Читать книгу A Game of Vows - Maisey Yates - Страница 7

“YOU made me buy my own ticket.” Hannah stood in the doorway of Eduardo’s penthouse, exhausted and wrinkled from travel, still angry at the way everything had transpired. She’d had short notice, and limited options. She’d had to fly economy.

An infuriating smile curved Eduardo’s lips. “I did. But I knew you could afford it.”

“Doesn’t chivalry dictate you buy your blackmailed wife’s plane ticket?” Hannah dropped her suitcase next to her feet and crossed her arms. The most shocking thing about Eduardo’s appearance had been his departure, with a demand that she meet him in Barcelona in twenty-four hours. And she could get there herself.

It had been a blow to her pride, and he knew it. Because she’d been forced to get herself to Spain. She’d been the one to board the plane. If he’d tied her up and thrown her into cargo she could have pretended he’d truly forced her. That she was a slave to him, rather than to the mistakes of her past and her intense need to keep them secret.

But there was nothing more important than her image. Than the success she’d earned. Than never, ever going back to that dark place she’d come from.

Because of that, she was a slave to Eduardo, and a coward where Zack was concerned. More than a day since their almost-wedding and she hadn’t called him. Of course, he hadn’t called her, which spoke volumes about the quality and nature of their relationship.

“I checked and there was no specific entry in the handbook about the most chivalrous way to force one’s estranged bride to come and do their bidding.”

“What’s the point of even having a handbook, then?” She let out a long breath and looked pointedly at the doorway Eduardo was blocking with his broad frame. “Aren’t you going to invite me into our home?”

“Of course,” he said.

They’d shared the penthouse for six months five years ago. They’d been the most bizarre six months of her life. Sharing a home with a man who hardly acknowledged her presence, unless he needed her for a gala or to make a show of togetherness at a family dinner.

It was a six months she’d done a very good job of scrubbing from her mind. Like every other inconvenient detail in her past, it had been chucked into her mental closet, the door locked tight. It was where every juicy secret belonged. Behind closed, difficult-to-access doors.

But now it was all coming back. Her fourth year in Spain, when she’d been accepted into a coveted internship at Vega Communications. Everything had been going so well. She’d started making connections, learning how things worked at a massive corporation.

Then one day, the boss’s son had called her into his office and closed the door.

Then he’d told her he’d done a little digging and found out her real name. That she wasn’t Hannah Weston from Manhattan, but that she was Hannah Hackett from Arkansas. That she hadn’t graduated top of her class, but that she had no diploma at all.

And then, with supreme, enraging arrogance he had leaned back in his chair; hands behind his head; humor, mocking, glittering in his eyes, and he’d told her that her secret would be safe.

If she would marry him.

That sickening, surreal moment when she’d agreed, because there was nothing in the world that could compel her to lose the ground she’d gained.

Eduardo stepped aside and she breezed past him, leaving her suitcase for him to handle. Things were rearranged. His furniture new, but still black and sleek. The appliances in his kitchen were new, too, as was the dining set.

But the view was the same. Cathedral spires rising above gray brick buildings, touching the clear sky. She’d always loved the city.

She’d hated Eduardo for forcing her into marriage. Had hated herself nearly as much for being vulnerable to him, for needing to keep her secrets so badly.

And then she’d moved into his home, and she’d started to think the forced marriage wasn’t so bad after all. It was so expansive, plush, and refined. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.

Secretly, shamefully, she’d loved it. As long as she could ignore the big Spaniard that lived there, too, everything was wonderful. Comfortable.

She’d made it into school, but she was still living on a meager budget. And Eduardo had shown her luxury she’d never seen before. She’d thought she’d known. She hadn’t. Her imagination hadn’t even scratched the surface of what true wealth meant. Not until she’d met the Vega family.

It had given her something to aspire to.

“Everything looks … great.” Surreal. She’d never gone back to a place before. When she left, she left. Her childhood home, Spain, her place in New York.

“Updated a bit. But your room is still available.”

“Haven’t had any other temporary wives in my absence?”

“No, unlike some people I think having more than one spouse at a time is a bit too ambitious.”

“Yes, well, you know it wasn’t my intention to have more than one,” she bit out, a sour feeling settling in her stomach. “Zack was decent, you know.” She eyed the open door, and her suitcase, still occupying their position in the hall. “He was one of the few truly good people I’ve ever met. I hate that I did this to him.”

“Have you been in contact?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you should …?”

She clenched her teeth. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Anyway, he hasn’t called me, and he didn’t come by my house, so, maybe he doesn’t care.” That actually hurt a little.

“If he thinks you’re missing, he may send out a search party. I didn’t think you wanted to publicize our marriage. Or rather, why you ran out on your wedding. It doesn’t matter either way to me.”

She swore and took her phone from her purse. “Fine. But Shelby did go and speak to him.” She bit her lip and looked down at the screen. Still no calls from him, and she’d been sort of hoping there would have at least been one. There was a text from Shelby.

“And have you heard from him?”

“No.” Strange. But she couldn’t really imagine Zack playing the part of desperate, jilted groom. Decent he was, but the man had pride. She opened the text from Shelby and her heart plummeted. “Zack wasn’t at the hotel when she arrived.”

“So he still hasn’t heard from you at all.”

She clutched the phone tightly against her chest. Eduardo was watching her far too closely. She needed a moment. Just a moment.

“Why don’t you bring my bags in?” she asked.

Dark eyes narrowed, but he walked over to the entry and pulled her bags just inside the door, shutting it behind him.

She bit her lip and looked back down at her phone.

“Scared?” he asked.

“No,” she muttered. She opened up the message screen and typed in Zack’s name, her fingers hovering over the letters on the touch screen as she watched the cursor blink. She really didn’t know what to say to him. “Nothing about this in the chivalry handbook?” she asked.

Eduardo crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the back of the couch. “I think we both have to accept that we’re on the wrong side of honor at this point in time.”

“Good thing I never gave honor much thought,” she said.

Except she was now. Or at least giving thought to what a mess she’d made out of Zack’s life. She growled low in her chest and shot Eduardo one last evil glare.

I’m so sorry about the wedding, Zack.

She let her thumb hover over the send button and then hit it on a groan.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing really yet.” She pulled up another text window.

I met someone else. I—She paused for a moment and looked at Eduardo. If she’d been speaking, she would have gagged on the next word.—love him.

She closed her eyes and hit Send. Let him think that emotion had been in charge. She and Zack were both so cynical about love … he might even find it funny. That had been the foundation of their relationship really. Zack had wanted a wife, the stability marriage would bring. But he wanted a wife who wouldn’t bother him about his long working hours, and who didn’t want children. Or love.

They’d been so well suited.

“There. I hope you’re happy. I just ruined things with my best bet for a happy ending.”

“You said you didn’t love him,” Eduardo said.

“I know. But I like him. I respect him. How often do you get that in a marriage?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only ever had separate bedrooms and blackmail in my marriage. What excuse did you give him?”

“I told him how much I loved you, dearest,” she bit out.

He chuckled. “You always were an accomplished little liar.”

“Well, I don’t feel good about this one.”

“You felt good about the others?”

She truly didn’t know the answer. “I … I never thought about how I felt about it. Just about whether or not it was necessary. Anyway, I don’t lie as a matter of course.”

“You just lie about really big things infrequently?”

“Every job application has started with questions about college. Didn’t I get near-perfect grades at university? Didn’t I have a prestigious internship at Vega Communications? No lies. No one wants to know about high school, not once you’ve been through university.”

“And your fiancé?”

“Never asked many questions. He liked what he knew about me.” And neither of them knew all that much. Something she was realizing now that she was being haunted by her past. She and Zack had never even slept together. Not for lack of attraction. She’d been quite attracted to him, impossible not to be, but until things were legal and permanent between them she’d felt the need to hang on to that bit of control.

It was so much easier to deny her sex drive than to end up back where she’d been nine years ago. Being that girl, that was unacceptable. She never would be again.

“Lies by omission are still lies, querida.”

“Then we’re all liars.”

“Now, that’s true enough.”

“Show me to my room,” she said, affecting her commanding, imperious tone. The one she had gotten so good at over the years. “I’m tired.”

A slow smile curved his lips and she fought the urge to punch him.

“Of course, darling.”

This time, he picked up her bags without incident and she followed him into her room. Her room. Her throat tightened. Her first experience with homecoming. Why should it mean anything? He had replaced the bedding. A new dark-colored comforter, new sable throw pillows, new satin curtains on the windows to match. The solid desk she’d loved to work at was still in its corner. Unmoved. There was no dust on it, but then, Eduardo had always had a great housekeeper.

“This is … perfect,” she said.

“I’m glad you still like it. I remember you being … giddy over it back when we were first married.”

“It was the nicest room I’d ever been in,” she said, opting to give him some honesty, a rare thing from her. “The sheets were … heaven.”

“The sheets?”

She cleared her throat. “I have a thing for high-quality sheets. And you definitely have them here.”

“Well, now you get to live here again. And reap the benefits of the sheets.”

She arched a brow. “My fiancé was a billionaire, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I would expect you to find nothing less,” he said.

“I’m not sure how I feel about your assessment of my character, Eduardo. You express no shock over Zack’s financial status, or over the fact that we weren’t in love.”

“You’re mercenary. I know it … you know it. It’s not shocking.”

She was mercenary. If being mercenary meant she did what she had to to ensure her own success. Her own survival. She’d needed to be. To move up from the life she’d been born into. To overcome the devastating consequences of her youthful actions. And she’d never lost a wink of sleep over it. But for some reason, the fact that it was so obvious to Eduardo was a little bit unsettling.

“Is it mercenary to try and improve the quality of your life?” she asked.

“It depends on the route you take.”

“And the resources available to you are a major factor in deciding which route to take,” she said.

“I’m not judging you, Hannah, believe it or not.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “No, you’re just using me.”

“As you said, you do what you must to improve the quality of your life.” His expression was strange, tense. Dark.

She looked away. “I have to do something.”

“What is that?”

She looked down at her left hand, at the massive, sparkly engagement ring Zack had given her a few months earlier. She tugged it off her finger, a strange sensation moving through her like a strong wind. Sadness. Regret. Relief.

“I have to send this to Zack.” She held it up and realized her hands were shaking. She couldn’t keep it. Not for another second. Because mercenary she might be. But she wasn’t a thief. She wouldn’t take from Zack. Wouldn’t do any more damage than she’d already done.

“I can have someone do that for you. Do you know where he is?”

“Thailand,” she said, without missing a beat. “We were supposed to honeymoon there.”

“And you think he went?” he asked, dark eyebrows raised.

She smiled. “Zack had business in Thailand, so yes, I think he went. No, I know he went. He’s not the kind of man to let a little thing like an interrupted marriage keep him from accomplishing his goals.”

Eduardo studied her, dark eyes intense. “Perhaps he was perfect for you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying not to dwell on that.” She held the ring out and Eduardo opened his hand. She dropped it into his palm. “I have the address of the place we were meant to stay at.”

“Bien. I’ll call a courier and have it rushed.” He closed his hand around the ring, the glittering gem disappearing. All she could think of was that he held her future in his hand. The future that might have been. The one that was not eclipsed by Eduardo.

She looked up, their eyes clashing. Her throat tightened, halting her breath.

“Good,” she said, barely able to force out the words. She turned to the desk and saw a pad and pen slotted into the wooden slats built into it for organization. It was where she’d kept them when she’d lived here. She bent and scribbled the address for the house she should be in now, with Zack.

Her fingers felt stiff and cold around the pen. She straightened and handed him the note. “There. That should do it.”

“I’m surprised you don’t want to keep the ring.”

“Why? I didn’t keep the one you gave me, either.”

“We had a prior agreement. I get the feeling you didn’t have an agreement like that with him.”

“Separate beds, separate lives, unless a public appearance is needed? No. We were meant to be married for real.” She swallowed hard. “And all things considered, I don’t feel right keeping his ring. I was the one who wronged him.”

“Careful, Hannah, I might start thinking you grew a conscience in our time apart.”

“I’ve always had one,” she said. “It’s been inconvenient sometimes.”

“Not too inconvenient.”

“Oh, what would you know about a conscience, Eduardo?”

“Very little. Only that it occasionally takes the form of a cricket.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her lips. “That sounds about right. So … if you could mail my ring to him, that would be great.”

“I’ll call now.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her emotions a blank. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel. Why she suddenly felt more relieved than upset about leaving Zack behind. Marriage to him would have been good.

And yet, when she thought of the honeymoon, when she thought of sharing his bed … she couldn’t make the man in her vision Zack.

The man she saw was darker, more intense. The man she saw was Eduardo. His hands on her skin, his lips on her throat …

She flopped backward and covered her face with her hands. “Stop it,” she admonished herself. She rolled onto her side and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest. She hadn’t done that since high school. Comforting then, even when the world was crumbling around her, and just as comforting now.

Eduardo had always been handsome. He’d always appealed to her. That was nothing new. But she’d never once been tempted to act on any kind of attraction while they’d lived together. It hadn’t been part of her plan. And she didn’t deviate from her plans. Plans, control, being the one in charge of her life, that was everything. The most important thing.

Not Eduardo’s handsome face and sexy physique.

“Feeling all right?” Eduardo asked from the doorway.

She snapped back into a sitting position, pillow still locked tightly against her breasts. “Fine.”

Eduardo couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Hannah Weston, flopped on her bed like a teenage girl. A show of softness, a show of humanity, he hadn’t expected from an ice queen like her. Like her reaction when he mentioned her fiancé. Like when she’d given back the other man’s ring.

It suited him to think of Hannah as being above human emotion. It always had. He needed her. He didn’t know all the reasons why, but he did. And that meant it was easier to believe that she would simply go with the option that benefited her most and feel no regret over leaving the inferior choice behind.

But that wasn’t how she was behaving. And it gave him a strange twinge in his chest that seemed completely foreign.

Hannah stood up from the bed and put the pillow gingerly back in its place. She cleared her throat and straightened. She looked … soft for a moment. Different than he’d ever seen her before. She was beautiful, no question, more so now than she’d been as a too-thin college student.

She was still thin, but her angles had softened into curves, her cheekbones less sharp, her breasts small but round.

Instantly, an image of him pushing her on the bed, tugging her shirt up, filled his mind. He could take those breasts into his hands … suck her nipple between his lips, his teeth …

A rush of blood roared through his body, south of his belt. How long had it been since that had happened? Since he’d been aroused by an actual woman. In solitude, with a fantasy, he could certainly find release. But with a woman? One he had to somehow seduce and charm when he had no more seduction and charm left in him? That had been beyond him for quite some time.

“I can see that. You epitomize ‘fine.’”

“I’m ready to find out what your game plan is, Vega,” she said, crossing her arms beneath those small, gorgeous breasts.

“My game plan?”

“Yes. I don’t like not knowing the score. I want to know exactly what you have planned and why.”

“Tomorrow, I plan to take you to the office, to let you look at things and get a feel for the state of the company.”

“All right. What else?”

He felt the need to goad her. To shake her icy composure. As she was shaking his. He took a step forward, extended his hand and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. Her skin was like a rose petal, soft and delicate. “Well, tonight, my darling bride, we dine out.” Her eyes darkened, blush-pink lips parting. She was not unaffected by him. His body celebrated the victory even as his mind reminded him that this had no place in their arrangement. “I intend to show all of Barcelona that Señora Vega has returned to her husband.”