The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  ‘I sat on his knees. I loved him. Before he lost his mind he knew I loved him. But the sickness, it turned his brain to mush and he could no longer tell the difference between true love and the lies of strangers. People who were only there for what they could get. Daddy, I love you. Always. Wherever you are.’

  Then it was Ivan’s turn. I looked up and his gaze met mine. I dragged my eyes away in confusion.

  I sat staring at the floor and listened to old stories about Robert. Things I never knew. He loved to hunt. I never knew. He could out drink any man. I never knew. There was so much I didn’t know. I only knew him when he was sick and diminished.

  My eyes became wet, but I did not even realize that I was crying until my ribs began to heave as if they were suddenly too full of sorrow. I put my head down and closed my eyes. It was good that he was gone. He was in pain. It was a good thing.

  Of course, I did not take the stand. I told him I wouldn’t. ‘Please, Robert, don’t make me do it.’ And he had smiled. ‘No, your love is pure. What is pure must never be examined. It will hurt the impure.’

  So I didn’t speak at his funeral service. Instead there would always be a part of me still dressed in full black, sitting on the front pew at his funeral, listening to ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd.’

  Chapter 4

  Tawny Maxwell

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEUgORVsECs

  There were six pallbearers dressed in black suits and white gloves. The gold handles glinted in the sunlight as they lifted the casket onto their shoulders. I saw Ivan go up to the man in front, tap him on the shoulder, and take his position. I stared at him. Why, he must have loved Robert too. I stood at the bottom of the church steps and watched them carefully load Robert into the back of the hearse.

  I tried to imagine him, lying in there as if sleeping. Finally peaceful.

  They closed the doors and I turned away and walked towards the convoy of stationary black cars. My car was at the head of the long line. As I was about to get into it I felt a hand on the sleeve of my coat. I turned around, startled.

  Rosalind smiled at me. Her dry-eyed crying had not smudged her make-up at all. Everything was perfectly in place.

  ‘Would you mind terribly if I rode in the car with you? Seeing that you are alone and ours is overcrowded with my obnoxious brother.’

  I didn’t want her in the car with me, but there were people all around us avidly watching the stepmother and daughter’s interaction, and I could hardly turn her down. Mercifully, the ride to the cemetery was a short one.

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  With a triumphant smile she stepped in front of me and slid into the car. She did not close the door as if she expected me to close it for her and go on over to the other side. I stood bemused, the color rising into my cheeks.

  Fortunately, Barry hurried around and closed the door. Looking at me kindly he said, ‘Come around to the other side, Mam.’

  I cleared my throat and, keenly aware of many eyes watching, followed him around the back of the car to the passenger door on the opposite side. Barry opened the door and I murmured my thanks and sat stiffly on the seat, leaving as much space between her and me.

  As soon as Barry turned out of the church’s driveway and into the main street, Rosalind ordered Barry to put the partition glass up.

  I turned to her, my face devoid of expression.

  Her face was equally drained of any emotion. ‘Can you tell me why we are all being summoned to Barrington for the reading of the will as if all of this was a particularly bad Hollywood production?’

  I frowned at her. ‘How else would the solicitor tell us what is in the will?’

  She sighed elaborately. ‘I realize that you are a bit of a redneck, but it is actually customary for all beneficiaries to simply receive written notification from the solicitor.’

  ‘Right,’ I said slowly. She said redneck like it was a bad thing. Still, it was in Hollywood movies that I learned of the custom of reading a will to a gathering of people.

  ‘I’ll take it then that you have no idea,’ she said coldly.

  I put on my sweet face. ‘No. Ivan made all the arrangements.’

  She narrowed her eyes skeptically and let them slide to my pendant. An ugly look crossed her thin, proud face. ‘Do you know the contents of my father’s will?’

  Suck it up buttercup. He didn’t leave it to you. ‘Not really. I guess we’ll know after the funeral.’

  ‘But most of it’s going to you, isn’t it?’

  I took a deep breath. This needed to be said. ‘You want his money, but you never once came to see him in the last six months.’

  Her eyes widened with fury. ‘How dare you lecture me on my relationship with my father?’

  ‘You hurt him when you never brought your children to see him once in the last two years. He wanted to get to know them.’

  ‘Are you mad? Do you think I would expose my children to that pedophile?’

  I gasped in shock. ‘How could you say that about your father?’

  She looked at my horrified expression with revulsion. ‘Why are you pretending to be so shocked? I can say that because it’s the truth.’

  ‘It is not,’ I said, holding on tightly to my temper.

  ‘How old were you when you came to him?’

  ‘I was seventeen,’ I said indignantly. How could she even think that about Robert?

  ‘I rest my case.’

  ‘He … we … didn’t do anything, then,’ I stammered. I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn’t. I had to protect my secret. Otherwise it would have been all for nothing.

  ‘God, you disgust me. Both of you.’

  She turned away from me and rapped smartly on the glass. When Barry put it down she ordered him to stop the car. As soon as the car came to a halt she got out. Before closing the door, she had one last parting shot for her stepmother.

  ‘Just in case no one told you. It’s not the done thing for the grieving widow to deck herself in her best jewelry to attend her husband’s funeral.’

  Slamming the car door, she walked to the next car in the procession, the car that she should have been in. I turned my head and watched her enter it and shut the door.

  I turned back to face the front. ‘Carry on, Barry,’ I whispered painfully.

  My hands were trembling. I touched my pendant and closed my eyes. Oh, Robert. How could she even think that about you? I hoped wherever he was he had not heard our nasty conversation.

  Quietly, Barry put on his stereo system and Nick Cave’s poignant and heartfelt song Into My Arms fills the car. No gesture could have been more appropriate at that moment. The unexpected thoughtfulness of that mostly silent man took me by such surprise that I could not even speak. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, mine full of silent gratitude, and his kind. I smiled and he nodded.

  When we arrived at the cemetery, I got out of the car, and Ivan strode up to me. His face was a like a thundercloud.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked harshly, his eyes sharp.

  His breath smoked. I looked up at him, still dazed. The wintry air invaded my lungs and stung my eyes. Did he also believe that Robert was a pedophile? Was that what everyone was thinking? I nodded.

  ‘Why did she get out of the car?’ he demanded.

  ‘It was nothing.’ I paused. My mind had gone blank, but he was staring at me with demanding eyes. ‘Er … she … wanted to know why we are having a reading of the will at the house and not getting written notifications.’

  ‘Why on earth did she ask you that? She knows damn well that I’m the executor of the will.’

  ‘Anyway, why are we having it done this way?’

  ‘Because I wanted it this way.’

  I looked at him curiously. ‘Why?’

  ‘I have my own reason. Now come on,’ he urged, and I fell into step with him. We walked briskly, our heads bowed on a path that glistened like white quartz.

  It was strange that my hurt and confused heart
should find the presence of that cold, hostile man reassuring and a comfort. I stole a glance at him. His face was closed and distant. He gave the impression that he was not even aware of me.

  As soon as we reached the freshly dug grave, the woman he had come with caught up with us and linked her arm through his. There was no mound of exposed soil. Everything was white and completely beautiful. A woman handed out pink rose stems. I held it in my gloved hands. I looked around at the assembled. We were the official mourners, come to pay our last respects.

  Our breaths rising in little visible puffs.

  During the whole simple ceremony, no one spoke. There was just the slight sound of people shuffling. Then the coffin was put on the wooden lattice that had been erected over the hole in the ground.

  Someone sang a song. Her voice was beautiful. It rose up in the cold, still air and seemed to hover over us. I put the pink rose I had been given on the casket and kissed the cold smooth wood before I moved on. I didn’t stay to watch anybody else. I was freezing cold. I walked quickly to the car and got into it. The interior was blissfully warm. I took my leather gloves off and rubbed my hands together. They were like ice.

  That was it. Robert’s funeral.

  I had survived it.

  Now there was the ordeal of the reading of the will to be endured.

  Chapter 5

  Tawny Maxwell

  Now I ain’t saying she’s a gold digger, but old fool that he was, he pulled up in a Benz and no pre-nup.

  The reading of the will had been set for 2.00pm in the music room, a bright rectangular space with many tall windows. It had a splendid German grand piano in it that nobody played. Robert told me that it was bought for Rosalind when she was a child, but she had refused to play it after a few lessons.

  Chairs had been brought in and arranged in two rows of semi-circles facing the antique writing table. Robert’s solicitor, Nathen Jeremly, sat at it. He lifted his head when I walked in and smiled professionally. James, the butler and Mary, the housekeeper were sitting with their spines upright on the last two chairs at the back. I smiled at them and, going to the first row, sat at the end of the semi-circle. Next to arrive were my two stepdaughters. They looked around haughtily before coming to the front row and sitting in the middle seats. Neither spared me a glance.

  Dr. Jensen arrived, nodded at me coldly, and took his seat next to Robert’s daughters. After him my stepson sauntered in, a glass of red wine in his hand. He caught my eye and smiled lazily at me. He made his way to the chair next to his sisters. They hissed something at him and he laughed.

  The chairs were quickly filled by some of Robert’s family. Most of whom I had never met. Last to arrive was Ivan. He did not take a chair but closed the doors and stood just inside them. I saw him nod at the solicitor.

  Nathen cleared his throat.

  ‘Well, looks like everyone is here,’ he began. ‘Here is the last will and testament of Robert James Maxwell.’

  He picked up the document and began to read it.

  ‘I, Robert James Maxwell, Barrington House, Bedfordshire, England, make oath and say as follows:

  For a long time, the words the solicitor was reading seemed like wind in the trees. A rustle. I heard a gasp of surprise and then a grateful sniff from the housekeeper and I vaguely heard the butler’s name mentioned. Of course, he made no discernable show of joy.

  One by one the drone of the solicitor’s voice referred to the relatives I did not even know existed. I only pulled out of my daze when I saw Dr. Jensen jump up from his chair.

  ‘After twenty years. After all I did for him,’ he spat. Shaking his head in disgust he stalked out of the room. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that Robert had not rewarded him. He was so loyal to Robert. I frowned wondering why Robert had done that to him. To the best of my knowledge Robert never once mentioned that he did not intend to properly reward him. The door slammed.

  I looked at my stepchildren. Their eyebrows were raised and they were exchanging surprised glances with each other.

  The solicitor cleared his throat.

  I started listening carefully. The next person was Rosalind. The solicitor read out the stipulation that Robert’s trust would pay her a lump sum settlement of a quarter of million and twenty thousand pounds monthly for life when she interrupted him furiously.

  ‘Twenty thousand pounds per month? Is this a joke?’

  The solicitor looked up, his face impassive. ‘Mrs. Montgomery, please be assured that everything you are hearing is the last will and testament of your father. I have arranged for a copy of the will to be couriered to you.’

  She jerked her chin towards him. ‘I’m not staying for this farce. I’ll contest this. It is perfectly obvious that he was not of sound mind.’ She turned towards me, her eyes burning with pure hatred. God! She looked as mad as a mule chewing on bumble bees. She stood and began to walk away, but then changed her mind and headed towards me. She stood over me. ‘Well, well, how clever you have been,’ she shrieked.

  I said nothing. My face was flaming with embarrassment. Everybody was looking at us.

  ‘You think you’ve won? You think you’ve got it all?’ she spat viciously.

  ‘I haven’t got it all,’ I said softly.

  ‘He left crumbs for us, his blood children, and the big prize for his trailer park child bride.’

  She swung her hand suddenly and it was so quick I did not have time to move my head, but the blow never came. I turned my head and Ivan had her hand in his grip. His face was like stone. She twisted her head and looked at him, her chest heaving with fury. ‘Stay out of this. You’re not even part of this family.’

  ‘That’s my ward,’ he bit out. ‘I’ve been entrusted with her well-being.’

  ‘Let go of my arm,’ she gritted.

  He released her arm. ‘Don’t force me to take an injunction out on you.’

  ‘She cheated him. He was ill,’ she cried.

  ‘He wasn’t ill, Rosalind. You may have been able to make that argument if you had not tried to have him declared incompetent six months ago, but he passed the battery of tests your team of doctors had run with flying colors.’

  ‘He became more ill after that.’

  ‘He wrote his will two years ago.’

  She frowned and then gasped. ‘As soon as he met her.’ She looked down at me and screeched, ‘What did you do to him, you little conniving bitch?’

  ‘That’s enough, Rosalind. Your husband is waiting outside. You should go home.’ Ivan’s voice was so cold and hard I jumped.

  ‘This is not the end of it,’ she promised before she stalked off. Bianca ran after her, but Dorian remained to hear that he too had been left exactly the same as Rosalind. A lifelong income of twenty thousand pounds and a quarter of a million pounds.

  He turned to look at me and sardonically raised his empty glass as if in a toast. I looked away.

  Then it was Ivan’s turn, and I was utterly surprised to find that there was no money for him at all. Not even a small token sum. All he had been left was a painting that he admired as a child.

  After Ivan it was my turn.

  The solicitor confirmed what Robert had told me. I had been given everything else. The entire Maxwell fortune.

  Chapter 6

  Tawny Maxwell

  The wake was a great success. It was exactly how Robert wanted it, with a sumptuous spread of food, champagne, singers and even fire-eaters performing on the snow covered grounds.

  In all the gaiety, music and people, I suddenly realized that I couldn’t feel Robert anymore. This was his house and this was a wake for him, but his spirit seemed to be nowhere.

  Stifling a desire to tell everyone to go home, I slipped out of the reception rooms filled with people and walked to his library. I paused for a moment before I opened the tall doors and went in. Immediately I was engulfed by the familiar smell of the room. Before he became truly ill this room used to smell of the tobacco from his pipe. Now it just smelt of old leather
and that cream he used to use.

  Inhaling deeply, I walked into the cold darkness. I felt as if the past lived in that darkness and I could simply walk into it. I journeyed deeper into the room and went up to his desk. I let my fingers trail on the polished wood surface. I switched on the table lamp. It threw a pool of yellow light on the polished wood and I thought of Robert sitting here, his head bowed, reading.

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ I breathed.

  ‘Hello, Mother,’ a voice drawled from the doorway.

  My spine stiffened. I turned around slowly.

  Dorian was standing at the doorway holding a glass of red wine. His handsome face was slightly flushed, his lips red, and his hair a little mussed. In the half-light he looked as beautiful as one of those Greek statues, but from the way he held the glass, with it slightly tipped to one side, told me he was more than a little drunk.

  ‘I’m not your mother,’ I said coldly.

  He took a sip of wine. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t hold that against you,’ he said slowly.

  I hoped my face did not show the disgust I felt. It never failed to amaze me how little of Robert remained in his children.

  ‘What do you want, Dorian?’ My voice sounded harsh in the empty room.

  He strolled towards me. Something about his unnaturally casual stance made me shudder. He stopped in front of me and the desire to take a step back was almost overpowering, but I held my ground.

  I was in my home. He was the intruder. What could he do to me? One scream and a whole host of people would come running. He was just trying to scare me, but there was nothing to fear. I was only helpless when my nail polish was wet, and even then I could still pull a trigger if I had to and he was just a spoilt rich kid. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had succeeded in rattling me.

  ‘Do you know I’ve always wanted to fuck you?’ he said conversationally.