27. Vicky has no idea #2
It was Saturday, and Mike had deliveries in London, so I said I’d wait for him at the cabin.
However, after he left, I was invaded by all the Hardings en masse, plus, Lottie and Hayley.
They said they wanted me at Buckingham Manor for a family day, and now that my jailer was away, they’d come to steal me back.
Ollie was the one to describe Mike as my jailer.
Apparently, he wasn’t overly impressed that Mike had been hogging me all week .
I’d actually had a good day with them all.
Hetty came over too, with Felix’s mother, Bianca, and the Buckingham staff had made us all afternoon tea with scones and small sandwiches, including the plain cheese ones that I could eat.
Florrie, Hayley, and I had spent over an hour looking at the hedgerow to watch for the family of voles Florrie had spotted.
But I missed Mike.
I turned to Claire as we walked up the big lawn towards the house.
“Honestly, Claire.” I shielded my eyes from the sun so I could look at her. “It really is totally illogical for you to carry guilt. I’m very grateful to have been allowed in Buckingham Manor at all and?—”
My words cut off when I realised Claire had stopped in the middle of the lawn, her arms straight down by her sides, and her hands bunched into fists.
“Vicky, if you ever refer to yourself as being grateful to be in the home that you, by blood, are entitled to, I genuinely will lose my shit. You are Dad’s daughter, you are my sister , and you fucking well deserve to be here as much as anyone else. Understand me?”
“Are you angry?” I asked in a small voice.
Claire closed her eyes as her jaw clenched.
“Yes, Vicky,” she said, and I flinched, but then she opened her eyes, and her expression softened. “I’m very fucking angry, but mostly, at myself. Not at you. And I would feel a lot better if you would get angry with me too, okay?”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Um… maybe I could come up with something to be angry with you about.Do you always recycle?”
Claire’s frown faded into a smile at my question. “I don’t like rinsing out the plastic containers that raw chicken comes in. Sometimes I’ll just chuck them in the normal bin dirty.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, well, I am angry with you now.”
“Good,” she said, starting off again towards the house.
“Seriously, Claire,” I said, jogging after her to catch up. “Maybe you could put the containers in the dishwasher? Then you wouldn’t have to be involved with the chicken gunk and?—”
Claire laughed as we came into the boot room. “Vics, I promise, I will clean out the chicken gunk from now on, or at least, I’ll ask the staff to do it. Happy?”
I blew out a relieved sigh, and she laughed again. Then I heard Mike’s voice through the wall. He was talking to Margot.
“Go on then,” said Claire, and I pushed out of the boot room to the main hallway. But just as I was about to open the door to the kitchen, I paused when I heard my name.
“Vicky has no idea about your sham investment company,” Mike said, his voice clipped and annoyed. “And you won’t be telling her, either.”
“We’ve gone over this, Mike. Of course I won’t tell her that I’m behind Highcliffe Investments.
That’s the whole point. She has to think your relationship with her was completely organic, and that you came to your senses on your own.
I don’t want her to know that a little incentive was required from me.
Just remember, don’t hurt her. Without my money, your business would be on its knees by now.
If you keep making her happy, I’m sure there’ll be more capital available from Highcliffe Investments on the horizon.
You could do with a new van, for example. ”
My hand dropped to my side from where it was hovering over the door handle, and I took a step back, bumping into Claire, who was just behind me.
The ringing in my ears was too loud to hear anything more as my vision went blurry.
Mike at the gala dinner when he’d never gone to one before.
Mike looking after me when I had a meltdown.
Mike’s look of disgust when he’d delivered my coffee table all those weeks ago. How he told me he wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole.
I nodded my head a couple of times, muttering, “Okay, okay. Alright. Yes.” Because honestly, it made perfect sense. And it tracked with the rest of my relationships.
Either people were there under familial obligation or pecuniary interest—and Mike Mayweather was no different.
Claire touched my shoulder, and I flinched away. I could see her lips moving fast, but the buzzing in my ears meant I couldn’t hear the words she was saying.
I stumbled back a few steps, and the kitchen door flew open.
Mike’s huge frame filled the doorway, his face pale as he stared at me with horror-stricken eyes.
His lips were moving too, and although I could feel the room vibrating with the timbre of his low voice, I couldn’t make out his words either.
Then he moved towards me, and I did hear a high-pitched sound of distress.
Mike flinched, and I realised it was coming from me.
I held my hand up in front of me to ward him off, and he stopped his approach, hands up in surrender as if I was a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.
At the back of my mind, I knew I needed to get control of myself.
This situation was embarrassing enough without going into a full-blown meltdown.
I didn’t think my pride would ever recover if a being-paid-to-be-with-me Mike had to carry me out of the Manor.
So I swallowed, squared my shoulders, and stood my ground. I thought back to the techniques Abdul had taught me, taking deep, slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“M-Margot,” I started to say, then broke off when I realised how shaky my voice sounded. I swallowed and cleared my throat before I spoke again. “I’ve just realised that I have to be back in London to prepare for the meeting tomorrow.”
“Vicky, baby, please.” I could hear Mike’s voice now.
He sounded panicked, desperate almost. But his guilt simply didn’t interest me.
He’d seen an opportunity, and he’d taken it.
God knows, I’d been stalking him for long enough—he probably thought he could kill two birds with one stone: get paid and eventually get me out of his life permanently.
“You don’t understand. It was never about the money. I didn’t even know that Margot?—”
“What wasn’t about the goddamn money?” Ollie clipped as he strode into the house. I closed my eyes, my humiliation now complete. “What the fuck are you talking about, Mayweather?”
“This is all a misunderstanding,” cried Margot, her face paling, “I invested in Mike’s company, and well… I may have encouraged Mike to?—”
“Fucking hell, Mum,” snapped Ollie, completely furious now. “What on earth have you done now?”
“I’m with Vicky because I want to be with her,” said Mike to Ollie before turning back to me. “I’m with you because I want to be, sweetheart. Please. I love you. Please, Vicky, you have to believe me.”
I wanted to believe him, I really, really did. But too many negative voices lived in my head:
Ice princess.
Freak.
Empty inside.
Why can’t you just be normal?
Why do you ruin everything?
Are you her carer or something?
Of course, he’d want to be paid. Carers were paid, lovers were not.
“I would have given you the money,” I whispered. “If you’d have asked, I would have given you anything.”
“You piece of shit,” Ollie roared as he launched himself at Mike, taking them both down to the floor.
“What the fuck is going on?” shouted Felix as he ran in through the door, followed by Lucy, Lottie, Hayley and Florrie.
I edged away as Felix started trying to pull Ollie off Mike, who didn’t seem to be punching back. Years of practice, of trying to be invisible in this house finally paid off as I darted into the space behind the pantry and through a corridor that I knew led outside to the driveway.
Now what? My car and driver were in London.
Then a spray of gravel showered my feet, and I took a startled step back. I blinked at Ollie’s Aston Martin in front of me. The window went down, and Claire looked up at me from the driver’s seat, sunglasses and a determined expression on her face.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”