Chapter Six #2
would protect her. He would be her knight. If Vivian wanted to work cases, he
would ensure she didn’t get hurt. What Vivian wanted, Vivian got.
Therapy really had made him her slave, but that was because
over the course of talking he realized he wasn’t wrong to marry Andrea. He
couldn’t have known she would lie. And he didn’t hate her. She was desperate.
She was the mother of his nephews, who were innocent.
He’d paid Andrea’s rent because he loved Christopher. He’d
paid for things directly so none of it went anywhere but to help his nephews.
He’d talked to William about how it had made him feel.
Because he was a man who had feelings.
Weak. Pathetic. Good. Like he was doing something right,
despite the fact that he had every reason to want that woman poor and hungry.
Somewhere in the back of his head he’d asked the question.
What would Vivian want him to do?
“His name is Tarquin. He’s the heir to the Lindley Earldom,”
Oliver was saying.
Mal frowned. “Tarquin? Did they want him to be an absolute
douchebag?”
“I think it was a family name,” he replied.
Vivian’s shoulders went back and her spine straightened.
Tarquin reached for her wrist.
“We need to hear what they’re saying,” Oliver said.
They quietly moved closer.
“I made a mistake.” Tarquin wore an expensive suit and had a
soft expression on his face.
“You aren’t on the invite list.” Vivian sounded colder than
he’d ever heard her.
“I came with a friend. I came because you won’t take my
calls.” He was using a soothing voice. Like Vivian was some wild animal he
needed to tame. “How can we sort this if you don’t answer?”
Good girl. Vivian wasn’t one to suffer fools lightly. He
should know that.
He didn’t want to be a fool when it came to her. Not
anymore.
Vivian stood her ground. “I won’t take your calls because
we’re done.”
“We don’t have to be.” Tarquin wasn’t giving up. “Vivian, I
was wrong to lie to you. I was wrong to think I could ever want another woman.
Darling, my mother was pushing me. Cecily is a family friend.”
Her spine was perfectly straight, and though he couldn’t see
her face, he was certain she was staring at that arsehole with a steely gaze.
“I believe your words were something like Cecily is elegant and perfect wife
material and I’m the perfect side chick. Good in bed, but not good enough to
get serious about. Except you told me you were serious. Tarquin, I do not care
about you. I do not want to see you again. Please leave me alone.”
Tarquin’s jaw went tight. “Look here, Viv. Your friend’s
uncle is making things difficult for me. I need you to call him off. We can do
it the easy way or… Well, let’s say I have some photos you probably don’t want
getting out.”
And Mal was done.
“Don’t kill him,” Oliver said under his breath. “Not here,
at least.”
Mal strode up.
Tarquin shot him a look of disgust. “Get out of here. I’m
talking to my girlfriend.”
Vivian’s eyes went wide when she saw Mal there. He looked
her way.
“Vivian, would it bother you if I took out the trash?” Mal
asked.
There were tears on her cheeks. They made Mal feel like he’d
been kicked in the gut.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this,” she said quietly.
“Unfortunately, it looks like we have some unfinished business.”
Tarquin smirked. “Yes, we do. I’ve got a car downstairs
waiting. We should do this in private.”
Mal stood in front of her. “She’s leaving with you over my
dead body.”
“Mal, I appreciate this but…”
Oliver stepped in, his cell still in hand. “Yes, I’m going
to need you to find those pictures and erase them.” He listened for a moment.
“Seriously? That fast? Bugger should have protected himself better. Thanks,
sis.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “Those photos that I assume you took
illegally are now in my sister’s possession. I believe you’ll find she’s also
taken over your social media. Sorry, mate. She’s stuck in Bulgaria and she’s
bored. Ruining the lives of shit stains is a fun hobby for her.”
“What if he has backups?” Mal asked.
Oliver’s expression went cold. “Oh, he’s going to have far
more to worry about than whether Clive Weston is keeping him out of the good
clubs.”
“What the fuck do you think a playboy like you can do?”
Tarquin asked, his eyes narrow and every word perfectly arrogant. “You think I
haven’t heard the rumors? I don’t believe them. You made them up trying to get
laid. You’re a pathetic, trust-fund idiot who can barely stand most nights.
You’re lying.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” Oliver leaned in, and his voice
went low. “Keep believing I’m nothing more than a useless rich kid. I love it.
It makes it more fun when I prove I’m not.”
“Sami has the pictures?” Vivian asked, her voice trembling.
Oliver nodded. “They won’t get out. I promise. You’re safe.”
She turned to Mal. “Malcolm, I would appreciate you
escorting this man out. He was not invited.”
It would be his greatest pleasure.
Tarquin frowned. “I’d like to see you try. I’m noble. That
still means something in this country.”
“Yes, it means I outrank you.” Clive Weston stood in the
doorway looking every inch the duke in his tailored suit and expensive shoes.
His dark hair was graying at the temples, but it merely made the man look even
more authoritative. Malcolm had met him a few times when he came to The Garden
to talk to Damon. “You’re a vile piece of shit, and I’m going to let everyone
know it. If you leave now, I’ll only ruin you. If you don’t, I’ll take your
whole family down, and I won’t do it politely. Mr. Mays, would you be so good
as to show this unwanted pest the door?”
“No need.” Tarquin straightened his suit and walked toward
the lift.
Mal started after him, thinking of how he could murder the
man. He would need to get away with it. It was clear Vivian needed a keeper. Or
at least a man who would follow after her and get rid of any guy who wasn’t
good enough for her.
Vivian put a hand on his arm, stopping him gently. “He’s not
worth it, Mal.”
“He is to me,” Mal muttered but stayed where he was because
he would do what Vivian wanted. After all, if Sami was bored, she was likely
taking the man apart right now, and she would be far more effective than a
punch to the nose.
Tarquin’s eyes went to where her hand touched him.
“Seriously, Viv? Are your roots showing? You find your next man in the
dumpster? What is he? A bodyguard the idiot’s father hired?”
Oliver laughed. “He’s former SAS and more of a man than
you’ll ever be.”
He thought she would pull away and put some distance between
them. Instead, her arm slipped into his and she leaned against him. “He’s the
man who’ll murder you when I’m not looking, and Ollie will help hide the body.”
“I’ll help, too,” Clive offered. “I own a lot of land. Easy
to lose a body in the moors.”
“You’ll regret this, Vivian.” The lift doors opened, and
Tarquin the Mighty Asshole slipped inside and was gone.
He felt Vivian step back.
“I’m sorry for the fuss, Mr. Weston,” Vivian said in a dull
monotone. Her expression was blank as a doll’s. “Malcolm, thank you. I’m sorry
you had to see that. I think I’ll go and say goodnight to Sophy.”
“Or we could talk about it.” The words were out of Mal’s
mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t have a right to ask her to talk to
him. Not after how he treated her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Talk?”
Yes. This was what he should have avoided. “I think you’re
upset, love. And rightfully so. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Oliver looked to Clive Weston. “This is where we leave them,
I think.”
“But it’s getting good,” Weston argued, but walked back into
the party with Oliver.
“Love?”
It seemed like Vivian needed a place to put all her anger
and fear. “It’s a common phrase here.”
“Don’t call me that again.” She stared at him. “And I’ve
changed my mind. Yes.”
He was confused. “Yes?”
“To the purely D/s relationship,” she replied with clear
challenge. “And I need a session. Now.” She turned and started walking into the
hallway to the side. “Are you coming or not, Sir?”
This was a terrible idea.
But he followed her anyway.
* * * *
Vivian felt like screaming, but she wasn’t going to
allow that massive ass to control her like that.
He’d taken pictures? When? She certainly hadn’t posed for
any. She wouldn’t.
So he’d likely had a hidden camera. He probably had video of
her at her most vulnerable.
The idea that he could release them and shame her parents
any time he wanted to… It made her sick. She hadn’t loved the man, but she’d
liked him. She’d liked the him she thought he was.
Then Mal walked up. Big, gorgeous, masculine Malcolm, who
was apparently doing well in therapy. Good for whoever came next.
She walked toward the small cloakroom to the side. It was
warm outside, so they hadn’t staffed it this evening. She knew where it was
because she’d helped Clive plan this party for Sophy. She knew no one would be
there.
What was she doing? She’d been humiliated in front of three
men she respected and now she was making a fool of herself.
But he was walking behind her.
This restless feeling in her gut was killing her. She didn’t
want to be this woman who wilted because she couldn’t have exactly what she
wanted. She’d told herself that working cases was a silly idea for a woman who
spent half her life training in a highly respected field. She could have a
great career.
And she felt like a failure.
All her friends were getting their shit together. They knew
what they wanted. They were settling down and Vivian…
“What do you need?”
She realized she’d been staring at the door, and Mal was
stopped behind her.
What did she need? She needed… Fuck it all she needed him,
but was this fair to him? She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. It’s been a
terrible day, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
His hand slipped up to the nape of her neck, and she felt
that touch like lightning through her. “My name is Sir or Master in this place.
I asked you a question, brat. What do you need? A spanking? Some rough sex?
I’ll give you whatever you ask whenever you ask it.”
His grip tightened, and she felt her knees go weak. She did