Bedded by the Greek Billionaire. Kate Walker
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‘I don’t believe you—I won’t believe you. If you’d owned Manorfield then you’d have been here like a shot. Marty still lived here—he was still running the estate.’
‘Because I let him. Because it suited me. Marty was an older man—I wasn’t going to throw him out on the streets, even if he had been happy to treat me that way. And, besides, he knew what was needed here—he knew how to handle things. That also suited me. So I let him stay on.’
Angelos paused, took a slow sip of his drink and swallowed it down, his eyes still holding her shocked blue ones over the rim of the fine crystal glass.
‘If he’d lived longer, I’d have let him stay on a while. But not any more, Jessica. That concession was for Marty only—it ended when he died. Once that happened, Manorfield was mine and all mine. The will your stepfather made has no validity—none at all. There’s nothing for you to inherit, you see. He couldn’t leave you anything because he didn’t own anything—barely even the clothes that he stood up in. All the rest was mine.’
He paused, took another swallow of his drink and, as he did so, Jessica felt the first terrible tremors of shock, the trembling of her limbs that made her grateful for the fact that she was sitting down.
Tell Miss Marshall the position she’s in…
Tell Miss Marshall the position she’s in…
The words swung round and round in her head, gaining a terrible extra significance with each repetition. She knew now with a dreadful sense of inevitability just what was coming. And she knew that there was no way she could stop it.
She could only sit there and try to control her reactions as she waited for the axe to fall.
He took his time about it. And she knew that was because he was enjoying every moment of this.
‘The truth of the matter is, my dear Jessica, that you can’t inherit Manorfield or any part of it because I own it all—the house, the farms, every last single blade of grass. They are all mine. And you are left with precisely nothing. Not even a home. Because the Manor House is mine and I intend to live here from now on.’
‘No…’
Jessica could only sit and shake her head, struggling, wishing, hoping that by denying Angelos’s arrogant statement she could make it into a nightmare, make it unreal. This couldn’t be happening—it couldn’t…
But even when she looked at Simeon for help she knew that she was not going to get it. Marty’s solicitor was sitting at the desk, the papers in front of him, and the expression on his face, the way that he had done nothing to contradict Angelos’s coldhearted declaration left her without a single hope in her heart.
Everything that he had said was the truth. Every last appalling fact. And now she knew just why his arrival had filled her with such a sense of creeping dread. Why she had known as soon as he’d walked into the room that he was here to do something dreadful, something that would destroy every trace of her peace of mind.
The man she had called the Black Angel was back in her life—and it seemed that he had taken it over and turned it upside down. And it would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE
JESSICA sighed deeply, turned over for what felt like the millionth time that night and buried her face in the pillows.
‘Oh, that was horrible!’ she said aloud as she struggled to surface from the dark, clinging sleep that had held her. ‘Horrible!’
She had dreamed that the Black Angel was back in her life and that he…
She came fully awake in a rush, the total recollection of what had happened hitting her hard.
It hadn’t been a dream—a nightmare of the darkest, most terrible kind. It had all been appallingly, dreadfully real.
Twisting over and sitting up in the bed, she pushed her tangled hair back from her face and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall as she forced her reluctant mind to review all that had happened yesterday afternoon. She had thought that the day was going to be hard enough when she would have to say goodbye to Marty, but she had barely got through the ordeal of the funeral when the emotional grenade of Angelos’s announcement had exploded right in her face.
Angelos.
The thought of his name reminded her that somewhere in this house Angelos had spent his first night as owner of Manorfield. She had no idea where he’d slept; she had gone to bed, exhausted and miserable, leaving him to select a room that would be his. No doubt Peters or Trish Henderson, the housekeeper, would have made sure that that new owner had clean sheets and towels and all the comforts he needed. Jessica had been beyond that.
Quite frankly, Angelos could have slept on the floor for all she cared. It seemed that whenever he appeared in her life he brought chaos and destruction with him and yesterday’s announcement meant that everything she had dreamed of for her future had been snatched away from her. Then, when she had believed it just couldn’t get any worse, it had turned out that it could.
Jessica’s eyes clouded as she recalled how Simeon had gone into long, complicated details about exactly how much debt Marty had managed to run up in the last two crazy years of his life. The size of his debts had appalled her, leaving her mind reeling at the thought that anyone could gamble those sorts of amounts on any one race, let alone do it again and again and again.
The end result was that she was left with nothing. Angelos had not been exaggerating when he had declared that he now owned everything, right down to every last blade of grass. Everything that Marty had talked about leaving to her had been swallowed up by his gambling. Jessica told herself that she ought to be grateful that she at least had her clothes, because there was little else she did own.
And now Angelos had moved in. He had had his case in the car and, as soon as Simeon had left, he had brought it into the house, obviously meaning to set himself up as lord of the manor without a moment’s hesitation.
That was when Jessica had had enough. It had been the sight of that case that made her give into the need to escape and hide away in the sanctuary of her bedroom. There, at least, she was safe from the oppressive, intrusive presence of the Black Angel.
But for how long?
Throwing back the duvet, Jessica forced herself out of bed and went to the window. Usually the long smooth lawn that stretched away from the house towards the lake, with the shrubberies on either side, made her heart lift just to see it. Even in the dark days after Marty’s death she had still loved this view because it was something she felt she still shared with her stepfather and could go on remembering him by. But this morning everything was spoiled. The peaceful, beautiful scene no longer brought the accustomed sense of ease but instead added another twist of the knife in her already aching heart.
She had lost so much in the past years. First her mother, shockingly, then Marty, and now she had lost Manorfield—and with it her home. After today she would have nowhere to live. Angelos would surely want her out as soon as possible. He had planned on getting his hands on Manorfield. Now that he had, he wouldn’t want her around.
After all, hadn’t he made it plain that a large part of the cruel delight he’d taken in letting her know that he had acquired the estate was accentuated by the fact that he had taken it from her? And, by doing so, he had had his final revenge for the way she had treated him seven years before.
No, she was not going to dwell on the past. She would think of better things—more positive things. And there were those in her life. For one thing, Chris was coming back today. She was meeting him for lunch.
Just the thought lifted her heart, straightened her shoulders, made her feel she could face the day.
Face Angelos.
With Chris at her side she’d be able to face the future.
And part of that future was to get herself downstairs smartish. The last thing she wanted was for Angelos