Bad Grace: A Billionaire Romance Romantic Suspense (The Filth Monger Book 2) (10 page)

Her

I
walked back out onto the floor in a daze. Liv was waiting for me, her face wild with excitement. ‘It was him, Grace!’ she said, stating the obvious. ‘And I know what his name is now.’

‘I don’t care what his name is,’ I said, my thoughts a dizzying whirl of disappointment. ‘I’m not interested.’

‘Liv!’ Max said, from behind me. ‘I need those account details now.’

‘Yes, Max,’ said Liv. She threw me an infuriated look. ‘Give me five, Grace. Okay?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ve…got to go. I’ll see you tonight.’

I left the department and took the lift down to the entrance. I hardly noticed going through the foyer and didn’t stop until I was standing on the steps outside. I remembered standing there, not even a week ago, hordes of reporters taking photos of me and shoving mics in my face. Amazing how quickly a story dwindled, without further exposure to feed it.

For the first time, I understood what Kitty had been talking about, and why it was so important to act swiftly to capitalise on that moment of fame…or infamy. Just as well I was going to meet with her precious Jimmy, in an hour or so.

I fumbled in my bag, until I found what I was looking for. A crumpled box of cigarettes and, deep in one of the pockets, a lighter. I took a ciggie from the box and lit it, relaxing slightly as I took the first drag.

It was only then that I noticed a guy, standing a few feet away by a streetlamp and staring at me. As he saw me look over, he seemed to take a deep breath and steel himself for something. As I watched him, he came hesitantly over to me.

‘Grace?’ he said.

I nodded at him, taking another nervous drag on my cigarette. He was balding, with his hair cropped close and an everyday office suit. He was very much an average Joe, here in the City, but there was something faintly familiar about him, as if I’d seen him before. ‘Yes,’ I said, when he didn’t say anything further. ‘I’m Grace.’

I was beginning to think he was a reporter and was about to turn and walk away, when he finally spoke. He sounded anxious, as if he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. ‘I’m…Phil. I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have come here, only…’ He tailed off.

‘Only what?’ I said, mystified.

He took another deep breath. I could tell it was costing him big to say whatever it was. ‘Will you please tell your…boyfriend to back off?’ he said.

‘My
boyfriend
?’ I said. ‘You mean Leo? He’s not my...’

‘Look, I don’t know his name,’ he said, talking quickly and urgently. ‘All I know is, he’s come on heavy, to me and the others…paid us off and threatened to hurt us if we breathe so much as a word. Him and his gang of heavies.’

He looked at me, staring into my eyes, almost pleadingly. I stared back, not knowing what to say to calm him down. What the hell was he talking about?

As I inhaled again on my cigarette, his gaze left mine and travelled up past my right shoulder. His eyes widened in horror and, at almost the same moment, I felt a hand reach across me and pluck the cigarette from between my lips, before throwing it onto the steps in front of me.

Her

I
turned round, only to find myself face to face with the Filth Monger. He was smiling coolly at Phil. ‘As long as you keep quiet, you have nothing to worry about,’ he said, pleasantly. ‘You have my word.’

Phil stood there for a moment, transfixed – it seemed – in horror. Then he threw me an anguished look, before turning and bolting, back down the road.

‘And smoking is extremely bad for you,’ he continued. ‘As I’ve told you before.’

I looked at the remains of my cigarette, charred and flattened on the steps. I was so annoyed. I’d needed that. The sheer arrogance of the man was beyond question.

‘And littering is a crime,’ I said, turning my back on him. If he thought I was going to forget his treatment of me in Max’s office, he could think again.

Rather than turning me to face him – which I was fully expecting and ready for – he just put his arm through mine and walked me off down the steps and away from Ffyvells, towards Leadenhall Market. I tried to resist, but he gripped my arm and guided me across the busy road. The fact that the traffic stopped had more to do with his walking straight out in front of it, than anything to do with the traffic lights, so our crossing was punctuated by several angry drivers sounding their horns.

‘Who was that man?’ I said. ‘Why’s he so terrified?’

‘Do you really not know?’ he said, in disapproving tones. ‘That was one of your…friends from the F Bar.’

‘Oh,’ I said, flushing, as realisation dawned. No wonder he’d seemed familiar. I’d nearly left with his group, only to be stopped, at the last minute, by the man holding my arm so firmly now. ‘Why’s he so scared of you?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said, smoothly. ‘I think, in the circumstances, my terms were more than fair.’

‘You mean, they were going to go to the papers?’ I said, my voice coming out more like a squeak of alarm.

‘I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised,’ he said, pausing briefly and pulling me aside to allow a group of women to pass us. ‘Which brings me to your text message, Miss Anderton.’

‘It’s Grace,’ I said, glaring up him. ‘Or it was when you were kissing me the other night.’

‘Grace, then,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘Which brings me to your text message,
Grace
.’

I was partly mollified by the fact that he’d obviously gone out of his way to protect me, but that didn’t excuse the fact that…

‘You didn’t even reply,’ I said, reluctantly letting him steer me into a café. I say
café
- it was more a wine bar that sold coffee. I’d never been in there. When I went out in the City, it was usually with Liv, and she’d always vetoed this one because the prices were so high. ‘And you acted as if you didn’t even know me just now, in Max’s office.’

‘I wanted to reply to your text,’ he said. ‘But I had some rather…pressing engagements, last night.’

He did sound genuinely regretful, but how long did it take to send a text? I returned his amused look with a sLeo stare, even as he pulled out a chair for me to sit down.

‘It doesn’t explain why you gave me the cold shoulder just now,’ I said, perching on the edge of it. I was finding it harder and harder to stay angry with the man, the more I looked at him. He was just so beautiful. He wasn’t playing fair – he couldn’t. His looks put him at a natural advantage.

As he sat down opposite me, his dark blue eyes looking so keenly into mine, I knew I could’ve just melted. But I wouldn’t let myself. Max’s words came back to me;
He’s just been charged with assaulting a girlfriend.
If there was one thing that could keep me grounded, it was that, but already I could feel my good intentions wavering.

‘Did you tell Max you knew me?’ he said, his gaze steady and searching.

I looked away – he’d turned the whole thing on its head in just a few words. ‘No, I…’

‘Why not?’

‘I…’ I knew what he was getting at, but I couldn’t think of a way to evade the obvious answer. ‘I didn’t think he’d approve.’

‘Approve of what, exactly?’

‘Of me associating with his clients…friends…whichever you are.’ I looked at him again. God, he was criminally gorgeous. I knew I was going to struggle to take Max’s advice about steering clear of him. God, I was disregarding it already.

‘I’m a friend of Max’s,’ he said. ‘And a client. Both – and neither.’

Well, that was as clear as mud. His evasiveness was infuriating. In spite of myself, I was desperate to know more about him, but he seemed incapable of giving a straight answer. Christ, I still didn’t even know his name.

‘Do you always speak in riddles?’ I said. ‘What does that even mean?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with an amused smile. ‘Max is a friend, of sorts. We were at school and Cambridge together. We’re tied, you might say. Our families have a long history. My father is a client of Ffyvells, and me, by proxy. Does that explain what I meant?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And no.’

‘Are you playing me at my own game, Miss Anderton?’

‘Yes,’ I said, feeling confused. ‘No.’

‘Yes or no?’ His eyes danced, wickedly. ‘Which is it?’

‘It’s both,’ I said, trying not to laugh. ‘What do you mean, Max is a friend, sort of?’

‘Well, it depends on what you mean by a friend, I suppose.’ He beckoned to a waiter. It was a subtle, yet totally commanding, gesture – imperious, yet gracious. If I hadn’t already guessed he was wealthy, it would have given it away in an instant. ‘A tea, please…green. Miss Anderton?’

‘Grace,’ I said, feeling I was totally losing the thread of the conversation, and wondering what I could order that wouldn’t seem…well…lacking in class. ‘The same, please,’ I said.

The waiter hurried off, and he turned back to me. ‘Look, Max and I… We don’t always see eye to eye, okay? He has…ways about him that I don’t much care for. He doesn’t much like me either, but – and this is what I want you to understand – I can trust him, and him me. If I’m in trouble, he’s there, and vice versa.’

‘Okay,’ I said, absorbing this outside angle on my boss. I hated to admit it, but he had a point – Max had ways about him nobody much cared for.

‘It’s about loyalty, which is the most important thing of all,’ he said, almost as if he were explaining it to himself. ‘So, you see, he’s a friend…’ He paused briefly, and smiled. ‘…of sorts.’

I nodded. I wasn’t so sure about the loyalty angle - not after what Max had told me as I’d left his office, but I’d promised not to mention it to anyone, so there was nothing I could say.

The waiter came back with our tea.

I bent my head to sip at it. It was scorching hot and tasted like boiled grass clippings. He laughed at my face. ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘A burnt tongue, or merely disgust?’

‘A…bit of both, to be honest,’ I said, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He laughed again. ‘It’s an acquired taste, I suppose,’ he said. ‘But very good for you.’ He frowned, suddenly, and followed it up with a look of distaste. ‘Unlike cigarettes.’

I pursed my lips. ‘I have the right to smoke if I want.’

‘And I have the right to protest.’ He smiled again, teasingly. ‘Is it wrong of me to want to protect you?’

‘I don’t need your protection.’

‘Don’t you?’ he said, softly. ‘Shall I go and find our friend Phil? Tell him he can sell his story?’

‘No,’ I said, quickly. ‘I’m sorry…you’re right.’

He took a sip of his tea. ‘It’s not about right and wrong,’ he said. ‘And you can’t be selective about how I choose to protect you. I stopped you smoking because it's not good for your health, and I didn’t acknowledge you in front of Max because it wasn’t in your best interests for me to do so. I have your back, Miss Anderton. I gave you my word.’

‘I only wish you had it, when I needed it,’ I said, regretfully, taking another sip of tea.
Ugh…definitely an acquired taste.

‘And that was when? Last night?’

‘And when you dropped me home.’ I couldn’t help a shudder, but whether it was due to the tea, or the memory, I wasn’t sure.

He looked bewildered. ‘Why? What happened?’

I faltered, feeling humiliated at having to explain. ‘It…it was just Leo. He was there, waiting for me.’

He looked perplexed. ‘But you went in safely,’ he said. ‘I made sure of it.’

I looked down at my tea. ‘He was already inside.’

‘Who let him in? I don’t understand.’

‘No one.’ I was beginning to wish I hadn’t mentioned it. It wasn’t easy to talk about it, and he kept asking questions. ‘He got in when Liv went out to do the bins.’

His face hardened. ‘And what happened? Did he hurt you?’

‘No.’ I was still looking into my tea. ‘Not really.’

‘Grace,’ he said. I looked up at him. It was partly the use of my first name, and partly the tone of his voice. ‘Did he…do anything you didn’t want him to?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘That is, he tried but…’

‘But you stopped him?’

‘Yes,’ I said, with a sad laugh. ‘I kicked him…you know…’

He didn’t say anything. He just flicked at his teacup with his thumbnail.

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘He’s apologised.’

He uttered a short, hard laugh. ‘Well, all’s well that ends well,’ he said. ‘As long as he said sorry.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ I said, realising how lame it sounded. ‘But it’s sorted.’

‘It is,’ he said, cryptically. ‘Now, what about last night? Don’t tell me that was Leo too?’

‘No,’ I said, with a sad smile. ‘That was all me.’

‘Okay, and did you take any notice of what I’d written on…’ He paused briefly and, for a wonder, looked uncomfortable. ‘…the card I gave you?’

I raised my eyebrows at him. Touché. It was about time I got the upper hand, and he’d been hoist by his own petard. ‘Yes, I did,’ I said. ‘I went yesterday…Mr Filth Monger.’

He ran his hand through his hair. ‘That was - an oversight. I meant to…’ He fished in the pocket of his jacket. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘This is the card I meant to give you.’

I looked at it. It was more or less the same as the other one except, in place of the title Filth Monger, it read
Nathaniel Forbes
. Nothing else, except for a phone number – which looked to be the same as on the previous card. Nothing to tell me what he was, or what he did. There was something that rang a bell, from the night at the F Bar and, for a moment, I thought I knew. He did own the whole hotel.

But no, it was the Fforbes hotel. Double f the same as Ffyvells – that was why I remembered. It must be a coincidence - a pretty hefty one, but a coincidence all the same.

‘Nathaniel,’ I said, turning it over. The other side was blank. ‘And I had you pegged for a Keith…or possibly a Norman.’

He laughed. ‘Very good, Miss Anderton. Although, I have to say, I may as well be an Ermintrude, for the amount people use it. Most people simply call me Sir.’

There was an odd melancholy note to his voice that made me look up at him quickly, but as I caught his eye, he was smiling.

‘Ermintrude,’ I said. I couldn’t help smiling back. ‘It suits you.’

He nodded his head graciously, as if accepting a great compliment, before taking another sip of his tea.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk about last night.’