The Bad Boy Wants Me(160)

Sick to my stomach I sat back on the swivel chair.

He was broke. It was all a lie. The black American Express. The brand new Lamborghini. The champagne worth thousands of pounds. The boast that he was a billionaire. Everything. Everything was a lie. My breath came out in short, sharp gasps. I never expected this. Never. Not in a million years. What a lying bastard.

Oh God!

Oh my God!

I never did sign that pre-nup agreement. My heart was racing. Wow, Tawny!

I closed my eyes. Calm down. Calm down. Carefully I thought about everything that had happened. He had taken me away from Barrington Manor, where I found security for the first time in years, and brought me here. Married me in a rush as if he was doing me a favor. I had been so naïve and stupid, so blinded by lust I had even forgotten to ask for the prenup.

I frowned.

What about Foxgrove? That still belonged to him. Perhaps, he had mortgaged that as well. And his mother. She seemed so sincere. It was obvious she didn’t know the state of Ivan’s finances either.

What was he planning? Who had he been talking to last night? I needed to see my solicitor and I needed to get out of this house. My head was throbbing. He betrayed me! I couldn’t believe how completely he had fooled me.

I put all the letters back into their envelopes and placed them exactly where I found them. I scrunched up the first letter into a ball and put it back on the top of the pile. I closed the drawer, locked it, and made sure the file on the table was back in its original position. Then I walked out of the room, closed the door and returned the key to the bottom of the bowl.

I needed time. I needed a strategy. My heart was broken and I was badly, very badly wounded by this new development, but I was not beaten. I survived being a hungry, homeless orphan, hiding from the authorities. I could survive this too.

I took a shower and tried to think. I needed one day, just one day, to get myself together. I got out of the shower, called my solicitor, and made an appointment for the next day. Then I deleted traces of the call from my phone.

I couldn’t possibly go to work today, but I had to get out of this house. I put on my coat, took my handbag, and left the apartment. As I was closing the door, Ralph appeared in his doorway. He was about to go out.

With a cold stare he closed his door and went back into his apartment.

Whatever, Ralph. And everybody thought I was the gold digger!



I took a taxi to Harrods where I wandered around listlessly. I had no plan. I needed a plan, but my mind was blank. I felt so depressed and numb. I could not believe that Ivan could betray me for money. All he had to do was tell me the truth. I would have given him the money. Robert would turn in his grave to know he had been so spectacularly wrong about Ivan.

Ivan was as bad as the rest of them.

All I wanted to do was run away and hide for just a little while. Until it didn’t hurt so much, but there was nowhere to run or hide. I had to stay and face the music. I was married to a psychopath who could have incredible sex with me all night, then plot with my stepchildren to have me eliminated. I turned a corner, still in a daze, and bumped into someone.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my voice dying in my throat when I saw who it was.

My old butler, James.

‘Oh, Mrs. Maxwell! Well, it’s Lady Greystoke now, isn’t it?’ he said with a happy smile. ‘I can’t believe it. You look very well. How are you these days?’ He seemed so happy to see me that I felt myself go red with embarrassment. I had asked him to stay on, but then Ivan had fired him, yet he seemed to bear me no ill will.

As I stood there I understood Ivan’s game. James had been loyal to Robert and me, so Ivan removed him from the picture. As a strategy it was brilliant. He removed my entire support system. The butler that Robert had trusted for twenty years, the housekeeper, my home, my horses. Everything had been taken away from me.

I suddenly felt like crying.

‘Oh Mrs. Maxwell, I mean, Lady Greystoke, what’s the matter? You look so pale. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I’m just glad to see you James. How have you been?’

‘Not good. I’ve haven’t been able to find new employment. I’m too old. And the missus is sick so most of my inheritance is gone.’

‘Oh no. You must let me help you,’ I cried, horrified to know what had happened to him.

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Yes, you must tell me everything.’

‘Will you allow me to buy you a coffee?’ he asked.

‘Of course. But you must let me buy it.’

‘No, please. For once let me treat you.’

I smiled. ‘All right.’

We walked together to the coffee house on the third floor. I sat down. ‘Do you mind if I call the missus and tell her I’ll be a bit late?’ he asked, taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it respectfully in his hand.