Mr. Rochester: British Bad Boy (Classics Made Smutty Book 1)

by Marian Tee

  I’m Adele, but you can call me Addie, had been her first words just before giving me a hug.

  “I’m so sorry I frightened you,” Addie says once more.

  “It’s honestly okay,” I say yet again. “But if you don’t mind me asking – what were you looking for in your…father’s desk?” The word ‘father’ sounds strange on my lips. I’m still having a hard time imagining Mr. Rochester as someone’s father.

  “I was checking his drawers to see if the college sent him a letter or something,” Addie explains with a sigh. “That’s all, really, which is why I feel so horrible something so inconsequential ended up like this.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I remind her. “No one’s at fault---” Except Mr. Rochester, I think.

  Addie gives me another hug, gushing, “I knew you’d be this sweet! I feel like I’ve already known you forever since we’ve been living next door to each other---”

  It takes me a couple of moments to understand what she’s saying. “You’re the one behind all the haunting?”

  Adele gives me a sheepish smile. “When I found out from Consuelo that Papa hasn’t told you anything about me, I thought I shouldn’t say anything myself.” A look of sweet apology followed after. “Say you’re not angry about it?”

  “Of course not,” I reassure her right away. And I mean it. I may be quick-tempered, but even I draw the line on taking my anger out on teenagers.

  If there’s one person who I should be mad about – and I am – then it’s none other than the devil himself.

  A moment later, Mr. Rochester appears almost on cu, striding inside the office with a decidedly taut look on his handsome face.

  “Papa!” Addie’s happy cry has his head snapping towards our direction, and even as he opens his arms to embrace his daughter, Mr. Rochester’s sapphire blue eyes remain on me.

  I don’t have a hard time keeping my face expressionless because it’s exactly how I’m feeling. I’m still numb at knowing he’s hidden his daughter from me. It’s not like him at all, but it’s what he’s done, and now I’m just…lost.

  “Will you excuse us for a moment,” I hear him murmur to Addie.

  “Of course.”

  When Addie glances at me, I muster a smile. “It’s been nice meeting you.”

  She returns my smile, albeit uncertainly. “I’ll see you at home?”

  I keep smiling, unable to answer.

  When the door closes behind her, Mr. Rochester wastes no time, crossing the room to crouch in front of me. “Jane.”

  But for once, hearing him say my name doesn’t make me melt.

  His hands enfold mine. “Look at me.” Our gazes meet, and he draws his breath sharply.

  “There’s dirt in my eyes,” I mutter, knowing – feeling – how…glassy my eyes have become.

  “I didn’t mean to lie to you about her.” He waits, but when I still don’t speak, he continues tightly, “I wasn’t lying when I told you I never talk to the women---” He breaks off.

  Too late, bastard, I think. So I say it for him. “The women you fuck?”

  “I don’t see you like that,” he says sharply.

  I only give him a brittle smile, knowing it can do the job of saying it all. He’s a goddamn liar, and I hate him for it.

  “I know you’re angry, but just hear me out first. I’ve never let any woman close enough to me that she’d deserve to know about Adele. But you---” His grip tightens. “You were different right from the start. And it’s like what you said. Everything happened so fast and it…bothered me, too. I’ve never meant to hide the fact I have a daughter from you, but somehow…I couldn’t make myself tell you either.” A grim expression settles on his face. “I suppose I felt if I did…then it would be acknowledging that my life has to change.”

  I feel his sapphire blue eyes on me, but I can’t make myself say a word. I’m still frozen in numbness, but I also know that the moment its icy layer cracks open---

  The pain would be there, and it would eat me alive.

  I get what he’s saying. Hurt has never made me unreasonable and impractical, so I do see it from his point of view.

  But what I don’t know…what I can’t be sure of…is if I should believe him.

  “Jane.” Mr. Rochester’s voice is unlike anything I’ve heard from him. It’s hoarse and low, almost…vulnerable.

  But for some reason, the knowledge just makes me want to distance myself. I instinctively try pulling my hands away, but it only makes Mr. Rochester’s grip tighten.

  “Jane. Talk to me.”

  I shake my head mutely.

  “Please---”

  “I can’t,” I hear myself say stiltedly. He wouldn’t understand. No one can, not unless they lived the same life I did.

  For many years, I’ve tried to mold myself into a daughter that my step-aunt would want. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known and for such a long time, I had thought there would be something I could do to make her love me.

  But all she did was beat me.

  Over and over, until my tears have permanently dried, and my heart has turned into stone---

  By the time I left home at eighteen, my old, sensitive self was gone. The new one – the current me – had only one goal in mind.

  I would work to be independent, and I would work so that I wouldn’t need to seek comfort in love. Money would take care of all of my needs. Money would be all I’d need. And I had succeeded…until Mr. Rochester.

  “Good morning…” Addie greets me as soon as I enter the dining room, and she waits until I’m seated across her before finishing mischievously, “Mom.”

  I roll my eyes. “Good morning, brat.” But she knows I don’t mean it, and the exchange is merely a part of what’s become our daily routine.

  It’s been over a month since Addie has started living with us. At first, Mr. Rochester had been coldly furious and was adamantly demanding that she return to the ladies’ college she was enrolled in for her first year.

  But then in the middle of their confrontation, Addie had dashed out of his study and went all the way up to my bedroom, where I had been busily packing my stuff. Her cries had me rushing to open the door. I had been seriously worried that Mr. Rochester was beating her black and blue.

  But the young girl had only thrown herself in my arms, begging me to make her Papa see reason.

  Please tell him you understand me, Addie had sobbed, and that I deserve to choose where I want to study. Please, Ms. Reed! Please!

  And even though I had been aware I was being manipulated, her big dark eyes were just impossible to resist. And so I had been forced to say, “Please listen to her.”

  A long tense moment of silence followed before Mr. Rochester had drawled, “I’ll agree…”

  Addie and I had looked at each other in surprise, and it was evident then that both of us hadn’t really thought it would work.

  “On one condition,” Mr. Rochester had finished.

  “What’s that, Papa?” Addie had asked warily.

  “If Ms. Reed agrees to live with us for the duration of the year---”

  “What the fuck?”

  Both Addie and Mr. Rochester had winced at my language, and for a second I had been distracted at how similar they were.

  “Then I will agree with your decision to leave your current school and transfer to wherever it is you want to study.”

  The memory of how I ended up still living in Mr. Reed’s mansion makes me fume in the present. Cunning bastard, I think furiously. Now I get why he didn’t use the video against me. The asshole knows that such methods of blackmail never have a good ending for any of the parties. On the other hand, emotional blackmail where other people’s feelings are at stake---

  Cunning bastard, I think again.

  “Mom?”

  Addie’s voice makes me realize I’ve been lost in my thoughts, and I grimace. “Sorry, what’s that again?” Then I remember what she’s called me and flash her a look of exasperation. �
�And seriously, can you quit calling me that?”

  The teenager responds with an impudent grin, saying, “But I like it, and I want you to be my mom.”

  I’m in the act of sticking out my tongue at her – just to show Addie how immature I am to be her mother – when we hear Mr. Rochester murmur, “Good morning, ladies.”

  I stiffen in my seat.

  A moment later and he’s reached my side, the scent of his aftershave making my body clench.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  As always, he bends down to kiss me on my cheek.

  And I jerk my head away, avoiding his kiss, as always.

  Mr. Rochester’s lips tighten but even so he doesn’t say a word and takes his seat at the head of the table. The rest of our breakfast is spent in angry silence. I know it’s because of me, but even so I mulishly keep my gaze on my plate and only respond to Mr. Rochester with nods and shakes of my head.

  After, he asks me if I want to ride with him to work and I say stiltedly, “No, thanks.”

  His lips presses together once more, but even so his voice remains mild as he says, “I’ll see you later then.”

  In front of me, Addie is clearly bursting to speak but she’s smart enough to wait until we both hear his limousine speeding away before blurting out, “He won’t wait for you forever, you know.”

  I force myself to shrug even as her words make my heart stutter in pain. “I don’t care.” And I don’t. I really don’t…even though the past month has been more horrific than anything I can remember experiencing.

  “Can’t you just forgive him?” Addie pleads.

  “I’ve already forgiven him,” I mumble. “I just don’t trust him.”

  “I know Papa. I’m certain he didn’t mean to deliberately lie to you about me. But…I also know he’s not the one to talk about his feelings. He’s already going out of my way with how he’s wooing you---”

  “I didn’t force him to do those things,” I say defensively. “If he wants to stop, then he can stop---”

  Addie shakes her head in exasperation, demanding, “Do you really mean that?”

  I shift restlessly on my chair.

  “Oh, Ms. Reed.” Worry flickers in her dark eyes as Adele gazes at me. “He was wrong not to tell you about me right away, but don’t you think you’re being too hard on him now? Papa has a lot of pride, and things to continue as they are…” She falls silent.

  “If he gives up,” I say thinly, “then doesn’t that mean he never really cared enough?”

  Addie opens her mouth to answer, but I don’t give her a chance to do so. Getting up from my chair, I mumble an excuse and quickly leave the room. I hate that I’m being rude, but I have no choice. If I stay to listen, I’m terrified the younger girl will end up convincing me---

  To go after Mr. Rochester, the know-it-all voice in my head sneers, the way you really want to?

  My jaw clenches at the thought.

  It’s not like that. It’s not. Mr. Rochester is the wrong one here, and so it’s entirely my privilege to act like a bitch to him.

  Right?

  I desperately remind myself of this as I get to the office and I’m once again forced to work in close proximity to Mr. Rochester.

  With Virginia having told everyone who cared to know about what had gone down that day, the nosy looks I attract have significantly multiplied. I feel like I’m under a microscope wherever I go now, and every little thing I do or say is being dissected.

  Most times, I manage to grit my teeth and ignore it. They can waste time talking about me all day long, and I won’t give a fuck. It’s their lives, anyway.

  But there are times when it seems the whole world is conspiring against me, throwing all sorts of painful reminders my way…like today.

  Virginia stops by my desk, asking, “Is Mr. Rochester busy?”

  Why don’t you ask him?

  Or at least that’s what I want to say.

  Instead, I force a smile, saying, “He has no meetings at the moment.”

  “That’s great,” Virginia immediately gushes. “I’ve just taken a call from Ms. Blanche Ingram, and she only wants to be connected if Mr. Rochester isn’t occupied.” Before I can get another word in, she goes on, “Ms. Blanche is an old childhood friend of Mr. Rochester. They grew up together, and she knows everything about Mr. Rochester.”

  Ah. So that’s what the cruel gleam in her eyes is about.

  I abruptly rise to my feet, surprising the receptionist into taking a step back. “Where are you going?” she demands.

  Instead of answering, I march past her, and despite the countless pairs of eyes that start stalking me I make my way to the door of the CEO’s office and knock.

  “Enter.”

  I open the door but stay outside. When our gazes meet, I say tonelessly, “Ms. Blanche is on line one.”

  Mr. Rochester jerks.

  “And according to Virginia---”

  The receptionist lets out a nervous squeak behind me. “You bitch.”

  “This other woman knows everything about you.” I shut the door closed without waiting for an answer.

  Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

  I cling to my anger as I walk away.

  I was different, he had said. I was the only one, he had said.

  But even those things were a lie.

  I’m once again busy packing when someone pounds heavily on my door. But this time it’s not the product of a frantic teenager but a full-fledged male adult. “Jane, let me in.”

  Also known as the biggest liar in the world, I think furiously, but underneath my anger is pain.

  So much pain that I can’t quite see properly and my fingers are shaking too hard I have to give up folding my clothes and I just start dumping them on my suitcase.

  Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

  “Jane!”

  I ignore it. Only a few things left, and I’ll be out---

  A crashing sound explodes behind me, and I whirl around in shock.

  Mr. Rochester stalks in.

  Oh my God, did he just break his own door?

  His handsome face whitens when he sees what I’m doing. “No.” His voice is violent.

  Ah God, I have a sudden urge to cry. He makes it sound like I’m destroying him by leaving, but we both know it can’t be---

  Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

  “I’m leaving,” I manage to say without breaking down.

  I start to turn away, but Mr. Rochester catches hold of my shoulders and forces me to face him. “Let me explain---”

  The words are all too hurtfully familiar, and I find myself snapping.

  “No!” I use all my strength to strike his chest with my fists. “No, goddamn you, enough explaining! That’s what you said the last time and you still lied! And you’re still lying---”

  Lies. All lies. Every word a lie.

  And yet I still feel it in me.

  The realization makes my arms fall back to my sides.

  Oh God.

  How do I stop myself from feeling?

  How?

  His fingers bite into my arms. “I know what you’re thinking about Blanche---”

  “You lied to me about her,” I cry out. “You keep lying to me---”

  “I didn’t lie about Blanche,” he grates out, “because I’ve never fucked her.”

  My head snaps up.

  “I can’t help it that she knows everything, Jane. She has been around for as long as I remember. Our parents know each other, we’ve been to the same schools, we have the same friends---” He inhales heavily. “She was there when I married Adele’s mother and she was there when my marriage crumbled.”

  His sapphire eyes capture mine. “And that’s the only reason why she knows everything. It was only because she was there.” And when I still don’t answer, he begins shaking me. “Do you understand, Jane? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I can’t make myself speak. I’m too terrified.

  “It wasn’t because I tal
ked to her,” Mr. Rochester says rawly. “It wasn’t because she knew me…like you know me---”

  What he’s saying---

  What he wants me to believe---

  It’s just too much, and I shake my head. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “Jane---”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I said I don’t want to hear a single---.”

  Mr. Rochester has cupped my face, and the mere feel of his hands on my skin threatens to break me.

  Tears sting my eyes.

  “I’m so scared,” I choke out. “You have so much power over me---”

  Mr. Rochester hauls me towards him, his arms closing around me.

  Oh God, I want to cry even more---

  It’s been so long since I felt his strong powerful arms wrapped around my body.

  “Do you think I don’t feel the same terror that you do,” Mr. Rochester mutters against my hair. “You’re an obsession with me, and unlike you I’ve known it from the start. The way I want you close all the time defies logic, but I’m done questioning it.” Mr. Rochester pulls slightly away so our eyes would meet. “All I know is that I fucking need you in my life.”

  And again he’s cupping my face---

  A tear falls.

  But I don’t care.

  Mr. Rochester’s lips have covered mine, and it’s all I can think of.

  Even as the tears suddenly start rushing down my cheeks, seeping into our kiss, I can’t help weaving my arms around his neck---

  So long. It’s been so long. So damn long.

  Mr. Rochester deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping further into my mouth, and I moan.

  Lifting his head an eternity later, he whispers, “Come back to me.”

  I swallow hard.

  “Jane?”

  “I will…”

  He tenses. “But?”

  “If you fuck up,” I choke out, “you’ll never see me again.”

  Mr. Rochester jerks, and then he says savagely, “Never.”

  My eyes widen.

  “I’ll never let you go.”

  Ah God, it’s Mr. Rochester at his most arrogant---

  And despite everything my body still finds it a turn on.

  The shameful truth makes me struggle to get away. “Let go---” But my words end up in a gasp when I feel him grab my blouse---