Dirty Aristocrat: British Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

He said something and I knew it was urgent, but I could not make the words out. The edges of his face were blurred. I tried to form words, but even to my ears they sounded like the sound of wind wailing in the distance.

‘Mommy,’ I yelled.

He said something else, but I still I couldn’t understand him.

‘I want my Mommy,’ I begged.

The stranger rocked me in his arms and crooned something, but the words ran into each other so I couldn’t understand a word he said.

‘Where is Ivan?’ I cried, clutching his shirt. ‘I’m not allowed to trust anyone else. You must find him for me.’

The man stilled as if I had said something shocking.

He pulled me even closer and continued rocking me while he stroked my hair as if I was a sick child. I let him. I knew that if I let him stay and rock me Rosalind could not get to me.

I don’t know how long he rocked me, that big, boulder-like stranger. Then another man came into the room and he was holding a black bag. I was certain he was the serial killer from the movie Child 44, and I cringed away from him and clung desperately to the stranger.

‘Don’t let go of me,’ I sobbed. ‘Please. He wants to kill me.’

The gentle giant’s voice echoed in my head. I couldn’t understand him, but it was OK because he did not let go of me. The other man tried to touch me but, like a madwoman, I went into spasms of fear and eventually he said something to the stranger and left. When I was alone with the stranger I began to sob loudly. I don’t know why I felt such grief that I wanted to end my life. If he had given me a knife I would have stabbed myself.

‘Who are you?’ I asked him.

He told me but I could not understand him. His voice was faint like how fading flowers must sound if they could talk. 

Every time he tried to extricate himself, I clung harder to him until eventually darkness came to take me.

‘I don’t know who you are, but please, please, I beg of you, don’t let go of me,’ I whispered as the darkness was taking me away.

Lord Greystoke

When she passed out from sheer exhaustion I put her to bed, and as the doctor had ordered I sat next to her all night. I never closed my eyes once. She was not walking out of any of my windows. I stared at her the way a man stares at a thing that he craves even though it frightens the shit out of him.

Once she moaned in her sleep and thrashed her arms about, but I held her close, kissed her cheek and whispered, ‘Shhhh,’ until she became quiet and still.

Then I sat and planned how I would keep my distance from her, because the truth was she was not mine. And never would be. She belonged to no one. All this unfortunate incident had proved was that I was fucking putty in her hands, and if she even suspected it she’d milk it for all it was worth. 

I promised Robert I’d help her, but once she was firmly on her own two feet, I would have to let go pretty quick. She was dangerous the way heroin was dangerous to the ordinary human. I knew a man who stepped over his dying girlfriend to get his fix.

It was not too late: she was not already in my blood calling to me. A cunning gold digger entwining herself into my soul.

CHAPTER 11

Tawny Maxwell

W
hen I opened my eyes again, I seemed to be gazing at a different ceiling. This one was recessed with cream moldings and was much bigger. My head was fuzzy, my mouth tasted dry and bitter, and I felt as weak as a kitten. I swiveled my eyes slowly around the room. It was large and masculine with glossy blue walls, gleaming walnut furniture, a large surreal oil painting of a white castle floating in a blue sky, red suede bedside tables, and a large, dove-grey armchair by the bed in which was slumped … a sleeping Ivan!

I had to blink a few times to make sure he was real and not another hallucination like the squirrel. When did he get here and how long had he been sitting there?

Bemused, I turned my head and watched him curiously. Actually, I drank in the sight of him. He did not look so dark and dangerous in sleep. His head was tilted slightly to the left, his hair had fallen over his forehead, his unfairly thick lashes were resting on his gorgeous cheeks, and there was a dark shadow on his hard jaw which, strangely, made him look vulnerable and wickedly sexy at the same time.

The other man, the giant, probably called him, and he must have come. Where was I? Was I in his home? I suddenly realized that under the duvet, I was totally naked under a huge T-shirt. What the devil?

‘Oh,’ I exclaimed with surprise as his eyes snapped open, the grey finding me instantly.

I froze at the suddenness with which they focused on me, laser-like and disconcertingly sharp. We stared at each other. The air between us crackled as if there was a big storm coming. The sensual lips thinned into a straight stern line. He broke eye contact, sat forward, then glanced at his watch.

‘How’re you feeling?’ he asked.

‘You undressed me,’ I accused.

His eyes flickered, but his face was shuttered. ‘Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve kind of seen it all before.’

‘’You didn’t have to. I could have slept in my clothes,’ I said resentfully.

His lips twisted wryly. ‘You pissed yourself.’ 

My eyes popped open and my entire body flushed with crushing embarrassment. ‘Oh God,’ I gasped. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. I couldn’t be more completely mortified.  

‘I had to move you from the spare bedroom into my bed. A new mattress will be delivered later today and you can move back in there for tonight,’ he explained.

I drew a shaky breath. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.

‘Don’t be,’ he said carelessly and stood up. His clothes were crumpled as if he had spent all night in the chair.

‘I’ll pay for the new mattress, of course,’ I added quickly, exhaling in a rush.

‘That won’t be necessary.’ His voice was cold as if I had offended him.

‘Please. It would make me feel better,’ I insisted, too humiliated to look him in the eye.

‘Do as you wish,’ he said, as if he was already bored with the conversation and would prefer to be somewhere else.

‘Thank you.’ I bit my bottom lip. ‘Ah ... where is the other man?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘What other man?’

‘From last night. The big guy.’

‘There was only me and the doctor last night.’

‘Oh,’ I said in a small voice.

The night before seemed blurred and fuzzy in my mind. I was sure there had been another man. A kind man who held me close to his heart and rocked me for hours. Was he another hallucination? But he had felt so real. Could Ivan be that man? I looked up at him. He looked back distant and cold. No way. It must have been another hallucination.

‘Do you feel like some food? Soup? Toast?’ he asked.

Even the thought of food made me feel horribly queasy, and I shook my head. ‘Thank you, but no. I’d like to have a shower though, before I go home.’

He looked down at me expressionlessly. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to go home for a while.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because whoever drugged you yesterday wanted to frighten you. Wanted you to know that you are not safe, and whoever it was, is either living in the house with you, or more probably has one of your staff working for them.’

I closed my eyes for a second and tried to think. In my weakened state the problem seemed insurmountable. I opened my eyes. ‘Never mind. I’ll sort it out. Tomorrow. When I feel better.’

‘I’ve already warned James that you will not be back for a bit.’

‘Thank you. Yes, I think it would be a good idea for me to stay in London for a few days. After I have had my shower I’ll get a taxi to Robert’s.’ I paused. Of course it was all mine now. ‘I meant, to my apartment in South Kensington.’

‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ His voice was flat and unyielding. ‘You would be vulnerable on your own there. Besides, the doctor said you could have flashbacks for the next forty-eight hours and you shouldn’t be out on your own. The most practical solution is for you to stay here for a few days until we come up with a workable plan for you.’

‘Wouldn’t I be in your way?’ I asked cautiously.

‘I wouldn’t have thought so. I’m hardly ever here anyway.’

‘Well, I’ll go as soon as I can.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘I feel grimy and my head feels like it’s full of cottage cheese. I should have a shower first,’ I said, and sitting up pushed the bedcover away from my body.

His eyes strayed to my breasts and then moved away quickly. ‘You’ll find the bathroom through that door. I’ll get you some towels.

‘Er … have I got anything to wear?’

‘Your clothes must be dry by now. I’ll go get them.’

‘Thank you, Ivan,’ I said, a small smile curving my lips.

‘Think nothing of it,’ he said and left.

I slipped out of bed. My legs felt weak and the ground was like a waterbed as I slowly dragged my feet to the bathroom. In the mirror I looked like something out of a horror movie. My plait had come undone and my hair was all over the place. My eyes were bloodshot and my pupils were popping. There were dark circles under my eyes and my skin looked unnaturally white and sickly.

Ugh. I shivered and turned away, but too fast. It made me feel dizzy. I gripped the sink and waited until my head felt normal again. Then I ran the shower and stood under it; the water felt like heaven. I stood in the hot stream and tried to think straight.

But all I could think of was: Oh, damn! I pissed myself in his bed. The shame of it. Of all the people I wouldn’t have wanted to see me in such a humiliating situation, he was at the top of the list.

Still, the hot shower made me feel more human and I consoled myself that I was drugged and not of sound mind. I came out of the shower, wrapped myself in a large towel, and went back into the bedroom. I’ll just have to take it in my stride. I found my clothes on the bed and, once dressed, ventured outside into the corridor.

CHAPTER 12

Tawny Maxwell

I
padded down a corridor with oversized modern art on the walls, not sure where I was going, but utterly unafraid of what I would find. I knew where I was and whom I was with.

The corridor opened out to a large living room with a high ceiling and light pouring in from tall windows. The décor was minimalistic with a spare color palette of white stone with black accents, and a mixture of modern and mid-century pieces. It was a perfect man cave. It even had the black bear rug.

How strange though? I did not have even the faintest memory of any of this. Whatever drug they had administered to me, it was certainly powerful. I should ask Ivan what the doctor said, if there would be any long-lasting side effects.

I walked through that space and found Ivan in a large, spotless, black and white kitchen, beating eggs. The radio was playing
How Long Will I Love You
and the air was scented with the aroma of the brewing coffee.

He turned to look at me with a puckered brow. ‘Could you not find your shoes?’

‘I know where they are, but I’m a Southern girl. We like being barefoot. I used to walk to the store in my bare feet all summer long.’

He looked at me as if he didn’t quite know how to respond to that bit of unsolicited information. ‘Right.’ He paused and scratched his chin. ‘Well, there’s a hairdryer in the second drawer to the left of the door in the bathroom.’

‘Thanks, but I usually just let my hair dry naturally.’

‘Fine.’ Again he seemed at a loss. He looked down at the bowl of eggs he had been beating when I came in. ‘I’m having eggs. You should have some too. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday, have you?’

I ran my tongue along the inside of my right cheek and winced. ‘I don’t think I’ll eat anything. I have sores on the inside of my mouth and my jaw hurts.’

He frowned. ‘Yes, you were grinding your teeth in your sleep. Want me to heat up some soup instead? I think there might be some cans somewhere around.’

‘No, I’ll just have coffee first and see how I feel after.’

He walked to the coffee machine and facing me asked, ‘Cappuccino, espresso, filter, latte?’

‘Filter, please.’

He put a mug into the slot and hit a button. Coffee splashed into the mug. ‘Milk, sugar?’

‘Milk and two sugars, please.’

I lifted myself onto one of the tall stools around the island and he placed a steaming mug in front of me. I smiled my thanks and, grasping the mug with both my hands, brought it to my lips. I blew at the surface before taking a small sip. The fragrant heat travelled down my gullet, warming me.

‘Mmmm,’ I said.

He glanced at me, but did not say anything.

Quietly, I watched his strong, sure hands pour the beaten eggs into a pan greased with butter and scramble them slightly before scraping them onto two plates. He then buttered four slices of toast, placed them on the sides of the plates and put one plate in front of me and one at the opposite side of the island.

‘Bon appétit,’ he said.

‘Same to you.’

Sitting down he began to dig into his food.