Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

LIZZIE

W as that an apology?

Richard's way of explaining how and why he'd allowed our game to go to such extremes?

Either way, I knew the subject was closed.

He had sent that part of the message loud and clear.

What else could I do? I had made my choice, now I must deal with the consequences. I might not have known the extent of what I had been getting myself into when I chose Richard, but I couldn't deny I knew I was making a dangerous choice. The warning signs were there.

Practically from the moment I had met him he had proven to be possessive, controlling, and intense. And if I were honest with myself—I mean really honest—I fucking loved that about him. Sure, it scared the crap out of me, but at the same time it was just so damn hot. To have a man as powerful and influential as Richard make no secret of the fact that you were the center of his world?

It was intoxicating.

Besides, I was still all turned around about what had happened at his estate.

How could I be certain it wasn't me forcing his hand?

That it wasn't me insisting we go that deep into the fantasy?

After all, I was the one who dreamed of living in the Victorian period. Hell, I was even basing my future career on that dream!

And while Richard may be all of those things, he was also romantic, sexy, handsome, sweet in his quiet moments, and beyond generous, not only with his money but his time and attention.

I was thinking in circles and all it had gotten me so far was a headache.

Feeling like Scarlett O'Hara, I wouldn't think more on it today… I'd worry about it tomorrow.

Rubbing my temples, I rolled onto my side and curled my knees up, wincing a little at the soreness between my legs. I had fallen back asleep not too long after he had given me that kinky as fuck insane orgasm.

My gaze fell on a stunning purse resting next to his pillow.

With a gasp, I sat up and grabbed the small top-handle bag. Holy shit! Running a reverent hand over the metallic pink Mordoré Nappa leather, I traced the outline of the gold heart, pearl-encrusted clasp.

It wasn't lost on me that the purse was from Dolce & Gabbana's Devotion collection. There was nothing Richard did that didn't send some kind of hidden message or have some kind of symbolism to it.

Opening the flap, I saw one cream-colored envelope and a small velvet pouch. The soft calfskin interior brushed my knuckles as I reached in to retrieve the items.

Pulling on the dark purple strings of the velvet bag, I poured the contents onto my sheet-covered lap. They were the jewels from earlier. Although they were now cleaned and sparkling, they would forever bring to mind all the dirty deeds Richard had done to me with them.

Running a nail under the envelope flap, I pulled out the heavy card stock note and recognized the Winterbourne embossed family crest and Richard's aggressively slanted penmanship.

There is a driver waiting to take you to Bond Street, when you are ready.

I've arranged a special lesson for you today with a member of the Morris family.

Bring the jewels.

If my meeting ends early, I will try to meet you there.

If not, we are dining at eight p.m. tonight.

Wear the new Ellen Wise Couture gown.

—R

If I was going to Bond Street, that could only mean David Morris Jewelers. One of the most famous bespoke jewelers in the world. They have literally made crowns for Europe's royal families. Ever since Richard had me drop out of University, he had arranged for countless lessons and short internships with some of the most famous designers in the world. Even during our game, I still met with seamstresses to create my Victorian gowns. The fact was, I was getting more of an education now than I ever would have sitting in class making peasant blouses!

Jumping out of bed, I headed straight to my walk-in dressing room. Hanging on a brass hook to the right was a garment bag with the simple font logo of Ellen Wise. That must be the floral hand-embroidered gown from her spring collection Richard had ordered from her San Francisco atelier. I would look at it later. For now, I needed to decide what I would wear for my first bespoke jewelry lesson.

Adjusting the pussycat bow on my Michael Kors emerald dress, I turned to the driver.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be, John."

He nodded as he closed the door he had held open for me. "That's no problem, Miss Elizabeth. I'll just be right here when you're ready."

While I was still getting used to having servants always about, I had to admit having a driver and no longer having to rely on the tube was definitely nice.

Nervously holding my new Dolce & Gabbana bag close, keenly aware of the exorbitant fortune in jewels contained inside, I took a deep breath and swung open the heavy glass door.

Several hours later, clutching the leather portfolio that contained the true-to-size artist rendering of the cascade necklace I had designed, I emerged from the jeweler's shop. I couldn't wait to show Richard. I would have to return the drawing so they could make the necklace. I didn't feel confident giving them permission to move forward without Richard's approval first. It was after all several million pounds' worth of loose jewels. It felt too presumptuous to spend Richard's money like that, even though Mr. Morris assured me Richard had said to move forward with whatever I had designed regardless of cost. I did however let him keep the jewels in their safe, which was a relief. Spying John in the driver's seat, I gave a slight wave to get his attention as I waited for a group of people to pass me on the sidewalk.

Just then, I spotted Richard walking away from the car.

"Richard! Richard!" I called out, rising on my toes to see over their heads.

I could see his tall frame and ebony hair as he moved down the street away from me.

The man didn't even turn at my call.

I went after him, but a tall blonde on her mobile shouldered me as she quickly passed, making me drop my portfolio. By the time I retrieved it and looked about me again, he was gone.

Maybe it wasn't him?

I felt sure I recognized the suede jacket he had been wearing earlier.

"Is something wrong, miss?" asked John as he opened the back passenger side door for me.

Not willing to admit that Richard had possibly ignored me, I shook my head no as I got into the car. Turning to reach for the seat belt as John took his place behind the wheel, I swiveled to buckle it and let out a shrill scream.

Alarmed, John turned to face me. "What is it?"

With both hands covering my mouth in horror, I just stared.

Following my gaze, he saw the dead bird on the seat beside me. Its brightly colored wings were spread wide, its head cocked at an unnatural angle.

The door across from me opened. John, with a wad of tissues in his hand, swooped up its small body. "I'm so sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I have no idea how this got in here!"

Turning away, he slammed the door shut before running around the back of the car in search of a trash can.

Looking down, I could see small drops of still-wet blood on the tan leather seat.

Returning to the car, John once more took his place behind the wheel, but turned to face me.

"Are you all right?"

I didn't respond.

"I'm very sorry, miss. The bird must have flown inside unnoticed when I opened the door."

"Yes. Yes, John. That must be what happened," I answered weakly. I continued to stare at the drops of blood as the car pulled away from the curb.

I was absolutely certain that was not what had happened.

"Please, miss. I'll be sacked for sure if His Grace finds out about this."

He must not have seen Richard put the bird inside.

Unwilling to give a staff member a glimpse into the sordid details of my life, I placated him. "Don't worry, John. I won't mention a thing."

The poor dead bird had been a brightly colored parakeet. A pet bird. If it had been from the wild, it would have more than likely been grey, like a pigeon or a brown sparrow.

No. This was a message.

Richard always called me his little bird .

It looks like another game had begun.

Once again, I didn't know the rules. The frigid hand of dread gripped my heart as I guessed at what the final outcome would be.