Dirty Aristocrat: British Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

Ralph was seated on the long cream sofa in the lobby. He looked like he was playing a game on his phone. When he saw me coming, he stood up with a smile.

‘How do you manage to look so good so early in the morning?’ he asked.

I smiled at him. ‘Tell me your secret and I’ll tell you mine.’

He laughed. ‘Keep that up and lunch and dinner are on me.’

‘So what’s the story with the frosty bugger?’ he asked with a sideways glance.

‘Every dog should have a few fleas,’ I said firmly.

He looked at me quizzically. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Nobody’s perfect. He’s frosty and cocky, but his heart’s in the right place.’ I smiled. ‘He rescued me.’

‘Right,’ he said, and held the door open for me.

As we walked across the road towards the café, he had his hand solicitously and lightly placed on the small of my back, but as soon as we were on the other side he dropped his arm. I was impressed. It was exactly the kind of Southern courtesy my mother had taught me to expect from a man.

He moved ahead of me, opened the door, and held it open for me. Hmmm … more brownie points. We sat at a table by the window and ordered blueberry muffins and coffee. I had a cappuccino and he had a tall latte.

The muffins arrived and they were a hair’s breath away from being as good as my grandma made them, he was easy to talk to, and he kept the topics light. I was feeling totally relaxed and happy when Ivan suddenly loomed next to us.

He didn’t look at me. He put his hands on the table and stared aggressively into Ralph’s face. ‘You’re obviously a thick bastard. Here, let me make it clearer for you. She’s out of bounds. Now fuck off.’

Ralph was cool in that stiff British way. He leaned back and said, ‘You don’t own her, Greystoke. And last time I looked you’re not my father, or my boss, so you don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘Well, I’ve got news for you, shithead. She’s my ward. So you don’t get to date her unless I fucking say so.’

At that point I shot up. I was furious. ‘No, Ivan. You don’t get to say who I date. I’m only your ward as far as managing my inheritance. Nothing more.’

He turned to me, his eyes glittering savagely. ‘If you just hang on for one minute I’ll deal with you.’ Then he turned his attention back to Ralph. ‘If I see you with her again, I’ll punch your lights out. You’ve been warned.’

To my utter humiliation, Ivan then grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the restaurant with him. Everybody was looking at us in amazement. I was so embarrassed my face was flaming. Never in my wildest nightmare had I dreamed I’d be in a situation where two men were squaring up over me in a café full of ogling customers. Once outside, I let him pull me along until we were past the glass fronted shop window before I jerked hard at his hand.

‘Let go of me, you brute,’ I yelled. I was desperate to kick his stupid, sexy legs.

He stopped and turned towards me, his jaw tight.

‘How dare you embarrass me like that?’ I demanded furiously.

‘Awww … my heart is bleeding.’

‘What is the matter with you?’ I exploded.

‘What is the matter with
you
?’ he countered.

‘I was having breakfast with Ralph. He’s a friend. It was an innocent thing until you came barging into that café to harass us. I am so humiliated I will never be able to go back there again. For your information Ralph is a perfect gentleman. Unlike you. He never tried it on once with me. And here’s something else for you to think about, you big tree. I really don’t appreciate you thinking that you can run my life or pick my boyfriends for me. I’m old enough to pick my own, thank you very much. Now, let go of my hand before I cream your corn,’ I roared.

‘I’ll let go when you stop behaving like you’ve been given cornbread for brains.’

My jaw hung loose. People were passing us on the pavement and giving us a wide berth. ‘If you must know I happen to
love
cornbread, so when you get a chance to get off Twitter, you … you troll you, you might want to come up with a more inventive insult,’ I yelled in frustration.

He let go of my arm.

I rubbed it. ‘What have I done that is so bad, anyway? I had breakfast with a neighbor,’ I demanded.

‘I think it’s a phenomenon called karma. You know, what goes around comes around. Since you’re now worth over a hundred million,
you’
ve become the target for every fortune hunter in the country.’

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Wow! I can’t believe I’m hearing this. So you assumed that Ralph is a fortune hunter? Just like that. No evidence?’

‘No,’ he stated clearly. ‘I didn’t just assume. I
know
he is. He’s a city boy who hasn’t made any money for more than a year. He’s had to take a third mortgage out on his flat, and his credit cards are all maxed out. He hasn’t a bean to his name.’

The first sensation was one of hurt. The knowledge that the lovely, ordinary life I had dreamed about was never going to be mine. From now on I was always going to have to examine the motives of everyone who came into contact with me.
You can either have good friends or you can have money
. I covered the wound with indignant anger.

‘You had him investigated? How dare you poke your nose into other people’s business like that? So what if he’s poor. It doesn’t make him a bad person.’

‘I didn’t have him investigated. Just ran a credit check. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re so mad about. It’s what you should have done before you agreed to go for a cozy muffin breakfast with him.’

The suspicion that I had been bottling up bubbled over. ‘Maybe I should have you investigated.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

His voice was suddenly deadly quiet, but I had got this far and I wasn’t backing down. ‘Maybe I should have you investigated. Find out why you’re going to all this trouble for me when you don’t even like me.’

He crossed his arms. ‘I told you why I’m doing it.’

‘The deathbed promise to Robert to take care of me? Or maybe … you’re so eager to marry me for my money. It is a lot, isn’t it?’

His eyes widened comically. Then he laughed, a sarcastic, arrogant laugh. ‘That’s rich. Really rich.
You
are accusing
me
of being a gold digger?’

I shrugged. ‘Why not? You’re making love to Chloe while asking me to marry you.’

He looked at me strangely. ‘I don’t make
love
to Chloe. We have sex. I fill up all her orifices and ejaculate in them. Her pussy, her mouth, her ass.’

My mouth dropped open at the last orifice he mentioned.

He smiled wickedly. ‘Why, Tawny honey,’ he said in an irritating parody of a Southern accent. ‘I didn’t know you were into ass play. All you had to do was ask.’

‘I am not, and if I was you’d be the last man I’d ask,’ I gritted furiously.

He threw a fake grin. ‘Shame. It might have been real fun filling up your cornbread eating ass.’

‘Trust you to be as disgusting as possible. However, I noticed you didn’t deny wanting to marry me for my money.’

‘That’s what our pre-nup is for, darlin’. I don’t take yours and you don’t take mine.’

‘Yes, but I bet being married to me would mean you could live better and bigger, wouldn’t it?’

His expression changed. He paused as if debating whether to tell me something. It was hard for me to know what was going through his head. Finally, he said, ‘Come on. I want to show you something.’

‘Forget it. I’m not going anywhere with you,’ I said stubbornly.

‘It might clear up the misunderstanding you have about me and my … er … intentions towards you.’

I hesitated.

He turned and began to walk away. For a few seconds I hesitated, then he turned around and cocked an eyebrow, and I knew I was going to follow him. How could I pass up such an intriguing offer to know my husband to be?

‘This better be good,’ I mumbled, taking a step towards him.

‘It is,’ he said, and smiled as I drew up alongside him.

He took me around the block to where his car was parked. Oh. My. God. Of course, he would have to be one of those guys who spent all their money on a car. It was a mean looking black Lamborghini with red leather seats. The car doors lifted up.

‘They say men who buy these kinds of cars are compensating for a lack of size or performance elsewhere,’ I said airily.

‘Have you ever noticed how haters are never as successful, as clever, or as good looking as the people they’re hating?’ he asked, and slipped into the car.

I got in, the wings came down, and he turned the ignition on.

‘Where’re we going?’ I shouted over the fantastic roar.

‘Buckinghamshire,’ he said shortly.

For crying out loud! ‘
Why
are we going there?’

‘Let’s just call it a surprise,’ he said casually and switched on the stereo. He pressed a few buttons and Johnny Cash’s
Ring of Fire
came on. ‘It’s a long ride. Lie back and enjoy the music.’

I crossed my arms huffily. Fine by me. If he imagined he was insulting me by playing country music, he could think again. I
loved
country music and I was proud of where I came from. Besides it would mean he would quit his belly achin’. 

We drove without exchanging a single word for almost an hour. Eventually he turned off the motorway and drove down a dual carriageway for another ten minutes before we got on to quieter country lanes.

A brown road sign indicated that Chiltern House was nearby. I had heard of it. It was meant to be very beautiful. I saw a picture of it in a magazine once at the dentist’s office.

To my surprise he turned into the road that lead to Chiltern House.

‘Are we going to Chiltern House?’

‘Yup.’

I turned in my seat to face him curiously. ‘Why are we going there?’

He glanced at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road because we had reached a gated entry manned by a man in a uniform.

The man smiled and respectfully called, ‘Morning m’Lord.’

Then the gates swung open.

CHAPTER 17

Tawny Maxwell

H
e nodded and we drove through with my brain racing in overdrive. The road climbed a hill. On either side was beautiful rolling countryside. My gaze was drawn to a herd of deer resting under a massive, old oak tree. The car came to a halt at the crest of the hill and from our vantage point, Foxgrove Hall sprawled out in the stately grandeur of a time past. I took a deep breath. Well, knock me down and steal my teeth!

‘All this belongs to you, doesn’t it?’ I breathed.

His response was a shrug.

Well, shut my mouth. There I was thinking he wanted me for my money and the man had enough to burn a wet mule. No wonder he was drinking a bottle of champagne worth thousands of pounds for no good reason. Now I understood why Robert had entrusted my entire inheritance to him.

I felt a great sense of relief: he didn’t want to marry me for my money. He genuinely wanted to help me. I gazed in wonder at the splendid building. I had never seen anything so grand in my life. It was at least five times larger than Barrington Manor.

‘How big is this place?’

‘It’s set on seven hundred and fifty acres.’

I whistled.

‘You’re wishing you hadn’t insisted on that pre-nup now, aren’t you?’ he teased with an irrepressible grin.

‘No,’ I said slowly, ‘but I am
very
embarrassed. Turns out you’re waaaaay richer than me. Why didn’t you correct me?’

‘I’m correcting you now,’ he murmured.

‘You live in London. So who lives here?’

He started the car. ‘Me sometimes.’

‘Jeez! What a waste!’

‘I guess I’ll use it more when I have a wife and kids.’

I felt a strange hollow feeling in my stomach. I knew he was not referring to our pretend marriage. One day, after he divorced me, he would fall in love and marry someone for real.

‘My mother lives here for certain parts of the year,’ he said.

I filled my lungs with air. ‘Is she here now?’

‘No, you’ll never catch her in England in the winter.’

As we drove closer to the house I saw just how tall and imposing the thick front columns were.

‘So you inherited all this, huh?’

‘The house has been in the family since the eighteenth century, but almost the entire west wing and its contents were destroyed in a fire in 1995. There was no money to rebuild it so it remained that way until I inherited it. I was seventeen when it became mine and I remember coming here that first time and not only the west wing was a burnt shell, but the whole place was in a terrible state of disrepair.’

He shook his head with the memory.

‘I was advised to turn it into a trust building, but I refused. It took me ten years to return it to its former glory. You are looking at the only classical Greek revival stately home in all of Buckinghamshire,’ he said with quiet pride.

‘If your father couldn’t afford to rebuild it, where did you get the money from?’ I asked curiously.

‘Well, I took a big risk. I knew there were billions to be made in the emerging property market in China, so I mortgaged everything I had and invested every penny I had. I could have lost everything.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No, I didn’t. You know all those images of ghost cities that are on the net?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I helped build some of them.’

I frowned. ‘How did you make money building those? Aren’t they supposed to be failures? Years later and nobody is living in them.’

He smiled and shook his head slowly. ‘No. They are the opposite of ghost cities. A ghost town is one that is abandoned when the town’s fortunes decline and the people move away. These are the opposite. The people have not come in to occupy them yet. The Chinese are long-term planners. They can defer pleasure for years in the pursuit of a cherished goal.’

‘So you must be a real catch. What are you, like Britain’s most eligible millionaire or something?’ I clapped my hands over my mouth.

‘Billionaire,’ he corrected.

‘Sometimes you need a billion dollars,’ I quipped.