Page 24 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

Maybe she had been driven by an attraction, an excitement which had been totally real to her as Mason had kissed and caressed and eventually possessed her last night. But how could she claim to be her own woman, able to make her own decisions, when sleeping with Mason had also been what her father wanted?

She wanted to hate Mason for pretending to care about her, even a little bit, the night before. Because it had brought back all the old yearnings—to matter to someone, to be special and cherished, the way she could vaguely remember her Welsh granny had once cherished her... But did she really have the right to be angry that Mason wasn’t who he had pretended to be when she wasn’t either? And, frankly, what had she ever done to deserve to be cherished by anyone, anyhow?

Mason Foxx had just said this morning what everyone else already knew but were too polite to say. She was a parasite.

‘I’m sure Mr and Mrs Wolfe will be overjoyed to see you,’ the housekeeper added, scooping up her purse from the side table. She headed out to pay for Bea’s cab.

Will they? Why?

Bea stood dumbly in the lobby, wanting desperately to run down the hall and recount all the cruel things Mason Foxx had said and done, then cry on Katie’s shoulder and let her big sister make it all better somehow.

As she had done so many times before.

Because whenever Bea had screwed up, whenever she needed a respite from their father’s demands and ultimatums, or whenever she just needed a fix of her adorable nephew Luca, she would rush over here and let Katie comfort and console her and make her feel better about herself and her refusal to do anything concrete to change her life.

How would this time really be any different?

The sound of Luca’s giggles, followed by the rumble of Jack’s deep voice and her sister’s laughter filtered from the room down the hall. Yearning ripped through Bea’s chest, but right behind it was disgust, with herself and her selfishness.

She should not have come here.

Jack and Katie both had busy careers which made their quality time with their son Luca incredibly precious. Not only that, but Katie was in the first trimester of her second pregnancy, and Bea knew her sister was suffering again from morning sickness. She would never turn Bea away. But what right did Bea have to add to her sister’s responsibilities, to ask her to fix another of the stupid mistakes Bea had made, when all Bea’s problems were entirely of her own making?

Seeing Katie’s gym bag beside the hall table, she grabbed it.

She needed a change of clothing, and while Katie and she were hardly the same shape, theywerethe same shoe size. She scribbled out a note on the pad in the hall, apologising for borrowing the clothes and promising to pay Katie back. Then she forced herself to add the sentence she should have written years ago.

I’ve decided to leave London. Thank you for all your support over the years, but I’ve finally got this now.

Love B x

Maybe if she wrote it down, she could begin to believe it.

She could still hear Jack’s and Katie’s voices, and their son Luca giggling, as she headed out of the house, her guilt and humiliation joined by misery and panic.

A part of her knew the reason she wanted to leave London and disappear wasn’t just because she couldn’t continue to lean on her sister, but also because Mason Foxx lived here.

Strike two to Bea the coward!

The hope, the bubble of confidence, the excitement and exhilaration at her own boldness last night, had never been anything other than desire. She understood that now. Mason hadn’t needed to be so cruel. But she was the one who had wilfully believed a fairy tale. She was the one who had let him hurt her—because she had once again been looking to someone else to give her life substance and meaning.

Her heart tore in her chest as she walked down the front steps, leaving the only people who really cared about her behind.

Mrs Goulding was still chatting to the cab driver at the end of the driveway as Bea slipped through the garden gate unseen. She headed down the mews behind the palatial Georgian townhouse. The beautifully appointed home where her sister had made a life for herself with Jack Wolfe—through hard work, honesty, integrity, courage, perseverance and an independent spirit Bea had always lacked.

She took off her heels and slipped on her sister’s gym shoes and her sweatshirt over the revealing dress. It was only a couple of miles to the bank where she had an account containing the small inheritance her mother had left her, as well as a safety deposit box with the Irish passport she’d been able to apply for a year ago—thanks to an Irish grandfather—with some fanciful notion of one day using her language skills to start a new life in Europe. One of the many, many things she’d never had the courage to actually do.

The bank was open until noon on a Saturday.

She broke into a run, adrenaline helping to cover the fear clawing at her throat.

She wasn’t brave or smart or determined like her sister. She had always been pathetic and insecure and indecisive. But if she was ever going to turn herself into someone she could be proud of, she had to begin somewhere. And hitting rock bottom for the second time in her life felt like the perfect place to start.

Two days later

‘Mr Foxx, there’s a Katherine Wolfe here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but she’s quite insistent.’

‘Send her up. And hold my calls,’ Mason said to the receptionist, then shoved his phone into his back pocket. He strode through the suite of rooms that he kept at his flagship hotel in Belgravia and used as a London base for his business.

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