The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  As gently as possible, Ivan lifted himself out of me and lay next to me. Together, lying side by side, we watched her. Grunting, bellowing and hissing as she laid over one hundred eggs, two sometimes three at a time. We saw her shed the tears that had so moved Robert.

  She never acknowledged our presence. Perhaps we were just rocks or shadows to her. Rosli once told me that the locals believe that while laying her eggs a sea turtle goes into a trance from which she cannot be disturbed.

  When she had finished she used her rear flippers to cover her nest with sand. Gradually, she packed the sand down over her pit, then used her front flippers to disguise her nest from predators by throwing sand in all directions. Exhausted, she slowly made her way back to sea.

  Neither of us spoke. It was so special we couldn’t speak.

  I felt humbled and in awe of the amount of trust that the mother turtle had entrusted her children to nature. I wanted to be brave like her. I turned to Ivan. He was still staring at the spot where she had slipped into the sea.

  ‘I love you,’ I said.

  His entire body stilled.

  ‘I know you don’t love me back and I didn’t tell you to make you feel awkward. I’m sorry if I spoiled this moment for you, but I just wanted you to know. If I die tomorrow, I don’t want it to be a thing unsaid.’

  He sighed heavily, like a man burdened and tortured with inner demons. ‘We have to go back tomorrow,’ he said, his voice throbbing with some deep emotion.

  For a moment I felt a flash of anger. How dare he dictate when I went back? Let him go back if he wanted to. I would stay on. And then my fury deflated. What would be the point? I would be miserable here without him. I would have to return to England to face the reality of my pretend marriage.

  There was something wrong, very wrong with my marriage, and the sooner I got to the bottom of it the better.

  Chapter 33

  Tawny Greystoke

  “Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone, it has to be made, like bread.”

  - Ursula Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven.

  I woke up because I heard a sound. I turned my head and saw that the pillow beside me was empty. Pushing hair out of my face I sat up and looked around. There was no light coming from under the en-suite bathroom door and the bedroom door was closed. How strange.

  I got out of bed, walked in my bare feet to the door, and opened it. I could see the light in Ivan’s study was on and I could hear his voice. It was quite loud. He must be on the phone with someone. I walked towards the sound.

  Something made me hold back in the corridor.

  ‘No, she doesn’t know and I want to keep it that way. For this plan to work she must be kept totally in the dark.’

  There was a silence, then he was speaking again.

  ‘Absolutely. More than a hundred million is at stake. You have to come up with a foolproof plan to eliminate her. A way that cannot be traced back to anybody. Especially not me.’

  Of their own volition my hands flew up and covered my gaping mouth as if to stop myself from screaming, but it was not me that was screaming it was my very soul. I just stood there in the dark frozen with shock and horror.

  There was another pause and then his voice came back, urgent and hopeful.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Another long pause while the person on the other end probably explained something. Then came Ivan’s voice, ghoulishly excited.

  ‘Yes, yes, that might work. Run it by them and see if they are happy to go ahead with it. The sooner the better. I can’t stand this waiting anymore. I need to know it is done.’

  ‘Right. I got to go, but thanks for all your help.’

  Very quietly, I tip-toed back to the bedroom and got under the covers. I was trembling. I knew without a doubt that he was talking about me. Who was he talking to? He must be in cohorts with my stepchildren. There could be no other explanation. What was it he wanted me to be kept in the dark about? Was the foolproof plan to eliminate me? Was this my worst fear? Was Ivan plotting to kill me and share my money with my stepchildren?

  It seemed impossible. He didn’t need my money. He was a billionaire. It made less sense than a bull with tits, but no other explanation would fit.

  There was a sound in the corridor.

  I turned on my side, closed my eyes, made my breathing deep and slow and pretended to sleep.

  Ivan came in, got into bed, kissed my forehead and lay beside me. After a few seconds his hand came to rest lightly on my hip.

  ‘Mmm,’ I said sleepily and curled further into myself.

  His hand slipped away. For a long time he did not sleep. Finally, his breathing became deep and even. I turned over and watched him. He looked peaceful and prettier than a Tennessee Bluetick Coonhound. I felt confused and scared. I couldn’t understand what was happening. Nothing was as it seemed. Even now how I longed to reach out and stroke his thick, silky hair, but I did not. I simply watched him in wonder until dawn lit the sky.

  How did it come about that unnoticed I had slipped into my enemy’s bed.

  Very carefully, with my eyes fixed on Ivan’s sleeping face, I inched out of bed. Once out I stood looking down at him. I was still shell-shocked. It was incredible how completely he had fooled me.

  With cat-like quiet, I lifted my tracksuit and running shoes out of the wardrobe and dressed quickly in the living room. Without making any noise I let myself out of the apartment. While I ran I tried to think. I really, really did. For a whole hour I tried, but my mind wouldn’t function properly. I kept wanting desperately to believe that I had made a mistake. There was no motive. He didn’t need my money.

  He had a private plane for God’s sake.

  Besides, I trusted Robert and he told me again and again that Ivan was the only one I could trust. Another voice in my head said, Robert constructed a will that left me open to Ivan’s total control. If he had not made me Ivan’s ward I would never be here and married to Ivan.

  By the time I returned I was no less bewildered or shocked. Ivan was already out of the shower.

  ‘Good run?’ he asked, and for the first time I saw him without my rose tinted glasses. He was hiding something big. He had been for a long time, but I was so caught up with him not finding out my secrets. I never took the time to examine the things that didn’t sit right about him. It was always there, in the background and almost undetectable, but there all the same. Even now I saw it. The only time it was not there was when we were in bed having sex.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ I even managed a smile. ‘Want some coffee and some toast?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  I nodded and went to the kitchen. I was arranging the slices of toast in the toast rack when he appeared, knotting his tie in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve got to run. Something’s come up,’ he said.

  ‘No breakfast?’

  ‘I’ll just take that coffee.’

  I carried the mug and held it out to him.

  He took a sip. ‘What will you do today?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet. I might go into work.’

  ‘Good. So I’ll see you tonight. Maybe we can go out to dinner or something.’

  ‘Yes. That’ll be nice,’ I said. I knew my voice sounded wooden, but I couldn’t help myself. I never was good at pretending. What you see is what you get with me.

  He took another sip and put the coffee mug down. ‘Right. I’m off.’

  After a quick, hard peck on my lips he was gone. I touched my lips. God! I still wanted him. What was wrong with me? What an awful mess I was in.

  I took the mug and poured the remaining coffee into the sink. Almost on autopilot I opened the dishwasher and placed it inside. Still on autopilot I crossed the living room and went towards his study. I opened the door and stood for moment at the threshold.

  There was hardly anything on his table, just a few papers. I approached it and glanced at them. A report about some Chinese town, a development of some kind. I went around the desk, sat
on his chair and opened the drawers. The first one had odds and ends. The second had files. The middle drawer had stationery.

  The first drawer on the left-hand side made me pause. It was locked. I knew where the key was. I’d seen where he hid it. I ran out into the hallway and checked a small decorative bowl. It was at the bottom. I took the key and ran back to open the drawer.

  There was a crumpled letter in it. I put it on the desk and straightened it out. It was a letter from the bank. I stared at it in disbelief. It cannot be. It just cannot be. I blinked and re-read it.

  Jesus Christ.

  The bank was recalling one of their loans for twenty million pounds. There were other letters too. Some had been torn open and other remained unopened but they all carried the same return address. With shaking hands I slipped out the ones that had been opened. They were just more letters warning that his accounts were going to be closed, warnings about bankruptcy proceedings, and warnings of late payments.

  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.

  ‘Of course not,’ I said with a smile.

  He called and told her that we had met in Harrods, and that he would be a bit late. He listened, then looking at me apologetically, said, ‘No, Martha. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’

  ‘What wouldn’t be appropriate?’ I asked.

  He took the phone away from his ear. ‘Martha wants me to bring you home for tea. She’s always been dying to meet you.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. I remembered then that James had mentioned her before. Not only that, once she had even baked some cookies for me, and I had gone out and bought her a beautiful designer handbag as a gift.

  He put the phone back to his ear. ‘Maybe another time, Martha. Lady Greystoke is busy.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘We live in West Kensington. It’s just up the road. We’d love you to come, but I realize you’re probably too busy. Just say no if you can’t. You can come another time.’

  ‘No, no,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ll come today. I’d love to meet your wife.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ James asked, his eyes bright.

  ‘Of course, I’m sure.’ The truth was, bumping into him couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed to not be alone. I needed to talk to people from my old life, from before Ivan came into it.

  James ended his call and beamed at me. ‘My car is parked one street away from here. I can bring it around or we can walk. I know you enjoy a good walk.’

  It was good to be with someone who knew me so well. ‘Let’s walk, James. As you said, I’ve always enjoyed a good walk.’

  We walked to his car. Like a true gentleman, he held open the passenger door while I got in. He closed the door before going around to the driver’s side. He started the ignition and was about to drive away when the back door opened suddenly. I twisted my head around in surprise and stared into Dr. Spencer’s pale blue eyes.

  Oh, dear God!

  ‘Hello, Lady Greystoke,’ he said, and slipped a needle into my arm.

  I barely heard him. I looked at my arm in frozen shock. In a flash all the missing pieces of the j
igsaw puzzle fell into place. James had spiked my drink. They were all in this together. The picture was now complete. Ivan was talking to the doctor yesterday. Of course, the good doctor always hated me. Oh no, I was beginning to feel disorientated. I was going to black out.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 34

  Tawny Greystoke

  “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”

  - Samwise Gamgee

  (A Hobbit & the real hero)

  Dr. Spencer was holding smelling salts under my nose when I came to. My head lolled about but my seated body was totally immobile. I tried to speak and realized that my mouth taped shut.

  I coughed and blearily tried to make sense of my surroundings. I was immobile because from my shoulder to my ankles I was tightly mummified in Clingfilm.

  One look at the ceiling and I knew that I was in Barrington Manor. I swiveled my eyes around and saw there were other people in the room. My vision was still fuzzy and they appeared as blurred shapes. I blinked to clear my vision.

  ‘Can you hear me Mrs. Maxwell?’ Dr. Spencer asked calmly.

  I pulled my eyes back to him and focused on his face. There was no expression at all on his thin, sallow face, but he was wearing what appeared to be a white boiler suit.

  I nodded.

  ‘She’s fine. She’s was always as fit as a horse,’ a woman’s voice dismissed rudely, and Rosalind came into my sight. She was wearing a similar white boiler suit. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter if she’s not. She’ll be dead soon.’

  My blood ran cold at her words.

  ‘I can’t have any chemicals found in her system,’ Dr. Spencer explained patiently. ‘It has to look like an accident or we’ll all be going to prison.’

  ‘Look, can we get this over with. This place is giving me the creeps. All these fucking sheets over the furniture look like ghosts, Bianca said with a shudder. She too was dressed the same way.

  ‘Don’t be such baby. We have to wait for Ivan,’ Rosalind scolded her sister.

  ‘And me,’ an amused man’s voice said.

  Dorian came into view. He was not wearing a white suit.