Читать книгу Claiming My Bride Of Convenience - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 12

‘I STILL DON’T understand why you want an annulment.’

Daisy Campbell—no, Daisy Dias—had surprised me a few too many times this evening, and this surprise was the most unwelcome one of all. I’d given her everything she could possibly want. Why would she want to hand it all back? It was the last thing I expected. The last thing I wanted.

I married Daisy Campbell both to satisfy and to spite my grandfather, and it was so very sweet to experience both when I tossed the marriage certificate on Bastian Arides’s desk and informed him of my new status.

‘You made a condition and it has now been met.’

‘And your wife?’ he asked, looking stunned by my bloodless coup.

I laughed as I told him the truth. ‘A dumpy nobody of a waitress I picked up from a diner in New York. She’s currently residing on Amanos, in case you feel the need to check.’

Bastian’s mouth dropped open; he’d expected me to marry some suitable socialite he could add to the family pedigree—some way, perhaps, to justify my place in his life, bastard grandson that I was. Little did he know me. Little did he realise how deep my need for vengeance, for justice ran.

‘I think you’ll find I’ve won, old man,’ I said as I strolled out of his office. ‘The condition you made to the board has been met in full.’

Bastian shook his head, his expression one of both defeat and fury. ‘That is not what I meant, Matteo, and you know it.’

‘Too bad you weren’t more specific, then.’

The clause in the agreement to transfer his shares to me had been clear—marry, and stay married, in order to get his shares and sixty percent of the stock in Arides Enterprises, and therefore complete control of the company. The board had agreed; everyone had signed. And I’d done what he asked.

I had what I wanted and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. I was now in control of Arides Enterprises—the company his father had built from scratch, the company he’d wanted to hand on to his legitimate grandson, Andreas.

But of course that was impossible. Instead he’d had to hand it to me, his only heir and the only person in the company capable of running a multimillion-dollar enterprise. The person who had taken the lagging sales and outdated practices and dragged them into the twenty-first century—and into the black.

Now, as I looked at my so-called dumpy waitress of a wife, I realised she was neither. She sparkled—and it wasn’t just the dress. Her eyes glittered like topaz, her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved. Everything about her seemed alive and shockingly vibrant. Desirable. How extraordinary. How unexpected. It made me pause, my mind reviewing everything she’d said.

‘I told you—I want a chance at a real marriage,’ she insisted. ‘A family.’

‘A family? The biological clock is ticking, I suppose?’

She folded her arms, her expression turning mutinous. ‘Something like that.’

I could give her a baby.

It was a novel thought, and admittedly not entirely unwelcome. Yes, I needed an heir…eventually. It was something I’d postponed, put off to the misty, distant future because it hadn’t felt urgent or necessary. And yet…I was thirty-six. The lifestyle I’d been living was starting to lose its appeal—at least a little. And I was already married.

Why would I want to bother with the hassle of courting some other woman when I had one right here? One I was, much to my own surprise, finding desirable?

Still, this would take some thought. Some planning. The last thing I wanted to do was rush into a lifetime commitment with someone who was still essentially a stranger.

And yet…Daisy was biddable. Acceptable. And she’d already agreed to a marriage of convenience. Why not a marriage that was convenient on slightly different terms?

‘You’re still young,’ I remarked. ‘Another year wouldn’t make much difference to your plans.’ Although for some reason the prospect my words implied irritated me.

‘And is that how long it would be?’ she countered. ‘A few months ago I read in the paper that your grandfather is celebrating his unexpected all-clear from cancer.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Something I doubt you expected.’

Damn those nosy tabloids. ‘I’m pleased he’s had such successful treatment, of course,’ I answered levelly.

He’d been declared in remission, rather than in the clear, but I wasn’t going to debate the point. The truth was he’d lasted longer than anyone had expected—myself most of all.

‘And you need to remain married for as long as he’s alive, as I recall?’

Her golden-brown eyes met mine in challenge and held me there.

‘Did you ever plan to inform me that the duration of our marriage was going to be a bit longer than you had said?’

‘I assumed you were satisfied with the arrangement,’ I stated coolly.

‘You assumed wrong.’

Her voice was as cool as my own. When had she developed such confidence? Such poise? The woman I remembered from the diner had been beaten down by life, as well as frightened of its possibilities. I’d chosen her for exactly those reasons. And while, judging by her dress, Daisy might still need to develop some sense of style, she had plenty of courage.

I felt a flicker of admiration for her, and promptly suppressed it.

‘Why not wait another year?’ I pressed. ‘I doubt it will be longer than that. Then you won’t have to give back the money. You’re giving up a lot, Daisy, and for what? A chance at something that might not even happen?’

Hurt flashed in her eyes as her chin went up. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘There’s no one at the moment, is there?’ I reminded her, thinking that she had better not be lying to me about that. ‘And you said you intend to stay on Amanos. Do you really think you’re going to find Mr Right there?’

‘I have better chance of doing so if I’m not married to Mr Wrong,’ she retorted. ‘Although perhaps I’ll just act as if the marriage has been annulled if you refuse to agree it.’

Fury surged through me along with something else—something hot and molten and fierce. Although I suspected her words were nothing but an empty threat, they still had the power to enrage me.

‘You will not go down that forsaken route,’ I ground out. ‘Is that clear?’

She shrugged, the movement of her slender shoulders tautening the material across her breasts.

‘There’s nothing about it in our agreement. I don’t have to be faithful, since you certainly haven’t been. I could even have a child without you.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Consider this nothing more than a courtesy call.’

My fists clenched. ‘I will not be made a cuckold so you can have an illegitimate child.’ I spoke savagely, memories pounding through me in a relentless tide of rejection.

You’re nothing but a bastard. You were born one, you will remain one, and you will die one.

I certainly wouldn’t countenance another one being brought into the world, for that was what it would be if Daisy had a child that was not my own.

‘I hardly think that’s what we’re talking about here.’

Daisy’s chin was still lifted, but her lips trembled. She wasn’t as confident as she pretended. The thought brought satisfaction, as well as a surprising shaft of disappointment. Some contrary part of me had enjoyed her boldness.

‘And you can’t exactly call yourself cuckolded considering we’ve never…?’ Her voice wavered and she looked away.

‘We’ve never…?’ I prompted silkily.

My blood was flowing hotly through my veins and that slinky tube of a dress was begging to be peeled off her curvaceous body. What I’d insisted I would never do suddenly seemed like a very good idea. The right idea, all things considered. I could prove a point, and do it quite pleasurably.

‘You know what I mean,’ Daisy said, her voice little more than a whisper.

‘What I know,’ I replied as I closed the distance between us so that I could feel the heat rolling off her body and she could feel it off mine, ‘is that a few minutes ago you told me you wanted a baby.’

Her lips parted and her eyes widened in realisation. ‘Not yours.’

‘And yet I’m your husband,’ I remarked. ‘Wanting my baby is the most sensible idea, really.’

‘N…no,’ she stammered. ‘It isn’t.’

Her skin was pale golden and freckled and she smelled of vanilla and almonds. Delicious. I lifted my hand and traced the pure line of her collarbone with the tip of my finger.

She shuddered under my touch and took a step back. ‘You’re taking this all wrong.’

‘I really don’t think I am.’

‘What happened to marriage in name only?’

Yes, what had happened to it? It was starting not to seem like such a good idea. Distantly I remembered the original purposes for my marriage—to spite my grandfather and keep living my life the way I wanted to. And yet somewhere, tangled up in all that, had been the desire to do some good to someone and even be honourable about it—although whether I’d achieved those aims was debatable.

Yet all of it—all my resolutions and all my revenge—went up in smoke as I looked at Daisy standing in front of me, a flame of beauty, firing my own desire. In this moment all I wanted was her.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘we should renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.’

Matteo’s eyes turned the colour of smoke as he took another deliberate step towards me, his intent clear in every taut line of his body. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, to think. I’d never expected this—the heat in his eyes, the sure touch of his hand. The mere caress of his fingertips on my collarbone had sent arrows of exquisite sensation shafting through me. If he touched me again…

Why did that feel like a promise?

‘Matteo, you’ve made it very clear that you want a marriage in name only.’

My voice and legs both shook as I managed a step backwards, away from this sudden new temptation. I’d always known Matteo was handsome, appealing, sexual. But I’d thought I was strong enough, smart enough, to stay immune. Clearly I wasn’t.

‘Don’t mess that up just because your pride is dented by my asking for an annulment,’ I said, trying to sound reasonable instead of terrified…and tempted. So, so tempted.

‘This isn’t about pride, Daisy. It’s about desire.’

His voice was as smooth as silk, so assured as it flowed over me. He took a step closer, close enough that I could breathe the woodsy scent of him again, and it made me dizzy.

‘I meant—’ I began, my voice wobbling, but I was silenced by the touch of his hands spanning my waist.

‘And this is what I meant.’

His palms were warm and strong through the thin material of my dress, pulling me towards him. I gasped out loud as he captured my mouth in a kiss that demanded—and I gave.

I’d been kissed only once before in my life, by a man I’d found odious. As Matteo’s lips came down on mine I instinctively braced myself for a similar experience—bad breath, slimy tongue, pawing hands.

It took only a millisecond for me to realise how ridiculous that notion was, how little I had to fear, and yet at the same time how much. Matteo’s kiss was as different from the first one I’d had as the ocean to a mud puddle.

His mouth possessed mine as he explored it with sensual thoroughness, obliterating thought and weakening my knees, his tongue and lips moving in a dance as old as the ages and yet feeling startlingly new. How could a kiss do so much? It was practically a weapon.

But he didn’t stop with a kiss. His hands moved from my waist to my breast, his palm cupping it with that same deft and shocking assuredness, his thumb running over the peak. I mewled. I actually mewled. I felt as if I didn’t know myself any more—this creature who melted like candle wax, who clamoured for more. Because I wanted more from him—more than a kiss, a caress. In that moment I wanted it all.

Without even realising what I was doing, I clenched my hands on the lapels of his tuxedo and opened my mouth under his, inviting him in. I stood on my tiptoes and swayed as he anchored his hands on my hips and tugged me towards him.

My hips collided with that particularly impressive and overwhelming part of his anatomy, and it was enough to send a blast of icy realisation through me.

I stumbled back.

What was I doing? What was he doing?

‘Don’t!’ I managed to gasp, even though everything in me was reeling, my senses exploding like fireworks as if my whole body had come alive under his hands, my skin still prickling with need.

‘Are you sure you mean that?’

Besides a slight flush on his blade-like cheekbones, Matteo looked remarkably unaffected. He sank his hands into his pockets, his gaze terribly cool. The realisation that his kiss had affected me far more than it had him was utterly humiliating, and sudden unfortunate tears stung my eyes.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘I think I could convince you otherwise.’

Already the flush had left his face and he stood there, the archetype of assured arrogance, his shoulders thrust back, his jaw set, his eyes glittering—while I was still raggedly panting, my heart rate skittering all over the place.

‘Only to prove a point,’ I choked out as I willed my flush to fade and my heart to slow. ‘You’ve told me enough times already.’

‘What?’

He raised his eyebrows, sounding distinctly nonplussed by my statement. Did he not remember? Had he not realised how insultingly clear he’d been about making sure this was a marriage in name only? Didn’t he recall the scathing look he’d given me, the reassurance that he would have no need to take advantage?

Which, of course, had been what I wanted too. Still wanted. It was just that his contrary kiss had rocked me for a second. I was already recovering—or so I told myself.

I lifted my chin, heedless of the tears that I knew still sparkled in my eyes. ‘Come on, Matteo. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t find me…desirable.’ Stupidly, it hurt to say the words out loud.

Matteo gave me a smugly amused look, his lips curving, a surprising dimple appearing in one cheek. I realised I’d never actually seen him smile before—not properly.

‘I think I just proved to you otherwise.’

‘You were proving something,’ I agreed, unable to keep hurt from lacing every word. ‘But I think it had more to do with power than need.’

The dark slashes of his eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You didn’t want me going ahead with an annulment…doing something that isn’t sanctioned and signed off by you. I get it.’

I shook my head, suddenly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, with the aftershocks of his touch still zinging through me. It had taken all my emotional reserves to survive this encounter, after three years of peace and quiet and solitude.

What had I been thinking, coming here with my request? Knowing Matteo Dias would refuse it? Because I realised that while I still longed for a child, a family, the need as deep and fervent as ever, I didn’t have the strength to fight my husband for my freedom. Not when he held all the cards and had all the power.

‘You think that’s why I kissed you?’ Matteo demanded, sounding irritated by the idea.

I raised my shoulders in a weary shrug. ‘Are you saying differently—that you were suddenly overcome by passion for me and couldn’t control yourself?’ I let out a humourless laugh. ‘As if.’

Matteo’s frown deepened and he didn’t reply. His narrowed gaze was assessing and, I feared, would dismiss me in the space of a few seconds.

‘No, of course not,’ he said finally. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

His words should have vindicated me, but they only deflated me further. Of course that hadn’t been the case. He’d just been using me to prove a point—and suddenly I couldn’t bear it. I thought of the loathsome Chris Dawson again, the look of revulsion on his face as I stumbled away.

Do you honestly think you’re worth that much, sweetheart? You’re deluded.

I thought I’d wised up since then, but I could see now that I was still under the most unbearable delusion—thinking that someone like Matteo Dias would agree to my plan and bend to my will, even desire me as a woman, rather than make me a point to be proved.

In that moment I couldn’t fathom why I had come here at all. Had it simply been a perfect storm of memory and loss? The anniversary of my parents’ death, the marriage of my closest friend back on Amanos, the feeling that, as happy and busy as I was, I was still alone?

I was always alone, and I would always be alone as long as I was married to this man.

‘Never mind, Matteo.’ I choked the words out, wanting only to escape his ruthless, arrogant sneer and get to the solitude and safety of my hotel room. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay married to you. For another year, at least.’

I whirled around far too fast in my slinky dress and towering heels. I started to stumble and I gasped, flinging my hands out to break my inevitable fall, but then Matteo steadied me, his hands warm and firm on my shoulders.

‘Daisy…’ he said in a low voice.

He sounded…what? Sad? Apologetic? Or just exasperated at the fact that he’d had to deal with me at all and that I wasn’t doing as he bade?

‘I’ll leave for Amanos in the morning,’ I said, and, wrenching myself out of his arms, I hurried blindly from the room.