Читать книгу Claiming His Wedding Night - Louise Fuller - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘NO. I QUITE UNDERSTAND.’ Trying her hardest to keep the note of disappointment out of her voice, Addie picked up her pen and drew a line firmly through the last name on the list in her notepad. ‘And thank you for giving me so much of your time.’

Flipping open her laptop, she scrolled slowly through the column of figures on the screen. Finally she let out a long, slow breath. It was hopeless. Despite all her efforts she had barely enough funds to cover next month’s rent and a few utility bills. Even if she added in her meagre savings she certainly couldn’t afford to pay her staff’s salaries.

Leaning back in her chair, she bit her lip. If she told them what had happened she knew they would offer to forego their pay. But why should they? she thought angrily. Why should they suffer because she had let her arrogant, maddening ex get under her skin?

Her head was pounding. And it wasn’t just because of her precarious finances. Speaking to Malachi again had stirred up feelings she had buried deep, deep down, and now she was battling emotions she still wasn’t ready to acknowledge or resolve.

Her heart gave a lurch. It wasn’t only her feelings she couldn’t face. She’d spent the last five years more or less pretending that her marriage had never happened. Now, in the space of twenty-four hours, she’d been forced to confront not only her husband but the state of estrangement between them.

Sighing, she slumped back in her seat and reluctantly contemplated the mess she’d made of her private life. Since splitting with Malachi she’d focused her energies on work. Yes, she’d been on a few ‘dates’ but no man ever quite measured up to him. But then she hadn’t just fallen for Malachi. She’d dived in headfirst, captivated not only by his looks and charm but by how he’d made her feel like her true self. The self she’d discovered through music and lost the night of her accident. Only through music had she felt able to be the real Addie—wild and free. And Malachi had made her feel like that too.

But not for long. Pretty soon she’d been out of her depth and drowning. Only by that time she’d become his wife.

Her pulse twitched and she shifted in her seat. It had all happened so long ago. So why were they still married?

As far as Malachi was concerned it was probably because he’d forgotten all about her until yesterday, when she’d called him, whereas she— Her face coloured painfully. She was still married because she was a coward. The thought of seeing him again had been just too painful. In the months following their separation she had vowed to confront him and demand a divorce, but she had always found a reason not to do so. And so the months had become years.

Five long years. In fact, tomorrow it would be five years exactly.

Remembering her wedding day—his tension, her confusion over his parents’ absence—she felt a shiver of sadness. It was obvious even then that what they’d shared was nothing more than physical attraction.

She frowned. But her marriage wasn’t the issue here.

She needed money, fast, and if having lunch with Malachi meant that she got her funding then maybe she should just call him. No doubt he was sitting there in his office, smugly waiting for her to do just that. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to help him choose a restaurant as if it was some kind of a date. Her eyes narrowed. She needed to do something to make it clear that she was meeting him on her own terms.

So why not surprise him at lunch? All she would have to do was follow him to wherever he was eating and confront him, and then finally she might wipe the self-satisfied smile from that gorgeous mouth of his. Easy!

Her breath jammed in her throat.

Easy?

One look from Malachi had once been enough to turn her into a rippling mass of desire. But not any more, she told herself firmly. For even if her body hadn’t learned the consequences of falling for that shimmering, sensual gaze her mind had, she had more sense and pride than to let it happen again.

* * *

Was it only lunchtime?

His grey eyes widening with disbelief, Malachi glanced at the one-of-a-kind Swiss-made watch on his wrist. Unusually for him, the day had seemed to drag—and his mind was only half on work. The other half was picking over his conversation with Addie.

Leaning back, he smiled slowly, remembering the frustration in her voice.

She’d been good and riled. But it wasn’t only exasperation that had made her so hot and bothered. He’d heard another kind of heat.

And just like that an image of Addie flared inside his brain. The soft pouting lips, glossy red curls and legs like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby. All wrapped up in a take-it-or-leave-it manner that he’d had no choice but to take...

Breathing heavily, he shifted in his seat, remembering the feverish touch of her mouth against his, the heat between them blurring their edges so that it had been impossible to feel where she’d ended and he’d begun.

He smiled grimly. For most of his life he’d watched his mother and father use passion and emotion like poker dice, uncaring of the consequences. As an adult, away from their orbit, he’d sworn never to follow in their footsteps. His private life would be conducted in the realm of reason.

Only then he’d met Addie, and thrown away caution and control and broken every damn rule in the book.

A pulse began to beat in his neck and suddenly his chair felt cramped, confined. Standing up, he walked quickly across his office to the large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the gaming area of his flagship Miami casino. He breathed in sharply. There were nearly seven hundred gaming tables down there, not including the club privé, each one offering a change of fortune, a new beginning, a better life.

Watching people as they gave everything they had—sometimes literally—to the turn of a card or the roll of a dice seemed to him to represent the rawest, most pure expression of what it meant to be human. It was all there—hope and hunger, fear, and the desire to win. He found it fascinating, stimulating. But not as fascinating or stimulating as the thought of seeing his estranged wife again.

Staring down at the men and women, their faces tight with concentration, he felt a flicker of anticipation. She’d told him she never wanted to speak to him again. But she would. She’d have no choice. And not just because of the money.

His eyes gleamed.

So, where should he take her for lunch?

Snatching his jacket from the back of his chair, he tugged it on. Addie would no doubt refuse to meet him if there was even a hint that they would be alone together. A busy, open-plan restaurant would be better. His eyes gleamed again. He knew just the place.

Opening his door, he was met by the startled faces of his secretary, Chrissie, and her assistant.

‘I’m going out for lunch.’

‘But—’

The women glanced up at him in confusion.

‘You’re meeting Andy here at twelve-thirty,’ said Chrissie. ‘You always meet him.’

It was true. Most days he met his casino managers as they came on shift. But today was different.

‘So it’ll be a nice change for both of us,’ he said smoothly. ‘Call Eights. My usual table. And tell Andy I’m indisposed.’

‘Would you like your car to be brought round to the front, sir?’

Malachi shook his head and smiled. ‘No, thank you, Chrissie. I need a bit of fresh air.’

He ran a finger under his collar. After thinking about Addie, what he actually needed was a cold shower, but a tall chilled mojito might just be a tolerable alternative!

* * *

The restaurant was crowded with the usual mix of suave businessmen and glamorous, golden-limbed women. His table was set slightly apart from the other diners, with a view over the ocean. Like all the best views in the world, it was unchanging and yet never the same.

His choices made, he waved away the waiters and sat back, his eye drawn to the horizon between sea and sky, where dense black clouds hovered above the turquoise water. A storm was coming. According to the weather reports, it was due to hit land just after three. Not that he minded. A storm—bad weather in general—was good for business. But it meant that his lunch might have to be slightly curtailed.

His phone gave a small shudder and, turning, he glanced at it, his face expressionless. It was a message from Henry, asking him to call. But he didn’t want his father’s voice inside his head. Not when his mind was filled with thoughts of Addie.

He picked up his glass. The wine was an interesting choice, the crisp hint of apple surprising him. But it wasn’t the wine that caused him to put down his glass. It was the woman walking through the restaurant towards him.

Like every other man in the room, he watched her intently as she wove sinuously between the tables. He felt a rush of excitement. The weathermen had been wrong. The storm had already hit town. And her name was Hurricane Addie!

Staring defiantly ahead, Addie made her way across the room. Walking into the restaurant, she’d felt a fluttering panic. It was one thing deciding in anger to gatecrash his lunch and cajole him into renewing her funding—quite another to confront him in cold blood. In theory, she could tell herself that she no longer cared about him and that he was just another businessman on her list. She could even remind herself that he was the man who had lied to her face and broken her heart. But all that reason and logic had been forgotten when she’d pulled open the door and stepped into the restaurant.

Despite the fact that the room was packed with diners, she spotted him in a heartbeat. No one but Malachi had that invisible but tangible push-me-pull-me energy. Radiating out from him like rays from the sun, it tugged her gaze across the room to where he sat, gazing out at the ocean like some buccaneer on the high seas. She breathed in sharply, her hand rising involuntarily, protectively in front of her, as though to ward off the full intensity of his masculinity.

He was even more beautiful than she remembered, with his dark hair falling across his forehead, that sculpted poet’s profile and those eyes...the grey shifting and darkening like a constantly changing winter sky. He looked cool and relaxed in a tailored charcoal-grey suit that was a shade lighter than his eyes—and worth every cent of the billions of dollars he was rumoured to have made from his gaming empire.

Her head was spinning; the noise of the room sounded distant and distorted. But even though it was clear he still had the power to throw her off balance, she damn well wasn’t going to reveal that fact to Malachi.

Her hands curling into fists, she walked purposefully towards him and stopped in front of his table. Her back felt as if it was burning beneath the combined female envy in the room, but her blue gaze was cool and scornful as they stared at one another in silence.

It was she who spoke first. ‘You wanted to have lunch with me.’ Her voice was husky, her cheeks flushed with colour. ‘So here I am.’

‘Yes, you are,’ he said softly. He stared in undisguised appreciation at the clinging black dress. Or rather at the swelling curves beneath the fabric. ‘You look incredible, sweetheart. Life must be treating you well. I feel like I should be the one asking you for money.’

Addie lifted her chin. ‘Who knows? Maybe one day you will be.’ She rested one slim hand on her hip. ‘So, are you going to ask me to sit down? Or have you changed your mind?’

‘In that dress? Not a chance. Come and join me.’ Patting the seat beside him, he grinned as, ignoring his gesture, Addie sat down on the opposite side of the table.

As though her arrival had triggered some hidden switch, not one but two waiters immediately appeared beside them, and her shoulders lowered with relief as the daunting prospect of being on her own with him was temporarily postponed. But her reprieve couldn’t last for ever and finally they were alone.

‘I just want to make it clear that I’m paying,’ she said quickly. Their eyes met—hers the same, rebellious blue as a teenage tattoo, his glinting, grey. ‘It’s only fair.’

His gaze fixed on her face and he stared at her thoughtfully, then shrugged. ‘Fine. You can buy me lunch. But I warn you, I’m not a cheap date.’

Addie stilled. ‘This is not a date, Malachi. And that kind of remark is why I’m buying lunch. So there aren’t any mixed messages.’

He grinned. ‘You know me, sweetheart. The only thing I like mixed are my cocktails. Speaking of which—at least let me buy you a drink. Do you still like Bellinis?’

She swallowed, feeling a stabbing within. And then a softness. ‘You remembered...’

His eyes never left her face. ‘Of course. I remember everything about you and our time together.’

The softness hardened and she shivered inside. Was that what their marriage had been to him? A portion of hours and days? Her heart began to beat faster.

‘Good!’ She swallowed. ‘Then you’ll remember how important my charity is to the children it helps. And, no, thank you. I don’t want a Bellini.’

He waved a hand across the table at her negligently.

‘Some wine, then? Or is my presence intoxicating enough for you?’

Tucking her legs beneath the table, Addie forced herself to meet his cool grey gaze. ‘I don’t drink at business meetings.’ she said primly.

‘Neither do I,’ agreed Malachi, lifting the glass of wine to his lips. ‘It’s very unprofessional. But fortunately I don’t class our meeting as anything other than a cause for celebration.’

She stared at him blankly. ‘Celebration! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Of course you do.’ Beneath the restaurant’s lights his eyes looked lighter, almost silver. ‘It was you who reminded me.’ He held out his glass and tapped it against her tumbler of water. ‘Happy Anniversary, sweetheart!’

Addie felt her skin grow cold. His eyes were glittering with an emotion she didn’t fully understand and, quickly turning her head, she fixed her gaze on the view of the ocean just as their meals arrived.

The food was both delicious and beautifully presented, but Addie found it impossible to enjoy her lobster salad.

‘Even if it is our anniversary,’ she said coldly, ‘I hardly think that’s relevant to today’s discussion. Personally I’d be happier if we just stuck to the real reason why we’re both here.’

‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘If it makes you more comfortable.’

Addie glowered at him. Comfortable! As if!

The only reason she was still sitting there was the children and her colleagues. Otherwise, had she not chosen to wear such ridiculously high heels, she would happily have turned round and run as fast as possible from that deceptively guileless face.

But breathing out slowly, she pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. At least she looked the part. Even if it had meant selling her bike. The important thing was that while she might need his help, he didn’t need to know that. She looked cool and classy and in control. Not like a woman looking for a favour.

Now all she had to do was stay focused. But, glancing across the table, she felt a pulse leap in her throat as she looked up into his glittering grey gaze.

‘You’re very quiet, sweetheart. I thought you wanted to talk?’ Lolling back against the leather upholstery, Malachi gazed at her intently.

She shrugged. ‘I was just thinking.’

‘Then I should probably be leaving!’ His eyes, light and dancing, fixed on her face even as the corners of his mouth began to tilt upwards. ‘A quiet woman is like a hand grenade. A quiet woman thinking is like a hand grenade with the pin pulled out.’

His curving smile waited for her reply and she licked her lips, her heart fluttering beneath his scrutiny.

And then, just in time, she remembered that there was an actual reason for her being there—other than just to gawp at Malachi’s cheekbones. Feeling clumsy, hoping he didn’t suspect the reason for her distracted behaviour, she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him.

‘That’s the original agreement.’

He took it and opened it. His face was impassive as he scanned the contents. Finally he looked up at her. ‘It’s strange, don’t you think? The two of us? Together again?’

She’d been expecting him to refer to the letter. Instead, caught off guard, she had to force down the tangled mass of emotion that reared up inside her in response both to his words and the probing focus of his eyes.

‘Th-there is no “two of us”,’ she said shakily. Her eyes darted away from him and round the room, seeking something solid and reassuring. Fixing on two burly businessmen at the bar, she felt her shoulders relax slightly. ‘And we’re not together.’

He smiled slowly. ‘Then why are you scared?’

Her temper flared. ‘I’m not scared.’ She hesitated. ‘Just a little apprehensive, I suppose.’ She met his gaze defiantly.

‘Would it help if I promised not to drop my napkin?’ he said softly.

A warm tide swept over her skin, as hot and strong as a hurricane. But no hurricane could ever be as devastating or dangerous as Malachi King, she thought wildly. Her cheeks burning, she fixed her eye on the smooth white linen tablecloth. But she could feel his eyes, dark and implacable as granite, seeking her out.

‘I’d rather you didn’t bring that up now.’ Her skin felt as if it was on fire; her heartbeat felt so loud she was surprised the other diners hadn’t stopped eating to stare at her.

‘When would you like me to bring it up?’ he asked smoothly.

‘N-never!’ Her voice was trembling and she shook her head. ‘It’s just not appropriate!’

He shrugged, his face dispassionate. ‘I don’t remember you complaining at the time.’

His eyes were like the shimmering headlights of a car. She stared at him helplessly, hypnotised, horrified by her body’s fierce, swift response to his words and the image they conjured up.

Had she really let him do that to her? In a restaurant? There was an ache low down in her pelvis. Her whole body was suddenly shaking and it felt as though her insides were being sucked into a whirlpool. A memory—perfect, impossible, spinning apart into a hundred shades of gold—slid into her head. It had been so wildly, shockingly exciting. Even now she could hardly believe it had happened. Or that she had let it. What had she been thinking?

She felt her chest tighten and her skin start to burn, for of course Malachi had been right. What they’d shared had had very little to do with thought. Their entire relationship had been founded on passion, in his arms she’d been fierce, wild, hungry for his touch; he had awoken the hot, sensual woman beneath the quiet, dutiful young pianist who’d practised her scales every day—

Her stomach dipped. But thanks to him that woman didn’t exist any more.

Meeting his gaze, she gave him an icy stare. ‘Do you want me to leave right now?’

His eyes flickered across her face and, reaching out, he picked up a piece of bread and bit into it with strong white teeth. ‘Wouldn’t that be a little premature? I thought you came here to discuss your funding? If you leave now, sweetheart, you’ll go empty-handed. Besides...’

He gave her a slow, sexy grin that made something hot and scratchy scrape inside her.

‘I’m sure you don’t want to miss dessert.’

He was calling her bluff. He knew she had no choice but to stay. Meeting his gaze, her eyes narrowed into sharp shards of blue. He was so smug and annoying. How she hated him!

Except that she didn’t.

Not unless that ball of hot liquid heat swelling inside her so that her ribs ached was how hatred felt.

She swallowed. Around her she could almost hear the air hissing when it came into contact with her overheated skin. Surely she wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so breathless, so dazzled.

Watching him lounge back against the leather, his eyes gleaming with undisguised satisfaction, she felt a rush of pure white anger. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You’re trying to make me lose my temper so that I’ll leave.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that right? You know, it never ceases to amaze me how women can misinterpret even the simplest statement and put some spin on it.’

‘Spin!’ It took every ounce of willpower she had not to throw the contents of her glass into his infuriatingly handsome face. ‘You making vile innuendos is not spin,’ she snapped.

‘I didn’t make any innuendos. I was merely recounting historical fact.’

His eyes were dancing with a malice that made her want to scream out loud. He was impossible. And this meeting was a farce.

‘Well, I didn’t come here to have a history lesson,’ she hissed. ‘Especially a highly selective and one-sided one.’

The waiter was back again. ‘Was everything to your satisfaction, Mr King?’

‘It was perfect, thank you. The scallops were sublime and my wife thoroughly enjoyed her lobster salad—didn’t you, darling?’

My wife!

Startled, her eyes met his. ‘Yes, I did.’ Glancing up, she gave the waiter a perfunctory smile. ‘It was delicious.’ She waited, fuming, until the plates had been cleared away and they were alone again. ‘Why did you call me that?’

His look of blank incomprehension made her want to throttle him with her napkin.

‘Why wouldn’t I call you that? That is what you are,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you didn’t think you could just waltz back into my life and start demanding money but somehow avoid discussing our marriage?’

She shivered as his gaze fixed on her bare ring finger but, refusing to be cowed, she drew back her shoulders and met his stare defiantly.

‘I don’t want to talk about our marriage.’

‘Clearly,’ he said softly. ‘If you had, you would have got in touch over the last five years.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘There was nothing stopping you from getting in touch. And I didn’t waltz back into your life and demand anything. I’m here because you insisted that I meet you and now you want to dictate what we talk about.’

Her voice echoed round the room and, looking up, she froze. The restaurant was no longer packed with diners. In fact she and Malachi appeared to be the only two people remaining, apart from the businessmen at the bar. She watched, her stomach clenching, as a waiter discreetly cleared a table and left the room.

‘We need to leave,’ she said hurriedly, glancing round again. ‘Lunchtime service is clearly over.’

Glancing over his shoulder, Malachi shrugged. ‘They can wait.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You are so arrogant. These people have lives, Malachi. You can’t just expect them to hang around for hours.’

‘Why not? That’s what they’re paid to do,’ he said casually.

She glowered at him. ‘But not by you.’

There was a sudden, stinging pause. Glancing up, she saw that he was surveying her steadily, an odd light in his eyes. And suddenly the penny dropped.

‘You own this place?’ she croaked.

He nodded slowly, enjoying her shock. ‘Yes, I do.’ He paused, and there was a courteous edge to his voice that disguised the brutality of his words. ‘That’s why I chose to meet you here.’

She stared at him in confusion. For a moment her mind simply couldn’t absorb his words. ‘But you didn’t choose to meet me,’ she said slowly. ‘I followed you here.’

He looked at her almost regretfully, and suddenly her heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst. Glancing over at the men at the bar, she felt her jawline tighten. Had she really thought they were businessmen?

She shook her head in disbelief at her own naivety. ‘You had me followed. By them.’

Their eyes met—hers wide with outrage, his shimmering with satisfaction and her hands balled into fists. He was enjoying himself, the bastard!

He shrugged. ‘It’s their job. They spotted you outside the office.’

Heat was blistering her skin. He’d played her—acting as if he was surprised when all along he’d known she was coming. She felt a spasm of nausea. But was it that surprising, really? He’d always been good at pretending. Look at the way he’d convinced her that he loved her.

She stood up so suddenly that the men at the bar leaped off their stools.

‘I should never have come here. As if you could ever behave like a mature, responsible adult—’

‘Sit down.’ Leaning forward, he spoke quietly, but the authority in his voice was enough to make her stop and look at him.

‘Why? I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘Yes, you do. That’s why you followed me.’

He leaned back in his seat, unfazed by her anger, and irritably she realised that despite her plans he was the one calling the shots. He always had been. It was just that she hadn’t realised it until that moment.

‘Come on, Addie. Sit down.’ His voice had shifted, softened. ‘Look, I’m going to give you your money. I always was.’ Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table. ‘It’s a copy of a bank transaction. It was wired to your account...’ he glanced casually at his watch ‘...about twenty minutes ago.’ His eyes flickered over her taut expression. ‘Relax, sweetheart. You got what you came for. That is what you came for, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘Now, why don’t you just take a seat and we can both try and act like mature, responsible adults.’

Trying to keep what little remained of her dignity, she sat down and stared at him coldly.

His eyes gleamed. ‘Go on. Take it.’

Reluctantly she reached out and picked up the slip of paper. Staring down at it, she felt her face drain of colour. ‘This is the wrong amount.’ She looked back down, then, blinking, lifted her head in confusion. ‘This is double what I was expecting.’

His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘Think of it as an anniversary present.’

Carefully she put the paper down on the table. ‘That’s incredibly generous of you,’ she said hoarsely.

‘I’m glad you approve.’

His tone was pleasant, but something in his eyes made a shiver of apprehension run down her spine and she glanced nervously at the slip of paper again, half feaing she might have imagined it. But it was definitely real.

‘It really is very generous,’ she said stiffly. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t got the money. It means so much to me. Thank you.’ She breathed out. ‘How long will it take to clear?’ She knew she sounded gauche but she didn’t care. If Malachi wanted to gloat—let him.

‘Around two hours.’ He paused and looked past her at the dark clouds and the grey swelling sea outside, and she felt that shiver of apprehension spike painfully through her skin. ‘But before you start spending it I need to make a few things clear.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. Do you want me to sign a contract? I can do that now.’

He turned and slowly, very slowly, smiled at her.

‘That won’t be necessary. You see, that money didn’t come from King Industries. It came from me. From my personal bank account. And my terms are personal too.’

She swallowed—or tried to swallow at least—past the lump in her throat.

‘What do you mean “personal”?’ she croaked. Around her the air felt hot and leaden and the room was growing darker. ‘What do you mean?’ she repeated, and the lump felt sharp and jagged now.

His voice was soft, just as it had been when he’d promised to love and honour and cherish her for ever. But the lines of his face were knife sharp and harder than stone.

‘I’ve been very patient, sweetheart, but you owe me a honeymoon.’

‘I—I don’t understand.’

His gaze swept over her slowly.

‘Then let me explain. I want you to come away with me for a month. To be my mistress.’

His eyes locked on to hers, pinning her against the leather upholstery.

‘Do that and you can keep the money. Who knows? There might even be a little bonus in it for you as well.’