Page 7 of The Maid Married To The Billionaire

Those details acquired, Enzo stood up. ‘We have to exchange phone numbers. I’m sending two men with you to collect your belongings just in case your ex is there and causes trouble. You need to be protected and you will have the kids with you, which is enough of a challenge.’

‘Thanks. I’m very grateful. Could you take the car seats out of your car before you leave?’ Skye reminded him as she took his number and shot a text to him.

In truth, she was dreading that moment that she would have to enter the apartment, unsure as to Ritchie’s whereabouts. Stalwart male company would be a very welcome support.

As it was still early, she decided to ring her sister and hope to catch her before she went to bed. Alana worked a permanent night shift at the hotel where she worked and lived and usually slept in the mornings but there would have been no point in calling Alana the night before because she didn’t have a car, she had a bicycle, and, in any case, would have been at work. Skye still needed Alana’s help though and she had to tell her what had happened and that Ritchie was out of her life now. Her sibling often spent the afternoons with her and the children and she wanted Alana to know that she was no longer at the apartment. The last thing she wanted to risk was her sister running into Ritchie without knowing how volatile the situation with him was.

Alana came on the phone on a bright, breezy note. ‘It’s my day off...well, at least until I report for duty tonight again. My co-worker called in sick.’ She sighed before she listened in disgust to what her sister had to tell her and she immediately offered to take care of the children while Skye removed her possessions from Ritchie’s apartment.

Skye had dressed the kids, fed poor Sparky some toast and cleaned up the kitchen by the time the two men, Matteo and Antonio, arrived. Alana arrived soon after them.

‘Oh, my word, your face!’ Alana gasped in horror when she saw her sibling’s black eye.

Alana was the taller, curvier version of Skye with blonde hair, gloriouslystraightblonde hair that Skye envied, down to her waist. ‘I should kill Ritchie for what he’s done to you!’ her kid sister swore fiercely.

Skye calmed her down and left her with the children, grateful for her sister’s support. She felt like a tramp in Enzo’s overly large clothes with the ugly bruises marring her face and decided she would live in her sunglasses for the next week. Her nervous tension climbed as the car was parked outside the small apartment block.

The apartment was mercifully empty. Feeling as though she were in some television competition for speed or a supermarket trolley rush, Skye clasped a roll of binbags and went into the children’s room first.

In the midst of dismantling Shona’s cot and recalling that there were a baby buggy, a high chair and various other bulky equipment as well, she noticed Antonio was on the phone. ‘We’ll need a van to move all of it,’ he explained as Skye rammed clothes into a bag. ‘But Matteo will arrange one for us.’

‘I should’ve said there was so much large stuff before we came.’ Skye sighed guiltily while Antonio bagged toys for her, leaving her free to go into the bedroom she had briefly shared with Ritchie.

She grimaced as she glanced at the bed, averting her gaze from a place she had begun to dread. No, she didn’t like sex. Contrary to every article she read, she hadn’t enjoyed it. That might put her in a minority but that was just how she was and, now that Ritchie was out of her life again, she could be honest about the fact. All that faking and pretending an enjoyment she didn’t feel to keep Ritchie happy had drained her, made her feel dishonest and, what was more, a little on the odd side because she evidently didn’t like what other women liked. Well, that was done and dusted now, she reminded herself. A man-free future stretched in front of her.

Skye had had such great hopes when she’d moved in with Ritchie and it hurt her pride to remember her trusting naivety. She lifted the photograph of her mother and stepfather from the bedside cabinet and tears of grief stung her eyes. Their loving happiness together had become her ideal and it seemed laughable now to recall that she had actually hoped to build the same kind of relationship with Ritchie. After all, her stepfather had taken on two little girls that weren’t his own and treated them as though they were his own flesh and blood.

Ritchie’s readiness to accept that she came as a package with Brodie and Shona had encouraged her to believe that he was a man similar to her stepfather. But once she had moved in with Ritchie, he had had little time to spare for her siblings and he had complained bitterly that the children were always underfoot. He had also accused her of always putting her siblings first.

In reality, she had done the opposite and she was ashamed of that fact. She had put herself first. She had grabbed at that whole fantasy dream of a supportive, caring partner who would lighten her load and make her feel less alone, but family life had been too restrictive and domestic for Ritchie. For all his talk of marriage, he hadn’t been ready to settle down. He might’ve wanted her, but the children had just been unfortunate baggage that came along with her.

She finished putting her clothes and shoes into bags and hauled them out to the lounge, ready for the van that was coming. She pounced with relief on her sunglasses and put them on.

The two men concentrated on getting her belongings down in the lift and packing the car. While she was helping them move the baby equipment down to the ground floor, the van arrived and, with it, another man, who made short work of loading everything. She was smiling as she walked out of the apartment block and was totally disconcerted to find herself unexpectedly confronted by Ritchie.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded wrathfully as he strode up onto the pavement. ‘You were out all night and you didn’t phone. I was worried sick about you!’

Skye froze where she stood. Surprisingly, Ritchie looked the same as always. Blond hair, an aggressively square jaw, pale blue eyes, an angry flush on his cheeks. He wasn’t in uniform, clearly wasn’t working and she realised with an inner shiver that they had been very lucky that he hadn’t come home while they were still in the apartment. At least she had got all their stuff out without any hassle, although she had left behind kitchen equipment and china she had brought from her own home because she couldn’t afford storage costs and could hardly clutter up Enzo’s imposing house with her household goods.

‘I asked you a question!’ Ritchie reminded her, towering over her menacingly and glowering at Antonio. ‘And who is this man?’

‘I’m moving out, Ritchie,’ Skye framed tautly. ‘This is the last time you’ll see me.’

‘Back away,’ Antonio told Ritchie, stretching a protective arm out in front of Skye. ‘You’re getting too close.’

‘What the hell are you playing at, Skye?’ Ritchie demanded furiously. ‘Why would you move out? So, we had a little fallout...’

Syke whipped off her sunglasses. ‘You call this a little fallout? You beat me up!’

Ritchie averted his gaze from her bruised face. ‘You fell. Don’t blame me for it. Let’s talk about this like adults in private.’

‘No, thanks. I don’t want anything more to do with you,’ Skye countered, backing away and heading for the car.

Ritchie made a sudden lurch in her direction in an effort to cut off her escape, only to be hauled back by Antonio. He twisted free again and swung round to punch the other man but Antonio was too quick on his feet. Moving out of reach, Antonio quickly climbed into the car, which pulled away as soon as he closed the door. Breathless and shaken by Ritchie’s continuing aggression, Skye was very relieved that Alana was looking after the children and that Brodie hadn’t been subjected to another violent scene. Tears stung her eyes while Antonio and Matteo talked in their own language.

‘He’s following us,’ Antonio informed her.

Skye suppressed a groan. She hadn’t wanted Ritchie to find out where she was staying. She resisted the urge to twist round in her seat and look.

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