Cheating the system, p.3
Cheating the System, page 3
The security guard’s face went from white to beetroot so quickly Roman wondered if he might pass out.
‘Not to be rude, Mr Tyrrell,’ the other one spoke up. ‘But we’re not technically minded guys. We know how to operate the system when it’s actually working, but I had to get my thirteen-year-old son to set my new fancy doorbell at the weekend—damn modern tech—we don’t know how to maintain or fix these things. And given how old the system is, even up and running properly, it could probably be easily circumvented. I keep telling Frank that we not only need a new one, but some techie guys to run and maintain it properly.’
Roman frowned at that comment; he’d told his father the same thing not too long ago. Why was neither man listening?
‘I want a list of all the dates and times the system has crashed in the past twelve months,’ he told them.
‘Of course,’ said the guy who’d agreed with him. ‘I’ll have to compile it for you from the last error log—we can’t even print at the moment—and I’ll get it over to you as soon as I can.’
‘I’ll need it by the time I’m back from lunch. You have, at most, two hours.’ He made to leave before pausing and glancing back at the pair. ‘And I don’t want Frank or my father knowing about it.’
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Roman raised his brow, daring the man to contradict him. When he closed his mouth again, Roman nodded. ‘I’ll ensure there’s a good bonus for you both if my instructions are followed to the letter.’
He didn’t allow the men to reply; he marched from the room to where his mother waited.
If Captain Walker was monitoring Conner O’Malley, Roman had a feeling that the system failure rate at Seymour Medical was going to provide a very interesting read for the man.
‘You’re acting like a bloody animal, Ro-Ro,’ his mum said, staring at him aghast as he all but inhaled his food.
Roman glanced up at her, unable to apologise due to the sheer volume of food he had stuffed in his mouth. He gave her a little shrug, chewing as quickly as he could, just enough to get it down this throat without choking.
Deidre wrinkled her nose as he lifted his glass and took a huge gulp of water to help it all go down, before starting all over again.
‘What is wrong with you?’ she asked, pushing her plate to one side as she continued to watch him attack his food.
‘I’m starving,’ he told her before shoving another mountainous forkful into his mouth.
‘Isn’t she feeding you?’ Mum asked, sipping at her wine, her eyes following the movements of his fork, until the two starter plates he’d ordered were completely empty.
Roman snapped his fingers, calling for their waiter to return, asking when their mains would be brought out.
‘Chef is just putting on the finishing touches,’ the young man told him, picking up his two dishes and his mum’s half-finished bowl of soup. ‘They’ll be right out.’
‘I don’t care about it looking fancy, just bring it as soon as it’s edible.’
‘Roman Edward Tyrrell!’ Mum put her glass down on the table with enough force to slosh the wine up her glass and send two big fat drops of deep purple-red splashing down the white linen tablecloth. ‘I did not bring you up to act like a— a…’ She paused, struggling to find the right word.
‘Heathen?’ he supplied.
‘Yes! Exactly.’ She nodded her head empathetically, before her face fell back into something more serious. ‘I mean it, Roman, are they not feeding you?’
‘I have three meals a day—’
‘But they’re clearly not enough.’ His mum’s brows shot up her head. She glanced left and right before leaning forward, her voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘Are they holding you prisoner, Ro-Ro?’
‘What? No!’ he protested, but his mum still turned towards Andrews and glared at him. ‘The portions they serve are just somewhat smaller than I’m used to.’
She turned her scowl on him. ‘Then ask for more?’ She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘It’s a Royal Household, Mum, you just don’t go making demands. Especially, when I’m just a guest.’
If there was anything Deidre Tyrrell prided herself on, it was her impeccable manners when it came to entertaining. She loved being a hostess, had trained for the role since she was a small girl, so Roman knew from the look in her eyes that she was about to drop a few thoughts about the level of service he was receiving as a guest.
‘Excuse me, Mr Tyrrell,’ a voice called out, jarring both him and his mum from their battle of wills. ‘I need to—’
‘I’m sorry, sir’ Andrews said, taking the few steps from his post to intercept the man heading in their direction. ‘But Mr Tyrrell is at a private lunch.’
‘Yes,’ the man said, glancing between Andrews and Roman. ‘But I—’
‘This way,’ Andrews said, not giving the man a chance to finish his sentence or get any closer to Roman.
Roman watched the stranger being herded towards the doors to the restaurant. He knew Andrews was there in case he needed some form of protection, but he hadn’t actually expected to need to use the officer. Especially in an establishment such as this.
But then again, the stranger didn’t look out of place in such a setting; his suit was of a high quality, his hair arranged perfectly, and his shoes shined to perfection. Why was he trying to get to Roman?
Was he a potential threat? Maybe he was just a bit of a royal fanatic? Perhaps the man was a member of the republic movement, An Independent Avalone? He imagined a few of those would like to speak to new members of the Royal Family on the hope they’d have some sort of sway over the King in getting a democratic parliament established.
Now that was an amusing thought. King Richard couldn’t have wanted to get rid of him any faster than he had on Thursday. And from what Cormac had told him, the monarch had only appointed the newest member of the Royal Family a lord because his hand had been forced. Imagine the public outcry if Cormac hadn’t been awarded something after taking a knife to protect his wife? The new lord had assured him that if Richard could have exiled the ex-stripper, Cormac would have been on the first boat or plane—whichever was fastest—out of the country.
‘Everything okay, sir?’ Andrews asked as he returned to the table, pulling Roman from his thoughts.
‘Who was he?’ Roman asked. ‘What did he want.’
‘My job is to ensure that no one gets to you without prior authoristion, sir,’ Andrews replied. ‘Not to act as your secretary. I’ll file a report with the Royal Guard as soon as we’re back at Renfrew Hall, sir.’
‘Well,’ said Deidre as she once again picked up her glass. ‘That told you. How is Sue, by the way?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her since Thursday,’ he said distractedly. ‘No, Andrews, sorry,’ he called to the Guardsman. ‘Was the guy a potential threat or…?’
‘I don’t think so, sir,’ was all he commented before taking his previous position slightly away from the table.
His mum began to chatter on again, once more complaining about things at her Country Club or her chapter of the Women’s Association, but Roman wasn’t paying attention. Instead, his mind was lingering on the stranger and what it was he’d wanted to say.
Maybe it had just been someone wanting to congratulate him on his betrothal, but it could have been someone linked to O’Malley and the death of his brother.
And if he was being approached, could they be approaching his Henrietta as well?
Just as his main course was placed in front of him, Roman lost his appetite.
Chapter Two
Hattie’s heart hammered in her chest as she spied the car carrying Roman driving down the avenue that led to several of Avon’s more prestigious residential buildings. The bright white and glass structures towered over the vehicles cruising along the road beside them, and although plenty of luxury cars travelled along the boulevard—one or two even being Rolls Royce Phantoms like the royal fleet—the little Avalonian flags fluttering on the front of the car gave away the fact her fiancé was finally here.
She turned and hurried towards Pippa’s office, looking for the backup she knew she’d need when revealing to Roman her desire for a prenup. At least Pippa would be able to keep her emotions in check. She was always the cool, calm, and collected one of the four sisters: a stark contrast to Hattie’s hot-headed emotional personality.
It was probably why Pippa had done so well in comparison to the rest of them, Hattie mused as she hurried down the corridors of Pippa’s two-storey penthouse—that apparently wasn’t held in trust as her and Alexi’s homes had been. Hattie still couldn’t believe her sister had been able to afford this place without any help from their father. Clearly failing to get onto the Guildford Gifted Programme all those years ago had spurred her on to become such a success. If you measured success in terms of money, of course.
Hattie never had. It was why she chose to work freelance and live a modest lifestyle in her small beach house. She measured success in being able to live freely with a fantastic work-life balance. Yes, she liked a few finer things in life, like her designer wardrobe, but otherwise, she was probably the lowest maintenance of all her relatives. But now, with her current situation, she was beginning to reassess her ideals.
‘—need to tell them!’ Zach, Pippa’s assistant, said hotly, just as Hattie reached the slightly ajar door of the office. She screeched to a halt at his tone. She’d known he was in the apartment, but he had his own office on site, and she’d thought he was tucked away in there.
‘I will, when the time is right, I will,’ Pippa’s voice sounded stressed, which made Hattie frown. Her sister hadn’t done stressed since she’d received the news she wasn’t even on the consideration list for the Gifted Programme. Hearing her voice all high and tight, twisted a knot of worry inside Hattie’s stomach.
‘And when is that, Pippa?’ Hattie’s eyes grew wide at the caustic tone of Zach’s voice.
‘Maybe when I’m not hearing about my sister almost being blown up,’ Pippa replied with as much scathing as her assistant had given her. ‘Or when I’m not learning that she’s pregnant and being forced to marry in less than a month by our grandfather!’
‘First it was Cormac being stabbed, now its Hattie being pregnant. You don’t want this—’
The ping of the lift alerted Hattie to Roman’s imminent arrival, and she couldn’t hide any longer from the bickering duo. She hated to interrupt them—especially as she wanted to know what the hell they were arguing about and made a mental note to ask Pippa about it later—but she had no choice. She hurried into the room as if she’d dashed there without stopping and stood in the middle of the office with as wide, worried eyes as she could muster—which wasn’t exactly hard.
‘Roman’s here!’ she declared, faux breathlessly, glancing between the two of them.
Before they’d jumped apart at her intrusion, they’d been bent over either side of Pippa’s desk, glaring at one another, apparently ready to go head-to-head over whatever it was causing their quarrel. Their cheeks were flushed with what Hattie assumed was either anger or frustration with one another, but now she put down to embarrassment at almost being caught in their altercation.
‘I didn’t hear the lift,’ Pippa said, a little confused as she stared towards the door, her eyes squinting, and Hattie had to wonder if her sister needed another eye exam—even though her glasses appeared to be a new set since she’d last seen her.
‘It just pinged as I came in—I saw the royal car coming up the street,’ she explained hastily.
‘I believe they’re in the office, sir.’ The voice of Pippa’s butler, Giles, carried towards them, alerting the group that Roman was headed their way. Hattie felt the urge to plaster herself against the wall behind the door and pretend she didn’t exist, but she knew she couldn’t be such a coward.
Despite coming to an apparent accord on Thursday night, the past three days had been strained, and she had a feeling that telling him about her desire for a prenup was going to be like throwing accelerant on a fire.
‘I thought you two were friends now?’ Pippa whispered heatedly, her eyes darting between Hattie and the door, waiting for her soon-to-be brother-in-law to appear. Hattie held her finger to her lips and scrunched her nose up in warning not to mention she’d called her sisters first thing Friday about Roman’s proposal, their agreement to give things a try, and the fact he’d given her his grandmother’s engagement ring.
But while she knew that their renewed friendship wasn’t going to be a quick fix, she hadn’t helped matters by avoiding Roman as much as she could. She’d managed it very well, save for lunches and evening mealtimes when she was stuck dining with him. Their conversations had been stilted and strained as each searched for something they could talk about, and it was the first time Hattie had been grateful for the distance the table in the formal dining room offered its occupants. However, now she wished she’d at least tried to broach the gap between them rather than throwing a bomb into it as she was about to.
‘I have no idea why I listened to you!’ Hattie suddenly hissed, glaring at her sister. ‘He’s not going to take it well and we’re already on rocky ground.’
Zach did a double take of her, but Pippa merely rolled her eyes, far too used to her emotional outbursts.
‘You don’t have time to play nicely with this sort of thing, Hattie,’ Pippa said with a sigh as she sunk into her chair behind the desk. ‘You’re getting married in twenty-six days, there’s no room for negotiating or finding a balance, you both need to say what you want right from the start, deal with it, and move on.’
‘And just what do we need to deal with?’ Roman’s smooth drawl enquired from the doorway. Hattie turned and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He stood leaning against the door’s frame, his hands in his trouser pockets and one leg crossed over the other. While he was dressed in a suit, he was again sans tie and had his top button open, exposing his neck; Hattie wanted to bury herself there and just inhale him. Wrap her arms under his jacket and hold him close as she kissed and nibbled his exposed skin, as his hands—
She licked her lips and swallowed down the desire that bubbled within her. This was the reason she’d avoided him over the weekend, why she’d insisted on using the formal dining room for their meals rather than the more intimate breakfast room. She was too afraid that if he tried anything with her, she’d buckle and give in to him completely, just handing herself over so he could do whatever he wanted with her.
Her eyes slowly lifted and noted the hint of five o’clock shadow already showing. It dampened the desire somewhat as she thought of how the bristles would turn her skin red as he kissed her hot naked body, straining under him to get closer and closer until—
‘Henrietta?’ He raised one brow in question, but she could see the touch of amusement in his eyes, and her cheeks flamed red hot in mortification.
Damn him for knowing exactly what she was thinking about!
She narrowed her gaze, fisted her hands on her hips, and tossed her curls over her shoulder. ‘I want a prenuptial agreement before we—’
‘Absolutely,’ he cut in, standing and walking into the room proper. ‘I’ve been meaning to suggest such a thing when we had a chance to be alone.’ He said the word alone with such suggestion, Hattie’s mind instantly provided her with several ideas of how they could spend that time together and none had either of them talking, save for a few choice single syllable words.
‘You were?’ she managed to squeak, her hands falling from her hips as he came to stand in front of her. He was so close, Hattie could smell that heady, woody-citrus scent of his. She had to stop herself taking a deep breath as she stared up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion.
‘Of course. After our conversation the other night, I promised that I would prove to you that we are different.’
She couldn’t help her thumb rubbing over the underside of the ring on her hand as she recalled with perfect clarity their conversation that night and how he insisted his relationship with her would be a stark contrast to the one he’d had with Fiona.
‘You didn’t have a prenup with Fiona?’ she asked quietly as she peered up at him through her lashes.
Roman shook his head. ‘That wasn’t part of the plan with Fi. I just want to ensure that you feel completely secure with me, Henrietta.’ His voice softened as he reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear, his finger lingering a moment longer than it needed and Hattie had to bite her lip to stop herself from leaning into it. ‘I hope you never feel the need to leave, but if you have to, I want you to know that you’re not beholden to me.’
Hattie tore her eyes from his as she tried to work out what his new angle was. The day he’d proposed, he’d said he’d wanted to marry her for her name and inheritance and—
Her tongue curled over her upper lip as she recalled their conversation in the back of the car…
I said it because you’re carrying the Tyrrell heir my father wants. I don’t plan on having any children of my own, so securing yours was the easiest thing to do. And with your fortune and links to your family name, doors will open for me that never would have before.
He’d said he’d wanted her name, her fortune, and her unborn babe. Those were his words that afternoon when they’d been caught out. Then he’d quickly changed his tune later that evening. Evoking memories of their friendship, of the chance to have something she’d lost and still lamented to this day. God, he was like a walking contradiction. It was so much work trying to figure him out. But one thing she did know, she decided as she lifted her eyes back to his; he wasn’t getting either her fortune or her baby. She might not have wanted children, but she wasn’t going to let her son or daughter be a pawn in some game to him.
She lifted her chin and stared up at him definitely, her hand unwittingly drifting to her stomach. ‘I’m making Victoria legal guardian of the baby should anything happen to me before they turn eighteen.’
