Delia studied him through a puff of smoke. She knew how much he wanted the money … but what he didn’t know was that she had no intentions of giving him any. Stupid idiot.
“So, what will you do with so much money?”
Barrie’s annoyance was growing. “You know damned well what I want to do … get started with another club. Delia, you promised. I want my £250,000. Now pay up.”
“And what will you do if I don’t give you anything?” Delia gave a lopsided grin. She was very drunk and just wanted to lay back and drift off into a more peaceful world. One where there was no constant scheming, or a need to entice men to do as she wanted to get what she wanted. She was tired of it all. She wanted it to end.
Barrie stood up and towered over her, his pent-up anger getting the better of him. “Don’t mess me with me any longer, Delia. You promised me that money as soon as Richard’s inheritance was released and I want it. Now.”
Delia uncurled her body slowly and sat up, her face set like granite. “I see. Well, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to give you a bean. I really don’t see why I should and I think it’s time you slung your hook. You’re not wanted nor needed anymore so I suggest you pack your bags and leave Canleigh as fast as you can.”
Barrie flung the champagne bottle on the floor, reached down, threw his hands around her neck, and shook her head hard. “You’ll give me every penny you owe me, you whore,” he hissed. “Christ, I’ve earned it, pandering to your depraved whims.”
Delia tore his hands away from her neck and moved further away from him on the bed. “You jerk. Can’t you see when you’ve been had? Who else do you think would have bailed me? I had no-one to turn to. It had to be you, even if I had to bribe you. I never intended to give you anything so you can forget it. Clear off. I don’t want to see you ever again. And,” she laughed loudly,” I don’t suppose my idiot sister will either. Oh, dear, Barrie, darling, you really have messed up. What will you do now?” she asked sarcastically.
“You bitch! You bloody cow,” Barrie growled, lurching towards her, hands poised once more for her throat.
Delia grabbed an empty champagne bottle from the bedside cabinet and raised it high above her head. “Don’t touch me again you brute or you’ll get more than you bargained for,” she growled.
Maddened beyond reason, Barrie felt a red mist descend. He had heard of it happening to others but never experienced it himself. He made to grab her neck with both hands again, intending to squeeze it tightly. His rage was intense. He wanted to kill her. Extinguish her life. She deserved it. She had used and abused him. He hated her passionately.
Sensing her life was in the balance, Delia brought down her arm with as much force as she could muster, smashing the bottle onto Barrie’s head as hard as she could. Large, jagged chunks of green glass showered over the bed and the carpet.
For a second Barrie paused. He was seeing stars but then his sight cleared and she, his nemesis, was still there before him and still breathing. He lunged towards her again. Delia’s former inertia evaporated fast and she sprung off the bed, trying to put as much distance as she could between them but he was quick and furious and determined to do her harm. He leapt across the bed to where she stood and they grappled furiously before he managed to pull her up by the hair and smashed his fist hard into her face. Delia fell heavily onto the shards of broken glass on the floor, knocking her head against the dressing table. She lay still.
“Blasted whore,” Barrie muttered angrily, giving her a swift kick in the ribs with his bare foot. She remained motionless but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was get out of this room, out of this house. Get away as far as his two thousand pounds would allow him and think about his options … perhaps he could drive home and see Vicky. Grovel like hell. Say it was all down to Delia. She had bewitched him. Vicky had always been a pushover. If he begged and pleaded, and begged and pleaded again, she might just forgive him. Christ, how could he have been so damned idiotic to have believed Delia? He kicked her again but she didn’t flinch but then what did he care. She had done him over well. Now he had to drive as fast as he could back to London and try to repair the damage … if he could. God, he hoped so, or he was well and truly in the mire.
His suitcase was still on the floor by the window where it had sat since they arrived at Canleigh. He quickly found some socks and pulled them on. The broken glass on the floor had pricked his left foot in two places but luckily there wasn’t much blood and he hadn’t any access to plasters in any case. He pulled
