Chapter 2

Alicia breezed into the room, leaving Helen wowed. She soon got over her surprise and continued scribbling in her notebook.

Lucy and Ruth had been Alicia’s friends for as long as Helen could remember, and she had been told that the three used to do everything together when they were younger and still had their parents. Now Ruth lived in London, while Lucy worked at McDonald’s as a chef. That was a lot.

Alicia did not have a steady job yet. She had quit her old job because she thought the pay was not good enough for her qualification, and she had left when she did not get a raise. She had said several times that the cost of living in New York was high and she wanted something that could earn all three of them a decent life and some savings.

She had not gotten the raise from her mean boss, even though she had grown the company as an individual with her many contributions to different sectors. She had even been a representative of the firm for a short time before she quit.

Now that she had no steady job and the job offers she got were either from San Diego or Dakota, she had decided to stick around a little bit to see if there would be a good enough job for her in New York. She had used up her savings and they now owed the landlady, but she was sure there would be a way to sort the bills.

As Alicia stepped into the tub, she remembered the mail that had come from the landlady only two days ago. The woman had threatened to have her evicted from the apartment if she did not pay her rent in the next two weeks.

How she was going to raise the money, she had no idea yet.

Perhaps she would ask Mr. Ford to lend her the money for the rent, and then she could spend the rest of her life working for it. The idea seemed ridiculous. She had just started working at his place, and he would definitely find it amusing that she wanted to get a loan from him. And what if he demanded interest? And what if she eventually could not pay up?

She shuddered at the thought.

There were bills to pay. Helen had been accepted by three colleges and was yet to pick one. She needed money to fund Helen’s schooling.

And Tony? He had dropped out of college just the previous year when things had become a bit too tough, and he had taken to doing menial jobs around town until a friend helped him secure a decent job where he earned well for the next six months—until he had had too much to drink one time and messed up before his boss. He was fired.

They were back to scratch again.

These days, Alicia worked extra hard to make sure they had groceries and everything they needed to be comfortable—except their rent, which was the latest cause for fear.

She would take another job during the day before running down to Ford’s at 8 p.m. to work her shift, which usually ended at 1 a.m. She had been compassionate enough to stay with Ford and clean up the place with a few others and leave by 6 a.m.

She had her head throbbing and her feet aching by the time she boarded a cab back home. Things could not be any more difficult than they already were for her. She had not made up her mind on what to do about her rent.

***

Clayton Westmoreland, first son and heir of the viscount, Hugh Westmoreland, was an arrogant billionaire and lover, ruthless and brutal in his pursuit of endless wealth and fame, and definitely the most desired man in the dating market.

With his rich brown hair and sea-blue eyes that enchanted even the hardest and toughest of ladies, he knew exactly what he carried. His hair was always trimmed to rest on the collar of his tank tops that he was fond of wearing, and his skin—tanned and hard with muscles rippling—was definitely worth dying for.

Clayton was a man who knew the power and influence he possessed and never hesitated to put them to good use when the occasion presented itself. He knew he was in charge and would never settle for less in any setting.

Clayton had never been known to simp over the ladies, as they all drooled over him, and he certainly was not known to make losses in business. Probably why, within the four years he had been the CEO of the company, they had become a multibillion-dollar firm dealing in real estate across the world.

They bought, sold, and owned properties across the globe, and one could not deny that it was because of Clayton’s presence and seemingly unending wisdom that they achieved all of that in such a short time. Now they were recruiting people from all over the world and creating employment for many qualified people.

Clayton, at thirty-six, did not think that marriage was a compulsory thing for anyone. He had all the women he wanted and had all the fun in the world whenever he wanted to. But his father, the viscount of Westmoreland, and his mother, the viscountess, shared the opinion that as the only child and heir, marriage was a very important aspect of his life.

In fact, since the previous summer, they had bothered him so much and made his life difficult by sending him on dates and arranging meetings with the most influential women from royal families—some of whom he had once dated and had no desire to reunite with and rekindle the old flames.

His father had made him fly into England more than six times in the past few months just so he could be introduced to several young women whom he thought would make good wives. It amused Clayton on some occasions and irked him on others that his parents would go to such extremes in their pursuit of a future for him.

Clayton knew he already had his future planned—without a wife and kids, but with more money than he could ever spend and, at will, a mistress who would submit to him at all costs and never question his authority.

He was not exactly mad as he made his way to their home in England, the Westmore.

His mother, Abigail, had been extremely nice and had touched his cheeks endlessly with her gloved hands. She still loved all the colors she used to love in her youth—pink and yellow. Her dress was embellished with bright pink and yellow, and so were her hat and gloves.

She looked dazzling as he looked at her, and she made so much fuss when he stepped down from the carriage.

Coming back home compelled him to ride in the carriage and sniff the green leaves and thereafter the cow dung and horse feed at the stables. Again, he would live the typical English life in England for the time he was to spend there.

“Why, my dear, you look so tanned! Have you been running around in the sun?” his mother asked.

For as long as he could remember, she made no jokes with her complexion and her skin-care routines. She had all the anti-wrinkling creams from the best stores in London, and she definitely did her best to look good every hour of the day. One would see her at any hour, and she would look perfect and perfectly dressed at all times.

Once, he had asked her if perhaps she did all she did because she did not want her husband, the viscount, to keep a mistress, and she had shaken her head in defense.

“Hugh loves me. He would never keep a mistress. I am only doing all these for myself, son,” she had said, even though the words did not sound true even to her ears.

Two months later, she had called Clayton crying. She had found out about Hugh’s mistress—a woman who was divorced and living off the money of rich English men like Hugh, who funded her exorbitant lifestyle.

It had saddened Clayton that his father had done that, and then he had become very angry. He had called his father and demanded why he would hurt his mother so badly, and his father had had no good excuse.

It had not become a scandal. His mother had not made a show of it. She had been quiet until her husband disentangled himself from the mistress and became the husband she was satisfied with again.

Clay had always thought that his parents were not happy together, and he had been right. Their marriage had been arranged for political reasons by their parents.

Once, while he was growing up, he had been aware of a scandal caused by his mum. She had kept a lover outside her home and had planned to elope with the man, but news had spread before she could do it, becoming one of England’s biggest scandals for a family as influential as his. The man she had planned to elope with happened to be the lover she had kept since she was seventeen—her first love.

His father had not divorced his mother after that. They had probably agreed on something and remained together.

All of those things—the fear of losing interest in a wife, the demand to stay faithful to one woman, or the fear of ending up with a woman he did not love—were all reasons Clay had decided to stay single.

He did not want to have an arranged marriage like his parents, and he did not want to have kids who might spend their lives trying to please him and practice the savoir-faire of society and royal life. He would really hate to have them carry such a burden.

His father was in his study, and he turned swiftly when he heard the doorknob twist.

“Father, good to see you. How are you doing?” Clayton asked.

“I am fine, my dear. I am fine,” the viscount replied.

“I see you were busy with that,” Clayton said, acknowledging the pile of books and magazines lying on top of each other on the low table in front of his father.

“Yes, I was reading… the London Times. Have you seen the latest marriages in the news? The Earl of Edinburgh finally got himself a bride, but it has caused so much trouble. She is American, and she has been divorced twice.”

“I do not follow the news. I never knew of the marriage or anything you just said, but still, none of those things concerns me,” Clayton said.

“You sure it does not?” Hugh asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Then what about the news circulating about you? I saw in the papers that you have an affair with a woman of noble birth whom I know nothing of. How true is this claim, son?” Hugh asked.

Clayton was as surprised as one would be if he were told he was not a human being.

“What news?” he asked as he reached for the papers in his father’s hands.

Sure enough, there was an image of him holding a certain lady by the waist. He recollected very quickly and burst into laughter. Hugh watched him keenly to see what he would do next.

“I am not involved with any woman. Definitely not that one in the papers. I had only been twirling with Mary Clark at a ball I attended in London two days ago. A friend had invited me and I had gone. I have no affair whatsoever with the woman in the news… what’s with these London papers circulating fake news?” he asked suddenly.

His father only touched his glasses and balanced them on the bridge of his nose.

“So what now? What will you do now that the news is fake?” Hugh asked.

“What do you mean, sire?”

“I had wished the news was true, and I had been ready to accept this woman. But now there is no woman. You do realize you just turned thirty-six, don’t you?”

“I know my exact age, sire.”

“I was married at twenty-six. Ten years younger than you are now. Your mother had only been twenty-one, and we were married.”

“You two were so young and hardly in love. You were match-made, sire,” Clayton said.

That reminder was unnecessary, but he could not help pointing it out.

His father began to speak in defense of his marriage once again, confessing his love for his wife, Abigail.

“It had not been very easy the first few years of our marriage, but we had grown accustomed to being married. Everyone grows accustomed to marriage. There is no one who does not adjust to it.”