Текст книги "Bad Grace "
Автор книги: Annabel Chant
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Bad Grace
The Filth Monger Series
Book 2
Annabel Chant
Blurb
Let play commence…
Grace Anderton’s life is still spiralling out of control. Despite the lure of celebrity, she can’t seem to rein herself in, and finds herself drawn into yet another dangerous situation. Added to which, Leo still won’t accept that it’s over between them.
Desperate by now, she calls on the Filth Monger. Embroiled in a web of blackmail that threatens to expose his whole operation, his life is almost as out of control as hers. Despite his growing attraction towards her, he knows he should keep her at arm’s length. Against his better judgment, he offers to fulfil her fantasies, discretion assured and no questions asked.
Unsure if she can trust him, yet with no other option left to her, she takes him up on his offer. But is it really what either of them want? Will this be the undoing of them, or the start of something wonderful? Just when the stars finally seem to be aligning, Fate throws a curve ball that sends them both reeling.
Now she finally knows the Filth Monger’s true identity, will she be able to trust him, or will this latest revelation tear them apart forever?
If you like steamy romance with hot characters and pulse-pounding suspense, you’ll love Bad Grace . Get your copy today or read for free on Kindle Unlimited.
Bad Grace is Book 2 of the Filth Monger series. The books need to be read in order. Book 1 – Falling from Grace – is also available on Amazon.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Bad Grace. If you enjoy it, please take a moment to let others know via a review on your local Amazon, such as Amazon.com or Amazon UK. Please note that Bad Grace is the second book in a series and they need to be read in order. Book 1 – Falling from Grace – is available on Amazon.
For ARCs (advance review copies), release dates and launch offers, just join the Fan Mongers. I’ll email you on release day so that you don’t miss out.
If you want to connect with me, I’m @AnnabelChant on Twitter, or you can find me on Facebook. I’d be excited to hear from you!
Once again, thanks for reading – it’s so much appreciated.
Annabel x
One
Her
Leo stood, glowering at me. I edged back into the bay window, feeling around behind me for anything I could grab. There was nothing.
‘Where’s Liv?’ I said, looking around for anything I could use to protect myself.
‘She’s out,’ he said, edging his way around the coffee table. ‘So, tell me, Princess. Why’ve you been ignoring my calls? Were you too busy with…’ He threw me a look of disgust. ‘…Prince Charming out there?’
‘No,’ I said, my heart racing. I glanced down at the wastepaper basket. The business card lay there, white against the black bin liner, the words standing out all too clearly.
The Filth Monger
I edged in front of it, hoping with all my heart he wouldn’t notice.
‘I…I’ve been upset,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to talk to you.’
‘You’ve been upset?’ he snarled. ‘How d’you think I feel? I come home, and you’re gone. No one knows where you are. You’re not answering your phone, and now I find out you’ve been living it up with Kitty fucking Hart, of all people.’
‘It was only the once,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘And you told me to leave.’
He didn’t even seem to hear me, just swept on with his accusations as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I finally find out where you’re hiding, thanks to Johnno, and I come over here to smooth things out and what do I find? You, sitting in the front of a car, with some guy’s tongue down your throat.’
‘I wasn’t!’ I said, trying, again, to argue my point. ‘He wasn’t and, anyway, you were seen getting into a taxi with a woman. I saw it.’
‘That was Summer, for fuck’s sake,’ he said, closing in on me. ‘Summer Hayes. Sam’s PA. I’d locked myself out.’
Sam was his manager, and I knew Summer. She was constantly at the beck and call of the team, sorting out any little glitch that threatened to upset their spoilt asses. Maybe it had been her, but even so… ‘You screwed another woman,’ I said.
‘That’s done with,’ he said. ‘It’s finished. How long are you going to keep on about it? I’m a footballer, Grace. It’s an occupational hazard.’
I gave up. He had no sense of proportion, least of all when he was drunk, and there was no point in angering him further. ‘How did you…’ I began, then, as his words sunk in; ‘What do you mean, Johnno told you where I was?’
‘Kitty told him,’ he said. ‘Your new best friend.’
‘She’s not,’ I said. ‘I…’
‘So, tell me, Princess…’ He came right up to me and stared into my eyes. ‘Who was he?’
‘He…’ I fumbled for an excuse, but I didn’t know what to say. Whatever I said would just be fuel to his fury. ‘It…it was a taxi.’
‘Don’t give me that,’ he snarled. ‘You fucking bitch. D’you think this is a game? You’re mine – whether you like it or not. This whole thing…it’s just a blip.’
‘A blip?’ I couldn’t believe it. He was never rational when he’d been drinking. He was rarely rational at all, but this… A blip? I almost laughed.
‘Yes, a blip.’ He put his hands under the straps of my dress and pulled me up against him, until my face met his. ‘You are never getting away. D’you hear me? It’s always been you and me. You’re mine, d’you understand?’
‘Not anymore,’ I said, trying to push him off. ‘It’s not that you want me. You just don’t want anyone else to have me.’
‘Is that what you think?’ He stood back slightly and examined my face. His gaze was unfathomable, but he seemed to be cooling down. ‘You haven’t got a clue, have you?’ he said, finally.
I turned my head from his gaze, not knowing what to say.
‘You think I don’t want you?’ he said, slapping my face around to look at him.
‘I don’t care whether you do or not,’ I said. ‘It’s too late.’
‘No,’ he said, his voice softer suddenly – more desperate. He put his arms around me. I didn’t respond but just stood there, as he pulled me to his chest, rubbing the thin stubble of his chin against my cheek. ‘It’s never too late. It’s just a blip, Grace. We’ll get through this.’
‘We will,’ I said, straining away from him. ‘But not together.’
‘Don’t say that.’ His voice hardened again, and his grip tightened. ‘You’re mine. You don’t seem to understand what that means.’
‘It means I have to give myself to you,’ I said. ‘I choose not to. I’m not yours, Leo. Not anymore.’
‘Then I’ll make you mine,’ he said and pulled away from me, grabbing my arm as he did so. He dragged me over to the sofa and threw me down. As I went to get up, he pushed me back and prised open my legs. ‘Got pretty done up to go out, didn’t we, Princess?’ he said, looking down at me, his eyes full of derision. ‘If you wanted a fuck, you knew where I was.’
‘I didn’t…’ I said, struggling against him. ‘I don’t…’
He pushed me back down, my legs splayed, and my neck bent awkwardly, pushing my face into the rough patches of the sofa fabric. He paused for a moment to unbutton his fly, before putting his hands under my ass and pulling my pelvis up towards him. ‘But I’ll forgive you,’ he said, with a mocking smile. ‘Because I love you.’
‘No, Leo.’ I wriggled as hard as I could, but his was the force of drunken desire, and I had no way to fight him. ‘Please – not like this.’
‘How, then?’ He slammed his knees in under my thighs, to hold me in position, and put his hand on my chest, making any further struggle pointless. ‘How do you want it?’
‘Let me up,’ I said. ‘And I’ll show you.’
He backed off me, letting my thighs drop apart again. For a moment, I thought he was going to launch himself onto me, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me up and towards him. The skirt of my dress was up around the tops of my thighs and, in one fluid movement, he hooked his fingers into it, pulling it up around my hips and slamming me against his crotch.
As he lifted his hands from my hips to pull me in for a kiss, I took my chance and rammed my knee up between his legs as hard as I could.
‘Aaargh.’ He gave a loud cry, which tapered out as he sunk to his knees. ‘You crazy bitch,’ he muttered, glaring up first at me, then at the ceiling.
That was when I realised. He hadn’t shouted – not once. Usually, he’d storm and yell when he got mad, but not this time…
‘Liv!’ I yelled, with all the strength of my lungs. ‘Liv!’
Two
Her
There was a dead silence for a few moments, but for Leo’s moans of pain, then the sound of someone treading heavily and unsteadily across creaking floorboards. ‘Grace?’
‘Liv!’
I flew to the door of the lounge, flinging it open and rushing through it. ‘Oh, thank God!’
Leo was still uttering guttural groans from the living room floor, but I knew he could rise again at any moment, and launch another attack on me. I slammed the door behind me and rushed through the hall, to the front door. I stayed there, my back against it, ready to run out if he came after me.
As I stood there, Liv came racing down the stairs, two at a time. ‘What the hell’s the matter?’ Her hair was sticking up all over, and she looked wild-eyed. ‘Babe, what’s wrong?’
‘Leo,’ I said, and felt the tears coming to my eyes. What the hell had happened to him? To us? How had we ended up like this? I motioned towards the lounge. ‘In there.’
‘Get upstairs.’ Liv’s face looked small and pinched with anger. ‘Go. Now.’
I hesitated, not wanting to leave her there alone with him in that mood, but she took my arm and pushed me towards the stairs. ‘Go, Grace.’
I started to climb the stairs, holding the cold wood of the bannister for reassurance. Liv marched to the door of the lounge and threw it open. ‘You,’ she said. ‘Out.’
I sank onto the stairs, peering through the balustrades to check Liv was okay.
Leo must have said something, but it was too low for me to hear.
‘I don’t give a toss,’ she said, standing aside with her arm outstretched. It was a clear indication that she wanted him to leave, but it seemed like he was in no hurry to go. ‘Out now, or I call the police.’
Finally, there was movement from inside the lounge, together with a harsh, splintering crash. It sounded like he’d pushed the coffee table into the mantelpiece. I winced inwardly. There was a low murmur.
‘Forget it,’ said Liv. ‘Just don’t drink so fucking much. It’s embarrassing.’
As she said it, Leo emerged from the lounge. He was holding onto the wall, as he lurched towards the front door. Liv was at his rear. She threw me a quick glance as she followed him. ‘Get ready for bed, Grace,’ she said.
Leo didn’t look back but, as he went out the door, he yelled over his shoulder; ‘This isn’t over, Gra…’
Liv slammed the door before he’d even finished, and reached up to put the bolt on.
‘For fuck’s sake, Grace,’ she said, looking up at me and blowing her forehead. ‘You don’t half pick 'em.’
I was still apologising when I was sitting in bed, my arms around my knees, telling her what had happened. I didn’t mention what had happened on the sofa. It would have made it too real, and I just wanted to block it out.
Liv sat on the edge of the bed, patting my leg comfortingly. ‘You should call the police,’ she said. ‘Or I should.’
‘Don’t,’ I said, grabbing her hand in my urgency. ‘Don’t call the police. You’ll ruin him. He’s in enough trouble already.’
‘But Grace,’ she said. ‘He must’ve got in round the back when I was putting the bins out, which means he was skulking in the garden. He was probably watching me through the window.’ She shuddered visibly. ‘Better I ruin him than he ruins you.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Please. He was just drunk.’
‘Well,’ she stood up. ‘I’ll take your word for it, but I don’t like it.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’
She went to walk out of the bedroom but, as she got to the door, she paused and turned back to me. ‘So how did it go tonight? Anything exciting happen?’
I opened my mouth to tell her about Mr Arrogant but, at the last moment, I changed my mind. He was just as much of an asshole as Leo, in his way. The Filth Monger. I flushed as I remembered the mortification of seeing it written on the business card. It showed just what he thought of me – not that I could blame him, but even so... ‘It was okay,’ I said, with a shrug.
‘Anything…you know…happen?’ She raised her eyebrows and gave me a stern look.
I shook my head. ‘Nothing exciting,’ I said, wriggling down under the covers.
‘And did Kitty keep an eye on you?’
‘Uh-huh.’ I gave a brief, non-committal nod and went to turn over.
‘Good.’ Liv turned out the light. ‘Night Grace. Get some sleep.’
‘Night, Liv,’ I said.
‘And no more dickheads, okay? One’s enough.’
‘Mm-mm.’ I turned over and snuggled down into the warm safety of the duvet.
As I lay there, in the still darkness of the bedroom, listening to her moving around in the bathroom, I realised that it was just as well I hadn’t told her about the so-called Filth Monger. She’d have freaked. Especially if she’d questioned me further because, despite everything, I’d have had to admit that, even now, I was horribly attracted to his smug, arrogant ass.
Three
Him
My mind was still on Grace, as I drove back from Chiswick. I wondered what the hell she was going to make of my card. I was such a tool. I didn’t seem to be able to get anything right. I parked the Aston outside the hotel, leaving the doormen to move it to its personal space, and decided to stop into Dominion before I headed upstairs to bed. I needed to see Alex, and he was holding court in my absence, which was pretty much all the time, these days. Even though I lived in the penthouse suite of the Dominion hotel itself, I’d rarely been able to muster the enthusiasm to show my face there for more than a few minutes at a time, recently.
To be honest, I was tired of being the go-to Dom for everyone else’s problems, and the whole Charlottegate affair had made me re-think the whole club. I got no pleasure from it, anymore. The only subs I’d ever cared about – all two of them – had thrown my care and attention back in my face, and even the ones I hadn’t, had fucked me over. Part of me hoped I’d never see Charlotte again, but I knew I had no choice. I had to find her, and fast.
I waved briefly at the receptionists as I went through the foyer. They earned their money a thousand times over, keeping undesirables out of the club, but even they made mistakes sometimes, and I was beginning to think it just wasn’t worth the risk to keep it open. It was only in deference to the old man that I’d run it this long. He’d started it way back, and even in his decrepit state, he still asked about it every time I visited him.
It occurred to me suddenly that Max might consider taking it on. Christ, he’d relish the chance. I couldn’t see him making good in the role, though. He was too harsh…too unforgiving. He’d always be a fag master at heart, as if that hadn’t landed him in enough trouble over the years.
I keyed in the private code that would take the lift straight down to the club. I wasn’t fucking about walking round the back of the place. As it sank down into the bowels of the hotel, I thought of Grace again. If she were by my side, attached to me surreptitiously by a cuff or a leash, I’d probably be enjoying this visit. As it was, it just depressed me.
The fact that she’d probably be horrified, or even disgusted, by the very thought of it just made me feel even more hopeless. I wondered if I’d be willing to rein in my dominant side if she didn’t feel comfortable with it. The thought almost made me smile. The way I felt about her, I’d be more than willing. I just doubted I’d be capable of it. Grace was a loose cannon, anyway, at the moment. It was better I took a step back and waited to see if she came to me.
The lift doors parted, and I entered the dark fog that was Dominion. It was a Wednesday night, and it showed. The place was quiet, with only the odd knot of guests. Most of them were standing around the edges of the dance floor. In the middle, our resident Japanese Ropemaster, Takao-san, was demonstrating the fine art that was Shibari suspension bondage on his nubile young sub, Cho. As I walked across to the bar, she was spinning gently from the rig, one leg extended up above her, the other bound tightly into her buttock, affording the audience an open view of her crotch.
Unlike many Masters, Takao-san had afforded her the dignity of underwear. He was respectful and demanded the same in return. She tried her best, but she’d told me once, on bended knee, that Cho was Japanese for ‘butterfly’, and it had suited her at the time. She’d flitted from one Dom to another until Alex had taken her under his wing and done his best to tame her.
He’d passed her on to Takao-san, who was renowned for his tireless patience, and she seemed more contented now, under his firm but gentle guidance. At that moment, she looked completely at peace, and she probably was; lost in the almost hypnotic trance that was sub-space.
She hung there on her side, her eyes half-closed, rotating slowly, an intricate web of knots and ropes keeping her still and safe. Her hair was woven into the web, pulling her head backwards towards the cluster of knots at her back and extending her slender neck into a graceful curve. It was truly beautiful, and just as dangerous in the hands of anyone but an expert like Takao-san. There weren’t many Masters I’d have allowed to do this without my personal attendance, but he was the finest Kinbakushi this side of the Atlantic. For me to question his methods would have been laughable, not to mention insulting.
Alex was standing at the bar, watching the display from a distance. He put his glass down as I reached him. ‘You’ve missed most of it, Sir,’ he said, indicating the dance floor. ‘I was going to shut up shop when they finish. There’s been no play tonight, as such.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Do that. I just needed to ask you, in person, if you’ve heard anything from Rick since he did his disappearing act. I know you two were close.’
‘No, Sir.’ Alex’s mouth went into a hard line. ‘I’d like to catch up with him, though. He’s let me down, too. I vouched for him.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ I said, with a shrug. ‘It’s not your fault. None of us saw it coming. I doubt he did himself.’
‘Why are you asking me now, Sir?’ Alex looked as if he was expecting bad news, and I had plenty to give him. When I told him about the million pounds he uttered a short, sharp laugh. ‘The girl’s hardly worth that, Sir.’
‘It’s not just about the girl, Alex, for fuck’s sake.’ I ran my hand through the front of my hair in frustration. ‘It’s the family. It’s a matter of trust…loyalty. It has to be sorted.’
‘So what do you want me to do, Sir?’
Alex leaned in towards me, listening intently as I detailed my intentions for the following evening.
Four
Her
It wasn’t until the next morning that I remembered about the message he’d written on the business card. I woke late, and Liv had long gone. I felt guilty. It was all right for me to be up late, but she had work, and Max would tear her off a strip if she was anything but focused. After last night, I had a hard time believing she’d be able to keep her eyes open. And Leo had caused some sort of damage in the living room, not to mention the tension he’d created between Liv and me.
God, why did he have to be such a nightmare when he’d been drinking? I knew it was partly my fault. He always got frustrated if I didn’t speak to him but, after everything that’d happened, I hadn’t been able to face it, and he made no allowance for that. He just didn’t get it.
I sat up and swang my legs over the side of the bed, sighing. Footballers…they were all the same. They just didn’t get that other people had feelings, besides them. I’d heard so many of the other WAGs say the same that I was under no illusion that my problems were anything special.
I pushed myself up off the bed, noticing that my arm hurt. My shoulder ached and, as I turned my head to look towards it, I noticed a cluster of bruises across the top of my arm. Finger marks. I ran my hands across my thighs. They were sore as well. I had no doubt I’d find similar evidence of his brutality, seared across them, when I took off my bottoms.
Why did he have to be such an asshole? He could be so sweet, when he was sober. It was why I’d found it so hard to pull away from him. We had such a history; together since we were eighteen and Leo had been nothing but a hopeful youth team player. We’d been so close back then, before the pressure of joining the footballing elite had turned him into a self-obsessed drinker, battling the bottle.
He hated himself for it, I knew, and it was this frustration that he turned so often onto me. And it was because I understood, that I’d continually made allowances for him, telling myself it would get better and that he wasn’t a bad guy really. I’d turned a blind eye to so many things, believing we were as strong as he’d always insisted, but I’d been wrong. He was a bad guy. I knew that now, and I was an idiot.
Even so, I couldn’t help worrying about him. How’d he got home last night? I hoped he hadn’t missed training. He was clearly in enough trouble already, and it might be the end of his career if he went skidding off the rails now. For a moment, I felt so guilty that I considered calling him, just to check he was okay.
I stood up and pulled off my PJ bottoms. Sure enough, there were purplish bruises smeared across the insides of my thighs. No. No phone calls. No contact. Period. I had to stay strong. But, God, it had been a night and a half.
That, on the heels of everything that had preceded it, made me shake my head and sit down again. The group of guys…the incident in the foyer…the walk along the embankment…it all came flooding back. And my ridiculous belief that he’d liked me. That guy – that Filth Monger. I groaned aloud. I must’ve been perfect fodder for him. No wonder he’d been so interested in me. Whatever he’d expected to get, he’d been disappointed. He’d kissed me, but he’d got no further than that. Just dropped me home and given me that damned card. I covered my face with my hands, as I recalled reading it.
That was when it hit me. He’d written a message on it. I remembered it clearly now. He’d reached towards me to get the card, then again to get a pen from the glove box. No wonder Leo had freaked. It probably had looked like he was kissing me and, just because I’d left him – just because he’d screwed another woman – didn’t mean he’d play fair and accept it was over. Leo didn’t play fair. He was a footballer, for Christ’s sake.
I stepped back into my PJs and rushed downstairs. As I entered the living room, I paused and looked around me. Liv had straightened up the coffee table, and it seemed to be okay. The real damage was to the fireplace. A huge crack ran through the tiles on one side of the surround, and I could only stare at it for a moment or two, in horror. It was a beautiful surround. Art Deco and original, I was pretty sure. I was going to have to sort it, and soon.
God, she must be regretting ever inviting me to stay. I shook my head and sighed again. Everything was such a crock of shit, and it was mainly my fault. If he hadn’t seen me being dropped off by another man, he might have been more reasonable, and Liv’s fireplace might still be in one piece. I needed to get my act together, before anything worse happened. Mr Arrogant was right. The way I was behaving, I was going to end up damaged, if not dead.
The thought of him reminded me of what I was doing in the living room, and I looked over, tentatively, at the wastepaper basket. The card was still there on the top, the black letters indistinguishable, but still very much evident. I shuddered as I recalled, yet again, the words written on it. I hardly wanted to look, to see what he’d written; yet, at the same time, I was compelled to read it.
I reached down and picked it up, almost dropping it, my fingers trembled so much. I turned it over. The writing on the back was in black ink. The first thing that struck me was the vibrancy of it; firm and decisive, the letters clear and strong, leaning forward at an angle that suggested force and determination. It might just have been where he was rushing, but I knew it wasn’t. The handwriting suited him, entirely. The second thing that struck me was what he’d written. It took me a moment or two for it to sink in, for the message behind it to hit me. Of all the things I’d expected to read, this hadn’t even figured. I flushed anew, feeling at the same time softened, and angry.
24/7 counselling, it read. No appointment necessary – tell them I sent you. If it makes no difference, call me.
There was a number hastily scrawled underneath. I just stared at it blankly.
‘Oh, great,’ I said aloud, as the implication of it hit home. ‘He thinks I’m crazy.’
I went to throw it back in the bin, before changing my mind and closing my hand around it. At least it wasn’t a proposition, although, even as I thought it, I knew I’d been hoping, somewhere deep inside myself, it would be.
He was right, of course. I was…not mad, exactly, but not entirely sane either. Maybe I ought to take him up on the offer. At least he seemed to care, and he clearly wasn’t interested in me romantically. I was surprised how much the realisation stung me, even though I’d known it was pretty unlikely, considering how I’d behaved in the F Bar.
I opened my hand again and looked at the card one more time. 24/7 counselling. God, he was by far the most beautiful, intriguing man I’d ever met, and he thought I had a screw loose. It was the perfect beginning to the day. Could it get any better than this?
