Dirty Aristocrat: British Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (44 page)

It’s that time when someone gets up and bares their naked soul!

William looks directly at me. Oh no. I’m only here to observe. I’m not ready to reveal anything yet and certainly not to a room full of strangers. I realize then that it has taken a long time for me to stop putting flowers on the grave of my memories. I don’t want to talk about him now. Maybe not ever. I bow my head and hope he will take the blatant hint and give me a pass.

‘How about you, Lily? Would you like to share with us?’

Heads turn my way. I look at him reproachfully.

‘Tell us a little about why you’re here?’ he coaxes. 

‘I’d rather not. Not just yet, anyway.’

He smiles gently. ‘That’s all right, you don’t have to participate yet, only when you feel ready.’

A weight suddenly escapes my body and I ease back in my chair. This man has a way that soothes and calms me. Someone else starts speaking. His voice drones on, becomes a buzz that I don’t listen to. I lose sense of time.

The next thing I know, I’m being awoken by a soft but insistent touch. My body involuntarily recoils. William is hovering above me. My violent reaction causes him to back off with his hands raised.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ I apologize and his face breaks into a kind smile.

‘Would you like to talk for a few moments, Lily?’

‘Everyone has gone,’ I note.

‘Yes, the session ended. You fell asleep quite early into it but you seemed so worn out and since you were reluctant to participate just yet, I let you rest.’

Inside I feel awful—I mean, who the hell comes to therapy and falls asleep on the very first session? ‘Thank you,’ I say shamefully.

‘Hey, that’s what we are all here for, Lily. Shoulder to cry on. Nobody here is going to judge you. It’s obvious you are very troubled and if there’s anything I can…’

‘No,’ I deny, instantly going into defensive mode, closing the door to any hint of pity. I get to my feet. ‘Really, I’m OK,’ I add, avoiding eye contact.

‘It won’t do you any good, locking it all away.’

‘Yeah, well maybe it won’t, but it was a mistake coming here,’ I respond sharply, and try to move past his large frame, but he moves directly in front of me.

‘It’s never a mistake to seek help, Lily. You need to find a way to deal with your pain or rage or perhaps your guilt. Bottling it up will only make things much worse, and believe me, you are hearing this from someone who has been there.’

Even though I try to resist the wisdom of his words, his gray eyes have a depth and knowledge that command my reluctant attention.

‘People come here because they’ve lost control of their lives and they want to heal—they’re tired of the grief, the tears, the immobilization. Promise me, even if you never come back, that you will focus on something positive. Take back the control you lost, Lily.’ 

Strangely, as I search his eyes, I feel calm. I’ve told him nothing of my problems yet there is some thread of connection between us. He has suffered himself, it’s clear he’s no fake.

‘I will.’ 

He steps aside and nods with approval. I start moving toward the exit.

‘You take care now.’ His words punctuate the empty silence.

I leave the strangely echoing, sad building and insert myself into the bustle of the real world, but something’s different about the way I feel now. I’m actually glad that I took this route, because I know.

I will never come back. The pain cannot be talked away, it has to be exorcised away. The destructive emotions buried deep inside me tear free, like a hand protruding from a grave.

I begin to sprint, blood rushing to the powerful muscles in my thighs, my movements long and sure. My pounding step accelerates until it jars on the pavement. The wind whistles by my ears. Sweat beads on my skin and makes my clothes cling to my back. My muscles start stinging, my chest heaving as if it will burst. But I don’t stop running.

Maybe I will never stop running.

FOURTEEN

M
y new job is in Jake’s import and export firm. I have been stuck in the administration department. The job is terribly legitimate and terribly, terribly boring, but I do get to keep my clothes on and the money is far better than I could have hoped for. Everybody is really nice to me and Ann, my co-worker, picks me up in the morning and drops me off after work. So no complaints.

That day I work till late and when I get out of the car the night air is warm and thick with an imminent storm brewing.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I call and wave as Ann drives away.

I fish my keys out of my bag and start walking up the path to my front door. I swear I never felt even the slightest premonition. When the man’s hands clamp down on me I am totally taken by surprise. My heart stops cold, but my brain works perfectly. The impressions are fleeting but clear. Caucasian. Skin gleaming sickly in the white glare of the fluorescent lighting from the adjacent building. Breath smelling of cigarette smoke. Wrists full of dark hair. Pale eyes: blank and empty like a reptile’s. Black shirt. Dark blue jeans. Five feet nine. A hundred and ninety pounds.

I know him.

From the club. He wanted me to touch him. I said no and walked away, but not before I had seen the flash of hatred.

My nerves scream for me to run, but he has the element of surprise. He jerks me toward him and drags me into the undergrowth. I try to lift my arms up to fight him off and he pushes me roughly to the ground. I stagger and crash backwards into the bushes. Branches scratch the sides of my face and neck.

He falls on me, his fingers digging into my shoulders. I lie underneath his weight, winded. Unable to move.

‘Refuse me, will you? You skanky, stone cold, cheap whore,’ he hisses, his jaw quivering with fury. Immobile I stare into his eyes. Whatever else he is, he is vicious. My heart thumps wildly with fear. Terrified, I know I cannot run. 

He grins hatefully. ‘Still think you’re too good for me, slut?’

‘No,’ I say, shaking my head, and he punches me in the face.

The blow stuns me. Colored stars dance across my vision, blinding me and making me wobble, before my brain actually registers the explosion of fierce pain. Blood erupts from my nose, splatters his hand, and pours down the sides of my face. Sick fear spreads in my stomach. I want to vomit or piss myself.

He digs his knee into my chest and taking his mobile out of his pocket, starts taking pictures of me bleeding and pinned under him! Terror is like an enveloping coat of freezing cold leaves. This guy means to kill me. But it is a good thing he does that because it allows me to recover slightly. My brain starts rolling into action again. He is too big for me to push off and his position means I cannot even knee him or do any damage to him with my hands.

My only option is to pretend to become unconscious and find a way to open my purse, which is still hooked to my elbow. I let my head loll to the side. If I can just get inside my purse. He takes his knee off my chest and starts unzipping his pants. I do nothing. I keep my breathing even while my fingers are slowly moving into the flap of my bag. Suddenly he drops over me and like a rabid animal bites hard into my neck. So hard I am no longer able to pretend to be unconscious.

I scream. My hand searches frantically inside my bag. He slaps me hard. I feel a knife at my throat. I close my mouth. I have located my mace. Very stealthily I bring it out and in a flash I spray it into his face. He falls backwards, his hands clawing at his face. I seize the moment, pick myself up, and run screaming toward the building. A man—I have seen him before, he must live in the building too—runs to me. He wants to call the police but I say no. I tell him I am too frightened to call the police. I definitely do not want him to call the police.

‘You’ve been attacked. You must tell the police.’

I look at him. ‘It’s someone I know. An ex. I don’t want to call the police, OK?’

He shakes his head in a disgusted way. Together we go back and get my handbag. I thank him, find my keys and go into my apartment.

Melanie is on the phone ordering a Chinese takeout.

‘Fuck! What happened to you?’

‘One of the customers from the club. Remember that creep I told you about?’

‘That pervert Simon?’

I nod. ‘He took pictures of me with his mobile camera.’

‘What a nasty piece of work?’

I go to the mirror. My nose is bleeding copiously and one side of my face is starting to swell badly.

I hold my head tilted upwards while Melanie applies ice packs that she uses on her feet on my face. ‘It’ll be a bit smelly but you’ll survive,’ she tells me. Then she picks up her phone. ‘I’ve got to tell Brianna. Ban him and warn the other girls. You need to make a police report.’

‘No police. But yes, warn Brianna.’

She comes to sit beside me, her forehead creased with concern. ‘Why no police, Jewel?’

‘I’ve got history. Minor things, but I can’t go to the police.’

‘OK. No problems. No police.’

‘Thanks, Mel.’

Literally a minute after Melanie ends her call, my mobile goes.

‘Jake,’ I say, with a frown.

‘Wow! Brianna was fast,’ Melanie comments.

‘Are you all right?’ Jake barks urgently into my ear.

‘Yeah, minor bruises.’

‘Are you sure it was him?’

‘Yeah, I got a good look at him.’

‘Right. I’ll be there soon. I got something to take care of first. And, Lily…’

‘Yeah?’

‘Don’t go anywhere until I get there, OK?’

‘OK.’

FIFTEEN

Jake

I
ring on the little cunt’s bell and wait, nausea clawing at my guts. He put his filthy hands on
my
woman.

His disembodied voice comes through the intercom. ‘Yeah?’

‘You hurt one of my employees this evening. I’d like to come up and talk to you about it. Discuss some compensation.’ Jesus, I sound calm.

‘What? You’ve got the wrong guy, mate. I’ve been in all day.’ He does offended and indignant very well.

‘Or if you prefer I can go to the police and let them sort it out. You decide.’ I do rational and threatening very well.

For a moment there is silence and I think the coward is going to take his chances with the police, but then the buzzer sounds.
First mistake, Motherfucker.
I push open the door and run up two flights of stairs to his door. I lean the baseball bat against the wall next to his door, ring his bell, and affect a relaxed pose. He looks at me through the spy hole, then takes his time about opening the door. But he does.

‘I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong guy,’ he says strongly.

I shove him hard and he flies backwards and lands sprawled in his corridor. His eyes widen with terror as he sees me casually retrieve the baseball bat from its place. I come in and kick the door closed. Shame. He has cream carpets.

He starts moving backwards. ‘It wasn’t me. You’re making a big mistake,’ he whimpers like a fucking pussy.

I throw him a ball gag. He doesn’t catch it. It bounces off his body and falls on the floor. ‘Put it on.’

‘I’m not going to put it on. I’m innocent. I want the police here. Now.’ His voice trembles with fear.

I lift the baseball bat and strike him in the gut. He doubles over in agony, staggers back two steps and drops to his knees clutching his stomach. Then he starts blubbering like a fucking two-year-old brat!

‘Not so big and strong now, eh?’

‘You got the wrong guy,’ he sobs.

‘Yeah? Put the gag on or I’ll crush your skull with one blow. A beating or a quick death. Choose.’

He is struggling to breathe through the pain. He takes wet-sounding breaths. The ones people take when they are dying. It sounds like a rattle. But he is not dying. Not by a long shot. Oh no. Death would be too easy. I watch him put the gag on with shaking hands. Cowards never fail to fascinate me. Fucking idiot! Why would you put something on that is meant to silence you?

A savage growl tears from my throat. The rage in the sound surprises me. I thought I was through with all that years ago. I haven’t swung a baseball bat in ten years and yet here I am. For her.

Using my foot I push him to the floor.

Then I lift the bat high over my head and bring it crashing down on his kneecap. The shocking pain makes his eyes bulge and roll upwards. I think he might pass out, but fortunately he doesn’t. Cold sweat pours out of his skin as his hands rush to hold the smashed bone. I pick up the bat and shatter the other kneecap. He spasms with shock.

After that I rain his body with blows. Each one precise and destined not to kill but to maim permanently. Finally I am done. I stand over him. He is lying on his side: alive, but only just. His breathing is shallow and his eyes are half-closed. I use the tip of my shoe to tip his inert body on his back. A groan escapes his bleeding mouth. Two of his teeth are lying on the carpet.