Falling from Grace: A Billionaire Romantic Suspense series (The Filth Monger Series Book 1)

by Chant, Annabel

  The thought of it sent a surge of fire swelling up through me. He was, utterly and without question, a dick. I grabbed a couple of cocktail dresses – again at random - and some evening shoes, crammed them in where I could fit them, and zipped up the cases. A bag of toiletries and, at the last moment, my jewellery, and my joke of a life was packed. The buzzer sounded downstairs. I took a last look round our bedroom, so clean and light and airy, before lugging my suitcases across the landing and down the stairs.

  The taxi, once I was safe installed, pulled away sharply, scattering the surrounding reporters like skittles. I kept my head down the whole way, only looking up as we pulled into Chiswick. I loved Chiswick. It was far enough from the City centre to be away from the rush of tourists and visitors, but close enough to be trendy. The High Road was liberally sprinkled with bijou restaurants and pavement cafés, and Liv and I had had some good nights out there over the past few years. Her side street lay just off the High Road itself. I’d been there a couple of times, before going to one of her gigs, so I was pretty sure I’d remember her house.

  In point of fact, it was impossible to forget. The minute I saw it, I knew it was hers. The unkempt front garden and purple door popped against the other quietly-elegant Edwardian houses lining the street. It’d been her mum’s place, back when the area was less sought after, and she never treated it with the reverence a semi in Chiswick deserved. She could’ve sold it for a small fortune, but it was all she had left of her mum and she clung to it.

  I dragged my cases up to the front door and rang the bell. The strains of what sounded like a death metal riff echoed from somewhere behind it.

  ‘Gav’ll be there to let you in,’ she’d whispered, when I’d called her. She was at her desk, and private calls were an absolute no-no. On Max Flint’s time, a personal life was a no-no. ‘But don’t worry. He’s going.’

  This I wasn’t surprised to hear. Men came and went in Liv’s life like shadows. They barely had time to shove their clothes in the wardrobe before they were back out the front door. To be fair, it was usually their fault. Liv was a magnet for cheats and liars. I was beginning to know how she felt.

  I waited a few minutes, but apparently whoever was strangling their guitar inside – presumably Gav – hadn’t heard the bell. I was beginning to feel exposed and uncomfortable standing there, so I rang it a couple more times.

  When he came to the door, Gav turned out to be a lanky Goth with dyed-black hair and heavy eyelids. He stank of weed. ‘Uh…hi,’ he said, standing back from the door to let me pass.

  I dragged my cases inside, wondering if I’d made a mistake. The whole place smelt of weed. It was like returning to my student days, back in the halls of residence. I’d enjoyed them at the time – had a blast, in fact – but I wasn’t looking to relive the experience.

  He gestured up into a narrow stairwell. ‘Up there… back left.’

  I began to haul my cases up the stairs, feeling those drooping eyes upon me. What the hell was she doing? He was barely more than a kid. His manners could use some work, too. He wasn’t even easy on the eye. She could do a hell of a lot better.

  Says you, I told myself, lugging my suitcases across another landing and into another bedroom. This one was small and squat, with magenta, poster-strewn walls and a single bed. There was barely room to lay my cases down.

  Gav was obviously bored of his guitar, because he’d decided he needed to play some Goth album or other, and play it loud. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to shut it out and feeling like a spare part of something I didn’t even understand.

  Twelve

  Giles watched the screen intently. I just hoped he’d be pleased with how it all panned out. I wasn’t, not really, but if it had the desired outcome, all well and good. I had a favour to ask him, and I needed him to be satisfied.

  Felicity was sitting up on the picnic bench now, looking around at the guys in confusion. ‘Wait… what are you doing?’

  To a man, they were following orders, even Rick. As each one did up their fly and turned away, she looked panicked. ‘Where are you going?’ She spoke quickly and her voice was high-pitched. ‘Don’t you want more?’

  It was Matt that broke the news. ‘Nah… thanks babe. That’s your lot.’

  ‘But what…why?’

  Rick turned back to her. ‘No offense, love, but you’re a slapper. Girls like you…you’re good for one thing, get it?’ He seemed to be enjoying it. I gritted my teeth, and forced myself to carry on watching. ‘I’ve got a wife, see? She’s a good girl, and I love her. I wouldn’t swap her for a whore like you, not for the world.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Matt was almost sneering. If they were just following orders, they’d outdone themselves, but I had a feeling they were really getting off on it. ‘Cheap slags like you are just there to be used, babe. Sort yourself out.’

  I stayed, watching them walk off back to their cars, while she just sat there, speechless, on the bench. Only Alex stayed with me. He was still videoing –making sure he got the evidence for Giles. She didn’t even seem to notice.

  I could still hear their jeering as she got down from the picnic table, pulling her skirt down as she did so. She came over to me, stumbling again in her heels. This time, it wasn’t put on. I could tell. Her eyes were bright and she blinked hard. I knew she was fighting back the tears.

  ‘What about you?’ she said. ‘You’ve done nothing…said nothing. Why are you still here?’

  I shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

  She sniffed. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Her face bunched up, and a single tear escaped, rolling hard and fast down her cheek. ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Are you going to do this again?’

  She paused a moment, as if considering. She sniffed again. ‘I…don’t know. Are you offering?’

  ‘I’m not offering,’ I said. ‘No.’

  ‘Shame,’ she said, coming closer to me. She looked pitiful. Her face was clouded with misery, and her bruised breasts still hung free. She pressed them up against me, and rubbed them against my chest. I moved backward – away from them…from her. ‘You’re more my kind of guy,’ she added, following me. ‘Although…you remind me of my father.’

  I felt Giles flinch, and cursed inwardly. I’d forgotten this bit. Why hadn’t Alex edited it out?

  ‘Your father?’ I echoed, holding my hand out to keep her from getting in close.

  ‘Yeah.’ She rolled her eyes, and gave a brief laugh. ‘There’s something about you. I don’t know. You’re good looking…well, you must know that…and attractive, but…’ She seemed to be struggling to find the words. ‘But ultimately…you’re untouchable.’

  She was right there. She wasn’t going to touch me with a ten foot pole. I sidestepped another lunge, and took a deep breath. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Do you know what I think’s going on here?’

  ‘No,’ she said, her wide eyes trailing me up and down. ‘But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

  ‘Correct,’ I said. This was my last chance. I couldn’t fuck it up. ‘Look, I think you’re looking for something else.’ God, it sounded cheesy, but I had to get my point across. ‘You want to matter and, somehow, you’ve equated sex with love. The more sex you can get, the more you’re loved.’

  I paused, waiting for the rebuttal, but it didn’t come. She just stood there looking at the floor, and started to drag her top back up over her mangled breasts. I pressed my advantage while I had it. ‘You’re not going to find love like this, you know. You’re just going to end up hurt…used.’

  ‘That’s all I’ve ever been,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Ah, but I do,’ I said. ‘More than you know. But you can’t let it dictate your life. You’ve got it all going on, Felicity. Trust me.’ I paused. I didn’t like lying, but I had to get my point across. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re clever and you’re rich. You’ve got the world at your feet. Don’t fuck it up.’

  My word
s seemed to hit home. She looked up at me, her eyes full and wet, and she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and it sounded like she meant it. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘And if you’re ever in trouble,’ I added. ‘Call me.’

  I felt in my pocket for a pen and paper. I hadn’t meant to go this far, but I could sense she was sincere, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up. ‘Here,’ I said, scribbling down my mobile number.

  She took it, and smiled at me. No hint of sexiness this time, just an honest-to-goodness smile. ‘What do I call you?’ she asked.

  I hesitated. There was no way she was getting my real name. Should I make something up? I almost did, but it didn’t feel right. Then, for some reason, Charlotte’s words came back into my mind. She’d had the perfect name for me. ‘You can call me The Filth Monger,’ I said, with an inward smile.

  ‘I followed her home,’ I said. ‘Made sure she got there safely. It’s up to you now.’

  Giles was silent. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and could only wait for him to break the ice. Finally, he stood up. ‘The Filth Monger,’ he said with a short bark of a laugh. ‘Most appropriate. Well…’ He walked over to the door. ‘Mission accomplished, it would seem.’

  ‘I have to keep the tape,’ I said, following him over. ‘For obvious reasons, but I can give you a copy if you need one.’

  ‘No,’ he shuddered visibly. ‘Once is more than enough. Keep it,’ he said. ‘But keep it safe. No fuck ups.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He opened the door, to show me out. ‘And if there’s anything I can do…’

  I stopped there, in the doorway. This was my chance. ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘There is something I could use your help with…’

  Thirteen

  By the time Liv got in, I was asleep. I was so exhausted I’d eventually lain down and drifted off, even over the incessant throb of the music. I awoke to the sound of raised voices. The music had stopped and someone was crying – a low, wailing sound.

  At first, I thought it was Liv, and I froze. I’d just got up, ready to go down and fight her corner, when I heard her shout something and the front door slammed. I went downstairs, hesitantly. I felt like I was intruding.

  Liv was standing by the front door, looking at herself in a mirror. She was obviously dissatisfied with what she saw, because she leaned over and ruffled her short, dark hair, pushing at it to make it stand up. I didn’t know why she bothered. Her pixie-cut locks always looked immaculate, and framed her pale face, with its dark eyes and tip-tilted nose, perfectly. She was stunning in a thrown-together kind of way, and was never out of a pair of jeans outside of work. She span around when she heard my footsteps, and looked up at me. ‘Dick,’ she said, nodding towards the door with an apologetic smile. ‘Did we wake you, hon?’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘My fucking hair.’ She ran her fingers through it again, throwing her reflection a critical look.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said again.

  ‘I’m growing it out.’ She turned back to me. ‘Fuck knows why.’

  I laughed. ‘So what’s the deal with you and Nick Cave’s baby brother?’ I started to walk downstairs.

  ‘Don’t even ask.’ She gave a sad smile and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. ‘Musically, we’re compatible. Sexually… not so much… and domestically…’ She shuddered visibly. ‘I’m not his bloody mother!’

  I reached the bottom of the stairs, and fell into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her as if she wanted to squeeze the hurt out of me. I started crying again. God, would I ever stop?

  ‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘It’s gonna be fine. Just let it all come out. I’ve got you.’

  I went through the whole sobbing scenario all over again, right there in her hallway.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked, eventually. ‘I can’t seem to stop at the moment.’

  ‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘It’s been one day.’

  She put her arm around my waist, and shepherded me through into her living room. It was magenta too, the paint daubed thickly over the wallpaper. Sagging patchwork sofas dominated the room, brought into focus by the open fireplace.

  From the mantelpiece, a photo of her mum frowned down, flanked by growths of candle and incense sticks. It was practically a shrine, but Mum didn’t seem too impressed. She was probably pissed off by Liv’s refurbishment of the place, if that was the word I wanted. Looking at the heavy, black curtains and the cigarette burns on the carpet, refurbishment seemed an over-enthusiastic description, but the place suited Liv and, now Gav had gone, it suited me. Even so, I couldn’t stop moving, pacing again, restless.

  ‘You can stay as long as you want, hon,’ Liv said, lighting a cigarette. ‘No problem. Now, stop wearing out the shag pile, for fuck’s sake, and sit down.’

  I did as I was bidden. ‘Thanks,’ I said, and I meant it so much. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I rang my sister…’

  ‘Don’t.’ Liv shot me a look of disdain. ‘That self-satisfied bitch. Talking of which, there’s something I should probably tell you, and you’re not going to like it…’

  Fourteen

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ Liv came back into the living room carrying two cups of tea. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  She passed me mine – an old chipped mug with Garfield on it. It reminded me of a card Leo had bought me when we first started going out, and I felt the tears welling up again.

  I looked up at the mantelpiece and told myself firmly it wasn’t that bad. No one had died. She went over to the window, and pushed open the heavy curtains. The evening sunlight filtered through and caught on the motes of dust floating in the room. I watched them absently, as she looked out at the garden.

  ‘Of course it’s not your fault,’ she said finally, turning to face me. She sat down in the armchair opposite me, and put her mug on the coffee table. ‘How could it be?’

  ‘But I told you,’ I ran my finger around the top of my cup, the chip snagging at my skin. ‘I wasn’t…satisfied.’

  ‘Nor was he.’ She gave a snort of disgust. ‘God knows why. Bottom line, you stayed faithful, he didn’t. So how is it your fault?’

  ‘The guy in Max’s office…’ I began.

  ‘Hell yeah.’ She picked up her cup and took a slurp of tea. ‘So you went weak at the knees? So did I. So did the entire female workforce of Ffyvells, I should think.’ She took another slurp. ‘Not to mention a fair percentage of the men. Jeremy, for one.’

  ‘He wasn’t there,’ I said vacantly, still swirling my fingertip around the mug. The chip caught it on each circuit. The certainty of it made it almost reassuring.

  ‘He wasn’t quite up to Max’s standard, though.’ She carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘He was a bit too…’

  ‘Perfect?’

  ‘…refined…for my taste.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘You know me…down and dirty.’

  I managed a smile. ‘Yeah, Max is more of a bad boy, somehow, isn’t he?’

  Liv laughed. ‘He’s a plaster saint compared to some of the boys I’ve known, but yeah,’ she drained her cup and slammed it down. ‘He’ll do for me.’

  ‘So…’ I couldn’t help myself. It hardly mattered any more, anyway. I had no one to feel guilty about. ‘Who was he? Do you know?’

  ‘The guy in Max’s office?’ Liv grinned. ‘That’s my girl. Sorry, but I’ve no idea. There was nothing in the diary though. Believe me – I looked. So I’d say either it was an emergency, or he’s a friend of Max’s.’

  ‘Or both,’ I said thoughtfully.

  ‘Whoever the hell he is,’ she stood up and went over to the mantelpiece. ‘He’s not the reason you’re sitting here tonight. You’re just trying to make allowances for your shitty boyfriend.’

  ‘Maybe if I’d been more attentive…’

  Liv was straightening her mother’s photo but, at my words, she turned s
harply and frowned at me. ‘He wouldn’t have hit you? Girls who get knocked about are usually very attentive, in my experience. I mean, you wouldn’t want to upset him, would you?’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Give him whatever he wants, forget to worry about what you need, isn’t that how it goes?’

  ‘But I…’ I tried to protest, but even I could feel the weakness in my voice.

  Liv sat down next to me, and took my hands in hers. She looked into my eyes steadily. ‘Listen, Grace. Maybe this is the best thing that could’ve happened.’

  I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I felt humiliated, all over again.

  ‘Do you think I haven’t noticed the bruises, hun?’ she said, softly. ‘I asked you the other week if everything was okay, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t talk.’

  ‘It’s only occasionally…when he’s had a drink.’ I could feel my cheeks burning with the admission. ‘And the others? Does everybody...’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Liv lifted my mug to my lips. ‘You’re good with the concealer. It’s just…well, let’s say I know what to look for.’

  I took a gulp of tea. It was full of sugar, sweet and milky, and barely luke warm. I took a deep breath, and drank it down as quickly as I could manage. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What happened?’

  As Liv opened her mouth to reply, the doorbell rang. I was glad I’d drunk my tea, because I jumped violently.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Liv, with a grimace.

  ‘Is it…’ I whispered. ‘Is it her?’

  ‘Reckon so,’ she said, getting up reluctantly and heading to the door. She stopped in the doorway, and looked back. ‘Unless,’ she said, with a grin. ‘It’s Gav, back for round two.’

  Of the two, I’d have preferred Gav.