Page 37 of Gold Digger
Vicky opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. Shedidn’tlike rugby, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t know everything there was to know about it.
“Oh, she loves it.” I put my hand on her shoulder in a firm pat – this was another signal that saiddon’t correct the speaker in the lie they’ve just told. “Don’t get her started on the starting line-up for the World Cup team in the semi-finals at the weekend.”
“But the starting line-up is not logical,” Vicky put in. “Just because Sam Vaughton has played well for the last two games does not mean he’s earned a place there. If you look at his stats, he’s the least reliable player by about thirty-three per cent.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” cried Mr Arkins. “Finally, someone who agrees. He’s too much of a wildcard. They need a steadying influence.”
Vicky nodded and opened her mouth, probably to launch into another rugby-related rant, but I gave her a light poke under her arm on her ribs – the poke was a prompt to either ask a question or to agree with someone (Vicky had a really hard time agreeing with something that she felt was untrue, but we’d been practising and she could just about manage a nod and a “that’s interesting”).
“Which players would you choose?” she asked. And it was Mr Arkins’ turn to launch into his own rant. I cleared my throat and Vicky glanced at me, then copied my body language – head tilted to the side, steady eye contact with his, small nods of agreement as if she were hanging off his every word. When I risked a glance at Ollie, his eyes were narrowed on me and he didn’t look very happy. Luckily, someone else came to claim his attention just as Mr Arkins and Vicky had launched into another debate about the front row. I had to poke her twice before she managed her nod and a “that’s interesting”, which Mr Arkins took as her agreement with his superior rugby knowledge when it very much wasnot.
“Well, if you’re as sensible about the markets as you are about rugby, then maybe I should reconsider your proposal. I’ll get back to you on Monday.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when that was done, and we were one step closer to leaving. Needing a bit of a breather, I downed the glass of elderflower I’d been holding and told Vicky I was going to find the bathroom without looking at Ollie. Not wanting to leave her for too long, I hustled across the room, unreasonably relieved when I found the door to the bathroom straight away. Once there, I just sat on the side of the ornate bath and concentrated on my own breathing. After a minute of silence my heart rate had calmed down and I was no longer hyperventilating, but the ache in my chest that had started when I first saw Ollie glare at me was still there. I was tempted to just stay hidden, but Hayley’s face flashed through my mind and I gritted my teeth. Quitting was not an option.
So I forced myself off that bath and back out into the fray. But just as I was about to search for Vicky, my upper arm was enclosed in a large hand and I was brought to an abrupt halt. At my startled flinch, Ollie’s hand fell away, but he still blocked my path in the narrow corridor.
“Why did you do it?” he snapped, his anger palpable. “Why did you take the money?”
“I-I need to go,” I muttered, avoiding eye contact now, my face feeling like it was on fire.
But then Ollie surprised me again. His expression softened and his hand went to the back of his neck, a move which never failed to exhibit all his arm and chest muscles to their full potential, even when trapped under that suit.
“Listen, Lottie. I’ve been thinking and if you’re in some sort of trouble. If you need the money for something and… well,Ican give you fifty grand. You don’t have to?—”
“Fifty grand for what?” I said, hardening myself to his concern. He hadn’t seemed so concerned over the last three months when he was out being photographed all over the place with other women hanging off his arm. I mean, he had a blooming date here, for cheese’s sake. There was a lipstick mark on his collar. What kind of fool did he think I was? “To be your bit of rough on the side? I might have taken that money, but I have some pride, you know.” If I wanted to shake him off, I was going to have to squash this completely and be the bitch. I could actually feel the atmosphere around us change as his mood darkened – the air was thick with his anger.
“If you hadpride, you wouldn’t have taken fifty grand in the first place. I expect that was your plan all along, to extort money out of my family.” He looked me up and down with a sneer. “Was any of it true? The quirky dungarees, the multiple earrings, the cat sweatshirts – was any of that really you? Because you seem to have morphed into Corporate Barbie a bit too seamlessly if you ask me.”
I faked a smile. “Glad you approve. Corporate Barbie wasexactlythe look I was going for.” I decided he didn’t need to know that it was Vicky’s stylist who had dictated everything I was wearing, from my pale pink nail varnish to my form-fitting but reserved little black dress. The job with Vicky had included the makeover and clothes. Vicky explained that it was pretty much essential. She called itarmour. I hated it. But then, so did Vicky – and for her it really was a struggle as she couldn’t bear restrictive clothing. When I went over to her house with Hayley last night to plan for today, she had been in a buttery soft hoodie with leggings, and I could feel how much more relaxed she was. “And I didn’t extort any money. I was offered money as a severance package.”
“Well, you made a big mistake. Fifty is pocket change for us – you could have extorted a lot more. But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you’ve latched onto my sister.”
“I work for Vicky,” I said defensively, and he tilted his head to the side.
“What exactly are you doing for Vics? Seeing as you have no university degree and you’re totally unskilled. How arrogantare youto think that you could offer her anything? She’s a fucking genius.”
“Iamhelping her, you douchebag. Not everything requires a university education.”
His eyes flashed, and he moved again, too suddenly for me to anticipate. One minute he was glaring at me from a few feet away, the next he was right in my space, crowding me against the wall, his smell all around me, his breath on my cheek. My heart felt like it was beating outside of my chest, which was rising and falling with rapid breaths. What I should have done was tear right out of there or kneed him in the balls, but when my eyes locked with his, I was frozen completely. His hand came up to the side of my face slowly, and I stopped breathing altogether as his fingers brushed my temple, sweeping some hair that had fallen into my eyes back behind my ear, so achingly gentle that I felt my eyes start to sting. Even with these heels on (something I was yet to be totally reliable in), he still loomed over me; my head tilted right back as he bent forward.
“Beautiful little liar,” he breathed, searching my face as if trying to see everything I was hiding. “Now, I’m going to tell you this once. Understand?” I nodded, still under his spell. “You’re going to stay away from my family. Don’t think you can get any more out of us. You’ve already been paid off. There won’t be a second payday. Whatever you think you’re going to get out of Vicky, you’re wrong. Everyone in my family knows what agrasping, scheming gold digger you are, so don’t mess with us again.”
The worst thing was the delivery – it was slow, calculated and controlled, as if every word had been carefully weighed with maximum precision to hurt me as much as possible.
“Vickydoesn’t think that,” I said, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “And the rest of you can sod off. I hope you always have stale Jaffa Cakes, your Marmite toast ratio is always slightly off and your tea is perpetually too weak.”
He blinked, his angry expression cracking for a moment. “Is that the best you can come up with – weak tea, poorly spread Marmite and stale Jaffa Cakes?”
“Nobodylikes a stale Jaffa Cake.”
“True.” He looked like he wanted to laugh. I could feel the battle within him – hatred mixed with reluctant affection. Then he frowned and shook his head as if to clear it, giving me one last furious look before he pushed away and stood back. Totally wrung out and desperate to get away, I forgot the footwear situation as I launched myself away from the wall and nearly went headfirst onto the solid wood floor. But, of course, I didn’t fall. Just like in the past, Ollie caught me, his strong arm hooking me around my middle and setting me back on my feet. The heat from the contact flashed through me, his hard body against mine for a long moment before the pressure of his arm fell away and I took stumbling steps back, doing my very best to remain upright this time.
“You really shouldn’t be wearing heels,” he grumbled. When I glanced back, he had his hand on the back of his neck again, frowning at me, his expression conflicted. “Lottie—” he started, but I couldn’t take any more, not that night. I needed to get home. I needed to concentrate on what mattered: my family. Not on dreams that weren’t for grasping, scheming gold diggers like me.
Chapter 17
Harding family reunion
