The Discarded Mistress

By Anne Ivory

Excerpt:
Reece stared blindly at the twinkling lights of the city trying not to go into panic mode. This was precisely what he’d been afraid of. He was getting too close to Fiona. He needed to distance himself. Maybe, she ought to return to London. He would provide her with enough money so she could rent a flat and live comfortably. He needed the space to figure out their relationship even though he already had a pretty good idea. Once free of Dominique and the sham engagement, he’d bring Fiona back.
His pulse quickened as the front door slammed and turned to see her poised in the terrace doorway. Her expression was grave.
“Fiona!” Placing his glass on a table, he strode over to draw her into his arms and plant a soft kiss on her lips. “I was worried, Ma petite. Are you okay?” he asked leading her to the plush sofa. “Drink?”
She shook her head.
Reece dropped down beside her and took her hand. “You’re upset, Cheri. What’s the matter?” His eyes widened in disbelief when she pulled her hand away. A chill coasted down his spine. Was she breaking off with him? This, he had not expected.
“Er...it’s rather difficult...” she began.
Reece grimaced. No, he didn’t...he couldn’t bear to hear her say it and quickly cut her off. “Yes, you’re right. I’m so glad we’re on the same page.”
Startled Fiona slanted a look at him. “We are?”
“Yes, we need some time away from each other.” Later, in hindsight it struck him that, perhaps, it may not have been what she’d been going to say. He picked up his glass of wine and took a big gulp. He was going to grab the opportunity for now. He’d clear it all up later. She would understand.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“No, my love, no. We’re not breaking up. Think of it as a pause. It’ll do us both good to take some time away from each other. In a few months, I’ll be back in London and we can meet up again.”
“I see.”
“I know things are hard so I’d like to help. And before you refuse, please consider that you have no funds of your own.”
Every word fell upon her like a physical blow. Payment for services rendered? She felt her heart splintering into bits.
“Fiona, say something.”
How about, go to go to hell? She thought, then remembered her baby. A slow burn of tears rose behind her eyes. No, damn it. She had to be strong. He was right. She did need the money. “How much money are we talking about?”
Reece stared at Fiona. That was it? No pleading? No hysterics? “You’re taking this rather well. You do realise this is temporary? I’ll be in touch. We’re not done, yet, Fiona.”
She sighed. “Look, either we’re together or we’re not. I don’t want to drag things out endlessly. So, again, how much money are you offering?”
She was one cool customer, he thought, not liking it one bit. “How about 50,000 Euros now. Call me when you’re getting low and I’ll wire you more.”
She snorted. “50? Better make it a 100,000.”
Reece gaped. That sounded a bit cold blooded, not at all like his Fiona. It occurred to him then, how often he thought of her as his. What did it matter, he could afford it. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I’ll make the transfer.”
She was shocked. Wow! He’d capitulated so easily. He must really want me out of here. She was deeply saddened. Her life would be bleak and desolate without him. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. They were was going to be okay, she and her baby. At least there would be someone to love her. Unconditionally.
“Where shall I send it?”
“I’ll let you know in a day or two?”
Reece paled. “A day or two? What are you talking about, Fiona?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What’s the rush?” His eyes narrowed then hardened. “Is there someone else or are you missing the fast life in London?”
“Whatever. I’d appreciate it if you could book me the earliest flight out.”
“Okay, Ma petite, as you wish. But can’t I tempt you to stay a little longer?”
“What could you possibly have

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Ivory
• Release date: Jan 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370784622

Anne Ivory

Anne Ivory lives in New York with her husband who supports her in all her endeavors including buying her a daily dose of dark chocolate.

Book preview

133

THE DISCARDED MISTRESS

By

Anne Ivory

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published by:

K. S. Frain on SMASHWORDS

Copyright 2017 K. S. Frain

ISBN: 9781370784622

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords License Statement

All rights reserved. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. This book is a copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published by:

K. S. Frain on SMASHWORDS

Copyright 2015 K. S. Frain

Table Of Contents

Prologue

Part I – The Child

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part II – The Woman

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Prologue

Ross Ballantyne paced the length of the study, his body bristling with impatience. He had sent for Fiona fifteen minutes ago. Where was the little pest? Always dawdling, he grumbled to himself. A few minutes later, after a timid knock the door slowly opened.

It always surprised him how much younger, she appeared than her nine years. For a fraction of a second, his heart softened, until he found himself subjected to a piercing glare from under the mop of unruly red hair. His lips tightened. How like Grace she appeared. In fact, with that tiny heart-shaped face, she was the exact image of his faithless wife.

For nine years he had ignored Fiona. When she was born, he had directed a cursory glance at the wriggling bundle in Grace’s arms. After determining that the baby was a girl, he’d withdrawn all interest. His disappointment with Grace was immense. Married five years and nothing to show for it but a girl.

To make up for her father’s indifference Fiona had been petted and spoiled by her mother. Bonnie, her nurse, too, was guilty of doing the same. But after Grace walked out on them, Fiona changed and turned into a virago. He had tolerated her for a whole year, then belatedly thought of enrolling her in a boarding school. No longer would he have to see her lurking in the corridors staring at him with those accusing eyes as he passed her by without a word. She made him uncomfortable, even feel guilty. Yes, it would be best to send her off.

You wanted to see me, father?

Have Bonnie pack your things. You’re going to boarding school in Edinburgh.

Really? Fiona almost smiled, but quickly sobered. Er…I mean, yes, sir.

Ross was surprised by her quick acquiescence and narrowed his eyes. What was she up to now? He wondered suspiciously.

Fiona regarded the dark uncompromising figure of a man who stood before her and smirked inwardly. Her father. How she hated him. Had he really been expecting her to put up a fight? He was doing her a favour, but he didn’t need to know that.

She had heard those late night arguments between them. Her mother’s terrified screams had frightened her. He was the reason she had left, she knew. And so she had promised herself that one day she, too, was going to run away. It seemed that, that day was here already.

That’s all! You may go.

Long after Fiona had scurried away, Ross turned to the window of his study overlooking a well-manicured rear garden. As he stared off into the distance, his mind rifled through his memories the night Grace went away. He remembered it, as if it were yesterday.

That evening he had returned from work earlier than usual. He and Grace had quarreled the night before and it had ended badly. He thought he would make up for it by taking her out to dinner. The minute he opened the door, he sensed the atmosphere of urgency swirling in the air. Grace stood in the hallway, he saw and it appeared to him as though she were waiting for someone. A puzzled frown lit his brow. What was going on?

Grace spun around at the sound of the door shutting behind her and her eyes had filled with dismay at his unexpected appearance. To his surprise, her chin rose. His eyes widened at the hint of defiance, especially in light of the black and blue ring she sported around her eye where he’d hit her the night before. He cringed to see the bruise and had cursed his vile temper. He always regretted his violent behavior afterwards. But it was her fault; she drove him to it. Yes, she had asked for it.

You’re home early, she stated in a matter of fact way. For once there was no fear in her eyes.

Yes, I thought we would go out to dinner, but I see that won’t be possible, he said gesturing in the general direction of her face. It was then that he had noticed the suitcases that stood beside her. Going somewhere, Grace? He had sounded nonchalant though he had begun to seethe inwardly.

Familiar with that change in the tone and the menace emanating from him, Grace had quickly retreated behind the four suitcases as if for protection. I’m…I’m leaving. Her voice had wavered at first, then, I’m leaving you, Ross, she’d repeated more firmly.

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, but when her words registered a burst of red hot fury spiked inside of him. She was waiting for him to respond, he noticed, and when he didn’t, she turned away.

You’re joking, right? He had burst out then. What the hell are you talking about? Where do you think you’re going?

Joking? she’d replied with a bitter laugh. Hardly! I should have done this a long time ago, but I was afraid and alone, and my parents had just passed away. All I ever wanted, Ross, was a family, someone to love. I thought you were it… Grace had halted unable to speak as she visibly swallowed trying to control herself. Why, Ross, why do you always hurt me? she had whispered with a break in her voice.

Cornered, he had remained silent.

It no longer matters. I’m so tired of being your punching bag, Ross. Go ahead and divorce me, she had said, sounding defeated. I won’t contest. We won’t bother you again.

We?

I’m taking Fiona. Bonnie is packing her clothes. We’ll be out of your hair soon.

Finally, it sank in that she really meant to leave. His terror of Grace abandoning him, propelled him forward. She reared back and threw out a hand. S…stay where you are! she stammered.

And what if I don’t? he had demanded and suddenly realised that his antagonism was not helping the already out of control situation. It had been confusing to him and he had not known how to handle this new confident Grace.

Ross followed her gaze as she glanced at the living room door, and froze as a large man stepped out of the shadows and began to move toward him. A chill ran down his spine as he halted before him. He was quite a giant of a man. His face was set, the expression stone cold as he stared down at Ross.

What now? He had thought. She’d hired herself a bodyguard? Surely, he wasn’t going to be attacked in his own home? A tense silence followed as Ross glared back. The man’s lips suddenly curled into a sneer. He shook his head as if in disgust and turned to Grace.

Ready?

Ross was dumbstruck. He’d been dismissed, examined and found lacking. His head swiveled from Grace to the man and back, trying to understand the relationship between the two.

Grace looked up at the man and had given him a soft smile filled with tenderness, a smile that had had Ross catching his breath. She’d never looked at him that way.

Almost, she replied. I’m just waiting for Fiona.

Ross was done being ignored. Who’s this? Your bodyguard? His eyes narrowed as he suddenly recognized the stranger. So they were right. I never believed the gossip floating around at the club. I must say you have some gall inviting your lover into my house. He had turned to the man. Simon Hughes, isn’t it? Well done, Grace! he’d said with his gaze still pinned upon Hughes. Looks like you caught a big fish…again. His eyes swung back to his wife. So, you’re going to leave, is it? Alright, leave! As for Fiona, you can forget about her. She won’t be going anywhere.

Wha…what do you mean? she had stammered. Ross remembered with satisfaction how she had paled. The familiar frightened look had returned to her eyes.

Exactly what I said.

Ross, you’ve shown nothing but animosity towards your own daughter from the day she was born. You don’t want her.

Maybe so, but I’m going to keep her, anyway. If only as a constant reminder of your adulterous behaviour and to never trust a woman again. He’d suddenly frowned. Is she even mine, Grace? he had asked. Actually, don’t answer that because it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you’re not getting her.

Why are you doing this, Ross? Of course, she’s your child. You would prefer to destroy her in order to punish me? She’s only eight. Let me have her, Grace had begged with tear-filled eyes.

Placated somewhat by her pleading, Ross had debated with himself if it wasn’t better to rid himself of Fiona. He hardly knew what to do with the girl. Was it really worth the trouble? Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, struck by a thought. Maybe, he could work this to his advantage. Yes, he would enjoy telling Fiona all about her slut of a mother who had abandoned her own daughter to run away with her lover. His expression turned cruel. I’m sorry, my dear, but you must learn to live with the consequences of your actions. Yes, think of it as your punishment. Fiona is going to be the easy scapegoat. She’s your daughter, after all.

Grace had lost it then and began to sob. Hughes had immediately placed his arm around her. Impotent was how Ross had felt to see another man comfort his wife. Ordinarily, he would have acted on the intense urge to pummel the man, but he, too, knew when he was beaten.

Hughes suddenly spoke, his voice was menacing. If you touch a hair on that child’s head, I’ll have Children’s Services here so fast you won’t know what hit you. And you can’t afford any more scandals, can you, Ballantyne? Whatever will your board members say when they receive photos of your lovely handiwork? he mocked and pointed at Grace’s swollen face and black eye.

Ross opened and shut his mouth like a gaping fish. He turned to his wife. What are you waiting for? I wouldn’t take you back, now, even if you begged on your knees. Get out of my house! Being able to relieve his anger on her had always given him satisfaction. Only, it was the last time.

A bunch of noisy sparrows cavorting in the small fountain outside interrupted his reverie. His head was pounding he realised and turned away from the window. He had loved Grace in his own selfish way and regretted his treatment of her, though he would never admit to it, not even if his life depended on it. His pride would never allow him to forgive her for leaving him and all the shame and embarrassment that had followed in the aftermath. The gossips had dined on it for months.

Over the past one year he had come to know Fiona, somewhat. She was his, of course, he knew that. But she was more Grace’s daughter, the very devil born to taunt and torment him. Thank God! She would be gone tomorrow.

In his opinion, Edinburgh was not far enough.

***

Part I

The Child

***

Chapter One

The taxi drew to a slow rolling halt in front of the Ballantyne Mansion as if sensing the unwillingness of its passenger to leave the safe confines of the car. For a moment, both driver and the back seat occupant sat in silence.

Fiona sighed. Did she really have a choice? She gathered her duffle bag and opened the door. Still she hesitated. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped out. The cabbie in the meanwhile, had retrieved her lone suitcase and set it on the curb. She paid the fare and after thanking the man, she pulled up the retractable handle. She turned and stopped to stare up at the dark brick façade of the imposing four storey structure. Her heart tightened with apprehension.

It was one of the most distinguished of Smith Square homes in Westminster or so they said. But in truth, it was just another house to her. It had never been her home. And for all those who didn’t know better it was just as foreboding on the outside, as it was within. Fiona knew this well, though she hadn’t been inside for a good number of years.

She sighed and wheeled the suitcase up to the door where she pressed the doorbell. It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t have a key to the house. Not that she’d had a reason to before.

The door swung open and a young man stood before her. Yes? he enquired.

Yes? Fiona forgot her unease as anger suddenly rushed to the fore. I am Fiona Ballantyne.

Chagrined, the man quickly widened the door and stepped aside. Excuse me, miss, I wasn’t informed...

No, I can see you were not…er…?

Wilson, miss.

The tips of his ears reddened and Fiona could see the poor man was visibly embarrassed. She immediately regretted her impatience. It’s alright, Wilson. Do you think I could get some help getting this suitcase to my room? It’s quite heavy.

Of course, miss, right away.

Where’s Rogers?

Before he could respond a woman appeared at the top of the staircase. Who is it, Wilson?

It’s Miss Ballantyne, Miss Tara.

Miss Tara?

Fiona eyed the elegant woman as she came floating down the hallway stairs. She was attired in a cream silk shirt paired with an expertly cut navy skirt tapering to her knees. Her jet black hair was styled in a smooth up do. Fiona guessed her age to be around thirty, but conceded that she was attractive in a cold sort of way despite the thin lips and shrewd blue eyes.

Ah, Fiona! So nice to meet you at last, she said running her eyes up and down her crumpled school girl uniform. Fiona squirmed under the weight of the woman’s regard then felt her hackles rise. She was startled and couldn’t recall when she’d had such an adverse reaction to another person. And who are you?

Tara Mills, your father’s executive assistant.

Fiona raised a brow in pretend surprise. Executive assistant? Is that a fancy name for clerk? Whatever happened to poor old Seymour? she inquired, an innocent look in her eyes and was rewarded when she saw an angry flush colour Tara’s cheeks.

He retired, replied the other woman.

That’s too bad. I really liked him.

A hard look appeared in Tara’s eyes. Yes, it is, isn’t it? A lot of changes have taken place while you were away. It will all be made clear to you soon enough. It’s been a while since you were here last.

So where’s Ross?

Tara narrowed her eyes. You call your father by his name?

What of it?

You’re quite an ill-mannered brat. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders in that school of yours?

Fiona’s mouth hung open in shocked surprise. Who the hell was this woman to tell her what to do? She cocked an eyebrow. You are Ross’…er…executive assistant, is it? Perhaps, you should mind your own business. Don’t you have some letters to types or something?

Tara didn’t rise to the bait. Ross is in the library waiting for you. With that, she turned and marched back up the stairs.

Fiona watched Tara’s retreating back. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. Where the hell was the woman off to? After a while, she shrugged and headed for the study. As soon as she passed the living room located off the hallway, she halted mid-stride and quickly backtracked. A complete transformation had taken place. Gone were the dark curtains, ancient sofas, side tables and heavy bureaus from three generations ago. Instead the room was imbued with a different air altogether. It was lighter and brighter and furnished with fine contemporary furniture. Even the fixtures were different, streamlined and modern, and the bulky damask curtains had been replaced by a lighter fabric with a subtle and tasteful print.

She shook her head in surprised wonder. Had a father hired a decorator? She wondered. However, as she continued on her way she was struck by a disturbing thought. Was Tara responsible for all the changes? Had she moved in? No matter, she’d soon get to the bottom of it. Her heart began to thud as she drew closer to the study. Get a grip! She told herself firmly. Ross had already shown by word and by action that he didn’t give a damn about her. What else could he possibly do to hurt her?

She knocked before opening the door. A quick scan of the room established that the designer, whosoever it was, had not been allowed to get their hands on the study. The panelled walls, bookshelves, and everything was status quo. But then Ross didn’t like change.

She was hit by a sense of déjà vu.

How many times had she been summoned here for reprimands and admonishments by that grim figure? And there he was seated at the familiar mahogany desk, looking his dark and foreboding self. Despite every effort to suppress her anxiety, the old forgotten feeling of dread came rushing back. She clenched her jaw and determinedly walked forward and waited for him to look up from his laptop. A laptop? Her eyes widened and she forgot all about her nervousness. He had always been old school and sneered at computers and such. What or who had made him change his mind? Tara, no doubt.

Another half a minute went by and still he didn’t break away. He seemed to be typing something very important because he didn’t think it necessary to stop and acknowledge his only daughter, one he hadn’t seen in a long time.

She shrugged and studied him curiously. He had always appeared larger than life to her having only viewed him before through the eyes of a frightened child. He seemed somehow diminished. Her anxiety and nervousness faded away. The menacing air about him had been nothing more than a smokescreen, she suddenly realised. He was more like angry and resentful. Also, his hair was thinning and there was a lot more grey mixed in with the dark chocolate. Even his eyebrows were peppered with grey.

What changes would he notice in her, she wondered. She was so much older now than the last time she had been at Ballantyne Mansion. And taller, she thought proudly straightening to her full height of five feet four inches. Her formerly thin heart shaped face had filled out and she’d finally grown into her large grey eyes. However, no amount of wishing had made the smattering of tiny freckles disappear. They had stubbornly retained their coveted place atop her tiny up-turned nose. Over the years her naturally curly and bright red hair had transformed into a rich red gold. She usually wore the shoulder length, mass in a thick ponytail since she didn’t know what else to do with it.

Ross closed his laptop and looked up. He paled, then grimaced in disgust. Good God! How like your mother you are.

For a moment she was incapable of speech and angry tears sprung to her eyes. Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth. But when she spoke her voice was quiet and controlled. Have you any idea how long it’s been since I was back in this house?

Ross frowned.

You don’t, do you? Eight years. That’s right, a whole eight years. And that…that is the first thing you have to say to me?

Ross shrugged. Well, it’s true enough, isn’t it? I’d hoped you would grow out of it, but the resemblance is even stronger now. That’s too bad.

Fiona gasped at his rudeness. That is your opinion, but I’ll take it as a compliment. Grace was a very beautiful woman. In fact, she still is.

At a loss for words for once, Ross pushed back his chair and stood up. She’d been a puny little child when she’d left here. He hadn’t expected this Fiona, one who talked back to him. How would you know that?

She shook her head dismissively. It’s not important.

His face turned red with displeasure. I won’t tolerate your insolence? Is that what they taught you in school? He bellowed. Now, answer my question! How do you know what she looks like? Have you been meeting her behind my back?"

The disrespect in her voice had angered him, she was aware. Good! Her lips twisted in a wry smile and watched his face turn more florid if that was possible. There’s really no need to shout. I’m standing right here. I’m eighteen not eight and no longer the frightened mouse, you threatened and intimidated all those years ago. You know I almost believed you when you told me my mother didn’t love me. I soon found out that wasn’t true. And yes, I’ve been seeing Grace. In fact, I’ve seen her every single year since you bundled me off to school. Quite a lot more than I’ve seen you in my entire life.

Ross was apoplectic. How? When…er…who told you about her? It was Bonnie, wasn’t it? Good thing I let her go. We had no use for her, anyway.

Fiona gasped and her heart tightened with

Reviews for The Discarded Mistress

[Debbie DiFiore · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Harlequin type of romance. They were barely together in the book. Maybe 20% if that. It was a mess and needs some proofreading. But he was celibate the second time they separated. So was she. Neither were during the first time but they had only met for like fifteen minutes max. Never forgot each other though.

[rkaye · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was ok but the timeline was confusing. Their time apart varied from one year to nearly two. I think the author forgot. Also, the excuse for spending so much time apart was lame (and all for nothing!) but it was still an entertaining read.