Beating the System Read online

  She snorted at that remark as she read it again. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. While there was no rule within the will to say she had to be married before she had a baby, the fact remained she still had to be married to her baby’s father to get her money.

  She glanced at the photo of the Guildford Geniuses, the whole gang in their graduation garb, sat on her desk in a pretty silver frame. Julia had come to visit her not long after she’d fled the funeral, she’d brought her a box of photographs, trinkets, and mementos, to help make the sad little hotel suite—a small bedroom, tiny bathroom, and an even smaller sitting room—a little more like home. Hattie had carefully lifted the photo out of the box and ran her fingers over it, recalling how she’d sat on Jensen’s bed just the day before. It wasn’t the same photograph as the one at his bedside. On this one, Jensen was looking at the camera, laughing as much as the rest of them. Just as her copy had shown, too.

  No idea, Julia had replied when she’d questioned her about the difference. As far as I know, we all got the same one. What where you doing in his bedroom? And Hattie had told her, saying goodbye until Roman had walked in. She hadn’t said Roman had gripped her arm, scaring her slightly with the look in his eyes. An intensity she hadn’t seen since he’d been just a breath away from kissing her all those years ago. She definitely hadn’t told her friend that same intensity had appeared a few minutes later when they’d almost kissed again—which she both lamented and lauded, unsure of what the result would have been if their lips had met. Julia hadn’t liked Roman during their university days and she couldn’t stand him now.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she asked the picture, somehow hoping the smiling image of Jensen would give her an answer. She sighed at the lack of response and turned her attention to her bank statements.

  She was paid very well for her work and had lived a rather comfortable life on it, but she was freelance. She worked when people needed her which meant she had no guaranteed income. No one was going to give her a mortgage, nor would landlords rent to her, at least not the decent ones—it didn’t matter if she was the King’s granddaughter, they needed to pay their own mortgages.

  She held her head in her hands. In a few months she wouldn’t even be able to work. Her savings were minimal; she’d spent most of them refitting the house just before Christmas and she hadn’t worked since. She’d been living on her last pay-cheque, and renting the suite for the past month—as small as it was—had taken the last of it. She would eat up what was left of her savings in just a few more.

  She could get a smaller room, that would half the cost and stretch the crowns out. She wasn’t Victoria, she didn’t need a penthouse to live in. She’d cope in a regular double room for a while. And if she moved to a budget hotel, she may be able to stretch the slivers even more.

  She rubbed her temples as she did the numbers again and again in her head. She’d still be out of money before the baby arrived, and then what would she do?

  Victoria would help her, she figured; if she went there cap in hand, she’d put a roof over their heads. But then what? Would she live off her sister? And for how long could she keep that up? When Victoria had her own children, would she still be wanted?

  And What if Victoria couldn’t have children? They’d have to leave as soon as the five years were up on her marriage and Hattie would be right back to where she was now, but with a child to boot.

  Alexi and Pippa would let her stay too, but if they faced the same issue as her with their apartments, then she’d be back to square one. And with two sisters in tow! God, Victoria would love that.

  Maybe she should have let Alistair take her to The Castle. She could have stayed until she was showing, too far along for her grandfather to demand anything unseemly from her. She might have to yet. Maybe she’d have to turn to the one set of grandparents she had and hand her and their child over to them.

  She jumped at the loud crash of the heavy silver picture frame hitting the desk. She held her hand to her chest, as if that could somehow calm her suddenly racing heart as she reached with her other rightening the picture.

  The sun chose that moment to peek from behind the dull grey clouds that seemed to shroud the northeast corner of the country recently. It lit the picture, dazzling her with how happy they had all been in that moment. Jensen’s mischievous eyes met hers and she recalled with perfect clarity the morning the picture was taken and how he told her he was free. He finally had his trust from his grandfather and he didn’t need his own father controlling his life anymore.

  His trust fund. His penthouse. Her baby’s inheritance.

  She glanced at the other end of the photo, where Roman stood, like a pair of identical bookends holding the group together. He would have been the one to inherit whatever was left of Jensen’s fortune. He was the one who would have to recognise her unborn child as his niece or nephew.

  Hattie bit her lip as she realised what she had to do.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as her finger traced Jensen’s image before she put the photo back, pride of place in the middle of the desk.

  She stood up, grabbed her coat and bag, making sure her room key was safely tucked away in it, and left before she had a chance to change her mind.

  Chapter Six

  Hattie walked through the doors of Seymour Medical with a confidence she didn’t really have. She’d walked across the city, saving herself the taxi fare, on sheer determination that she was doing this, she wasn’t going to turn back and run away, but now she was here she actually had no idea what she was going to say to Roman when she saw him. How on earth did one drop the bombshell that you’re carrying their late brother’s love child and you need his house and trust fund? She bit her lip as she ran over several ways of beginning the conversation.

  Of course, it would all be moot if they wouldn’t let her in…

  No, she cast that thought aside quickly; she wouldn’t allow them not to let her through. She lifted her chin and ploughed on, cursing herself when she heard the polite receptionist calling out to her.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss!’ The woman who looked like a living Barbie doll followed her from the other side of the long counter. She waved frantically, trying to grab Hattie’s attention as she strode through the lobby towards the already open barriers and the lift bank on the other side. Hattie didn’t even glance her way. However, she did stop when a burly security guard stepped in front of her.

  ‘Miss, I can’t let you through without an employee ID or a visitor’s pass,’ he told her. ‘And right now, with the system down, I can’t just let people through.’ He waved his hand, indicating in the direction she had been heading.

  Hattie stared up at him, giving him her best I am not impressed face and asked crisply, ‘Do you have any idea just who you are talking to?’ She was pretty sure Victoria would never do it this way—even though Hattie knew she’d pulled the royal card on occasion—but she figured for her first time she could get away with being a little rude. She’d have Victoria teach her such a skill at a later date if she had to run to her grandparents for support.

  ‘You could be Queen Katrine for all I care, you still gotta have a pass.’

  ‘My grandmother would never wear such a thing.’ She pulled a disgusted face. ‘And neither will I.’

  ‘Your grandmother?’

  ‘Queen Katrine, you did just mention her.’ The guard looked baffled, and Hattie considered that perhaps staying so utterly out of royal functions as she had, hadn’t been such a good idea.

  Oblivious to what she was on about, the security guard cast his eyes off towards the reception desk. She wondered what the receptionist’s reaction was, but she kept her eyes firmly on her human barricade.

  ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have someone to see.’ Hattie tried to step around him, but the man quickly moved with her.

  ‘Do you mind telling me who?’

  ‘I would very much mind, yes.’

  The guard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Miss
, you need to help me out here. I don’t know who you are, you won’t say who you’re—’

  ‘Oh!’ Barbie’s voice screeched. ‘She’s a Snape! A sister of Lady Victoria—she was at the wedding! One of the bridesmaids!’

  Hattie took a deep breath, held it as she counted to five and released it again, before turning to the woman with a smile. ‘Yes, that was me.’

  ‘How is Cormac?’ Barbie asked as if she personally knew Hattie’s brother-in-law. Hattie’s right eye twitched, and she had to stop herself from snapping at the woman. This was far more stressful than she’d thought it would be. She’d figured there’d be staff and people to deal with, but people were beginning to stare and despite the royal occasions she had attended or the talks and presentations she gave at filled conference halls or full board rooms, she hated people staring at her. At being the centre of attention.

  She threw the woman another beaming smile and prayed it didn’t look like the murderous grimace it wanted to be. Just how did Victoria do this? Surely, she didn’t enjoy everyone knowing everything about her life? The next time she saw her sister, she was going to have to apologise. A little. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but she wouldn’t bitch to her about stressing over little things again when she’d dealt with this kind of crap every day.

  ‘He’s doing well. He’s home now.’ The other woman nodded, and a few people nearby murmured polite appreciation before live-action Barbie interrupted again.

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ The receptionist’s face took on the form more of a sex doll than the other she’d clearly idolised as she waved her hands towards Hattie and her security guard buddy. ‘Are you here about the tender for Earlsbury General?’

  Hattie had no idea what the girl was talking about but offered her a knowing smile as if she were correct. ‘That’s not something I can disclose, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Of course,’ Barbie said before looking to the giant next to Hattie. ‘Terry, why don’t you take Lady Snape to wherever she needs to go? If she’s with you, that should be okay.’

  ‘I don’t know…’ the man said, his dark eyes darting between the two women. ‘I’d have to ask Frank.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you don’t need to do that,’ Hattie said. ‘If you’re with me that would be better than a visitor’s pass! I mean, what am I going to do if you’re there?’ The guy, Terry, didn’t look convinced, but the receptionist encouraged him.

  ‘Go on, Terry. I’ll be fine here. Martin will be back in a few. I’ll sign Her Ladyship in.’

  Terry eyed Hattie speculatively, before sighing and shaking his head. He stared at the other woman. ‘You owe me, Daphne.’ Daphne nodded. ‘This way, my lady.’

  Once they stepped inside the lift, the giant man turned to her and said, ‘So you do actually need to tell me who you’re here to see, ma’am.’ He waved his fingers over the buttons.

  ‘Roman.’ The guard’s head snapped to her.

  ‘Mr Tyrrell?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hattie took a gamble. ‘He is the one that oversees the tender submissions, is he not?’ Terry took a breath and slowly let it out, his cheeks all puffed up as he considered his options. She purposefully glanced at her watch before looking back at him. ‘I’m running behind. Can we please hurry up, I have an appointment with my grandfather back in Avon at two,’ she lied.

  The guard shook his head but turned back to the panel. He inserted his key into the hole and pressed the button for the sixth floor. As Hattie stood in the middle of the lift, she silently thanked her guardian angel who had taken to watching over her. She was in the middle of her secret prayer when the doors to the lift opposite theirs slid open.

  Hattie’s brain abruptly ended her benediction as her eyes fell on the small, rotund frame of Conner O’Malley a fraction of a second before their doors closed and they were whizzed up to the top floor.

  What the hell was O’Malley doing here? Was Roman in trouble?

  A wave of dread washed over her as she contemplated something more awful than she’d previously considered; had Roman knowingly been involved with O’Malley?

  Crap, she should have spoken to Marcus before she’d headed here. He wasn’t going to just be mad she’d come here to engage Roman without a member of the protective guard, he was going to be pissed!

  But Roman would never hurt her. At least not physically…

  You’re hurting me…

  Okay, maybe he had—once!—but she was sure he hadn’t meant to grip her arm so tightly, not when afterwards—

  She blinked that thought away and willed the lift to get to their destination faster, all the while politely smiling at the security guard who kept casting her nervous glances. She kept her face composed, that gentle smile Victoria had taught her years ago in place, despite the fact her heart beat wildly in her chest, her lungs wanted to run on overdrive and her knees had turned to jelly. She pressed her fingernails into the palm of her hands and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself grounded and not float off into sheer panic.

  After what felt like an age, when it was less than a minute, the lift slowed to a halt and pinged as the doors crept open. Hattie was out of them before they’d fully opened and Terry called after her, telling her to slow down and wait for him as his big, lumbering frame slowed him down.

  She had no idea where she was going, but followed the signs for the executive suite; he had to be somewhere near there, right?

  And a moment later she was vindicated! She skidded to a halt when she saw the shining nameplate beside a door.

  Roman Tyrrell ~ Vice President.

  She pushed the door open, and a startled woman behind a desk looked up from the files in her hands. She glanced back at the nameplate, just to double check she had the right place. Where was Roman?

  ‘Can I help you?’ the woman, who must have been his secretary, asked.

  ‘I’m here to see Roman,’ Hattie said absently as she glanced around for him. He wasn’t there, and there wasn’t a desk for him, but there was a door on the other side of the room. This was an inner office, she realised. Dammit, she should have known; her own father had had a whole suite, of course a VP wouldn’t have his office just opening onto the corridor, and of course he would have a secretary or personal assistant.

  Hattie bit her lip in frustration; yet another obstacle to overcome.

  With a deep breath, she made towards the other door when the woman sprang up from her seat. She held her arm out, trying to stop Hattie’s progress.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not in at present,’ the woman protested far too loudly. Hattie would have scoffed at the clear lie, if she didn’t need to see for herself that Roman was alive and well, and not either gravely injured or in cahoots with the man who had tried to destroy her sister’s life.

  ‘Downstairs said he was.’

  ‘He’s in a meeting.’ The woman’s voice became panicked as she put herself between Hattie and the door to her goal.

  ‘But I need to speak to him. I won’t be long.’ Hattie tried to get to the door by stepping around the other woman, but she was too quick. She mirrored Hattie’s step and proclaimed loudly, probably for her boss’s benefit, ‘You can’t go in there!’

  Physically pushing the woman to one side, Hattie told her, ‘Try and stop me!’ The secretary did. Grabbing Hattie’s arm, she pulled her away from the door, and caught off guard, Hattie stumbled backwards with her towards the woman’s desk.

  ‘I’m calling security,’ the woman puffed between breaths as she reached for her phone, before crying out in pain as Hattie dug her nail into the soft side of her wrist. ‘You little—Terry! Thank God!’ The large security officer who’d be accompanying Hattie finally joined them. He took one look at the tussling duo and came barrelling in to join the fray.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sue, she was supposed to stay with me.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who I am?’ Hattie protested as Terry took her other arm. The two began to drag her away from her goal and she screeched in protest. ‘I will have your—’

&nb
sp; ‘Just what in God’s name is— Henrietta?’ Roman’s voice interrupted their tussle. He looked between the grappling trio, his eyes wide and brows raised in surprised horror. ‘What the hell is going on? Sue, Terry, let Lady Henrietta go!’

  Hattie pulled her arms out of the grasp of her opponents and straightened herself up. She smoothed down her previously wrinkle free dress and narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

  ‘How would you two like to see the rooms at the Broken Hill? I’m sure that I can arrange a tour if I speak to my grandfather.’ Terry’s eyes widened and Sue went ashed, looking like she might pass out at the mere suggestion.

  ‘My lady—’ Terry began, but she held up her hand to cut him off, turning her attention to the object of her goal.

  Roman looked fine, a little stressed out, but considering his position, she was sure that was normal. Nothing else looked off or untoward and she suddenly questioned if it had really been O’Malley she’d spotted. The man hadn’t lifted his head so she could actually see his face, he’d been too engrossed in his phone, so perhaps she’d made a mistake. Although, just because he wasn’t injured or ruffed up slightly, that didn’t mean he wasn’t working with the man.

  ‘I don’t believe we have an appointment. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Roman asked, leaning against the damn door frame again, as cool and casual as he had at Jensen’s wake. He raised a brow in challenge, and Hattie narrowed her eyes in return.

  ‘I need to speak to you.’

  ‘Then you should have called Sue and made an appointment,’ he told her quickly. ‘I’m rather busy at the moment. Sue, see when you can fit Lady Henrietta in, try and prioritise her if you can.’

  Hattie blinked and bit her tongue. The bastard wasn’t going to invite her in and his whole demeanour screamed for her to stay away.