Beating the System

by E V Darcy

  ‘Is that true?’ Alexi whispered. Hattie shrugged. She’d thought them in love until Jensen had told her otherwise. The duo watched as Fiona pushed her chair back and collected her things.

  You won’t be able to keep it in your pants! You can’t be faithful; you’ve never been able to be! But I have thick skin, unlike your little Henrietta. I could cope, I could overlook it, but she won’t. You’ll be divorced before the year is out. You mark my words.

  I won’t cheat on Henrietta.

  The girl the camera had been filming gasped along with the Snape sisters while the cameraman exclaimed whoa! as Fiona grabbed her drink and threw it all over Roman. They watched in silence as Roman calmly took a napkin from under his cutlery and mopped his face before he took a sip of his water.

  Put it away, the girl hissed and the camera quickly dropped to the table, turning the screen black. Hattie was about to hand it back to Alexi when she realised that although there was nothing on the screen, there was still audio. It was background noise, a chair being pushed back, footsteps walking away and then the phone lifted again, the girl coming back into shot for a second before it angled down to the table top again.

  What are you doing? the girl asked, horror lacing her voice.

  Posting it. The boy sounded mystified she was evening asking.

  Don’t!

  C’mon, that’s got to go viral. And that was where it ended.

  ‘I hope that boy has some protection against Neville Martin,’ Alexi said. Hattie would ensure it. He’d just done her a huge favour.

  Of course, he hadn’t dumped Fiona before she’d turned up. Why would he? She was letting him have his cake while he ate the damn thing and fed his harlots too! He must know she wasn’t going to stand for it, that the moment he asked her to marry him that part of his life was over, he’d be stuck with her until his dying day. Or until she got her hundred and twenty-five million crowns.

  White-hot rage bubbled inside her, and she threw the phone across the room.

  ‘Hey!’ Alexi cried as the phone hit the wall.

  ‘I’m going to kill him. I’m going to bloody kill him!’

  She put her hands over her face and allowed her nails to dig in deep, savouring the pain, letting it anchor her back to the moment.

  ‘Hattie, no, stop it!’ Alexi commanded as she grabbed at her sister’s hands, trying to pull them away. ‘You’ll hurt yourself, stop it! He’s not worth it.’

  He wasn’t, logically she knew it. She knew that no man or woman was worth hurting yourself over, that they could come and go from your life and not care, so why give them that power over you? But when it came to it, the hurt and anger, the devastation of betrayal, the feeling of utter stupidity overcame her, and she had to do something, find some way to just let them free, because if she didn’t, she felt like she was going to explode.

  As Alexi finally got her hands away, she screamed, a long gut wrenching wail, letting out all the pent up pain and frustration she’d kept buried deep inside. Alexi grabbed her head, forcing her to stare at her, and only then when she saw the watery outline of her sister’s form did she realise she was crying.

  ‘He’s not worth it.’ Alexi whispered.

  ‘But I love him.’ The confession finally fell over her lips. The secret she’d buried away deep inside all these years. She’d never said those words to anyone. Even to Jensen, she’d danced around them so carefully. Finally, the truth was out there.

  ‘Oh, Hattie,’ Alexi said, dropping her hands and pulling her in for a hug. They sat clinging to one another for however long Hattie wasn’t sure. She burrowed into her sister’s embrace, lulled back to calmness as her sister stroked her head and whispered soothing words into her ear. She luxuriated in the comfort, the knowledge that there was nothing more to it, no ulterior motive than her sister simply providing a shoulder to lean on.

  God, it had been too long since she’d simply been held by someone like this. Probably not since the days when she and Roman would snuggle up on her bed, each with their book of choice and get lost for hours in the words. His arm would be wrapped around her, holding her close, and she’d be sprawled across his chest, her leg wrapped over his. The rhythm of his heat beneath her ear a familiar beat, the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers, had often lulled her to sleep, and she’d wake up him stroking her hear softly, often whispering things she couldn’t quite make out, but wouldn’t repeat when she asked him as she stared up at him with confused, sleepy eyes.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she whispered, more to herself than her sister. But before Alexi could begin to even offer her an answer, there was a knock at the door, and as one, they turned to look at the door as if just staring at it could reveal who stood at the other side.

  Hattie’s heart stuttered and her breath froze in her chest. There was only one person it could be.

  ‘It’s him.’

  She wasn’t ready for this. She couldn’t face him. Not yet.

  ‘Good,’ Alexi said firmly as she stood up, clearly not on the same page as Hattie. ‘Because I’m going to rip his balls off!’

  ‘No! Wait!’ Hattie protested as she scrambled to get out of the seat and chase after Alexi, but it was too late. With one hand on her hip, her face red with fury, Alexi threw open the suite’s door and opened her mouth to let out the tirade she was building.

  However, a surprised oh was all she managed as a Royal Guardsman stood in the door’s frame.

  The man’s eyes skimmed over Alexi before turning to the room behind her and narrowing in on Hattie.

  ‘Lady Henrietta,’ he said, his voice firm and brokering no reason for discussion. Hattie closed her eyes, defeated. ‘The King requires your presence. Immediately.’

  Chapter Eight

  Hattie followed the Guards down to the lobby, through the hotel and out to the waiting Rolls Royce idling in front of the building. She’d asked Alexi to tidy away the mess the two of them had made on her desk, hoping her sister got the message to remove every trace of paper she’d left behind. She didn’t want Old Dick getting his hands on anything that could be used against her, or her sisters.

  To think, just over four hours ago, she’d been worrying about being homeless. Three hours ago she was being proposed to, twenty minutes ago she was being left heartbroken—again!—and in less than two hours she’d be undertaking an audience with her grandfather. What a bloody day! Hattie thought as she bit back a bubble of delirious laughter.

  When she’d been speaking to Alexi, before the video, she’d been afraid Roman was going to change his mind. That when he’d had a chance to think about the whole thing after a few hours away from her, he’d see his idea was insane. She had figured he would call her later that evening, apologising for what he’d said, what he’d done, telling her she had been right to reject him and perhaps that’s what they should stick to. He’d tell her he would recognise the child was Jensen’s, he’d do it publicly, ensure he or she had the Tyrrell name, and that maybe he could persuade his father to help her out financially…

  But there was no way he was going to be able to get out of it now. Not if Grandfather had heard about it. Nor was there taking back the lie that the child was Roman’s.

  God, she felt sick about the whole thing.

  How could she have even entertained such an idea? How could she betray her friend in such a way? Why had she allowed his brother to rob Jensen of the one thing he’d left to the world.

  Because you’re still in love with him, you’ve always been in love with him, and always will be in love with him, her heart told her. Her brain scoffed at the thought, telling her she was an idiot. Her brain had got caught up in the madness once, it wasn’t going to happen again.

  Stepping out into the bright but mild spring air, her brows furrowed at the sight of two other cars at the front and rear of the Roller; inconspicuous sedans with royal plates. This wasn’t a case of just being chauffeured to her grandfather, she was being
given a royal escort with all the bells and whistles.

  She paused at that thought. Surely there wasn’t any reason for her to have the additional protection, was there?

  Another guard stood ready at the side of the Royal Car and opened the rear door as she stepped forward. She sighed as she ducked her head to get in, already contemplating how bored she was going to be on the hour or so journey, but her body froze, half in, half out, when she saw she wasn’t travelling alone.

  ‘Hello, Henrietta.’

  Roman sat in the dim light of the luxury vehicle, his face devoid of all emotion, as always. Or at least it would be to anyone else. She knew he was furious—she recognised that glint in his eye, that tiny tick in his cheek—and that fury was being directed at her.

  He really hadn’t any idea what the hell he’d got himself into when he asked her to marry him. No clue as to what being married to a member of the Royal Family would entail—even as far away from it as she was. And she knew, from the way his eyes narrowed at her, that he didn’t even have an inkling it was because of himself he was getting a very quick introduction to the lifestyle he was about to be thrust into.

  She wanted to laugh at that. He probably thought she’d got on the phone to her sisters as soon as she’d left his office and told them the “good news” of her impending and surprising nuptials. That they’d reported it back up the chain until it had reached the highest in the land…

  Oh, Roman, her mind sighed. You’re partly right. You’re here because of me, but not because I tattled. No, your lies have caught you out and now there’s no turning back. Not for either of us.

  ‘Roman,’ she acknowledged before taking the seat next to him. At least now she knew why she had the full escort—just in case there was still a threat to Roman out there.

  ‘You don’t look surprised to see me,’ he commented, and Hattie was amazed she’d managed to keep such an expression from her face. Usually everyone could tell what she was thinking. ‘That could lead me to believe you knew about this whole thing.’

  She snorted as she settled herself, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she fixed her skirt under her before securing her seatbelt. ‘Oh, Roman, you poor sap. Dick’s going to eat you alive.’

  She felt his eyes burning into her as she continued to stare ahead. His puzzlement over her words, her reaction, was not going to keep him quiet for long. She began to count down from ten and managed to reach four before he piped up again.

  ‘I got back to my office after my lunch appointment’—she just about managed not to snort at that—‘and no sooner had I sat down, I hear yet another commotion in Sue’s office.’

  ‘Let me guess, the Royal Guards?’ Hattie asked, glancing up at the overhead control panel, looking for the button to secure the privacy divider between them and the chauffeur. When she found it, the glass that separated the front and back of the car turned opaque. Roman’s attention turned to the black curtains slowly pulling across the windows next to each of them, and the tiny lights that decorated the ceiling like starlight twinkling above them. It was far too tacky for her tastes, even if the car, with all its additional high security upgrades, cost more than what most people would ever make in their lifetimes. By the face he pulled at their luminescence, he clearly felt the same.

  ‘Yes, one of your brutes was holding poor Sue in place as another was heading towards my door when I opened it. I’m going to have to give her a substantial pay-rise after today.’

  ‘One’—Hattie held up her finger—‘they’re not my brutes, and two, this is all your fault.’

  ‘How is this my fault? You’re the one who set your grandfather on me. Did you think I’d renege on our agreement, so you pulled out the big gun?’

  ‘No, I didn’t set Ol’ Dick on you. I don’t speak to my grandfather. At all. Ever.’

  ‘You don’t speak to him?’ He scoffed at the comment. ‘Even at royal events? Whenever you’re on that balcony, waving to the crowds, you don’t say hello?’

  Hattie narrowed her eyes. ‘No, Roman, I don’t. I have probably said half a dozen words to him in my entire life and even then, it’s been when I’ve had to answer a direct question.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Believe what you want, it’s Victoria who deals with him on our behalf.’

  ‘Victoria deals with— So you got her to call him then?’

  ‘No! For crying out loud, Roman! You’re the one who’s got us a bloody royal audience! You’re all over social media!’

  ‘What? Why?’ He reached into his pocket, she suspected to grab his phone and had to hold back the smirk when he came up empty-handed. A frustrated look painted his face as he recalled he’d had it taken from him. There were no phones in royal vehicles that weren’t part of the Royal Network.

  ‘Why?’ she asked as she pulled her own device from her bag and searched for what she wanted.

  ‘Because you lied to me! You hadn’t dumped Fiona before you proposed to me, before you kissed me! Once more you turned me into the other woman. You painted me the harlot for all the world to see!’

  She held up the phone to him, having found what she wanted and skipped to roughly where it needed to be.

  Oh, don’t start again, Roman. We both know it’s going to happen. We discussed this at Christmas. Fiona’s voice sounded crisp and loud—and utterly grating—in the complete privacy of the car. Roman’s eyes widened fractionally, almost impeccably. He knew exactly what she was showing him, but he clearly didn’t know how she had it.

  No, Fi, it’s not. I’ve got someone pregnant.

  Hattie would have laughed at the look of shock and horror on Roman’s face if she wasn’t so livid with him.

  ‘Maybe you should check if anyone is filming you before having such private conversations in a public place again.’

  ‘That’s not what it sounds like.’

  ‘It’s exactly what it sounds like.’ She glared at him as she slid the bar along the playback line on the screen, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor in her hand. How dare he lie to her, even after being caught in the wrong!

  —making it legit. They’ll be the Tyrrell heir my father is always harping on about.

  I’ll give you an heir at some point in the future, get rid of it.

  We are done, Fiona. Finished. No more. I am marrying the mother of my child and we’re going to be very happy togeth—

  She stopped the recording, unable to hear him announce to the world that she had graced his bed. The timing might be off by nearly a decade and a half, but he wasn’t lying on that side of things.

  ‘You also say that it’s today and that it’s me you’ve impregnated.’ She dropped the phone to her lap. ‘Any questions? No? Didn’t think so. Your fault.’

  Silence filled the privacy suite the car boasted. He wasn’t looking at her, and she refused to look at him, but she was going to have to break the silence if she wanted answers and if they were to formulate a game plan by the time they reached the Grand Palace.

  There was so much bubbling away inside her; anger at his lies, disappointment at herself for falling for them, and hurt at his lack of respect for her. It was the last one that caused the threat of tears.

  Hold it together, she begged herself, hoping her tears wouldn’t fall. She swallowed, pushing down what felt like a tennis ball lodged in her throat, and prayed that her voice wouldn’t crack when she quietly asked,

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘I can’t be engaged to Fiona if we’re to be married.’

  ‘No.’ She took a deep breath and, hoping he didn’t notice how watery her eyes were, she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. ‘Why did you lie?’

  He paused before he answered; his eyes holding hers, his brow lowering in a frown.

  ‘Because you have to marry the father of—’ His words halted as a tear trickled its way down her cheek, and she cursed as she turned away from him.

  But she wasn’t sure she could because he simply didn’t
get it. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong or understand the hurt he’d caused. He didn’t feel such things. He didn’t know what it was like to have your soul crushed. To be denied everything you wanted in life. To have the one thing you desire so tantalisingly close to you yet be so far out of reach…

  Roman Tyrrell had never had to suffer the way she had. He simply took what he wanted, when he wanted. Truth or lies; it didn’t matter to him what he told people, as long as it got him the results he required.

  She couldn’t live like that. She wasn’t going to live like that.

  ‘I can also not marry the father and make my own way,’ she spat as she quickly wiped at the tears that continued to fall. She heard him sigh before he spoke again.

  ‘Henrietta, we said we’d say the baby was mine. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.’

  ‘You don’t—’ She turned to him, no longer caring if she was crying or not. ‘Roman, you told me that you and Fiona were already over! It was the only reason I agreed to your harebrained scam!’

  That and his touch. His whispered words and lips tracing your skin turned you into a weak, quivering, needy woman, her mind gleefully reminded her. She resisted the urge to smack herself in the face. Sometimes she hated her brain.

  ‘Ah.’ He shifted in his seat and pulled the cuffs of his shirt down his wrists. So he knew he was in the wrong. She narrowed eyes, wondering if he was going to try and spin it any other way. ‘Yes, I… I apologise.’

  That was it? That was all she got? That was all she was entitled to? No, no, no. This was not going to work with him at all.

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What more do you want me to say? Do you want me to say I lied because I love you and wanted to marry you? That I’m so desperate for you to be in my life, it was the only way you’d have me?’

  The sarcasm in his voice cut deeper than his words. Her hopes, her dreams, mocked by the one who had held them so carefully in his hands.

  ‘I said it because you’re carrying the Tyrrell heir my father wants. I don’t plan on having any children of my own, so securing yours was the easiest thing to do. And with your fortune and links to your family name, doors will open for me that never would have before.’