want you to tell me the truth. How long have you been hiding this from me? This could change everything."

Panic flickers through her eyes, and he can see his reflection in them. "It doesn't matter."

He glares at her a little. "Of course it matters. Derbyshire is too far from London, there is no way we can handle not seeing each other."

She plasters a smile on her face. "Then we will just have to make the most of the time we have." She leans towards him, clearly waiting for a kiss, but he moves his head away.

"No, Sibella. You can't do this."

She sighs, leaning back on her elbow so he can see her chest and abdomen. "He's only doing it because he is jealous of how close you and I are. And, well, because of the child." He just shakes his head, turning so he can glare at the ceiling instead of her. She switches back, her hand lying on his chest. "But, of course, I will convince him otherwise."

His head flicks to her. "Really?" There's hope in his voice, along with shock.

She smirks. "Of course. I would really hate to have to find another Monty Navarro in Derbyshire." He frowns for a second, but takes the bait she has set out for him, pulling her small waist onto him and feeling her legs part to straddle him.

She kisses him as her hair tumbles around them, and he lets himself indulge in her for a while. Eventually, she moves down to his neck, and he finds himself wondering again. "Why?" She tenses a little, but decidedly ignores him. He squeezes her waist and speaks louder. "Sibella, why?"

She looks at him then. "Why what?" Her hair is rumpled and her lips are swollen, her lipstick probably smudged all over his face and neck.

"Why are you going to try and convince Lionel to stay in London?"

He almost sees her weigh out her answers. After a few moments, she seems to settle on an option, and with a sly smile, she whispers it to him. "Because I love you too much to let this go."

Later on that night, he would realise how fake she sounded, how she had distracted him with her roaming hands and hot kisses, how he had fallen once again for one of her many deceptive lies. But in the moment, as she looked so sincere and loving, he had believed her. He thinks that maybe he likes how Sibella is mysterious and deceptive to him, perhaps he finds it sexy, a nice contrast to the harsh truthfulness Phoebe supplies him with. It could be that, or he could just be so in love with Sibella that everything she does merely draws him in further.

'You're delectable'

She enjoys teasing him. It's something he learns early in his relationship with Sibella. Of course, it was all jovial and platonic on her side of the friendship, but it made his teenage cheeks burn and his voice turn husky. A light brush of her hand against his leg or a slight squeeze of his bicep was enough to set him off when it came to her.

"We don't have to if you wish to keep our meetings purely professional." Phoebe speaks from beside him. It's one of the rare and clearly painful times that him and Sibella are forced to sit across from each other as their partners speak. "But I do think you would love our house."

Lionel raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yes? And why is that?" His tone is patronising, as though he already knows that his and Sibella's house is wealthier and grander.

Phoebe's enthusiastic smile as she moves in her seat almost makes his hand, laying across her shoulders, almost mirroring Lionel's across Sibella's, fall from her chair. "It's a little cottage. It's so dainty and picturesque, Monty and I just love it. In fact," she continues to talk, but Monty gets distracted by Sibella's heeled foot nudging his boot below the table.

She's smirking at him slightly, her eyes hooded as she leans into Lionel's shoulder. She is playing with her curls, twirling them around her fingers for a few moments, then letting them tumble onto her chest and shoulders gracefully.

His eyes wander over her. She is wearing a deep red dress with a low cut and fine detailing, the two recurring aspects of the dresses that Sibella always wears. He finds himself focusing on her chest for a while, and he sees her sit up straighter and sigh when she sees where he is looking. She is enjoying it, obviously so, loving the attention she can so easily receive while he sits beside his wife.

"What do you think of it, darling?" Phoebe turns to him, and his hungry gaze quickly reverts back to her.

"Hmm?" He watches her eyes flicker between him and Sibella, confused and perhaps a little bit nervous. He feels dazed and light headed, but he waits for a reply anyway.

"Having Mr and Mrs Holland around this Saturday for tea?"

Sibella smiles at them both, her perfectly practised sincerity and innocence showing. "Oh, you simply must let us come around. It sounds so pretty."

Monty glances at her briefly, knowing exactly what she is doing. Two days ago, Sibella had been lying in his bed as he kissed down her body, already having had a full tour of his new house four months ago, a week after he had moved in with his new wife.

Phoebe grabs his hand in excitement. "You're not doing anything then, are you, darling?"

He smiles down at her. "Of course not." He turns to Lionel. "I would love to show you around the house."

Phoebe giggles from beside of him in happiness. This is the type of thing she loves, making friends and doing generally social things. "Oh, and then perhaps we can come and see your house?"

Lionel nods. "Why yes, that should be fine." He seems a lot less interested than Phoebe does, but he humours her anyway.

He once again finds his gaze being drawn to Sibella, namely her lips this time. Painted red, they look large and soft, and he can't seem to look away. Slowly, they morph into a smirk, and then his sight moves to her eyes. He feels a desperate need to kiss her, and, perhaps it is his territorial primal need to assert his dominance, but he wants to reach over and touch her, show her that he can provide her with everything Lionel can, and probably more.

He imagines the silky feel of her hair as he clenches his fingers around it, the soft velvet of her pale skin as she writhes below him, the small noises she makes in response to his panting in her ear. It could be the fact that he hasn't seen her in two days that is making him go insane; it could be how she is smirking at him, knowing fully what he is feeling and thinking; it could be how Lionel is rubbing his fingers across her shoulder in such a sensual way that he is feeling jealous; or it could be simply because she is the main focus in his mind constantly, and how his mind goes into overdrive when she is in such a close vicinity, yet she is still unreachable.

'You see the fate of a man who has had the misfortune to spend his life caught in your sway'

When she does eventually move away, without even a goodbye to him, he holds back his shock. She had convinced Lionel to stay in the city for a few years, but after Edward had been born, even Monty knew there was no way Lionel could persist any longer. What with Monty's increased visits to Edward, and Sibella's teetering patience, there was no way he could survive.

He does almost credit them both for leaving with his child, in a weird way. There was no way to distinguish whether Monty or Lionel was the father, but Monty saw the brown curls, such a change from Lionel and Sibella's blonde locks. They didn't have to pretend with anybody in Derbyshire, nobody knew of their connection to the Navarro family.

He understands why they didn't tell him. He would have argued with them publicly over the move, and then their well kept secret would be discovered by everyone.

Yet, despite how much he understands their reasons, he is still sat on his bed, surrounded by several broken glasses, a few punched walls, and dried tears on his cheeks. He doesn't remember how he actually trashed his room, but he does recall Phoebe coming in with a tentative smile on her face and telling him the news.

"I'm assuming you've already heard the news."

He looked up from the newspaper he was holding. She stood there in a purple dress, carefully ringing her hands. "What news?"

"They've gone." She shrugged.

"Who?" He frowned.

She sat across from him in her chair. "Mr and Mrs Holland." She spoke slowly, and with a hint of suspicion.

His breath caught in his throat. "Where?"

"Derbyshire, apparently." She leaned forward in her chair a bit and frowned at him. "Did Mrs Holland not tell you anything?"

He placed his newspaper down and stood up, immediately pacing the floor. Thoughts were rushing through his mind at an insane pace. Would she ever return? Why had she not told him? Had she taken Edward? Would he ever see either of them again? "No, Sibella didn't mention anything." He ran a hand through his hair.

He thinks that she must have stood up and walked towards him, because suddenly her hand was on his arm and she was speaking softly. "Darling, don't fret about it. They've moved for the best. I know you and Mrs Holland were once close, but she has a family now. She needs to focus on that."

"Without me?" His eyes were wild and he could feel angry tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. The words were out of his mouth before he could register the effect they would have on his wife.

"What do you mean?" Her words were clipped, but he could sense the fear in them.

Figuring there was no point in lying at this point, he spoke. "I always thought that I would be the one raising a family with Sibella."

She was silent, keeping her mouth closed. Her eyes were wide, and hurt started to seep into them as soon as he had finished. "What?" It came out in a quiver, almost a breath. But then she swallowed, and spoke to him. "I thought you were just friends."

He actually chuckled then, shaking his head, to which she glared. "Of course not, Phoebe. Sibella and I were lovers, we almost began courting. In fact, I proposed to her several times."

She just nodded her head in shock. "Oh."

His face contorted again, and he turned towards the door. "Have they definitely gone?"

"According to their neighbours, they left last night. Everything has gone from their home."

He groaned, and pressed his palms into his eyes. "I didn't even get to say goodbye to Edward." He groaned again, almost turning it into a shout.

He couldn't help but feel betrayed. After all, despite everything, he always selfishly believed that Sibella would eventually come back to him, even now that he had Phoebe. But now it felt as though his dream had definitely been erased, that there was no hope left for him and Sibella.

"He's seven months old, Monty, I doubt he would have understood you anyway." She actually rolled her eyes at him. He turned to her with a glare. "Why do you even care about their child anyway, Monty? I understand Sibella, but the baby?"

He looked down and breathed in. If he told her this, it would completely ruin their relationship. She already knew he had been keeping secrets, but this would surely break them. She didn't let him speak though, because she had already worked it out herself.

She gasps, horror contorting her face. "Oh, Monty... How could you?"

Fuelled with anger and jealousy, he shrugs. "I'm in love with her, Phoebe."

And now, as he sits in his bed surrounded by the discarded ruins of his and Phoebe's bedroom, he resolves that some things never change.

'I see Sibella'

His mother first introduces them at the age of six. She wears pink ribbons in her hair, and her eyes are brown like his, but bigger. She's smaller than him, so he can bully her about that.

"Monty, this is Sibella. She is Melissa's daughter; you remember Mrs Hallward, right?"

He nods, keeping his face down, embarrassed by how red his cheeks are. He's never had a girl friend before, so he's a bit nervous. His eyes slowly dare to look up and reach that of Sibella's, but when they eventually meet, she's grinning at him.

He diverts his eyes once more, certain that she is too confident for his liking.

'My Sibella'

She's just broken up with Thomas, so he finds her in her room. She isn't upset about it, she broke up with him, but she wants to be alone. She lets him in, of course.

"Are you okay?" He sits beside her as she sorts through her jewellery.

"Of course." She smiles up to him, and he actually doesn't see any sadness in her eyes. He doesn't want to think about how Thomas is reacting to the news, probably forlorn over the fact of losing Sibella. Monty himself has no reason to feel this way because he has never had Sibella in the first place, therefore she can never make him cry. It's simple maths, really.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He speaks despite already knowing the answer.

She smiles again, and giggles. "No, we don't need to talk about anything." She leans into him with a cheeky smile and he automatically moves his arm around her, content with how their meetings always go.

'And I like her that way'

When she first introduces him to Edward, he almost faints. His breath escapes his body and he can't see anything besides the small bundle in Sibella's arms. With dark brown curls atop his head and large brown eyes, he is the perfect mix of him and Sibella. He's wrapped in a blanket that Sibella ensures him is very expensive, and he grins excitedly at her when Edward looks at him.

"He likes you." She giggles at him while Monty offers his pinky finger to the baby's unclenched hand. As Edward's fingers clasp around his finger, he speaks.

"Do you think so?"

She shrugs, but her smile stays in its place. "Well, he isn't crying. He hates Lionel, and all he does is cry around him." Then she lifts an eyebrow and mutters to herself. "It's one thing we have in common about him."

Monty grins. "I suppose that I'll be around here a lot then."

Sibella meets his eyes then and she gives him a tender smile. "I suppose so."

'Yes, I like her just that way'

He does eventually see them again. He seeks them out, goes to Derbyshire under the pretence of visiting some of his father's family that he didn't even know existed. After promising Phoebe that he won't react in the same way he did when he met his mother's family, and diverting his eyes every time she asked him why he was going alone, she let him go. But they both took into account the fear and wariness in her eyes.

She had decided to give him another chance, to see if they really could work through Sibella and Edward leaving Monty's life. Monty thinks Phoebe wanted to stay married because she didn't want to have to explain it to her friends and family; thought that keeping up their appearance of a happily married couple would cover up the lies and arguments that actually created their marriage. It would make sense: Phoebe wanting to maintain her image after everything she endured to achieve it. Perhaps Monty has a type after all.

When he arrives in Derbyshire, he doesn't know where to start. He is renting a room in a farmhouse ran by two wealthy tenants, and he hasn't put an end date on his contract, so he figures he can stay until he has found them.

It doesn't take as long as he expected. Of course, in hindsight, thinking that the Holland family would want to lead a low profile, normal life was stupid.

He finds their house merely by asking one of his tenants on his second morning in Derbyshire. It's the largest house on the estate, he is told, about a fifteen minute walk from their farm. Walking there with a strange feeling of anticipation and weariness in his gut, he wonders what to do. Edward is four years old now, and he wonders whether Sibella has told her son about him. He hopes the answer is yes, but he knows that the answer is no.

When he sees the house, he stops. With white walls, a bright garden, and detailed fencing, their house has a general aura of wealth. The curtains are all open, but he can't see inside any of them due to the bright sunlight glaring on the windows.

He walks forward determinedly, although still not sure what his aim is. He reaches the door without trouble, but once his hand is reared back to knock on their door, he panics.

What if she sends him away? Had he come all this way for nothing? What if it wasn't even their house? Perhaps there were another Holland family in Derbyshire. Probably. In fact, it was quite a popular name. Monty definitely remembers Sibella telling him that Lionel had a few distant family members that lived in Derbyshire, so maybe this was their house instead. How foolish would he seem if, when the door opened, he was greeted by a family he didn't know while hoping to find his son and his-well, his Sibella. How would he even bring up that topic? Surely-

"What are you doing, merely standing on our doorstep?"

He hears the voice before the door opens, but when his mind finally takes in the person in front of him, he deflates a little.

"Wait, aren't you-you're Sibella's friend, correct?" Lionel squints at him.

Monty nods his head. "Yes; Monty Navarro."

Lionel nods at him, but still doesn't smile. "Ah, yes. Aren't you married to that small brunette? The one who talks a lot?"

Monty nods again, his gaze wandering behind Lionel. "Yes, Phoebe. Is Sibella at home?"

Lionel raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes. Come and sit inside, I'll go and call her for you." He steps aside and Monty walks in. It's lavish, almost too much so. Paintings and delicate sculptures are placed around the drawing room, and Lionel leads him to a room with a sofa in, a small table, and a few chairs. "You can just wait in here. Pour yourself a drink, if you would like."

Lionel leaves without waiting for a reply from Monty, so the brunet just pours himself a small glass of scotch and looks at the paintings on the wall, trying desperately to see the details and hidden meanings that Sibella pretends to see.

After about five minutes of staring at a painting of a war he didn't understand and nervously sipping his scotch, he heard her voice.

"Monty Navarro." He turns his head quickly, his eyes wide. "Whatever are you doing here?"

She looks the same. Even after almost three years apart, she is still wearing extravagant dresses, still styling her hair in the most intricate ways she can. And the devious smile that paints her face is still there, although this time, it is contrasted by the look of surprise in her eyes.

He shrugs, placing his glass down on the nearest cabinet. "Oh, I just thought I'd drop by."

She walks towards him, and he meets her halfway, stopping just in front of each other. "All the way from London?"

He smirks. "I missed Edward."

She nods. "Only Edward?"

He places his hands on her waist. "Amongst other things."

'And I want you that way'

There are times when she isn't mean or deceitful or vain. He thinks they are triggered by Phoebe, how open and-well, different she is to Sibella.

She comes to his house one day and, instead of letting him kiss her as soon as the front door is closed, she asks him how his day has been. It's weird because Sibella doesn't usually like to talk before or after their trysts, so he answers in confusion.

He frowns at her, but replies anyway. "It has been nice. I haven't done much, I'm afraid. In all honesty, I've merely read the paper and waited until you arrived." Unsure, he asks her. "What about yours?"

She shrugs, looking at the closed curtains. "I haven't done much at all. Lionel is preparing to go on a 'business trip' tomorrow, so he hasn't been trying to talk to me, thank heavens." She rolls her eyes.

He places his arms around her waist and pulls her closer to him. "Does that mean we have a free house available?"

She giggles at him, and he leans in to capture her lips with his own.

For that moment, her weird behaviour disappears.

Later, however, as she lays beside him, she turns to him. "How is Phoebe?"

He frowns. "She is okay. She's visiting her friend today, so she won't be home for another couple of hours, if that's what you're worried about."

She smiles daintily and looks at the ceiling. "No, I was just wondering. She's a nice girl."

He nods, still staring at her and wondering what should be said in this situation. "Yes, she is."

"She's very pretty."

He nods, and thinks that he has found the reason for her change in mood. "I suppose so. But, Sibella, you are gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking."

She turns her head and smiles at him, and his own smile falters when he sees the sadness in her eyes. "Yes, but beauty is the only thing I have. She is beautiful, smart, funny, witty, she's a good singer, and she can paint." Monty doesn't know whether or not Sibella is aware of it, but she pouts as she says this.

He rolls over on top of her, and practically forces her to look at him. "But, Sibella, that's why I like you." She rolls her eyes at him and looks away, but he smiles still. "Yes, Phoebe is all of those things, but so are you." She looks at him then. "And more."

"How so?" Her voice is small, and he sees that she is vulnerable.

"You're unbelievably funny, Sibella. You're one of the only people who properly understand my sense of humour- and, you laugh at my terrible jokes."

She giggles at him. "It's pity laughter, Monty."

"And you're smart. Sibella, you have made this life of luxury for yourself purely by setting it as a goal. If you aren't smart, there is no way you could have successfully achieved this." He grins down at her. She nods at him, and he continues. "And, Sibella, I can honestly say that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

She smiles at him then. "Thank you."

He chuckles at her. "And what is this talk of painting? Sibella, painting isn't a reason to like somebody. It doesn't make them more appealing."

A small frown appears on her face. "Well, Lionel says that-"

"Well, painting doesn't heighten a person's attractiveness in my opinion." He leans down and kisses her then. "And, Sibella?"

"Yes?"

He kisses her, and pulls back just far enough to see the smile light up her face. "I don't care if you can't sing, I love you."

Thanks for reading! This is my longest fic so far, and I've spent ages working on it. I was astonished at the lack of GGLAM fanfictions, so I had to contribute.