Читать книгу Bride, Bought and Paid For - Helen Bianchin - Страница 8

THE phone pealed as Romy was about to step into the shower back at her St Kilda apartment, and she quickly pulled on a robe then raced into the bedroom to pick up her mobile, checked caller ID and failed to recognize the number.

‘Romy.’

Xavier.

There was no doubting the male voice, or to whom it belonged, and she drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it.

‘What do you want?’

‘We’re due to meet with my lawyer in half an hour.’ He moved fast…but what else did she expect?

‘I have plans,’ she said coolly. She didn’t, except he wasn’t to know that.

‘Do you really want to do this the hard way?’

If only she didn’t have to do it at all!

‘I’ll be at your apartment in fifteen minutes.’

‘You don’t know the address.’ Empty words, given he’d already cut the connection.

A soft oath escaped her lips in the knowledge he had the means to discover almost anything he wanted to know including her new place of residence.

For a few timeless seconds she considered slipping out before Xavier arrived only to give up the idea almost as soon as it occurred.

Fool, she silently berated herself as she stepped into the shower stall. Such an action could lead to financial suicide.

The in-house phone pealed as Romy was putting the finishing touches to her hair, and she picked up, identified Xavier and quickly announced she was on her way down.

Tailored trousers, neatly buttoned blouse beneath a jacket, killer heels, with her hair swept into a careless knot held in place by a large clasp. Casual, yet chic. Minimal make-up.

Good to go, she decided as she picked up her keys and tossed them into her clutch as she exited her apartment.

Xavier was waiting for her when the lift doors slid open at ground level, and she tamped down the sudden quiver in her stomach at the sight of him.

He bore the look of a man whose sophisticated exterior belied the dangerous earthy quality that lay beneath the surface.

Black trousers, an open-necked shirt and a black softleather jacket replaced the formal business suit. Attire which did little to lessen the lethal impact of the man.

For a wild moment she considered telling him she’d changed her mind. Except doing so wasn’t an option.

Her chin lifted fractionally, and she met and held his level gaze with equanimity as she crossed to his side.

Stilettos added inches to her petite height, but even so the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Three years ago she’d felt protected, whereas now it merely enhanced her vulnerability.

Did he pick up on it? Possibly. Vulnerable wasn’t an emotion she wanted to impart.

‘I hope this won’t take long,’ Romy began, and saw his eyes narrow.

‘We settle the legal issues,’ Xavier reiterated as he ushered her through the foyer to the security-controlled entry. ‘Then we share dinner.’

They exited the building, and he indicated a sleek Mercedes Maybach resting in a nearby reserved-parking bay.

‘I don’t want to have dinner with you.’ Romy waited as he disengaged the locking mechanism and opened the front passenger door.

‘Tough,’ he dismissed coolly as she moved past him and slid into the seat.

The door closed with a refined clunk, and she delayed her response until he slipped into the adjoining seat.

‘I get the need for a pre-nup,’ she managed with deliberate calm as her eyes speared his. ‘As to the marriage…when do you envisage the ceremony will take place?’

Xavier engaged the engine and spared her a cool glance. ‘This weekend.’

Her stomach did a slow somersault as he eased the car out onto the street and headed towards the city.

‘Why so soon?’ Her life was moving so fast it felt as if she’d boarded a runaway train!

‘You need me to spell it out?’

It was simple maths: Andre needed a large sum of money fast; Romy represented the surety…and Xavier didn’t negotiate an unsecured deal.

Dear God, the enormity of what she’d agreed to do acquired momentous proportion!

‘You’ve informed Andre?’

Romy closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Yes.’ Only that she’d succeeded in clearing his debts…not the price she had to pay. Although no matter what spin she put on it, her father was unlikely to be fooled. Nor would he approve her decision. The reason she had elected to relay the details to him in person.

Two weeks ago she’d been looking forward to returning home, reconnecting with her father, and had viewed the challenge of a different school, new students with enthusiasm.

Her life, as she’d envisaged it to be, had quickly taken a dramatic about-turn…irrevocably, she reflected pensively. At least, for a while.

Marriage. What young woman didn’t dream of meeting the man of her dreams, falling in love, and living the happy ever after?

Once, more than three years ago, she’d imagined she was living the dream, only to discover the man she loved wasn’t on the same page…let alone reading the same book!

Now, through circumstance, she was soon to be legally linked to him in a loveless union based on thinly disguised blackmail.

What on earth was she getting herself into?

A faintly hysterical laugh rose and died in her throat. Emotional insanity…nothing more, or less.

The question had to be…could she survive with dignity and some of her emotions intact?

A few years tops, she reminded herself. Then she’d file for divorce. Irreconcilable differences, a sufficiently ambiguous blanket covering a multitude of sins.

The image of a baby filled her mind, and her heart plummeted along with her resolve. A child…how could she give up a child? Share custody, time, not be there every day, every night, only when designated by a court of law?

But what if there wasn’t a child? What if she took steps to ensure she didn’t conceive?

Would Xavier choose divorce in order to select any one of several women who would bear him a child?

‘Your silence is telling.’

The faintly accented drawl interrupted her introspection, and she turned her head to offer him a cool look.

‘Really?’

Xavier checked the rear-vision mirror, indicated and drew the car into the kerb, killed the engine, then he turned towards her.

‘If you’re having second thoughts, now’s the time to say so.’

Deadly calm words which ricocheted inside her brain and succeeded in freezing the blood in her veins.

Oh dear Lord. What was she doing?

She couldn’t afford to lose control…or change the goal posts in this diabolical game.

Any self-indulgent time-out was merely a whiplash reaction. So…get over it.

‘Your call, Romy.’

When thrust between a rock and a hard place…what did you choose?

There was only one answer she could give. ‘I imagine your lawyer is waiting for us,’ she managed quietly.

‘That’s it?’

She gathered the tenuous threads of her emotions together and gave an affirmative. ‘Yes.’

Money, in excess, opened doors and provided services not usually offered outside normal business hours, Romy perceived a short while later as she preceded Xavier into a sumptuous office suite, where, introductions complete, she sank into a cushioned leather chair, listened carefully to the lawyer’s explanation of relevant documents, aware every possible contingency was covered in watertight legalese.

She almost baulked when the moment came to attach her signature. The enormity of her commitment seemed overwhelming, and for a wild moment she considered standing to her feet and walking out.

Except the ramification of such an action would be prohibitive and would destroy everything she’d strived to achieve.

So…pick up the offered pen and sign, a tiny voice prompted, and without further thought she did just that. Then she carefully replaced the pen on the desk.

The following minutes became a blur as both men conversed with an easy familiarity that spoke of friendship, and she rose to her feet automatically when Xavier indicated the session was at an end. She even smiled and offered a few polite words as the lawyer escorted them to the lift.

There wasn’t a word she could say as the lift took them down to ground level, and she bore Xavier’s unwavering scrutiny with equanimity.

‘I’ll take a cab back to my apartment.’

‘No,’ he refuted quietly. ‘We’ll eat, then visit your father.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Opposing me just for the hell of it?’ Xavier’s voice held a touch of cynical humour, and she sent him a cursory look that spoke volumes.

He chose a restaurant at Southbank where the food was excellent and surpassed only by the dedicated service.

‘Shall I order for you?’

Romy offered him a speaking glance and pretended intense interest in the menu. Food of any kind held little appeal, although there was a need to select something, and she chose bruschetta, declined wine and settled for a nonalcoholic spritzer.

Lunch had comprised a slice of toast with honey, followed by a banana…all she’d felt her stomach could digest at the time.

There was, she perceived, nothing wrong with his appetite as he ordered a starter and followed it with a main. A dish she’d favoured during the brief time they’d been together.

Coincidence? Or was it a deliberate choice?

Like she cared!

Yet something tightened inside her stomach that he might have remembered a time when they’d shared food, forking a tempting morsel for sampling, delighting in knowing they’d share so much more at evening’s end.

Then she had been relaxed and in tune with him, just living to please and be pleasured.

A delicious tremor slid the length of her spine at the unbidden image, painfully vivid as memory resurfaced.

‘You’ve begun a new contract at a high school in the northern suburbs.’

Romy spared him a questioning look. ‘Your PA was instructed to determine the precise location and relevant details?’

Xavier lifted an eyebrow. ‘It bothers you that I did so?’

Yes. Although she’d expected it of him. Xavier had long gained a reputation for sourcing every detail, even the most seemingly inconsequential. Very little, if anything, escaped him, and heads were known to roll should any of his subordinates fail to deliver. Life and his climb to the top had fashioned him into the man he’d become.

‘Then you’ll be aware I have a contract to fullfil.’

‘A contract isn’t set in stone,’ he reminded her, and caught the way her eyes blazed blue fire.

‘I teach, it’s what I do,’ Romy vouchsafed.

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. ‘There’s no need for you to continue working.’

‘What else would you have me do? Become a social butterfly who spends her days having beauty treatments and shopping?’ She sent him a quelling look. ‘Forget it.’

‘You prefer attempting to impart enthusiasm for knowledge into young minds, controlling their behaviour, offering extra-curricular tutoring and immersing yourself in setting and marking numerous assignment papers?’

‘Yes.’ Among the students who slipped through the scholastic system, there were those who could excel, and she strived to give both at opposite ends of the scale her equal attention.

Statistics proved some would never make it, a fact which only made her try harder, to go beyond and above the call of duty.

‘There are those who baulk at the theory of learning, yet excel in practice.’

‘Such as yourself?’

‘The cut and thrust in the real business world, the challenge to succeed against the odds provides an adrenalin rush coveted by many.’

‘High risk, high maintenance.’

‘You neglect to mention the rewards,’ Xavier drawled, and she arched an eyebrow.

‘The mansions, houses abroad, expensive cars?’

A faint smile teased the edges of his mouth. ‘You forgot to include the women.’

She matched the faint mockery in his voice with droll cynicism. ‘Of course…women.’

‘There were not so many,’ Xavier relayed with musing indulgence. ‘And I ended each relationship before I began another.’

‘For which you think you deserve brownie points?’

His smile verged on the indolent. ‘You’d paint me as a careless rake?’

She managed a imperceptible shrug. ‘If the cap fits.’

A waiter delivered coffee, and Xavier settled the bill.

They emerged onto the boardwalk to crisp cool air and an indigo sky sprinkled with a light dusting of stars.

Romy retrieved her cellphone and keyed in a series of digits, gave her location and ordered a taxi. Only to give a startled exclamation as the cellphone was taken from her hand and the call cancelled.

Anger rose to the fore as she shot Xavier a venomous glare. ‘How dare you?’ She reached for the phone. ‘Give it back.’

‘A taxi isn’t an option.’

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. The temptation to lash out at him was almost impossible to resist. ‘I’m going to visit my father…alone,’ Romy asserted, sorely tried.

‘No.’

Anger pumped from her in a fine red mist. ‘What is it with you?’

He suppressed the urge to take possession of her sassy mouth and tame all that fiery rage into whimpering submission. And he would…soon.

‘Do you really want to do this here?’

Realization of where they were, in a public place, people out enjoying the evening air and, oh, God, the interested looks they were garnering…had a sobering effect.

Her scorching glare had little effect, and she stepped to one side and strode—as well as one could stride in stiletto heels—towards the main road. Only to inwardly fume as he matched her pace with an easy grace.

The silence between them became a potent, volatile entity, one she refused to break as they reached the car.

For a brief moment Romy considered a final act of defiance, only to change her mind at the tempered warning evident in his dark eyes.

‘Do you need the address?’ Cool, stilted words, which had no effect whatsoever as Xavier released the car’s locking mechanism.

‘No.’

So he knew Andre’s fall from grace had led to a small, barely adequate flat in a western suburb, a far cry from the lovely home her parents had occupied during Romy’s youth.

She chose silence as Xavier traversed the inner city and took a route leading to one of numerous streets where redbrick houses were jammed close together on minuscule blocks of land.

The shabby home where Andre resided had long been converted into one-bedroom self-contained flats, a place her father would soon leave, if she had anything to do with it!

Her father’s flat was reached from a narrow central hallway, and Andre’s smile faltered as he opened the door, then disappeared as he saw the man standing at Romy’s side.

‘Xavier.’ The greeting was cautious, polite, and Romy’s stomach tightened into a painful knot as she gave her father an affectionate hug during the heavy silence which followed.

‘Andre,’ Xavier acknowledged, as her father stood to one side to allow them entry into an open-plan room comprising a lounge area and adjoining dining room.

Two single club chairs bracketed a small sofa, and Andre indicated them.

‘Please, take a seat. Can I offer you some tea or coffee?’

Her heart tore a little at her father’s attempt at normality in what had to be an unforeseen situation, one that would rapidly digress to extraordinary any time soon.

‘I’ll make it.’

In the kitchen she filled the electric kettle and set out cups and saucers, taking longer than necessary in order to delay rejoining both men.

She hadn’t expected her father to easily accept her decision, and her fingers shook a little as she heard Andre’s voice rise a little.

Time to go face the fallout, she decided as she placed everything on a tray and crossed the room, her head high, a smile firmly in place.

Andre viewed her in contemplative silence as she offered him coffee.

‘You always consider your actions,’ he declared, perplexed. ‘Yet you’re rushing headlong into a marriage in circumstances that are far too coincidental.’ He was silent for several seconds as he searched Xavier’s features. ‘If I thought you had deliberately orchestrated this…’ He faltered, momentarily unable to continue. ‘It’s unconscionable.’

Her heart ached for him, and she so badly wanted to fabricate something…anything that would help ease his mind. Except there was only pretence, and her father was too intelligent not to see through it.

‘A permanent relationship should be sanctified by marriage,’ Xavier revealed quietly. ‘Or would you prefer I take Romy as my mistress?’

The silence in the room was a palpable entity, and as much as she wanted to rail against Xavier, to do so in her father’s presence would only compound a bad situation.

In seeming slow motion she saw her father’s features pale and take on an ashen tinge as his tortured eyes searched her own.

‘I won’t let you do this.’

There was only one way to go, and she took it as she clasped his hands between her own. ‘I’m marrying Xavier this weekend,’ she said gently. ‘Will you honour me by being at my wedding?’

His eyes filled, and for a moment she thought he might break down, then he managed to regain a degree of composure. ‘Can you give me your word you’re doing this of your own free will?’

God forgive her, but what could she say other than—‘Yes.’

It hurt to see him struggle to accept her decision, and for a moment she thought he meant to protest further, except after several long seconds he inclined his head.

‘I won’t disappoint you.’ A sufficiently ambiguous claim that almost brought her undone.

Romy was unsure how she managed to get through the ensuing half hour before she indicated a need to leave. It was almost ten, and she had papers to mark. Besides which, it had been a hell of a day, and she desperately wanted the quiet solitude of her flat.

In the car she simply leant her head against the cushioned rest and momentarily closed her eyes as Xavier ignited the engine.

‘Relax.’

‘Sure, and that’s going to happen any time soon.’ She turned her head towards him and sent him a venomous glare. ‘Do you have any idea how much I hated what went down in there just now?’

‘It was better we approached Andre together.’

‘Better for whom?’

He spared her a glance as he paused the car at an intersection. ‘You.’

‘I didn’t need any support.’

‘No?’

‘Please,’ she remonstrated, hating him afresh. ‘Don’t play the protector.’

‘You don’t see me in that role as your husband?’

His query was indolently deceptive, and there was nothing she could do to quell the sudden spear of pain.

‘Like the title of wife is security against you taking a lover or three when you tire of me?’

‘Why would I take a lover if my wife satisfies me?’

‘That’s a two-way street.’

‘You doubt I can satisfy you?’

She remembered too well how he’d managed to satisfy her. Dammit, her body still reacted just thinking how it had sung in response to his touch.

He smiled as he eased the car into a main arterial road leading to St Kilda, and she focused her attention beyond the windscreen, aware of the passing traffic, the wide tree-lined thoroughfare.

It was a relief when he turned into Marine Parade and drew the car to a halt outside her apartment building.

Her hand was already on the seatbelt release, and the breath caught in her throat as she reached for the door clasp, only to have him frame her face with his hands.

He was close, much too close.

‘What—’

‘This.’

There wasn’t time to complete the protest as his mouth closed over her own in a slow, sweeping kiss that tore at her resolve and shattered it.

For a wild moment she forgot everything except the feel and taste of him and the electric pulsing sensation throbbing through her body.

It was as if the past three years had ceased to exist, and she was barely conscious of the faint groan that rose and died in her throat at her unbidden response.

She felt the stroke of his thumb along her jawline, sensed the increased pressure of his mouth, and she gave herself up to the sweet passion of his touch.

Magic, she accorded silently, unable to think as she became lost. Cast adrift from reality and flung heedlessly into a time and place where emotion ruled.

Until sanity returned, and she wrenched away from him, her eyes impossibly large as she attempted to control her ragged breathing. ‘Don’t—’

Xavier’s eyes gleamed dark in the reflected street light.

Romy reached blindly for the door clasp, and he let her go, waiting until she had keyed her security code into the numeric pad and had passed through the foyer before he engaged the engine.

She was barely aware of the lift’s swift passage until it slid to a halt at her floor, and she muttered a curse as she fumbled the key when she inserted it into the lock.

For heaven’s sake…what was wrong with her?

Her mouth still tingled from his touch, and she put a hand to her still-racing heart as she closed the door behind her and leant against it.

What had just happened back there?

If she’d ever wondered about the sensuality they’d once shared…oh, call it what it was, she dismissed in silent chastisement…passion. Incandescent and primitive…emotion that took possession of the soul.

Hers, she admitted reluctantly. But not his.

For Xavier, she merely represented the bride price he was prepared to pay in order to gain a legitimate heir.

And to exact revenge against father and daughter, don’t forget that, she reminded herself with cynicism.

It would be the height of folly to imagine otherwise. She pushed away from the door and drew in a deep, calming breath.

So take a reality check, why don’t you?

She slipped out of her stilettos, shrugged off her jacket, crossed into the kitchen where she made a cup of strong coffee, then she set it down on the table, opened her leather satchel and turned her attention to marking student assignments.

It was after midnight when she crawled into bed and doused the light, convinced her brain was buzzing too much to enable an easy sleep.

Except she was wrong, and the next thing she remembered was waking to the early dawn light filtering through the shutters of her bedroom window.