Bad Grace: A Billionaire Romance Romantic Suspense (The Filth Monger Book 2) (14 page)

Her

A
nd he was gone again. Just like that. If I’d begun to think I’d outstayed my welcome, I knew it now. I looked down at the forms in my hand, then back up at Ronnie. She was regarding me with a serene smile.

‘Somebody’s ruffled some feathers,’ she said, smoothly, stepping back to allow me to pass. ‘Have you had…words?’

‘Uh, no,’ I said, still taken aback by his swift exit. I must’ve really pissed him off, pressing myself against him like that. Especially now I knew he was married. He’d been tempted, that much was obvious, but he was a better person than me. The scene, coupled with his presence so close behind me, had proved a mix too heady for me to resist. I had to get back some self-control. I didn’t blame him for hating me.

‘Funny,’ she said, as we walked back along the corridors to the entrance hall. ‘I’ve never seen him quite so…dismissive of a guest before.’

‘Oh.’ I absorbed this information with no joy whatsoever. So I was special in one way, at least. ‘Well, he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.’

‘Ignore him,’ said Ronnie, casting me a sideways look. ‘He doesn’t mean to be hard. He doesn’t know how to be soft.’

‘I’m sorry…’ I said. ‘About what I said before. I…didn’t think.’

She gave a harsh laugh. ‘I’m used to it by now,’ she said. ‘I can’t turn back time. I just thought for a moment back there…you and Nat…you know.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Oh no, definitely not.’

‘You seem very certain.’ She was still regarding me curiously, as we came back out into the entrance hall.

‘To be honest,’ I said. ‘I think he hates me.’

She gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘Well, that’s a stronger emotion than indifference,’ she said. ‘Trust me, I’d know.’

We walked over to the doors and, as the maid opened them, she stooped down and pecked me on the cheek. ‘Be careful, Grace,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘Don’t do anything you might regret.’

I hardly noticed the journey home. I had so much to think about, I paid no heed to the country roads and was surprised when I found myself back in the city and almost in Chiswick. I kept thinking of Nathaniel’s hand running over me, his body curved in against mine. He was so perfect I couldn’t resist him in such close proximity. I’d been dying to turn around and tousle his thick dark hair, run my fingers down the etched hollows of his cheeks, commit suicide in his eyes.

But he’d pulled away from me and I could only stand there, making out I was still interested in what was going on in the playroom and trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. Now, he hated me, that much was evident, and Ronnie’s words came back to me. Don’t do anything you might regret. She was warning me off him – she’d read the situation and knew I wasn’t to be trusted. My being there was proof enough of that.

I had to take a step back and actually stop and think, for once. What did I really want? What was he after, anyway? He’d offered to help me, but all he’d managed, so far, was to hurt me.

And the whole operation he was running…what was it all about, anyway? Did I really want to get involved in something so…seedy? At least now I understood his nickname. The Filth Monger suited him down to the ground. Surely he didn’t need money that much? He was supposed to be heir to a fortune.

It was all questions with no answers, and none of it made any sense. My thoughts were a dizzying, mixed-up mess and, by the time Stephens had dropped me off, I was ready for my bed. I was amazed to find it was only half nine, but I went anyway. I couldn’t bear to think any more about everything that had happened.

Her

T
he next day, I got in touch with the clinic he’d referred me to. It was Saturday, and I hadn’t expected it to be open, but I’d rung on the off-chance, and they’d told me to come straight over. Of course they would, I realised, as soon as they said it. They were in his pay, like Valentina. God, his seedy operation had its tentacles everywhere.

The clinic was a private one, naturally, very sparse and bleak. As soon as I got there, I was taken in to a clean, white room and told to strip from the waist down. The tests were to rule out STDs, they told me, which made me feel worse than cheap. I sat on the bed, my legs up in stirrups, feeling like a real no-good slut and, for once, I didn’t enjoy the thought.

I went back to work on the Monday and, on the Tuesday, Jimmy rang me at work. He couldn’t get through on my mobile, because I was under Max’s eagle eye and couldn’t answer it, so he had himself put through via Reception.

‘The bids have been finalised,’ he said, in tones of high glee. ‘And you, Miss Anderton, are going to be a very wealthy girl. How does Saturday Siesta grab you?’

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. It was one of the most popular programmes on TV.

‘
Saturday Siesta
? That sounds…terrifying, Jimmy.’ I’d been standing at my desk, talking to Pascale, but now I sat down in my chair with a bump. ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’

‘Just be your sweet little self,’ he said, with a chuckle. ‘You’re going to walk it.’

I put the phone down to find Max standing over me, unimpressed. ‘I don’t know what that was about exactly,’ he said. ‘But I got the general idea and I don’t like it. Kindly remember you’re here to do a job, Grace.’

‘Yes, Max.’

I settled myself back down at my desk, my heart pounding.
Just be your sweet little self
. I couldn’t help a smile. That was the last thing Jimmy would want. If only he knew…he’d have kittens, especially straight after Kitty’s fall from grace.

The rest of the week passed slowly. I went to work each day on autopilot. The only time I was remotely interested in anything, after Jimmy’s phone call, was when a tall, dark-haired man came into the department. His suit was immaculate and understated and, for a moment, my heart flipped in my chest. But it wasn’t my Filth Monger, it was some other, imperfect guy, with too-big teeth and an over-wide smile. It made me realise how desperate I was to see Nathaniel again, despite everything.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. In fact, by the end of the week, I think Max would have welcomed Liv back with open arms, I was so inattentive and careless in my work.

‘For Christ’s sake, Grace.’ He came out of his office on the Friday morning with a care-worn expression, brandishing a sheaf of documents. ‘I know it’s your first week back, but make some effort to get things right, can’t you? I need these on my desk first thing after lunch.’

‘Yes, Max. Sorry.’ I took the papers, quickly slipping the letter I’d been reading underneath them. It was the results of my tests. They were clear, thank God, and now I had to make the decision of whether or not to inform Nathaniel.

Did I really want to go through with it? I thought back to the previous Friday night, when I’d watched Martine getting ruined by the group of guys. Did I want that? Really?

I told myself firmly that I did. It was what I’d wanted all the way along, ever since Leo had ruined my fantasy. I glanced over at Max’s office. He was deep in conversation on the phone, so I took my chance and got out my phone.

It’s Grace Anderton
, I texted.
Test results are back. We are good to go!

I hoped the jokey tone might do something to soften his attitude towards me, but I had to wait until the afternoon to find out. I heard the text come in sometime after three, but I was still working my way half-heartedly through Max’s corrections. I didn’t get a chance to look at my phone until I left work at five, by which time I was half-dead with frustration.

Congratulations, Miss Anderton. Stephens will be with you for seven tomorrow. Dress to impress. Bring with you any clothes, objects or paraphernalia you so choose. We aim to please.

I stared at my phone, re-reading the message and willing it to be more…personal.
Congratulations
…was he being sarcastic, or was it his attempt at a joke? It was hard to be sure of anything with him, and
We aim to please
…what the hell was that? Who was
we
, exactly? Was that his way of including Ronnie? He could hardly have distanced himself any more than in those four small words.

I shrugged. It was a business arrangement. I might not get the guy, but I’d get what I’d been hurtling into brake-free ever since I’d been single, and safely. It had to be worth it or, at least, that’s what I told myself.

By the time I got back to Liv’s, I was a bundle of nerves. Fortunately, Liv had a gig that night. She seemed totally loved up with Gav again, for reasons I still couldn’t fathom, and they were in her bedroom together when I got in.

I was relieved in a way. I had so much to think about, and so little I could actually talk about. Well, apart from Saturday Siesta, and I didn’t want to talk about that. I didn’t even want to think about it. The thought of being live on TV in front of half the nation was enough to make me want to blot the whole thing out. I sat alone at the kitchen table, poking morosely at a bowl of soup with my spoon and wondering what the hell I was going to say.

In the end, I had another early night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, so I settled down at just after nine but, with everything whirling in my mind, I couldn’t sleep. In the end, to soothe myself, I let my hand slip down between my thighs. I moved my fingers for a few minutes but, in the end, I gave up. I just didn’t fancy it. It was as if, now my fantasy was so close to becoming reality, I’d lost interest.

Or maybe only the reality will cut it now,
I told myself.
That must be it
. I could hardly enjoy the mere thought of something that, the very next night, I was going to experience in the flesh. I turned over, satisfied for the moment by that explanation and, after tossing and turning for an hour or so, finally slipped into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

Him

T
he divorce papers arrived on the Saturday.

I admit to being totally blind-sided by them. Monique, one of the hotel receptionists gave them to me, as I was walking through the foyer on the way back from my morning run in Hyde Park. It was another glorious day, but I’d hardly noticed it. It had been a shit week. I’d finally sorted the Rick fiasco, but I was still dwelling on his death and what to do for his family. I had to be circumspect, because he still hadn’t been reported missing and I didn’t want to raise suspicions.

Added to which – and I hardly liked to admit it to myself, but this was the main cause of my low mood – tonight, I had the dubious joy of handing the little angel I’d sworn to protect over to a pack of my best men. And they were good men, there was no doubt about it, but they’d regress to animals, when presented with a prize like her. She was a cut above their usual fare, and then some.

I took the papers up to my apartment and sat on the bed reading them.

It was the end of an era, and not a happy one, at that. It wasn’t Ronnie’s fault. It was mine, if anything. If it hadn’t been such a difficult time for me, I’d probably never have latched onto her or, at least, I’d have thought more about the long-term. Mind you, no one could’ve predicted how she’d change – not even her at that point. It wasn’t her fault though – she couldn’t help who she was, after all.

I went to have a shower and, when I came out, my phone was ringing. It was her. At first, I only stared at the phone, not wanting to make the whole thing real.

‘My love?’ she said, when I finally answered. ‘Tell me you’re not cross.’

‘Not cross, Ronnie.’ I sat down on my bed. ‘More shell-shocked. I suppose I should thank you, to be honest. You know I’ll look after you.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘You always have, Nat. I should’ve done this a long time ago. It wasn’t fair of me.’

‘I’ve never blamed you.’ I rubbed at my hair hard with a towel. ‘I could’ve instigated proceedings.’

She laughed. ‘You never would have. Your loyalty knows no bounds.’

It was only very gentle teasing, I knew, because she was only half joking.

‘Tell me one thing, Ronnie.’ I left off drying my hair, as the thought struck me. ‘It doesn’t matter, after all this time, you know that, but is there someone else?’

Her voice, was bright and cheerful but, I could tell, underneath, she was trying not cry. ‘You know,’ she said. ‘I think there might be. She just doesn’t know it yet.’

The phone went dead and I sat there, alone in my bedroom – as usual - wondering what in the hell that was supposed to mean.

I lay on my bed for a while after that. In one week, I’d lost the two women I’d come closest to loving since Aimee, and I’d lost all motivation to do…well…anything. I finally got up to go and fix myself some lunch and switched on the TV in the kitchen.

The adverts had just finished, and a programme was coming on. It was that show – Saturday something-or-other. A magazine programme, filled with celebrity chat and fashion tips, cookery and general interest stories, it was the polar opposite of my kind of viewing, especially today. I looked for the remote to switch to the news.

I’d just found it, and was about to turn over, when I stopped suddenly and looked at the screen. At first, I’d thought I was hearing things, but no…

‘Coming up next, the delightful Grace Anderton will be telling us all about her notorious split from the legendary midfielder, Leo Sparkes.’

The camera zoomed in on her, already in position on a sofa in the studio. She was more perched than sitting, her slim legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She looked scared to death. I groaned aloud. It was as if she were taunting me. God, I hated these kinds of programmes.

What the hell was she doing on it?
The legendary midfielder
…it said it all. No one outside of the die-hard fans had so much as heard of Leo Sparkes until a week or so ago. The only thing he was legendary for was for screwing some cheap tart behind his girlfriend’s back.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to turn over. I made myself a coffee, then sat down at the breakfast bar and waited for the inevitable train wreck to commence.