Claiming His Wedding Night

by Louise Fuller

  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 k
now 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.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THERE WAS A LONG, pulsing silence. Across the table, Addie stared at him in mute disbelief, unable to believe what she had just heard. Slowly she picked over his words inside her head, turning and twisting them like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, trying to make a different meaning. But each time the picture was the same.

  His mistress!

  The word sounded even harsher inside her head than when he’d spoken it out loud and her breath snarled in her throat. Maybe she had misunderstood him. Or maybe he was joking. But as she stole a glance at his cool, implacable face she realised with a jolt of fear that he was making a serious suggestion.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ she said shakily.

  She stared down at the slip of paper, still lying on the table between them, clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap.

  He shrugged, his cool gaze boring into her. ‘Everything in life has a price, sweetheart.’

  ‘A price! What are you talking about, Malachi? You just offered me money for sex!’

  His gaze drifted lazily over her pale, stunned face. ‘How very unromantic of you. I thought I was offering you the honeymoon we never had.’

  She was suddenly hot with rage. ‘Oh, please! You know exactly what you just said and it had nothing whatsoever to do with romance!’

  Her words were tumbling from her lips so fast that she choked. As he gently pushed her glass of water towards her, she shoved his hand angrily away.

  ‘I don’t want any. I don’t want anything from you.’

  Stretching one muscular arm along the back of the banquette, he shook his head slowly. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true. Or are you saying that you want me to cancel that transfer into your account?’

  Addie hesitated. She badly wanted to throw the money back in his face, but how could she? Without it the charity would struggle to pay the rent, let alone support the children. And she would lose a part of herself—the part she was most afraid to lose because it absorbed so much of the energy and emotion she had once given to performing. Once given to Malachi. Only she wasn’t about to share that fact with him now.

  Gritting her teeth, she lifted her eyes to his and he smiled slowly.

  ‘See? Everything does have a price, sweetheart.’

  He paused. His grey eyes watched her face with a satisfaction that made her want to scream.

  ‘Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t done before.’ His mouth curved, his grey eyes glittering provocatively.

  She glared at him, her own blue eyes snapping fire. ‘What? Sleep with a man for money?’

  A muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘I’m simply asking you to resume our relationship.’

  ‘You are not! You’re taking advantage of me.’

  ‘No, I’m trying to negotiate a deal with you.’

  ‘A deal? This isn’t a deal. It’s blackmail. And it’s insulting—’ Shaking her head, she pushed the slip of paper jerkily across the table towards him. ‘I’m not some escort you pay by the day, Malachi! I’m your wife!’

  ‘So now you want to talk about our marriage?’

  His eyes held hers, so dark and dispassionate that suddenly she was frantic to leave. His crude proposal was bad enough. But she couldn’t bear the thought of the two of them turning everything they’d once shared into something so twisted and ugly.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t want to talk to you about anything. In fact I’ve got a new deal for you. How about you keep your money? And I’ll keep my pride.’ Rising to her feet, she jerked her bag from the seat and glowered at him. ‘Enjoy your honeymoon.’

  ‘Addie—’

  He was on his feet, reaching out for her. But, slipping away from his outstretched arm, she ran lightly across the restaurant and past the bodyguards. Yanking open the door, she stepped out into the street, her brain registering the black overcast sky just as a strong flurry of wind slammed against her.

  Gasping, she tugged her thin jacket more tightly around her body and began to hurry down the rapidly emptying road. Her stormy encounter with Malachi had completely distracted her from the tempest raging outside, but now she realised that, like their relationship, the weather seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. Much worse!

  She would have to get a cab, she thought despairingly as she glanced up at the swirling dark clouds. If she waited for a bus she’d be soaked.

  Holding out her hand, she began to walk as quickly as her heels would allow, glancing back over her shoulder with increasing urgency until finally, hearing a car slow behind her, she turned with relief.

  Only it wasn’t a taxi. Her feet seemed to falter beneath her as a sleek black limousine complete with uniformed chauffeur drew up alongside her.

  Her heart lurched and she took a hurried step backwards as one of the bodyguards from the restaurant leaped out from the passenger side. For a moment she thought he might grab her, but instead, turning swiftly, he opened the rear door and she felt her bones turn to ice as Malachi stepped out onto the pavement.

  Turning cold blue eyes on him, she breathed out sharply as another gust of wind slapped into her. ‘Shouldn’t you be packing?’ she snapped.

  ‘Addie, please. Do you really want to be doing this now? Here?’ He flinched as a gust of wind sent a newspaper flapping past his head. ‘It’s been downgraded, but this is still a big storm. We need to get out of it.’

  ‘I know that. That’s why I’m getting a cab. And there is no “we”.’

  She glanced away down the deserted street.

  ‘There are no cabs.’ Malachi stepped in front of her, his narrowed eyes at odds with the reasonable note in his voice. ‘And it’s getting pretty bad out here.’

  As if to attest to the truth of his words, the first fat drops of water hit her face just as he reached out and touched her hand lightly.

  ‘Let me give you a lift home, okay?’

  Despite the chill of the rain, she felt heat explode inside her. The noise of the wind felt suddenly muffled, drowned out by the heavy thud of her heartbeat. But jerking her hand away, she gripped her jacket more tightly. It would have to be a Category 5 hurricane before she’d even consider getting into that car with him.

  ‘I thought I made myself clear back at the restaurant.’ She was having to shout now, against the buff
eting breeze. ‘I don’t need anything from you, Malachi. So if you don’t mind—’

  ‘But I do. What if something happens to you? Imagine how that would look—’

  Addie stared at him in disbelief, trying to banish the sharp stab of pain as his words dug into her brain. ‘So this isn’t about me and my safety. It’s about you and your stupid image?’

  For a moment she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. Was still hurting her. She clutched her bag against her chest, holding it in front of her like a shield as his eyes locked on to hers.

  ‘I am worried about your safety.’

  ‘So am I,’ she snapped. ‘Which is why I’m not getting in that car with you.’

  All at once she was conscious of the calm surrounding him—as though his broad body was somehow absorbing the turbulence of the wind.

  ‘Your choice, sweetheart. The back seat.’ He smiled. ‘Or the boot.’

  Her hand tightened on the fabric of her jacket. ‘Really! The boot? First you try and blackmail me—now you want to kidnap me!’

  She watched the muscles in his arms swell against his beautifully tailored suit and instantly regretted her words. Knowing Malachi, he would have absolutely no qualms about tossing her into the boot of his car and, glancing down the street one last time, she made up her mind.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘You can give me a lift.’

  His eyes glittered with what looked to her horribly like triumph and, willing herself to hold her temper in check, she edged past him. ‘But just so you know—this doesn’t change anything.’

  Fuming, she slid along the leather as far as possible until she was pressed against the frame of the door. Already she was regretting her acquiescence, for despite the warmth and sanctuary of the car her nerves were singing, her body painfully alert at the realisation that she was about to be alone and up close with Malachi. It was asking for trouble.

  But it was also too late to change her mind.

  As he got in beside her she breathed out slowly, her eyes narrowing as he calmly gave her address to the chauffeur.