Dirty Aristocrat

All was silent and there was no movement at all inside the dragon’s den. It did feel as if I was sneaking around, but honestly, Ivan was like a bear with a sore head first thing in the

morning, and I didn’t relish telling him I was having breakfast with Ralph. I scribbled a note and left it propped up on the kitchen island.

Ralph was seated on the long cream sofa in the lobby. He looked like he was playing a game on his phone. When he saw me coming, he stood up with a smile.

‘How do you manage to look so good so early in the morning?’ he asked.

I smiled at him. ‘Tell me your secret and I’ll tell you mine.’

He laughed. ‘Keep that up and lunch and dinner are on me.’

‘So what’s the story with the frosty bugger?’ he asked with a sideways glance.

‘Every dog should have a few fleas,’ I said firmly.

He looked at me quizzically. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Nobody’s perfect. He’s frosty and cocky, but his heart’s in the right place.’ I smiled. ‘He rescued me.’

‘Right,’ he said, and held the door open for me.

As we walked across the road towards the café, he had his hand solicitously and lightly placed on the small of my back, but as soon as we were on the other side he dropped his arm. I was

impressed. It was exactly the kind of Southern courtesy my mother had taught me to expect from a man.

He moved ahead of me, opened the door, and held it open for me. Hmmm … more brownie points. We sat at a table by the window and ordered blueberry muffins and coffee. I had a cappuccino

and he had a tall latte.

The muffins arrived and they were a hair’s breath away from being as good as my grandma made them, he was easy to talk to, and he kept the topics light. I was feeling totally relaxed and

happy when Ivan suddenly loomed next to us.

He didn’t look at me. He put his hands on the table and stared aggressively into Ralph’s face. ‘You’re obviously a thick bastard. Here, let me make it clearer for you. She’s out of

bounds. Now fuck off.’

Ralph was cool in that stiff British way. He leaned back and said, ‘You don’t own her, Greystoke. And last time I looked you’re not my father, or my boss, so you don’t get to tell me

what to do.’

‘Well, I’ve got news for you, shithead. She’s my ward. So you don’t get to date her unless I fucking say so.’

At that point I shot up. I was furious. ‘No, Ivan. You don’t get to say who I date. I’m only your ward as far as managing my inheritance. Nothing more.’

He turned to me, his eyes glittering savagely. ‘If you just hang on for one minute I’ll deal with you.’ Then he turned his attention back to Ralph. ‘If I see you with her again, I’ll

punch your lights out. You’ve been warned.’

To my utter humiliation, Ivan then grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the restaurant with him. Everybody was looking at us in amazement. I was so embarrassed my face was flaming.

Never in my wildest nightmare had I dreamed I’d be in a situation where two men were squaring up over me in a café full of ogling customers. Once outside, I let him pull me along until

we were past the glass fronted shop window before I jerked hard at his hand.

‘Let go of me, you brute,’ I yelled. I was desperate to kick his stupid, sexy legs.

He stopped and turned towards me, his jaw tight.

‘How dare you embarrass me like that?’ I demanded furiously.

‘Awww … my heart is bleeding.’

‘What is the matter with you?’ I exploded.

‘What is the matter with you?’ he countered.

‘I was having breakfast with Ralph. He’s a friend. It was an innocent thing until you came barging into that café to harass us. I am so humiliated I will never be able to go back there

again. For your information Ralph is a perfect gentleman. Unlike you. He never tried it on once with me. And here’s something else for you to think about, you big tree. I really don’t

appreciate you thinking that you can run my life or pick my boyfriends for me. I’m old enough to pick my own, thank you very much. Now, let go of my hand before I cream your corn,’ I

roared.

‘I’ll let go when you stop behaving like you’ve been given cornbread for brains.’

My jaw hung loose. People were passing us on the pavement and giving us a wide berth. ‘If you must know I happen to love cornbread, so when you get a chance to get off Twitter, you … you

troll you, you might want to come up with a more inventive insult,’ I yelled in frustration.