Chapter 28
Ididn’t know why my body responded the way it did to Lucian.
I had no idea how to prove he was breaking the law.
There was no way for me to understand the numbers that I had found in that file.
If I didn’t get out of Manwarring’s house, out from under his thumb, and more importantly, out of his bed soon, then I never would.
Lucian Manwarring was not a stupid man, and worse, he was not an unobservant man.
Most men didn’t pay attention to the world around them, especially the women around them. If it didn’t directly involve them, they wouldn’t care.
Lucian wasn’t like most men.
If he thought something was off, if he had any inkling that I was planning something, then he would make a move to stop it.
He was a master at defense, so I needed to make sure he didn’t think I was on the offensive.
So, I did the only thing I thought I could do. I was a good girl the rest of that night, with nothing but ‘yes, sir’ from my lips. When we were back around people, I was perfectly poised and behaved as a good ward should. Nobody would have any reason to expect that I was walking around the field without my underwear and my ass still aching from the riding crop and his cock.
I got up and dressed as I was expected to do, and I even had a pleasant breakfast before Lucian left for work.
He was even gracious enough to extend my allowance—it went from two hundred dollars a month to two thousand. It still wasn’t enough, but I couldn’t complain. I refused to complain. Instead, I smiled graciously and thanked him profusely. I didn’t even shy away when he muttered something under his breath about thanking him the proper way after dinner.
After he left for work, I went up to my room and just waited.
Once what I thought was an appropriate amount of time went by, I went downstairs. I didn’t stop to speak to the butler and pretended I didn’t hear him when he called for me. Just because I didn’t treat the staff like garbage, didn’t mean I was willing to be talked down to by some uppity English butler.
The Uber I ordered was waiting at the curb, and I took it to the nearest library.
Signing up for my first New York City library card in my twenties seemed ridiculous.
But there I was.
I just needed to use the computers, and I had seen on some crime shows that the easiest way for people not to see your search history is to use a public computer. I thought about spending part of my allowance on a small laptop or tablet, but I wasn’t sure if Lucian had some way to track my internet.
I knew his butler would rat me out if I asked for the WIFI password.
Three hours later, I was sitting at a coffee shop down the road, sipping my caramel macchiato and looking over the stack of pages I had printed out.
I considered looking into my legal options while at the library, but what could I find with Internet Explorer in two hours that my lawyer, with his years of experience and law school, couldn’t figure out? No, my energy was going to be better spent on finding a job so I could support myself.
Maybe if I got in front of a judge and proved that I was mentally stable, of sound mind and body, and financially responsible, then he would reverse the decision and give me my life back.
“Stella? Is that you?” a familiar and almost musical voice asked.
I looked up to see a woman I didn’t recognize at first.
She was wearing a pantsuit from at least three seasons ago that didn’t quite fit her right. She was gorgeous, her auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail, highlighting her light blue eyes, which had dark bags under them. She was a beautiful girl who looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown and holding her sanity together with duct tape. A sentiment I could very much relate to.
“I’m sorry, do I…”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I think we’ve only met a few times. I’m Emma Zeigler. My brother is…”
“Of course. Your brother was going to marry Charlotte. We met at the engagement party.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
It was Emma, but she looked so different. At the engagement party, she had been dressed in a stunning gown, her face was perfection, and even her gorgeous hair was done in a complicated updo. She was absolutely radiant, and I remembered being so jealous.
This girl got to live the fairy tale fantasies that I’d had as a child. She was a wealthy, stunning woman with a fantastic accent, and she had a title.
“That’s right,” she said again, her now worn smile not reaching her tired eyes.
“Would you like to join me?” I asked, not forgetting all of my manners.
“Uh...” She looked around for a moment and looked like she was going to say no, then changed her mind at the last moment. “Well, maybe for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I smiled and signaled for the waiter. “How have you been?”
“Well, I suppose you have heard the gossip about my situation and family?”
“No, actually, I hadn’t. I’m sorry I’ve been kind of out of the loop lately.”
“Oh, that’s right. I am so sorry I heard about your parents. That must have been absolutely awful.” She reached over and laid her hand on mine in a moment of true sympathy that felt genuine, and I appreciated the connection.
After the accident, when I woke up in the hospital, the room was full of flowers and condolences, but with the exception of Charlotte and Amelia, I hadn’t heard from any of my friends. I guess it proved who my real friends were.
Emma looked down at the papers that I was holding and gave me a sad smile. “I suppose your circumstances have changed like mine have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your job hunt. That’s actually what I’m doing here as well, applying for a waitress position.”
“A waitress?”
“After Charlotte and my brother’s engagement broke, a lot of information came out of the woodwork about my brother. It seems my family owed several creditors, and they were counting on Charlotte’s money to pay them off. When that clearly wasn’t going to happen, they called in the debts. My brother has run off somewhere to avoid prosecution, leaving me and my mother completely destitute. They even stripped our titles.”
“So you’re looking at waitressing?”
“I was an aristocrat. I was born and bred to be an aristocrat. The only career I was prepared for was being a wife to another aristocrat. I have no skills, no experience, and nothing but my willingness to learn. Unfortunately, five years of experience supervising event planners and choosing themes for parties does not constitute a successful resume. So I’m having to do... what do Americans call it? Pull myself up by my bootstraps?”
I couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “That is what we call it, at least, I think. Have you found any good leads?” I asked, looking at my stack of papers, which so far had been full of jobs I wasn’t qualified for, entry-level positions that required degrees that I didn’t have, and positions doing exactly what Emma was trying to do—waiting tables.
I was delusional to think that that would cover rent anywhere in the city.
“Nothing,” Emma said, leaning her head back. “I have had to sell the few possessions that Mother and I still had, all of them going to different consignment stores across the city. More than once, I was accused of stealing my own family heirlooms.” She rolled her eyes. “But that has given me enough to put Mother and me up in a small apartment, but the money is running out quickly, so I need to get more coming in immediately.”
I felt for her.
Worse than that, talking to Emma was making me realize exactly how much of an uphill battle I had before me.
I had no safety net anymore. If I tried to leave Lucian and stand on my own feet, I would crash and burn.
I had no real-world skills. I literally had no idea how to boil water, let alone hold down a job. My mother had always bragged about the “career” that I had when I was twenty, but that was just being a social media influencer.
Truth be told, I didn’t even work at that. I didn’t make a lot of money, and I had no real talent or even the business to monetize it properly. I just banked on the fact that I was pretty and rich.
I was no longer rich, so why would anybody want to listen to what I had to say?
How long until I had to sell my own clothes? Would I even be able to sell my own clothes, or would Lucian keep all of that, as well as the rest of my family’s estate and inheritance?
There was always the option of using my beauty while I still had it to my advantage, but if that was what I was going to do, why not just stay with Lucian?
At least he was good in bed and knew how to make me come.
Emma looked like she was barely holding it together, and if she couldn’t, what made me think I could?
“Have you gotten any interviews?” I asked, hopeful that Emma could shed some glimmer of hope on this dire situation.
“I’ve had a few interviews.” She nodded. “But none that were acceptable.”
“What do you mean acceptable? Like they didn’t pay enough?”
Emma tipped back her head and laughed, a light musical laugh that I was sure was taught to her in the finest boarding schools in Europe—probably a finishing school that taught her how to laugh, when to laugh, and when to reach out and sympathetically touch someone’s hand. My thoughts were racing, and I could feel my breath speeding up. The last thing I wanted to do was have a panic attack in the middle of this cafe.
“Unfortunately, dear, nothing pays enough. I don’t even know what is enough anymore. I don’t think I ever did. My childhood did not prepare me for the realities of life. I was brought up never to look at a price tag. I never thought about money. I don’t even really understand how it works. All I know is that so far nothing has paid enough to cover basic living expenses for two people. I’m going to have to try to find three or four jobs but right now, I can’t even find one that doesn’t include some shady backroom deal with a manager who wants to grope me. God forbid Mother or I get sick. The health care here may be state of the art, but I don’t know how normal people afford it.”
“That sounds awful.” I wished I could help her. “Are you just looking at waitressing jobs?”
“No, I’ve been looking for anything I can find, but I have no skills or training. I can have delightful conversations, but I never even learned how to type.”
“Because it ruins your nails.” I nodded.
In certain circles, that made complete sense, though now, looking at my life through a different lens, it felt ridiculous.
“Because it would ruin my nails.” She nodded as if she felt as jilted by our class’s restraints as I did.
“So if you’re looking for work, I take it that your parents left you in the same type of situation that my brother left me in.”
How did I tell this woman that no, my father had not left me destitute, but every penny I had or that he had was stolen by a man who wanted to keep me as a trophy wife?
That I had the option to live my life in the same level of opulence that was taken from her.
She and I were both raised to be wives of billionaires.
That opportunity was taken away from her, and I was fighting it just because I didn’t choose the billionaire.
That made me feel so ungrateful and spoiled.
I didn’t have to do this. I didn’t have to look for a job. I could just stay at home and be a good girl to a man who I knew would never love me. But I could grow to love.
And he may not be falling over his feet to woo me, but I didn’t think I’d respect him if he did. Why was I so unhappy? Was it because he made me come too hard?
The life that was being forced upon me was the one that she had expected to live, and here I was, fighting to what? Romanticize poverty?
I might have been naive to how the world worked, but even I knew there was a difference between feeling hungry because I was on a new fad diet, and feeling hungry because I couldn’t afford food.
“Something like that.” I smiled sadly, not wanting her to pry.
“Well, there is something to be said for our new situations.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, at least our future is in our own hands now. Yes, it is going to be much harder. And we may not get the same material objects that brought us joy before. But there is something to be said about having parts of your life in your own hands. My brother no longer dictates who I see. He does not get to choose my friends, my acquaintances, or who I allow to court me. He has no say. If I decide that I want to get married, my brother will not be striking a deal to make it happen. I will never have to wonder if my husband adores me or my money. Because I don’t have any,” she laughed.
“How much of that do you really mean?”
“All of it. I don’t know if my newfound freedom is better yet. I suppose it would be if I could land a job that would at least cover rent and basic necessities. I could learn to live without Chanel and get my perfume from samples at department stores and in magazine flyers. I can even learn how to make a simple roast chicken if I need to. But I don’t know if I can learn to love a man who sees me as a contract and the means to an heir.”
I sat back on the uncomfortable plastic-covered wooden bench and really looked at Emma.
The waiter came over to get her order, and she reached into her purse to count the few dollars that she had left, giving me the time to really look at her for the first time.
At the engagement party, I saw her glamor. I saw the beautiful doll with the title I envied.
When she walked into the cafe, I saw a woman struggling, but I tried to look beyond that. I saw her grace. Not the grace and poise that is taught at finishing schools, although she had that in spades as well. But there was something truly graceful about her mannerisms.
She managed to be polite, soft, and gentle, but not weak. She had managed to unknowingly make me look at my own situation in several different lights in the span of a few moments.
I went from naively determined to guilty and wondered if I was wasting an opportunity to retain a lifestyle. But now I was filled with hopeful determination.
I realized that I didn’t have to be the princess locked in a tower or the pauper begging for scraps on the corner.
“Coffee’s on me,” I said with a smile. “Get whatever you like.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to take advantage.”
“No, it’s absolutely fine. I’m not as wealthy as I once was, but I have a little while yet before I’m in dire straits. I’m just being preemptive and trying to find something to occupy my time. My therapist says having an occupation is a good way to keep from the grief,” I lied.
She gave me a graceful smile and sat back in the chair. “Well, then, in that case, I’ll take an Earl Gray latte, please.”
“Coming right up.” The waiter nodded, giving her heart eyes before he scurried off.
“So I also need the work for money,” I clarified, not wanting her to think I saw myself as above her. “But I still have a bit of a nest egg that gives me enough wiggle room to last a few months.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I still recommend finding work as soon as possible. It is a madhouse out there, and it’s better to be prepared. Trust me, I’m finding out the hard way. The worst position for any woman to be in is one where she doesn’t have options and is forced to play a part, be it waitress or trophy.”
“You said you had experience planning events?”
She was right. The worst position for a woman was in a position without options or support. Clearly, the men in our lives who were supposed to provide for us had failed. By accident or intent, it didn’t matter. The fact was that we were bred to rely on them, and they’d failed us. We needed to help ourselves and each other.
“I have experience guiding event planners. That’s hardly the same thing as being an event planner.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes, I suppose I did. I loved watching how a party came together and how a dull, empty ballroom could transform into something truly magical. Much like Charlotte’s engagement party. Though I heard her wedding was something magnificent to behold.”
“It really was.” I nodded. “Have you considered working for an event planner? I know a few, and I’m sure I could get you an interview.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up.
“Absolutely.” I smiled.
It was the least I could do.
She had been put into a situation where she didn’t have options, and she was making the best of it in a way I didn’t think I could have. I had been put in a terrible situation, but I had options.
I wasn’t willing to give up everything, but I wasn’t willing to be Lucian Manwarring’s trophy wife.
I wanted my lifestyle and my freedom, and I didn’t want him to win.
Seeing me slinging hash at some greasy spoon or begging on a corner was just as bad as begging for attention or money in his bed.
If he wanted a trophy wife, I was going to make him look elsewhere.