Sexy Billionaires

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Sexy Billionaires Page 9

by Carol Marinelli


  She nodded, staring dumbly at the carpet, unable to meet her friend’s eyes.

  ‘I told you not to get involved. I warned you about him. Honestly, Tabitha, he’s no good for you. He may be my brother but he’s still a bastard.’

  ‘He’s not. Honestly, Aiden, we went out last night and he was really nice…’ Her voice trailed off as she recalled Zavier’s shuttered eyes in the car.

  ‘Can’t you see that he was just being nice because you were doing what he wanted?’

  ‘Of course I can.’ Tabitha swallowed hard, hating the fact but knowing it to be true.

  ‘You’re going to get hurt, Tab.’ He was nearly crying now, and Tabitha wasn’t far off herself. ‘You’re going to get so hurt.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because I know him. Why, Tabitha? How did you get into this? And please don’t quote the newspaper—I need to know what’s happened?’

  ‘He offered me money.’

  ‘I offered you money.’

  ‘He offered me more.’

  Aiden refused to buy it. ‘I know you, Tabitha, as well as, if not better than, I know Zavier. I offered you enough to get your grandmother out of debt and a bit more, and yet you refused.’

  ‘It’s a lot more than you offered,’ she admitted, shame filling her. ‘A lot more.’

  But still Aiden steadfastly refused to believe her. ‘He could have offered you the Crown Jewels and you’d have turned him down.’ Sitting on her sofa, he stared moodily out of the window. ‘You love him, don’t you?’

  ‘This has nothing to do with love.’

  ‘Bull.’ He practically spat the expletive and Tabitha winced. Seeing Aiden so angry was something she hadn’t reckoned on. ‘You love him, and you’re hoping in time he’ll love you too.’

  ‘Of course I don’t love him, Aiden. I hardly know him.’ But the uncertainty in her voice was audible even to herself.

  ‘That didn’t stop you sleeping with him,’ Aiden pointed out nastily. ‘Just what the hell’s going on between you two, Tabitha? And don’t feed me this line about money; I just won’t believe it.’

  ‘There is an attraction,’ Tabitha admitted slowly, unsure how to explain what she couldn’t even articulate to herself. ‘But I’m not stupid enough to believe a marriage can survive on sex alone. It’s a lot of money, Aiden. It will change my life. I can open up my own dance school. Yes, you offered me money and, yes, you offered me marriage. But, Aiden, how long would it have lasted? How long before we’d be exposed? At least this way…’

  His eyes locked on her hand, his face growing more incredulous by the moment as he lifted it up and examined the ring. ‘He gave you the ruby?’

  ‘It’s a loan,’ Tabitha said breathlessly. ‘He made it very clear he wanted it back.’

  ‘He said he’d never let it out of his sight again.’ Aiden’s voice was one of utter amazement. ‘Swore on his own life the next time a woman wore that ring it would be the real thing.’

  ‘The next time?’

  Aiden looked up at the question in her voice. ‘He was engaged a couple of years ago, to this sweet young thing—or so we all thought. Two weeks before the wedding Louise went and got herself some hot-shot solicitor to draw up the most complicated prenuptial agreement, figuring that Zavier wouldn’t back out of the wedding at that late stage.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Yep.’ Aiden gave a wry grin. ‘The one thing she didn’t bank on when she worked out her plan was Zavier’s exacting standards. The day he realised it was more about money than love he dropped her—and there was nothing dignified about Louise’s exit, let me tell you. Even as we speak there’s a court action against him for breach of contract and emotional trauma. But this isn’t about money,’ Aiden insisted again through gritted teeth. ‘You can deny it all you like, Tab, but this isn’t about money. You know it and so do I.’

  She did know it, yet was too terrified to admit it—even to herself. ‘He thinks the gambling debt is mine.’ Watching his uncomprehending face, Tabitha took a breath before venturing further. ‘I tried to tell him the truth but he just refused to hear it. Please, Aiden, don’t tell him otherwise.’

  ‘He’ll find out anyway,’ Aiden was shouting again. Tabitha put her hands over her ears but he carried on relentlessly. ‘Hell, he probably already knows. He’s using you, Tabitha. You can’t win this one.’ He quietened then, his voice softening when he saw her pain, saw the tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘It’s not too late to say no. Your surname’s not in the paper. Zavier can shoot the rumours down in five minutes flat—he’s done it for me before… He’ll demand a retraction and it will all be forgotten. You won’t need to go through this ridiculous charade.’

  Which was what terrified her the most.

  Tabitha closed her eyes. ‘Please don’t hate me, Aiden. I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘I don’t hate you, Tabitha, I’m just scared for you—for me too, come to that.’

  ‘What have you got to be afraid of?’

  ‘You’re my best friend, Tabitha, and he’s my brother. I don’t want to lose either of you, and when it all goes bad—as it surely will—I don’t want to have to choose.’

  There was so much finality in his voice, such a jaundiced air of inevitability, that the gnawing sense of foreboding she had awoken with multiplied with alarming speed and a surge of panic swelled within her.

  ‘It won’t come to that.’ Her voice wavered and there was nothing assured about her response.

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Will you give me away?’

  ‘You’re going to go through with it, then?’

  ‘If I do go through with it,’ Tabitha corrected, ‘will you give me away?’

  Aiden let out a low whistle. ‘You’re pushing it, you know?’

  ‘Please, Aiden. I’ll be nervous enough; at least I won’t have to lie to you, pretending to be the blushing bride and all that. You know it’s just a business deal.’

  ‘But is it?’

  She nodded, slowly at first and then more certainly. ‘You know it is. Please, Aiden, I really need you to be there for me.’

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘Okay, then, but I’m not buying you both a present. I’ll save my money for the mountain of tissues and chocolate I’ll undoubtedly have to dole out when it’s all over.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Tabitha said resolutely. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Aiden said simply, and, giving her the briefest kiss on the cheek, he let himself out.

  Only when she was alone did Tabitha remember her parcel. Her hands still shaking from the confrontation—from everything, really—it took for ever to open, but as the box slid open she let out a gasp of delight. The dress and shoes she had admired so lovingly last night lay on a mountain of tissue paper, only they weren’t black. Instead the softest, palest lilac beckoned her hands, which she ran over the soft velvet of the dress. In a second Tabitha’s robe was discarded and the dress skimmed over her head. Slipping the shoes onto her feet, she searched through the tissue paper until she found what she was looking for.

  It wasn’t quite the declaration Tabitha had secretly been hoping for, but just the sight of his purple signature somehow soothed her.

  Funny that a hastily written note with a noticeably absent kiss gave her more pleasure than several thousand dollars’ worth of clothes, Tabitha thought as she sat there dressed in all her finery staring at the piece of paper.

  ‘Six months,’ she whispered to herself.

  Six months of sleeping beside him, waking next to him in the morning. Six months to show Zavier how good and sweet love could be if only you let yourself taste it.

  Six months to make him love her.

  In a corner? Maybe.

  Making a mistake? Probably

  Taking the biggest gamble of her life? Definitely.

  Of course there was never a pen when she needed one, but a rummage down the side of the sofa finally delivered the goods, a
nd with a shaking hand Tabitha held the contract and added her signature beneath Zavier’s—not quite with flourish but with definite determination.

  There were a million reasons she should have said no to Zavier, and only one truth. The simple fact that she loved him was the real reason Tabitha said yes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘WE’VE put you in here.’ Marjory Chambers flung open the shutters. ‘I know you and Zavier will probably think it old hat, but until you’re married at least I’ve put you in separate rooms. Jeremy wouldn’t hear of anything else.’ Marjory gave her an engaging smile, misinterpreting the look of relief that flooded Tabitha’s face as she pointed to a door. ‘Of course the rooms are adjoining, so what you get up to is your business.’

  Everything about today felt surreal. She expected grandeur after the wedding, but the Chambers holiday home was practically a mansion. There was nothing dark and stately about it, though. Wall-to-wall floorboards, huge white walls littered with black and white photos, sumptuous white leather couches and artefacts each meriting more than a cursory glance. If this was their holiday home heaven only knew what their main residence must be like. Her bedroom jutted out onto the ocean, its vastness glittering before her, the bay view to end all bay views.

  ‘Jeremy’s having a lie-down, but we’ll be having drinks on the patio at seven before dinner. He can’t wait to say hello. But please, Tabitha, feel free to come down before then—make yourself at home. I know this last month can’t have been easy on you, with Zavier being away, but it’s over now, he’ll be here within the hour and finally we can get on with this wedding. Now, do you want me to look after your dress? Zavier simply mustn’t get even a glimpse; you’re going to look stunning.’

  Marjory was so nice, so disarmingly friendly, that as Tabitha unzipped her suitcase—new, of course—and passed her the wads of tissue paper that contained the lilac dress and shoes Zavier had sent her, she was suddenly assailed by the biggest wave of guilt.

  ‘I brought you these chocolates.’ She hadn’t known what to bring. What did you give to someone who’d got everything? No doubt there was a cellar bursting with the finest wines, which had ruled out anything Tabitha could pick up at the local supermarket, and anticipating gardens trimmed and manicured to perfection had made flowers seem rather paltry. So she had settled for chocolates—wasn’t that what everyone did? And not the usual half-kilo slab that she occasionally treated herself to. Tabitha had splurged on the best she could find in the department store. They had cost a small fortune; hopefully she’d get a taste!

  Thrusting the package at Marjory, Tabitha felt a blush spread over her cheeks.

  ‘I didn’t know what to get.’

  She was taken back by the sparkle of tears in Marjory’s well-made-up eyes.

  ‘Oh, Tabitha, you’re such a dear thoughtful girl.’

  Tabitha shuffled her feet. ‘I know it’s not much.’

  She was enveloped in a hug within Marjory’s heavy scented bosom. ‘They’re perfect, and so are you…’ Her voice trailed off as the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel broke the moment.

  ‘Aiden is here!’ Marjory exclaimed, but the excitement she reserved for Zavier was noticeably absent. ‘I must go and welcome him. Won’t you come down?’

  Tabitha politely declined; another lecture from Aiden was the last thing she needed right now. ‘I’ll stay and unpack, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘But the staff will take care of that.’ Marjory’s voice softened then. ‘Silly me. You’ll want to spend some time getting ready for Zavier.’

  As Marjory rushed from the room Tabitha set about unpacking, and finally, when every last thing had been put away, when she had fiddled with her hair long enough and rouged her cheeks, sprayed scent over every inch of her body, there was nothing else to do. Nothing but wait with mounting trepidation for the crunch of gravel that would bring her future husband to her side. Since the day she had met him, since the day he had burst into her life, knocking her sideways with his sheer presence, he had dominated every facet of her life. As surely as any major trauma he had inflicted more drama, more emotion than she had ever experienced to date. Though her days had been filled with work, with time spent sorting out her grandmother, explaining her sudden wedding to her stunned friends, the practicalities had been a breeze compared to the torturous mental abacus that had overwhelmed her: counting the weeks, the days, the nights, the hours until she saw him again.

  She felt him approaching before the low snarl of his engine was even audible. A cynic would say it was guesswork—after all, his plane landed at four, the timing was inevitable, perhaps her subconscious heard him without realising—but she knew as sure as her heart was beating that there was something deeper going on here, some mental telepathy that had invaded her. This very moment had sustained her through the uncertainty of the last few weeks, but now that the moment had actually arrived she was completely overcome with nerves, and the all too familiar sense of foreboding, Zavier randomly triggered, assailed her again. She was playing with fire here, and someone was bound to get burnt. Tabitha held her breath, standing just far back enough from the open window so she couldn’t be seen.

  Perhaps she moved, maybe a shadow fell, but whatever the reason he lifted his head, his eyes searing into the room in which she stood. Ducking backwards, Tabitha caught her breath; she knew he hadn’t seen her, knew it was impossible, but there was no safety in logic.

  Trembling, she sat on the bed, berating herself for the impossible situation she had thrust upon herself. She wasn’t just messing with her own life here; she was playing Russian roulette with every person in this house. How was she going to face him? How was she going to look at him after all these weeks and not betray what was seared in her heart?

  Love wasn’t in this equation.

  Yet.

  ‘Tabitha!’ The happy shriek from Marjory made her jump. ‘He’s here!’

  Painting on a smile, she made her way out of the bedroom, reaching the top of the stairs as Marjory pulled the front door open.

  Tabitha had hoped that the passage of time would somehow diminish his beauty, that the man who stepped gracefully into the entrance hall would hold only a distant charm. That she could play along with the charade and still keep a semblance of control.

  She was wrong on all counts.

  His beauty literally knocked the breath from her, and she stood there stunned as his eyes slowly lifted to hers, her breath coming out in short bursts, her nerves snapping to attention, deprived for so long and only now awakening as the master returned.

  ‘Don’t I get a welcome home kiss?’ he drawled.

  Slowly she made her way down the stairs, but as she reached the last couple the violence of her desire, the magnetism that surrounded him, made her literally run into his arms. It was him she needed, his strength was all that could get her through, and she fell into his arms and he pulled her close and kissed away the salty tears that had unexpectedly sprung from her eyes.

  ‘Hey, I’ll have to go away more often if that’s the welcome I get.’

  Embarrassed at her emotive display, she kept her head trained on the floor.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Marjory scolded. ‘You have to learn to delegate, Zavier. You’re going to have a lovely wife to come home to now; you can’t be jetting off at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘Someone has to work,’ Zavier quipped.

  Tabitha wasn’t a big drinker, but never had she been more grateful for the gin and tonic Marjory thrust into her hand. Taking a large sip, she sought some refuge as the sharp taste hit her tongue.

  ‘You look stunning, Tab.’ Aiden finally acknowledged her, squeezing her hand and taking a hefty sip of his own drink as he did so.

  She knew it must have been hard for him and she smiled gratefully, happy they were friends again.

  ‘Every bit the bride-to-be.’

  She almost felt it.

  This whole week had been spent in a frenzy of preparation. Her legs being waxe
d, eyebrows tweezed, eyelashes dyed, shopping for bathers and cocktail dresses. Zavier’s driver had indeed picked her up and taken her shopping. Had handed her a credit card with a discreet nod and a list of instructions that would have caused most women to think they’d died and gone to heaven. The driver had waited outside the most exclusive shops as Tabitha searched amongst the beige and navy suits and fitted dresses for the lilacs and pinks and moss-greens she adored, the velvets and silks that were so much her own style, so much more readily available at the craft markets she frequented. Filling smart bright bags with designer labels, exclusive one-offs, she had felt sick at what she had so effortlessly spent.

  Good money after bad.

  The weight of her deception was almost unbearable.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Asleep.’

  ‘How is he?’

  Marjory flashed a perfectly lip-lined smile that everyone in the room knew was false. ‘He’s doing very nicely; he’s just tired, that’s all. He’ll join us for dinner; now let’s go and have a huge drink.’

  ‘Let’s not,’ Zavier drawled. ‘I think I’ll take Dad’s lead and have a lie-down.’ His eyes flickered to Tabitha, who stood there suddenly deflated. What she had expected from this the strangest of reunions she had no idea, but it came as a huge anticlimax that now she had finally seen him he was disappearing so fast.

  Just what did you expect? she scolded herself. That he’d be pleased to see you? But her spirits lifted as he pulled her close, running a lazy hand around her waist. ‘Perhaps you could bring me up a drink.’ He kissed her then, again, and this time it was absolutely unnecessary, for no one had doubted the joy in their reunion.

  This blatant display of sexuality Tabitha knew had been entirely for her benefit, and the thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified her, making even the simplest task of pouring a Scotch a feat in itself. Knocking gently, she quietly opened Zavier’s door. The drapes were drawn and she stood there for a moment, allowing her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. Making her way over, she passed the heavy crystal glass to him; the touch of his fingers made her jump and most of the contents of the glass trickled between their fingers.

 

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