Читать книгу Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby - Natalie Anderson - Страница 21

ONE

‘No. No, no, no, no, no.’ Vivi Grace shook her head at the woman who owned every minute of her existence.

‘Too bad,’ Gianetta growled, stretching out her hand, her fingers crab-snapping. ‘No option. She’s throwing one of her worst.’

No kidding. The current hissy fit would be heard three streets away and Vivi was only five feet from ground zero, her ears basically bleeding. Gritting back a helpless giggle, Vivi unclasped her bra and wriggled the straps out from the sleeves of her shirt. Good thing she stayed out back—she’d never be seen in public without boob containment. ‘The things I do for you.’ And for the spoilt brat who was the bane of her life.

‘You’re paid ridiculous amounts of money to do them.’ Gia took the bra and glided across the room in her inimitable hovercraft style.

Vivi watched, grinning at the woman’s élan. Impossible as it was, Gia was more mesmerising and unique than her million-dollar creations. But what she’d said was true and, not only did Vivi need the money, she was driven to nail every aspect of this job. It might be completely crazy at times, but she loved her work. And given her relative youth and inexperience, Vivi still felt compelled to prove herself. She had to be better than brilliant and she worked hard to be—twenty-four/three-sixty-five.

So if the brat wanted to wear Vivi’s bra, she’d wear her bra. Definitely one of the more mortifying things Vivi’d been asked to offer up in the last four years, but no real surprise. For the biggest events of the season—New York, Paris, London and this, Milan—she did whatever it took. Tonight Alannah Dixon, global supermodel du jour, would wear the ultimate haute couture design of Gianetta Forli, supreme fashion queen and Vivi’s ‘every-minute-you’re-breathing’ boss. It was the grande finale of the most fab collection and not a thing would go wrong. Not on Vivi’s watch.

As Gia handed Alannah the bra Vivi was unable to stop herself from stating the obvious. ‘You’ll need to sew it or something, I’m way wider round the ribs.’ She really shouldn’t apologise. Only an eight-year-old starving orphan would be narrower.

‘The point is you’re fuller,’ Gia muttered, already working a needle. ‘The dress needs breasts.’

So why had Gia designed it for boobs when she’d known it would be ironing-board Alannah wearing it? Vivi bit back the bitchy thought. ‘Got some stuffing?’

‘Plenty.’ Gia growled. ‘You’ve lost weight, Alannah.’

‘I couldn’t help it,’ Alannah whined as Gia deftly sewed a few last stitches into the fantasy frock. ‘I couldn’t eat last week.’

Vivi rolled her eyes. It was a guy. Alannah had lost her heart and her appetite with it. Again. She was master of the ‘crush from afar’, actors or musicians her favourite objets de lust, but when she actually met the guy in question, she was invariably disappointed in the reality. As a result, the world knew she was impossibly hard to please—which made her all the more attractive to many, many successful and overly assured men. Alannah the Unattainable.

If anyone bothered to think about it, they might call Vivi unattainable too. She didn’t do crushes, flings or full-blown affairs. She didn’t do anything. Definitely not during Milan Fashion Week. And she’d not eaten that much these last few days either, she’d been wired on nervous energy and a ‘to do’ list centuries long.

Braless and feeling as if she were bouncing all over the place, she stepped out to the main changing area to ensure everything else was going to plan. Some of the stylists saw her and immediately straightened and moved faster.

Good.

As Gia’s personal secretary she had serious kudos. She was the person responsible for organising absolutely everything and everyone knew it. If anyone wanted to get to Gia, to impress Gia, even talk to Gia, they had to get through Vivi first. She was Girl Friday, Bouncer, Therapist, Exercise Buddy, Travel Agent, Punch Bag, Publicist, Chauffeur, Cook, Calendar, Cleaner, Censor, Enforcer, Enabler, Receptionist and more, all rolled into one.

Vivi turned away from the hordes of hairdressers and stylists, mentally preparing for the clean-up and post-show party mayhem. She rolled her shoulders, uncomfortable without her bra. Not physically, but because she worked hard to maintain her scary ‘fail-me-and-you-die’ persona. There was only success or failure and she ensured all staff and contractors knew it—from her attitude, speech and image. Her crisp white shirt and tailored black skirt reflected her all-business approach. Inoffensive, unobtrusive, efficient—it wasn’t her job to look outrageous. Although just this second Vivi wished she’d worn some scarlet lace number that would’ve shown through the dress. But Gia knew Vivi always wore skin-coloured support under her starched exterior. She was nothing if not reliable.

Right now A-listers lined the front row, trying not to rip into the goody bags Vivi had ordered. She always had her pick of gifts to include; many companies sought an affiliation with Gia’s label. Most were rejected. Only the elite were accepted—ensuring they became even more sought after. For another company, getting Gia’s nod was like striking gold. Vivi didn’t go to watch their glee, she stayed out back, clipboard, laptop and phone in hand—one eye on the security screens, one eye on the models before they went to Gia for final inspection, one eye on the technicians, one eye on the clean-up already. Yeah, she needed a lot of eyes, a few ears and several extra arms as well.

Quickly checking the nearest monitor, Vivi saw the models strutting evening-wear. One second ’til Alannah claimed centre-stage with her Vivi-bra boobs. She walked back to the private dressing room to get ready for the next phase. The monitor in there didn’t capture audio but she could hear the applause thundering through the walls anyway. She paused from her manic paper-shuffling and smiled at the screen as Gia then appeared, owning the catwalk alongside Alannah, taking the adulation.

Vivi frequently pinched herself, still unable to believe she’d had the luck to land a job with Gia and then be promoted to such a coveted position. Hundreds would kill—or worse—for her job. She met amazing people, went to incredible places. But as the applause faded she sat on the leather sofa, more than a little tired. Her post-show crash was hitting too soon.

‘Vivi!’ Gia’s strident tones echoed down the corridor. ‘I need you.’

Naturally. Vivi inhaled deep, hoping for a hit of energy. Gianetta needed her for the most basic things. Not merely organisational skills and people management—being secretary to a creative genius meant hand-holding on a whole new level.

Other voices grew louder. A burst of Alannah giggles was underscored by deep male laughter. Great. Vivi frowned. Guests were coming already too? She glanced round for her jacket but it was nowhere to be seen and her bra was still sewn to Alannah’s dress.

‘We need drinks, Vivi!’ Alannah sang. ‘I’ve found a friend.’

Of course. Vivi shook her head. Time to forget about her boobs’ bounceability. She lifted one of the already opened bottles and filled a couple of the flutes on the nearby tray, briefly wondering about Alannah’s human appetite suppressant. Was he her usual elite A-list actor type, or an extremely wealthy benefactor? To be invited into the exclusive room meant he was someone. But still, he ought to have been vetted by security.

The door opened.

‘Champagne?’ Glasses in hand, she turned to offer one to the latest five-minute-flirt—and nearly fainted with shock.

Oh, no. Oh, definitely no, no, no.

Rigid—to stop her faint—she stared at the tall figure who’d stepped in after Alannah.

‘Thanks.’ Alannah pried one of the glasses from Vivi’s clawed fingers.

Vivi didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She just kept on staring.

‘This is Vivi. She does everything.’ Sweeping past, Alannah didn’t bother to tell Vivi her date’s name—managing to compliment and insult Vivi at the same time. But Vivi didn’t need Alannah to tell her who he was.

Liam Wilson.

Her long-time-ago lover. The one she’d worked relentlessly hard to forget about. Entirely. Yet faster than the burst of a champagne bubble, every memory, every sensation, every sigh, flooded back.

They’d run away together. A reckless, passionate impulse. She’d turned her back on everything—her family, her almost fiancé, her carefully planned future. And for what?

Her affair with Liam Wilson had changed the course of her life. Mostly for the better, right? But it had also brought heartbreak.

He’d broken her heart.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ Alannah purred, walking further into the room and pulling across a small screen that she’d get changed behind. Gia disappeared behind the screen too. Alannah was usually completely at ease with nudity, but never with a possible flirt in tow. She knew how to work mystery.

So Liam was Alannah’s latest crush? That’d be right—because Liam loved nothing more than a challenge. And that was fine. Of course. Because Vivi was so over him—light years over him. She’d not given him a thought in aeons.

But now he was right in front of her, a smile slowly curving his lips. Vivi remembered that smile and it hit her exactly as it had five years ago. Like the loud beat of a bass drum, one stroke set her heart on a new rhythm—led by him. But she wasn’t listening to it this time, certainly not dancing.

She turned, looked at the glass in her hand, tempted to lift the thing and drain it—and then the rest of the bottle. But that would be telling and she wasn’t letting him know how much his appearance had thrown her. Nor was she ever letting him know how badly he’d hurt her—not when he was here chasing someone else. Not when he was looking so, so...fine.

She turned back and offered him the glass. ‘Champagne?’ she repeated, pleased her voice sounded almost normal.

He was still looking right at her and his smile deepened. ‘Thank you.’

The tips of his fingers brushed hers as he took the glass. She suppressed the shiver, turning to pour herself a glass with a slow, careful hand. She took a very small, very controlled sip. She drew a breath but her throat was totally dry—as if the liquid she’d just swallowed had evaporated. Actually it probably had, because she was unbearably hot.

So hot.

It would be rude not to look at him, right? Not to talk. Swallowing, she went back to staring.

Tall, dark—and, you got it, handsomer than any of those pretty guys who’d been strutting it down the catwalk all week—Liam Wilson exuded more masculinity than all of them put together. More rugged, more raw—nothing but muscle and determination, all but breathing fire. He was slightly thinner than when she’d last seen him and his hair might be longer, but his edges had hardened—leaving him leaner and, yeah, meaner. His smarts were still visible—splinter sharp in his gold-flecked brown eyes. More than intelligent, he’d been calculating. And, in the end, ruthless. Doubtless he still was.

Mr All or Nothing. The ‘all’ had been fierce intensity. The ‘nothing’ had meant absolute abandonment. He’d enticed her—claimed her completely. And then ditched her.

Well, that was okay. She’d moved on—higher, further than she’d ever imagined she would. So she had pride, right? Good defence. She’d argue the heat in her cheeks was because she’d been working hard.

‘Hold still,’ Gia snapped louder than the steel scissors she was using to free Alannah from the frock.

Neither Liam nor Vivi moved. But the amusement in his eyes deepened, as did the intensity of colour. Too gorgeous for any woman’s good.

‘Did you enjoy the show?’ she asked, trying to suck back some cool. Failing.

‘It was stunning.’

How had he come to Alannah’s attention? Vivi didn’t know what he did any more. Five years ago he’d been on the competitive sailing circuit. Teaching on the side, taking wealthy types like Oliver out, getting them some skills and himself money, status—building a reputation that led to demand. Alannah didn’t seem the type to want to learn to sail.

But Liam had other talents. And he was clearly good at whatever he did now, given the fabric and fit of his suit. Bespoke. Emphasising the bold, beautiful body beneath.

Hot enough to combust, Vivi wrenched her gaze from him, hideously aware that beneath her white shirt her breasts were unfettered and right this second straining towards him.

Stupid body.

But it remembered. Everything. She’d had the hottest sex of her life with this guy—incandescent passion fraught with guilt. Three weeks of burning up bedroom after bedroom, barely surfacing to breathe and travel on. Intense. Insane.

Unsustainable.

Because it ought to have been forbidden. She’d broken all the rules and she knew it. Doubt had wormed its way into her heart. In the end the old cliché was true: lust was not enough. It was no foundation for anything solid to be built on. Even though she’d given him everything. Given up everything for him.

But he hadn’t wanted it. All he’d wanted was—

‘Don’t move too fast—you’ll wreck it.’ Gia’s words rang in the scorching room. Vivi snapped back to the present.

‘Gia’s work is incredible.’ She produced a smile, determined to break the hot-ice moment and fill in the wait for the others to re-emerge.

‘Yes, she’s amazing.’

‘As are the models, of course.’ Vivi couldn’t help an acidic tinge filtering through.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, his voice deepening.

Of course. Back then she should have known he was nothing but a flirt, but she’d been so young—she’d believed in the happy-ever-after fairy tale. Fool.

‘So, you’re Vivi now?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She lifted her chin. It had taken a long time and a lot of effort to become Vivi and she was proud of what she’d achieved.

He angled his head, watching her far too close for comfort. ‘You’ll always be Victoria to me.’

She froze at the friendly tease. ‘Naturally you’d be unable to do something that I’d prefer. You’ve only ever done what you wanted to.’ She covered the slight bite with a laugh and a superglued-on smile.

His smile also flashed wider, but his eyes sparked. ‘Well, I’m still Liam. In case you’d forgotten my name.’

As if she could ever forget his name. As if she could ever forget his face, his mouth, his hands, his body and the way he used it...

She blinked and halted her thoughts. She’d been there, done that, burned the tee shirt. She had self-control now. Grown up, mature, she wasn’t the bowled-over idiot she’d been. And once bitten, she was now ninety-nine times shy of this guy. She should turn tail and run. She couldn’t lose herself again.

Except she was no longer a coward. She was a highly paid, valued and skilled assistant to one of the world’s most iconoclastic talents. And she wasn’t going to let him get to her or cause trouble at a time that was far too important. And that was the point. She was being paid to be here and do a freaking awesome job. So here she’d stay. But she sure wished she could get her bra back on.

‘It’s been a while.’ He offered another easy conversation starter with another too easy smile.

Okay, that was how they’d play it—like vaguely friendly, old acquaintances. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed, as if she’d not really noticed. As if she couldn’t tell him down to the last minute.

He looked amused. ‘You look different.’ His attention lifted to her hair. ‘And yet the same.’ His lids fluttered as he swiftly looked down her body and back to her face. There hadn’t been a blatant stare at her boobs, but she knew he noticed them—she felt it in their response.

‘Still beautiful,’ he added quietly.

Oh, hell. She wasn’t going to let him seduce her with his soft-spoken, smiling wickedness—especially when she knew all it ever had been was words. No matter how sincere he could sound, there was no genuine emotion behind them.

‘While you’re looking as wolfish as ever.’ She deliberately glanced at the screen Alannah was changing behind. ‘You still love a challenge and a chase?’

He laughed. ‘Possibly.’

There was no ‘possible’ about it.

‘So you work for Gia?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m very fortunate.’ Vivi maintained her composure. She hadn’t spent the last few years working around models not to pick up a few points—like the ability to smile on demand no matter how you were feeling inside.

At that moment, Gia materialised, the steel scissors still in her hands. ‘Tell me more about your plans,’ she said to Liam.

Vivi leapt at the opportunity to duck behind the screen. Alannah was just pulling on a stunning minidress that should by rights be a tee shirt. She had no bra on either.

‘It seems to be the look tonight.’ Alannah winked.

Yeah, well, it was all right for Alannah—she was the definition of pert’n’petite.

‘Where’s my bra?’ Vivi violently whispered.

‘That ugly thing was a bra?’ Alannah answered excruciatingly loudly. ‘No idea.’ She breezed out from the curtain to sing at the others. ‘Comfort stop, won’t be a sec.’

Vivi stayed hidden, hunting for her bra and acutely aware of the quiet—inaudible—murmuring between Gia and Liam. How had Liam met Gia? Victoria had control of the calendar; she knew everything Gia was up to, didn’t she?

He had to be here for Alannah. He must be the guy the model reckoned was the love of her life. Vivi grimly hoped that the usual pattern was followed and the ‘Unattainable’ would eat him up and spit him out.

Finally she found remnants of her bra on the floor. Unlike the dress, no time and care had been taken to preserve it from the sharp shears. There was nothing for it but to go back out there and face him—headlights on full. Straightening her shoulders in pure defiance, she stepped out from the small screen.

‘Vivi, hurry up.’ Gia frowned.

She had no intention of hurrying anywhere with them. She still had work to do—thank heavens. ‘Gia, I can’t come with you now. I need to supervise the—’

‘One of the others can do it.’

Oh, she had to be kidding. But Vivi recognised the hard light in Gia’s eyes. The woman might be a genius but she was notoriously difficult when consumed by her latest idea. It seemed inspiration might have struck in the last ten seconds. Vivi kept her tones calm and sensible. ‘All right, but I need to go by the hotel to—’

‘There’s no time for that,’ Gia snapped. ‘I need you with me now.’

No mistaking that tone. While Vivi was used to Gia’s imperious orders, others were often shocked by her supersonic switch to demanding Diva-Of-Them-All. Vivi glanced at Liam and saw the slight tightening around his eyes. But he looked from Gia to her and his momentarily forbidding expression shattered as he turned on a smile.

Vivi turned away and drew breath. Great, so now she got to go to the glamorous after-party in the clothes she’d been wearing all day, without half her underwear, and in the presence of an ex-lover whom she’d never quite got out from under her skin. The one guy in front of whom, if she had to ever see him again, she’d want to look hotter than hot.

Well, doubtless she looked hot—her face felt as flamed as a tomato on a grill. Her frigidly efficient persona had melted and she was mortified. Given the field she worked in, maybe she should be less conservative sartorially, but her attire was part of her armour and at this moment she needed all the steel she could get her hands on. What she really needed was a chastity belt. She wasn’t getting sucked under by the tsunami of sensual power that was Liam. Not again.

A bunch of paps loitered by the limo. Vivi put on her best secretary face and acted as bodyguard for Alannah. She’d long since learned the best way to ensure the photographers didn’t bother taking a picture of her was to look as if she were on a mission and hold a clipboard or something. Tonight she clutched her bag to her chest.

Liam had also stepped ahead of the two stars and now held the car door for them—looking like a much more efficient bodyguard than she as she brought up the rear. Clearly amused, he looked right at her bag as if he knew exactly what it was she was really trying to hide. She got into the limo, painfully aware of him getting a face full of her butt as he waited to get in after her.

He took the seat opposite hers, the one next to Alannah. So she got to watch as he conquered the Unattainable? Okay, she didn’t need the chastity belt, but a paper bag to stick her head in would be really welcome right about now. Because he would succeed where all others had failed. Wasn’t that what Liam was all about? Winning what no one else could.

‘So, what’s so special about this boat you were telling me about?’ Gia picked up on the conversation she’d been having with Liam while Vivi had been bra-hunting behind the screen. ‘Sell it to me.’ She went into bottom-line businesswoman mode.

‘Everything. Sleek lines, luxurious fabric, simple design. You get comfort but elite performance. The speed over the water is unlike anything in its class. I think you’ll find it an exceptionally good fit.’ Liam didn’t do plain business-speak. The way he spoke evoked the sensuality of the design he was discussing. It was obviously still boats for him, then. Still that ‘freedom’ that was so important to him and that he could never find on land. Glancing at Gia, Vivi could see his effect in action. He always spoke with that smile in his voice, with the kind of confidence that had everyone leaning forward and listening.

‘Will you take me out on it?’ Alannah asked with one of her coquettish giggles.

‘I’d love nothing more.’

Goosebumps feathered over Vivi’s hot and cold skin. She was hyper-aware of him sitting so close, but she point blank refused to look at him. She studied the plain fabric of her skirt instead. Once she’d had the freedom to touch him when and how she liked. And she’d liked—too much. But it wasn’t just the possibility of touch making her squirmy; he managed to attack all her other senses too—most especially with that scent.

Vivi wasn’t wearing perfume, nor were Gia or Alannah. The models used nothing to stain the delicate fabrics used, nothing that would interfere with the understated scent in the catwalk salon—Gia’s shows were carefully designed multi-sensory experiences. So that subtle scent in the car wasn’t coming from anyone but Liam.

Musky, masculine, delectable.