Читать книгу The Venadicci Marriage Vengeance - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

GABBY put on her bravest face while she visited her father’s bedside. The tubes and heart monitor leads attached to his grey-tinged body made her stomach churn with anguish—the very same anguish she could see played out on her mother’s face.

‘How are you, Dad?’ she whispered softly as she bent down to kiss his cheek.

‘Still alive and kicking,’ he said, and even managed a lopsided grin, but Gabby could see the worry and fear in his whisky-coloured eyes.

‘Have the doctors told you anything more?’ she asked, addressing both her mother and father.

‘The surgery is being brought forward to tomorrow,’ Pamela St Clair answered. ‘Vinn spoke to the cardiac surgeon and organised it when he was here earlier. He insisted your father’s case be made a priority. You just missed him, actually. It’s a wonder you didn’t pass him in the corridor.’

Gabby stiffened. ‘Vinn was here just now?’

‘Yes, dear,’ her mother said. ‘He’s been here every day. But you know that.’

‘Yes… It’s just I was speaking to him this morning and he said he had meetings to attend all afternoon and evening,’ she said, unconsciously biting her lip.

Her mother gave her a searching look. ‘I hope you’re not going to be difficult about Vinn,’ she said, with a hint of reproof in her tone. ‘He’s been nothing but supportive, and the least you could do is be civil towards him—especially now.’

Gabby could have laughed out loud at the irony of her mother’s turnaround. Pamela St Clair had always been of the old school, that actively discouraged fraternisation with any of the household staff. She had barely spoken to Vinn’s mother during the years Rose had worked at the St Clair estate other than to hand Rose a long list of menial tasks to get through. She had been even less friendly towards Rose’s surly son during the short time he had lived there with his mother. And after he’d had that slight run-in with the law Pamela had tried to ban him from the property altogether, but Gabby’s father had insisted Vinn be allowed to visit his mother as usual.

Gabby hadn’t been much better towards Rose— which was something she had come to sincerely regret in the years since. She still cringed in shame at how inconsiderate she had been at times, carelessly leaving her things about, without a care for the person who had to come along behind her and pick them up.

But it was Gabby’s treatment of Vinn that had been the most unforgivable. She had been absolutely appalling to him for most of her teenage years—teasing him in front of her giggling friends, talking about him in disparaging terms well within his hearing. She had flirted with him, and then turned her nose up at him with disgraceful regularity. She had no excuse for her behaviour other than that she had been an insecure teenager, privately struggling with body issues, who, in an effort to build her self-esteem, had tended to mix with a rather shallow crowd of rich-kid friends who had not learned to respect people from less affluent backgrounds.

On one distressingly memorable occasion, at the urging of her troublemaking friends, Gabby had left an outrageously seductive note for Vinn, asking him to meet her in the summerhouse that evening. But instead of turning up she had watched from one of the top windows of the mansion, laughing with her friends at how he had arrived at the summerhouse with a bunch of white roses for her. What had shamed her most had been Vinn’s reaction. Instead of bawling her out, calling her any one of the despicable names she had no doubt deserved, he had said nothing. Not to her, not to her parents, and not even to her brother Blair, whom he’d spent most of his spare time with whenever he had visited the estate.

Gabby’s father reached out a weak hand towards her, the slight tremble of his touch bringing her back to the present. ‘Vinn is a good man,’ he said. ‘I know you’re still grieving the loss of Tristan, but I think you should seriously consider his proposal. You could do a lot worse. I know he’s had a bit of a rough start, but he’s done well for himself. No one could argue with that. I always knew he had the will-power and the drive to make it once he got on the right path. I’m glad he has chosen you as his bride. He will look after you well. I know he will.’

Gabby couldn’t quite disguise her surprise that Vinn had already spoken to her father. She moistened her dry lips and tried on a bright smile, but it didn’t feel comfortable on her mouth. ‘So he’s spoken to you about our…relationship?’

Her father smiled. ‘I gave him my full blessing, Gabby. I must say I wasn’t the least surprised to hear the news of your engagement.’

Gabby frowned. ‘You…you weren’t?

He shook his head and gave her hand another light squeeze. ‘You’ve been striking sparks off each other since you were a teenager,’ he said. ‘For a time there I thought… Well…Blair’s accident changed everything, of course.’

Gabby felt the familiar frustration that neither of her parents had ever accepted their only son’s death as suicide. They still refused to acknowledge he had been dabbling with drugs—but then stubborn denial was a St Clair trait, and she had her own fair share of it.

‘I’m glad you both approve,’ she said, banking down her emotion. ‘We are having dinner this evening to discuss the wedding arrangements.’

‘Yes, he told us it wasn’t going to be a grand affair,’ her mother said. ‘I think that’s wise, under the circumstances. After all, it’s your second marriage. It seems pointless going to the same fuss as last time.’

Gabby couldn’t agree more. The amount of money spent on her marriage to Tristan Glendenning had been such a waste when within hours of the ceremony and lavish reception she had realised the terrible mistake she had made.

She stretched her mouth into another staged smile and reached across to kiss both her parents. ‘I’d better get going,’ she said, readjusting her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything you need before I go?’

‘No, dear,’ her mother assured her. ‘Vinn brought some fruit and a couple of novels for your father to read by that author he enjoys so much. I must say Vinn’s grown into a perfect gentleman. Your father is right. You could do a lot worse—especially as you’re a widow. Not many men want a woman someone else has had, so to speak.’

Gabby silently ground her teeth. If only her mother knew the truth about her ill-fated first marriage. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and with another unnatural smile left.

The St Clair mansion was situated on the waterfront in the premier harbourside suburb of Point Piper, flanked on either side by equally luxurious homes for the super-rich and famous. The views across Sydney Harbour were spectacular, and the house and grounds offered a lifestyle that was decadent to say the least.

Gabby had moved back home two years ago, after Tristan’s death in a car accident, and although now and again she had toyed with the idea of finding a place of her own, so far she had done nothing about doing so. The mansion was big enough for her to have the privacy she needed, and with her finances still on the shaky side, after the trail of debts her late husband had left behind, she had decided to leave things as they were for the time being.

The doorbell sounded right on the stroke of eight-thirty and Gabby was still not ready. Her straight ash-blonde hair was in heated rollers, to give it some much needed body, and she was still in her bathrobe after a shower.

She wriggled into a black sheath of a designer dress she’d had for years, and shoved her feet into three inch heels, all the time trying not to panic as another minute passed. She slashed some lipstick across her mouth and dusted her cheeks with translucent powder, giving her lashes a quick brush with a mascara wand before tugging at the rollers. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in springy waves, and with a quick brush she was ready—or at least as ready as she could be under the circumstances. Which wasn’t saying much…

Vinn checked his watch and wondered if he should use the key Henry had insisted he keep on him at all times. But just as he was searching for it on his keyring the door opened and Gabriella was standing there, looking as if she had just stepped off the catwalk. Her perfume drifted towards him, an exotic blend of summer blooms. Her normally straight hair was bouncing freely around her bare shoulders, the black halter neck dress showing off her slim figure to maximum advantage.

It had always amazed him how someone so slim could have such generous breasts without having to resort to any sort of enhancement. The tempting shadow of her cleavage drew his eyes like a magnet, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on her toffee-brown ones. She had made them all the more noticeable with the clever use of smoky eyeshadow and eyeliner, and her full and sensual lips were a glossy pink which was the same shade as that on her fingernails.

‘I’ll just get my wrap and purse,’ she said, leaving the door open.

Vinn watched her walk over the marbled floor of the expansive foyer on killer heels, one of her hands adjusting her earrings before she scooped up a purse and silky wrap. She turned and came back towards him, her chin at the haughty angle he had always associated with her—even when she was a sulky fourteen-year-old, with braces on her teeth and puppy fat on her body.

‘Shall we get this over with?’ she said, as if they were about to face a hangman.

Vinn had to suppress his desire to make her eat her carelessly slung words. She meant to insult him, and would no doubt do so at every opportunity, but he had the upper hand now and she would have to toe the line. It would bring him immense pleasure to tame her—especially after what her fiancé had done to him on the day of their wedding on her behalf. The scar over his left eyebrow was a permanent reminder of what lengths she would go to in order to have her way. But things were going to be done his way this time around, and the sooner she got used to it the better.

He led the way to his car and opened the passenger door for her, closing it once she was inside with the seatbelt in place. He waited until they were heading towards the city before he spoke.

‘Your parents were surprisingly positive about our decision to marry—your mother in particular. I was expecting her to drop into a faint at the thought of her daughter hooking up with a fatherless foreigner, but she practically gushed in gratefulness that someone had put up their hand to scoop you off the shelf, so to speak.’

Gabby sent him a brittle look. ‘Must you be so insulting?’ she asked. ‘And by the way—not that I’m splitting hairs or anything—but it wasn’t exactly our plan to get married, it was yours.’

He gave an indifferent lift of one shoulder. ‘There is no point arguing about the terms now the margin call has been dealt with,’ he said. ‘I have always had a lot of time for your father, but your mother has always been an out-and-out snob who thinks the measure of a man is what’s in his wallet.’

‘Yes, well, it’s practically the only thing you’ve got going for you,’ she shot back with a scowl.

He laughed as he changed gears. ‘What’s in my wallet has just got you and your family out of a trainload of trouble, cara, so don’t go insulting me, hmm? I might take it upon myself to withdraw my support— and then where will you be?’

Gabby turned her head away, looking almost sightlessly at the silvery skyscrapers of the city as they flashed past. He was right of course. She would have to curb her tongue, otherwise he might renege on the deal. It would be just the kind of thing he would do, and relish every moment of doing it. Although it went against everything she believed in to pander to a man she loathed with every gram of her being, she really didn’t see she had any choice in the matter. Vinn had the power to make or break her; she had to remember that.

She had never thought it was possible to hate someone so much. Her blood was thundering through her veins with the sheer force of it. He was so arrogant, so very self-assured. Against all the odds he had risen above his impoverished background and was using his new-found power to control her. But she was not going to give in without a fight. He might make her his wife, but it would be in name only.

Not that she would tell him just yet, of course. That would be the card up her sleeve she would reveal only once the ceremony was over. Vinn would be in for a surprise to find his new wife was not prepared to sleep with him. She would be a trophy wife—a gracious hostess, who would say the right things in the right places, and smile and act the role of the devoted partner in public if needed—but in private she would be the same Gabby who had left the score of her nails on the back of his hand the night before her wedding.

The restaurant he had booked was on the waterfront, and the night-time view over the harbour was even more stunning, with the twinkling of lights from the various tour ferries and floating restaurants. The evening air was sultry and warm, heavy with humidity, as if there was a storm brewing in the atmosphere.

Gabby walked stiffly by Vinn’s side, suffering the light touch of his hand beneath her elbow as he escorted her inside the award-winning restaurant. The head waiter greeted Vinn with deference, before leading the way to a table in a prime position overlooking the fabulous views.

‘Have you ever dined here before?’ Vinn asked, once they were seated and their starched napkins were expertly draped over their laps.

Gabby shook her head and glanced at the drinks menu. ‘No, I haven’t been out all that much lately.’

‘Have you dated anyone since your husband died?’ he asked, with what appeared to be only casual interest.

She still looked at the menu rather than face his gaze. ‘It’s only been two years,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m in no hurry.’

‘Do you miss him?’

Gabby put the menu down and looked at Vinn in irritation. ‘What sort of a question is that?’ she asked. ‘We were married for five years.’ Five miserably unhappy years. But she could hardly tell him that. She hadn’t even told her parents.

She hadn’t told anyone. Who was there to tell? She had never been particularly good at friendships; her few girlfriends had found Tristan boorish and overbearing, and each of them had gradually moved on, with barely an e-mail or a text to see how she was doing. Gabby knew it was mostly her fault for constantly covering for her husband’s inadequacies. She had become what the experts called an enabler, a co-dependant. Tristan had been allowed to get away with his unspeakable behaviour because she had not been able to face the shame of facing up to the mistake she had made in marrying him. As a result she had become an adept liar, and, although it was painful to face it, she knew she had only herself to blame.

‘You didn’t have children,’ Vinn inserted into the silence. ‘Was that your choice or his?’

‘It wasn’t something we got around to discussing,’ she said, as she inspected the food menu with fierce concentration.

The waiter came and took their order for drinks. Gabby chose a very rich cocktail—more for Dutch courage than anything. It was what she felt she needed just now: a thick fog of alcohol to survive an evening in Vinn’s company.

Vinn, on the other hand, ordered a tall glass of iced mineral water—a well-known Italian brand, she noticed.

‘You’d better go easy on that drink of yours, Gabriella,’ he cautioned as she took a generous mouthful. ‘Drinking on an empty stomach is not wise. Alcohol has a well-known disinhibitory effect on behaviour. You might find yourself doing things you wouldn’t normally do.’

She gave him a haughty look. ‘You mean like enjoying your company instead of loathing every minute of it?’

His grey-blue eyes gave a flame-like flash. ‘You will enjoy a whole lot more than just my company before the ink on our marriage certificate is dry,’ he said.

Gabby took another gulping swallow of her drink to disguise her discomfiture. Her stomach felt quivery all of a sudden. The thought of his hands and mouth on her body was making her feel as if she had taken on much more than she had bargained for. She had held Tristan off for years—except for that one horrible night when he had… She swallowed another mouthful of her drink, determined not to think of the degradation she had suffered at her late husband’s hands.

‘You have gone rather pale,’ Vinn observed. ‘Is the thought of sharing my bed distasteful to you?’

Gabby was glad she had her glass to hide behind, although the amount of alcohol she had consumed had gone alarmingly to her head. Or perhaps it was his disturbing presence. Either way, she didn’t trust herself to speak and instead sent him another haughty glare.

‘That kiss we shared seven years ago certainly didn’t suggest you would find my lovemaking abhorrent— anything but. You were hungry for it, Gabriella. I found that rather interesting, since the following day you married another man.’

‘You forced yourself on me,’ she hissed at him in an undertone, on account of the other diners close by.

‘Forced is perhaps too strong a word to use, but in any case you responded wholeheartedly,’ he said. ‘Not just with those soft full lips of yours, but with your tongue as well. And if I recall even your teeth got into the act at one point. I’m getting hard now, just thinking about it.’

Gabby had never felt so embarrassed in her entire life. Her face felt as if someone had aimed a blowtorch at her. But even more disturbing was the thought of his body stirring with arousal for her—especially with those powerful thighs of his within touching distance of hers.

‘Your recollection has obviously been distorted over time, for I can barely remember it,’ she said with a toss of her head.

His eyes glinted smoulderingly. ‘Then perhaps I should refresh your memory,’ he said. ‘No doubt there will be numerous opportunities to do so once we are living together as man and wife.’

Gabby had to fight to remain calm, but it was almost impossible to control the stuttering of her heart and the flutter of panic deep and low in her belly. ‘When do you plan for this ridiculous farce to commence?’ she asked, with fabricated quiescence.

‘Our marriage will not be a farce,’ he said, with a determined set to his mouth. ‘It will be real in every sense of the word.’

Her eyes widened a fraction before she could counter it. ‘Is that some sort of sick habit of yours? Sleeping with someone you dislike?’

‘You are a very beautiful woman, Gabriella,’ he said. ‘Whether I like you or not is beside the point.’

Gabby wanted to slap that supercilious smile off his face. She sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her eyes shooting sparks of fury at him. But more disturbing was the way her body was responding to his smoothly delivered sensual promises. She could feel a faint trembling between her thighs, like a tiny pulse, and her breasts felt full and tight, her nipples suddenly sensitive against the black fabric of her dress.

‘I’m prepared to marry you, but that’s as far as it goes,’ she said with a testy look. ‘It’s totally barbaric of you to expect me to agree to a physical relationship with you.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘Two point four million dollars is a high price for a bride, and I expect to get my money’s worth.’

She sucked in a rasping breath. ‘This is outrageous! It’s akin to prostitution.’

‘You came to me for help, Gabriella, and I gave it to you,’ he said. ‘I was totally up-front about the terms, so there is no point in pretending to be shocked about them now.’

‘But what about the woman you were seeing a month or so ago?’ Gabby asked, recalling a photograph she had seen in the ‘Who’s-Out-and-About?’ section of one of the Sydney papers. An exquisitely beautiful woman gazing up at Vinn adoringly.

He gave her a supercilious smile. ‘So you have been keeping a close eye on my love life, have you, mia piccola?’

She glowered at him darkly. ‘I have absolutely no interest in who you see. But if we are to suffer a short-term marriage, the very least you could do is keep your affairs out of the press.’

‘I don’t recall saying our marriage was going to be a short-term one,’ he said with an inscrutable smile. ‘Far from it.’

Gabby felt her heart give a kick-like movement against the wall of her chest. ‘W-what?’ she gasped.

‘I have always held the opinion that marriage should be for life,’ he said. ‘I guess you could say it stems from my background. My mother was abandoned by the man she loved while she had a baby on the way. She had no security, no husband to provide for her, and as a result she went on to live a hard life of drudgery— cleaning other people’s houses to keep food on the table and clothes on our backs. I swore from an early age that when it came time for me to settle down I would do so with permanence in mind.’

‘But you don’t even like me!’ she blurted in shock. ‘How could you possibly contemplate tying yourself to me for the rest of your life?’

‘Haven’t you got any mirrors at your house any more, mia splendida ragazza?’ he asked, with another smouldering look. ‘I do not have to like you to lust over you. And isn’t that what every wife wants? A husband with an unquenchable desire for her and her alone?’

Gabby swallowed back her panic, but even so she felt as if she was choking on a thick uneven lump of it. ‘You’re winding me up. I know you are. This is your idea of a sick joke. And let me tell you, I am not finding it the least bit amusing.’

‘I am not joking, Gabriella,’ he said. ‘Love is generally an overrated emotion—or at least I have found it to be so. People fall in and out of love all the time. But some of the most successful marriages I know are those built on compatibility in bed—and, believe you me, you don’t need to be in love with someone to have an earth-shattering orgasm with them.’

Gabby felt her face explode with colour, and was never more grateful for the reappearance of the waiter to take their meal orders.

Hearing Vinn speak of…that word…that experience… made her go hot all over. She had never experienced pleasure with her late husband. The one time Tristan had taken it upon himself to assert “his manly duty”, as he had euphemistically called it, he had left her not cold, but burning with pain and shame.

Once the waiter had left, Gabby drained the rest of her cocktail, beyond caring that it had made her head spin. No amount of alcohol could affect her more than Vinn had already done, she decided. Her body was tingling all over with sensation, and her mind was running off at wayward tangents, imagining what it would feel like to be crushed by the solid weight of his body, his sensual mouth locked on hers, one of his strong, hair-roughened thighs nudging hers apart to—

She jerked away from her thoughts, annoyed that she had allowed his potent brand of sensuality to get under her guard. What on earth was she thinking? He was the enemy. She knew exactly what he was doing and why. He was only marrying her to get back at her for how she had treated him in the past. He knew it would be torture for her to be tied to him. Why else would he insist on it? Never had she regretted her immature behaviour more than this moment. Why, oh why, had she been so shallow and cruel?

Gabby’s older brother Blair had often pulled her up for her attitude towards Vinn, but in a way his relationship with Vinn had been a huge part of the problem. She had felt jealous that her adored older brother clearly preferred the company of the cleaner’s son to hers. Gabby had resented the way Blair spent hours helping Vinn with his studies when he could have been spending time with her, the way he’d used to do before Vinn had arrived with his mother.

When Gabby had accidentally stumbled upon the realisation that Vinn suffered from dyslexia she had cruelly taunted him with it, mocking him for not being able to read the most basic of texts. But for some reason, just as he had when she had led him on so despicably that hot summer afternoon when she was sixteen, Vinn had never spoken to her brother or her parents about her behaviour. He had taken it on the chin, removing himself from her presence without a word, even though she had sensed the blistering anger in him, simmering just below the surface of his steely outward calm.

Gabby could sense that anger still simmering now, in the way he looked at her from beneath that slightly hooded brow. Those grey-blue eyes were like mysteriously deep mountain lakes, icy cold one minute, warm and inviting the next, and they spoke of a man who had nothing but revenge on his mind.

She had seen the way women were looking at him. He had such arrestingly handsome features, and his presence was both commanding and brooding—as if he was calculating his next move, like a champion chess player, prepared to take as long as he needed to move his king, making his opponent sit it out in gut-wrenching apprehension.

Gabby felt another shiver of unease pass through her at the thought of being married to him. He had said he expected their marriage to be permanent. That meant there were issues to consider: children, for one thing. She was twenty-eight years old, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t heard the relentless ticking of her biological clock in the two years since Tristan had died. Children had not been an option while she had been married to him. She would never have brought children into such a relationship. She hadn’t even brought a pet into the house in case he had used it against her in one of his violent moods.

‘You have gone very quiet, Gabriella,’ Vinn observed. ‘Is the thought of having an orgasm with me too hard for you to handle?’

She gave him a withering look. ‘No, in actual fact I find it hard to believe it possible,’ she said. ‘I can’t speak for the legion of women you’ve already bedded, but I personally am unable to engage in such an intimate act without some engagement of emotion.’

He gave a deep chuckle of laughter. ‘How about hate?’ he asked, reaching for his mineral water. ‘Is that enough emotion to get you rolling?’

She put down her glass and signalled for the waiter to refill it.

‘Do you think that is wise?’ Vinn asked. ‘The amount of alcohol in that drink is enough to cloud anyone’s judgement.’

Gabby put up her chin. ‘In the absence of the engagement of emotion, alcohol and a great deal of it is the next best thing,’ she said.

His eyes narrowed to grey-blue stormy slits. ‘If you think I will bed you while you are under the influence, think again,’ he said. ‘When we come together for the first time I want you stone-cold sober, so you remember every second of it.’

Gabby put her glass down with a sharp little clunk. ‘I am not going to sleep with you, Vinn,’ she said, and hoisting up her chin even higher, added imperiously, ‘For that privilege you will have to pay double.’

Vinn smiled a victor’s smile as he reached inside his jacket for his chequebook. He laid it on the table between them, and the click of his pen made Gabby’s spine jerk upright, as if she had been shot with a pellet from the gold-embossed barrel.

‘Double, you said?’

Gabby felt her stomach drop. Her mouth went dry and her palms moistened. ‘Um…I…I’m not sure. I…this…it…I…don’t…Oh, my God…’

He wrote the amount in his distinctive scrawl, the dark slash of his signature making Gabby’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. ‘There,’ he said, tearing off the cheque from the book and placing it in front of her on the table. ‘Do we have a deal or not?’