Bad Grace: A Billionaire Romance Romantic Suspense (The Filth Monger Book 2) Page 4

  I sat quietly for a few moments, digesting this new information. I didn’t know if that made him better or worse. Any thoughts I’d dared entertain about me being special in any way were way off the mark, anyhow. I was just another sex-crazed nut job to him, clearly.

  I said as much to Valentina, who laughed again. ‘My dear, nobody’s saying any such thing. If you walked down the street outside, you’d pass at least a hundred women who have just the same fantasies. I guarantee it.’

  I nodded, relieved she thought I was normal.

  But then, she continued. ‘Of course, most women wouldn’t dream of acting on them. They use them to explore the darker side of their sexuality safely, and in a controlled way.’

  I nodded, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks. She did think I was a sex-crazed nut job, then.

  ‘That’s why our friend has sent you to me,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘He’s worried you’re going to end up doing something you’ll regret.’

  ‘I know I might regret it,’ I said. ‘I just can’t seem to help myself.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Now let’s talk a little about why that might be.’

  I had a lot to think about by the time I finally left.

  As I hurried down the steps and out into the bustle of Beaufort Street, I looked at my watch. I’d been in there a good two hours. The secretary was long gone, and the rest of the office shut up. I couldn’t help thinking that he must’ve paid her well.

  Whatever he paid her, she was certainly worth it. For the first time in recent days, I didn’t feel ashamed of myself, or my desires. I’d known, deep down, that my behaviour was a reaction to recent events, but she’d made me see that it didn’t make me a bad person. I just had to think; did I really want to live my fantasies, or was it just a way of getting back at Leo?

  When she’d asked me, I hadn’t been able to answer.

  As I’d said goodbye, she’d put a hand on my arm.

  ‘If you do follow through with your fantasy,’ she said. ‘Let our friend help you. A good fantasy is safe…controlled by you. If you go out there and find it somewhere else, it won’t be safe. It won’t be anything like you imagine.’

  As I made my way back to Liv’s, through the late London rush hour, I thought hard about what she’d said. I’d expected her to tell me I shouldn’t even think about it, but she seemed to understand that it was no good telling me anything. I had to decide for myself.

  I looked down at the information sheets in my hand. They detailed different techniques for recognising unhelpful beliefs, and distancing yourself from them. I was supposed to practise them daily until our next appointment…if I felt another one would be helpful.

  I still wasn’t sure, but I was determined to practise the techniques. I finally felt like I might be in control of my own behaviour.

  Ten

  Him

  It was well after four by the time Lionel arrived. By the time I finally got out of there, it was gone half past. I’d been charged with ABH, despite all my protests, but that was the least of my worries at that moment. I hailed a cab to take me from Chelsea to the City and, as soon as it pulled away, I took my phone out of the bag of possessions they’d grudgingly handed over before I left. To my mortification, they’d taken everything from my pockets – including my business cards.

  Something that had started off as a wry joke was getting rapidly out of hand. I’d been questioned about the Filth Monger title at some length. In fact, if they hadn’t had that to go on, I might have been out a lot quicker. I wasn’t allowed within fifty metres of Charlotte’s flat now, which suited me just fine. I’d have been happier at that moment to be fifty miles away, at the very least. God, she must be feeling smug now, the crazy bitch.

  I switched on my phone, ostensibly to check if Rick had been in touch, but the truth was that I was hoping Grace had called. There had been a call, and it was from a number I didn’t recognise. My breath caught in my throat. It had to be her. I took a deep breath and rang the number.

  There was no reply. I sagged into the creased leather of the seat and stared out the window at the building traffic. Rush hour had already started, and it was cutting it extremely fine. I had to get to the bank, though. So much depended on it.

  I leaned forward. ‘Can’t you take a short cut?’ I said. The traffic was frustratingly slow – inching forward a few yards every now and then, before grinding to a halt again.

  ‘This is the short cut,’ the driver threw back, over his shoulder. ‘It’s not a race, you know.’

  But it was a race. Not against the traffic, but the clock. As the minutes went by, I grew increasingly anxious and, when my phone suddenly rang, I physically jumped.

  I stared at the screen for a moment. It was the number I’d rung, returning my call. I didn’t answer immediately. If it was Grace, I wanted to get it right. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and have her think I was even more of an idiot than she already did. I remembered the business card I’d given her. The Filth Monger. I was an idiot.

  Finally, I put the phone to my ear. ‘Hello?’

  It was a woman’s voice, breathy and excited. ‘Hello? Is…is that the Filth Monger?’

  The voice was different than I remembered Grace’s – younger sounding and more well-spoken. It wasn’t that Grace had a strong accent, it was just that hers was more Home Counties. This girl was public school, through and through. If it wasn’t Grace, then who the hell was it?

  ‘Ye…es,’ I said, warily. Surely it wasn’t Charlotte? She’d managed a passable imitation of a well-spoken accent, only that morning. Was she calling to gloat?

  There was a brief pause, as if the caller wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe it was Grace, then, after all.

  ‘Who is this?’ I said, looking at my watch.

  ‘It’s Felicity – Felicity Flint.’

  Fuck. Definitely not Grace. Probably just as well. I couldn’t see her being interested in a guy who was waiting on a court date for assaulting a woman. She had enough going on. In my heart, I knew I needed to give her a wide berth, but why the hell was Felicity Flint calling me? Of all the people I didn’t want to speak to at the moment, she was pretty near the top of the list. Certainly while that tape was floating about…

  ‘Uh…’ I hesitated, wondering where the hell this was going. What could she possibly want with me? I hoped she wasn’t after another assignation.

  ‘You do remember me, don’t you?’ Her voice had taken on a pettish tone. It was her all right, no doubt about it. Giles’s spoilt little primadonna of a daughter; willing dogger and, if I didn’t get my hands on that tape, soon-to-be unwilling porn star.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, with an inward sigh. ‘Of course I remember you. How…how are things, Felicity?’

  I heard her inhale sharply, and my throat constricted, as if in sympathy. It wasn’t sympathy though…it was panic. What had happened?

  ‘Well.’ She didn’t sound worried – more excited, and when she spoke again the words came tumbling out over each other, as if she couldn’t get them out quickly enough. ‘That’s why I was ringing you. You’ll never guess, but I had to ring you. You were so kind to me, the other night after those other guys…well, you know. Anyway, I had to tell you…I’ve found someone.’

  Her triumphant tone was lost on me. I was looking at my watch. It was gone ten to five, and the taxi was still nowhere near Lombard Street.

  ‘Found who?’ I said, trying to focus. It wasn’t easy. The traffic was at its usual rush-hour standstill, and even as I watched, the seconds ticked away on my watch…closer and closer to five o’clock.

  ‘I’ve found a boyfriend,’ she gushed. ‘I thought about what you said…you know, about having everything going for me, and I started to feel more confident. Anyway, I went out a couple of nights ago and, well, I met Hugh. Oh God, he’s lovely, and he’s rich, so he’s not after me for my money. I…I think he honestly likes me.’

  I couldn’t take my eyes off my watch. ‘That’s great, Felici
ty,’ I said, shoving a twenty pound note at the taxi driver, and motioning at the door. The lock clicked, and I pushed open the door, into the oncoming traffic. ‘I’m pleased to hear that. Well done.’

  She said something else, but I couldn’t hear it above the sound of the horns blaring. Several drivers had stopped and, disregarding their shouts and gestures, I ran across the road in front of them, pushing through the crowds heading towards Bank underground. I dodged through more traffic to cross Threadneedle Street, and then raced down Lombard Street, pushing through the oncoming commuters and apologising breathlessly.

  As I got closer to the bank, the crowds thinned out, and the noise died down slightly. Blocking out as much as possible with my other hand, I held the phone to my ear again, as I jogged the last few yards to the bank.

  ‘What was that, Felicity?’ I gasped, panting.

  ‘I said, thank you Filth Monger, whoever you are.’

  I could still hardly hear her but, even so, I could tell she meant it. Her voice throbbed with sincerity. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve given me my self-esteem back. I don’t know how to repay you.’

  ‘Really,’ I said, my breath coming hard and fast, and my stomach lurching. ‘You’ve no reason to thank me.’

  I put my hands on my knees for a few seconds, as I got my breath back, then stood up and stared at the huge double doors of Ffyvells branch. I’d meant what I said. She had no reason to thank me. The doors were firmly and inarguably shut.

  Eleven

  Her

  As we were heading to the Tube, Kitty rang.

  ‘Hi, Kitty,’ I said, looking at Liv.

  Liv rolled her eyes and carried on walking.

  ‘Oh, Christ, Grace.’ Kitty’s voice sounded muffled and indistinct. ‘Have you seen the news?’

  ‘No,’ I said, turning cold. What now? What else could they have possibly dug up? I’d purposely been avoiding the media for just that reason.

  ‘I’m all over it,’ she wailed.

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ I said, relieved that it had nothing to do with me, or Leo. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

  ‘Not like this.’ Her tone was piteous and tragic.

  We were just passing a newsagents, and I grabbed Liv’s arm and headed over to the paper stand. I took the evening paper out and opened it. Suddenly, I knew why she was so mortified.

  The headline read:

  WAG Goes Wild

  ‘Oh,’ I said, skimming through it. It seemed Kitty had been a busy girl, putting herself out there in more ways than one. There was a picture in there of a blond man, amongst others, who looked faintly familiar. Then it hit me – he was the guy who’d come over to us at the F Bar – the Nordic god that Kitty had been all over.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ I said, the blood draining down into my feet. It could so easily have been me there, spread across the papers, my misdemeanours public knowledge for everyone to read. ‘Oh, Kitty.’

  ‘I just want to die.’ She was still wailing. ‘Jimmy’s so pissed off, and I think Johnno’ll kill me if he gets his hands on me.’

  ‘They’ll come round,’ I said, trying to sound consoling. ‘Any publicity’s good publicity – isn’t that what they say?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And they’re wrong. Johnno’s going mad. My family…’ She started to cry.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’m going to Liv’s gig. Why don’t you come out?’

  ‘I’m never going out again,’ she said, bursting into tears, before hanging up.

  As soon as we arrived at Jackaroo’s, I knew I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t realised, when I’d said I’d come along, that it was going to be the same bar. Normally, the band did more of a circuit of venues, and it wasn’t until we were at the Tube that she’d mentioned we were heading for Islington again.

  Even then, the penny hadn’t dropped. It was only as we headed out of the Tube that I’d started to wonder. Liv had put me out of my misery – or not – by turning to me, her sternest look on her face.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘I doubt they’ll be there again. Backpackers tend to pass through fairly quickly. But, if they are, steer clear of those guys, okay?’

  ‘Be where again?’ I said, hoping I’d misunderstood, even though I knew in my heart I hadn’t.

  ‘At Jackaroo’s. You did realise we were going there?’

  I shook my head, wordlessly.

  Liv pursed her lips. ‘It’ll be okay. Thursday nights are busy. Even if they are there, you’ll be able to avoid them. Don’t stress.’

  I nodded, biting my lip.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ Liv gave a laugh and patted my shoulder. ‘You went out last night without any problems, and you’ve had therapy since then.’

  She gave another laugh and headed into Jackaroo’s. I followed her, thinking how little she knew. If I’d told her what had happened last night, with the guys at the F Bar, she’d most likely have freaked and locked me in my room. It might not have been such a bad idea, the way events were shaping up.

  No, I told myself. You have a handle on your feelings now. You can control yourself if you want to.

  And I did want to, I was sure of it. I headed into the crazy noise of Jackaroo’s, certainty and determination coursing through every capillary of my body.

  Twelve

  Her

  I followed Liv warily down the steps into the downstairs bar. It was already packed with what my now more experienced eye could see straight away were mainly backpackers. We headed over to the bar, where the jostling of people trying to get their drinks, combined with the blaring music, served to overwhelm me.

  I stood back, blinking and trying to concentrate. I should’ve stayed at home. God, it was the third night in a row I’d been out, after wanting only to hide away. Already, the business with Leo the night before seemed like days ago. In fact, our whole relationship was starting to feel insubstantial and unreal, as if it were something half-remembered, from the past.

  I shook my head. I didn’t like the way I was feeling. Despite everything that had happened, I still loved Leo. I did. I had no idea why, or if I’d ever want him back, but I still cared for him. Our relationship had been special enough, in its way, that I didn’t want it to fade into a blurred memory as quickly as this.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Liv yelled, straining to see me through the crowd that had formed behind her.

  I nodded, and she pushed her way through the crowds towards me, beers in hand, and a worried look on her face.

  ‘You’re not, are you?’ she said, passing me my drink. ‘Look, come outside for a minute.’

  She grabbed my hand but, instead of heading to the stairs, she went in the direction of the stage. I followed her up the steps onto it, flushing as I recalled my fantasy that morning of being on this very stage, naked and spread-eagled, a willing victim to a scene of degradation. The stage was in darkness – the spotlights not yet turned on.

  I paused briefly and looked out across the bar, savouring the sight of the faces looking up at us. I couldn’t help myself. The lure of my fantasy was still strong and, in my mixed-up state, I wanted to file away this experience for future reference. For future fantasies. Maybe I wasn’t as sure of myself as I’d thought.

  Liv tugged at my hand, and I started to walk again, the boards creaking beneath my Converses. She led me off the side of the stage and towards a fire exit. She pushed the bar and led me out, into a small courtyard at basement level. It was dark, the cool evening light blocked out by the high walls around us. I could hear footsteps above us; the sounds of people out for the evening, chattering and laughing with seemingly not a care in the world.

  I leaned back against the wall. I was wearing a white vest top, and the rough bricks scraped against my bare shoulder blades.

  ‘Right then, missus,’ Liv said, pointedly. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’re not going to do anything awful again, are you?’

  ‘No…’ I hesitated. ‘Of course not,’ I said, firmly. ‘I…I just�
��miss Leo, I suppose.’

  ‘Miss Leo?’ Liv looked genuinely shocked. ‘You only saw him last night, for fuck’s sake, and, jeez, what a hero he was.’

  I know,’ I said, trying to gather the words to explain. ‘I just...feel a bit sorry for him. About what’s happened.’

  ‘What the fuck have you got to feel sorry about?’ She gave a scornful laugh. ‘He deserves everything he gets. Creep.’

  ‘He’s not always like that,’ I said, rushing to his defence. God, I must sound so stupid. I sounded it to myself. ‘He was drunk, Liv.’

  ‘And that makes it okay, does it?’ Liv pursed her lips, briefly. ‘It’s hardly the first time, is it?’

  I shook my head and looked away. ‘No,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘But this time it was my fault, too.’

  ‘How was it?’ Liv sighed, expressively, and looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to get ready soon. How was it your fault, Grace?’

  ‘Because he saw me getting dropped off by a guy.’

  Liv gasped. ‘You never said!’

  ‘I know.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Because I felt like it was my fault, what happened with Leo. He’s so jealous. He went mad. He thinks I’m still his.’ My voice caught in my throat, as I finished my explanation. ‘He said he’ll never let me go.’

  ‘Liv!’ A voice yelled, from inside the fire exit. ‘Are you coming, or what?’

  Liv gave a snort of annoyance and put her head inside. ‘Two secs!’ she yelled, before turning back to me. ‘Well, he’ll have to let you go, eventually,’ she said.

  I nodded, resignedly.

  ‘So, who was this guy?’ She seemed half excited, half…worried.

  ‘I…’ I began, then stopped, and looked away. I wanted to tell her, but how could I explain what had happened? I couldn’t tell her about the episode at the F Bar and, without that, I couldn’t tell her the truth about the rest of it.