‘It’s not enough.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean, it’s not enough? I’m the one taking a risk here. I haven’t even seen one of your designs. You could be rubbish at designing for all I know.’
Her small chin came up. ‘I want more.’
More what? Money? Sex? He could tick both those boxes several times over. ‘I won’t sleep around on you, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ Remy said. ‘I’m a one-at-a-time man and I’d expect the same commitment from you. I won’t settle for anything else.’
Her eyes held his a challenging little lockdown that made the base of his spine shift like sand moving in an hourglass. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Remy.’
Sure you’re not, Remy thought. He could feel her attraction for him ringing in the air like a high-pitched radio frequency. She wanted him but she didn’t want to be the first one to give in to it.
He saw it in those looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking: hungry, yearning, lustful. She was proud and defiant, determined to withstand the temptation he was dangling before her.
He was used to women caving in to his first smile. Angelique’s resistance to his charm was doing the opposite of what she probably intended. Instead of making him want her less, it made him want her more. She was a challenge. A goal to score. A prize to claim.
A bet to win.
‘Do you want to put money on that?’ he asked.
She gave him a mordant look. ‘Thanks, but no.’
‘You’re definitely not your father’s daughter.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ she said, still eyeballing him with those stormcloud eyes.
Remy could feel his desire for her thundering through his blood. How he loved a woman with spirit, and they didn’t come much more spirited than Angelique. He would relish every single moment of having her finally succumb to him. The chase would be fun but the catch would be magnificent. He could already taste the victory. He could feel it in his blood and in his bones.
He would have her.
He would have her right where he had always secretly wanted her.
In his bed.
Her beautiful face was held at a regal height, her eyes glittering with an implacable purpose. ‘I think you’ll find I’m very much my father’s daughter.’
‘Because you don’t know when to quit when failure is staring you in the face?’ He gave an amused chuckle. ‘That would certainly be a case of the apple not falling far from the tree.’
Her chin stayed at that haughty level, her mouth set in a tight line. ‘I’ll stay married to you on one condition and one condition only.’
Remy felt a warning tingle course through his blood; even the back of his neck started to prickle. ‘Go on.’
The corner of her mouth lifted as if she knew she had this in the bag. ‘I want Tarrantloch at the end of it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
REMY DREW IN a breath. Why couldn’t she want a lifelong stipend or a bank vault of diamonds? But no, not Angelique; instead she had insisted on the one thing he didn’t want to relinquish. Would never relinquish.
Tarrantloch was a trophy. He wasn’t prepared to hand it over before he’d enjoyed everything it represented: success. Revenge. Justice.
He leaned forward to give the driver instructions to take him to his regular hotel in Paddington. He wanted time to plan a counter-move. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate him. His mind shuffled through the ways he could turn this to his advantage. She didn’t want the property half as much as she wanted to beat him at his own game. This was another one of her power plays.
‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he said when he sat back again.
She acknowledged that with an aristocratic tilt of her head. ‘You want me to be your wife? That’s the price you have to pay.’
Remy knew he could turn this around. Easily. Besides, she had got under his skin with her haughty airs and don’t-touch-me looks.
He knew she wanted him.
It was in the air between them every time they were alone. It had been there for years, truth be told. Now he could act on the desire he had always suppressed for her. He could finally indulge his senses, binge on her body until she was out of his system and out of his head. It would not be much of a hardship spending a month or two with her in a red-hot affair. He would be the envy of every man with a pulse.
Remy smiled a secret smile. He would be the one to finally tame the temptress, the wild and sultry Angelique Marchand.
‘I don’t know...’ He rubbed at his jaw as if thinking it over. ‘Tarrantloch for a couple of months of pretence? Doesn’t seem fair to me.’
‘Fair?’ she shot back incredulously. ‘Of course it’s fair. I never wanted to be anyone’s wife either, for real or pretend. It will just about kill me to spend two months acting like I feel something for you other than loathing.’
Remy had never wanted to make her eat those words more than at that moment. She didn’t hate him as much as she made out. She hated that he saw through her game-playing and manipulative attempts to outsmart him.
But he would always win.
Losing was not an option for him.
‘Like you, I want more.’
Her eyes suddenly flared. ‘How much more?’
He gave her a smouldering look. ‘I think you know how much more.’
She tried to disguise a swallow. ‘You’re joking.’
‘It’s a big house,’ he said. ‘I put a lot at risk to acquire it. I’m not going to relinquish it unless I think it’s well and truly worth it.’
She gave him a gimlet glare. ‘I think I should’ve faced the gallows or the firing squad or a public flogging back in that godforsaken place we just left. It would’ve been preferable to this...this outrageous proposition of yours.’
Remy laid his arm along the back of her seat, his fingers close enough to touch the nape of her neck. ‘What’s so outrageous about making love with someone you’ve desired for years?’
‘I don’t desire you. I’ve never desired you.’ Her eyes flashed pure venom at him. ‘I detest you.’
He caught a coil of her hair and tethered her to him. He watched as her grey-blue eyes flared and her tongue swept over her lips again. ‘I could make you eat those words, ma belle.’
Her mouth was pinched tight. ‘You can’t make me eat anything.’
There was something incredibly arousing about her defiant stance. She pulled against his push. She had always stood up to him. Challenged him. Annoyed him. Goaded him. ‘I’ll have you eating out of my hand soon enough.’ He gave her a confident smile. ‘You won’t be able to resist.’
She grabbed her hair and tugged it out of his hold even though it must have hurt. ‘I hate you for this.’
He gave a negligent shrug. ‘So what’s new?’
Her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I mean I’ll really hate you.’
‘So.’ He curled his lip mockingly. ‘You’ve only been pretending up until now?’
‘I can’t believe you’re being so ruthless about this.’ She continued to glare at him. ‘You don’t want me at all. You just want to win the upper hand.’
He caught her hand and brought it to his groin, holding it against his throbbing heat. ‘Oh, I want you all right, princess,’ he drawled. ‘Make no mistake about that. And what I want, I get. Every. Single. Time.’
She snatched her hand back and glowered at him. ‘Then you’ve met your match, Remy Caffarelli, because I bend my will to no man. If you want to sleep with me, then you’ll have to tie me to the bed first.’
Remy smiled a sinful smile. ‘I can hardly wait.’
Angelique seethed as she waited for him to come round to open her door when they arrived at his hotel. The press must have been given a tip-off as they surged towards him, but he just gave them one of his butter-wouldn’t-melt smiles.
‘Mr Caffarelli, the news of your marriage to Angelique Marchand has surprised everyone. Have you any comment to make on your whirlwin
d relationship?’
‘No comment other than to say I haven’t even told my family about it yet.’ Remy grinned at the television camera. ‘Rafe, Raoul, if you’re watching this—sorry I didn’t tell you guys first. You too, Nonno. Bet you didn’t see that coming. But I wanted to surprise you all. Who would have thought it? Me, head over heels in love.’
Angelique mentally rolled her eyes as Remy helped her out of the car. ‘Do you have to be so...?’
‘Smile for the cameras, ma chérie,’ he said as he took her by the hand in a firm, almost crushing grip.
‘But I—’
‘Miss Marchand.’ A journalist thrust a recording device at her. ‘Your marriage to Remy Caffarelli is the biggest scoop our network has had in decades. There are photos going viral with you in that gorgeous, ancient wedding dress. Can you tell us about your secret wedding?’
‘It was very romantic,’ Remy said before Angelique could answer. ‘Very traditional too, wasn’t it, mon amour?’
‘Very.’ Angelique stretched her mouth into a smile. ‘In fact, you would not believe quite how traditional it—’
Remy pulled her tightly against his shoulder. ‘Right, show’s over, folks. We’ve got things to do.’
‘Miss Marchand, there’s been some speculation going around on whether or not Remy has followed the example of his older brothers in not making his bride sign a pre-nuptial agreement. That’s surprising, given the Caffarellis’ wealth. Is that true in your case?’
Angelique felt Remy’s hold on her tighten to the point of pain. But then he seemed to force himself to relax, although she could still feel the tension in him as he stood with his arm loosely around her shoulders. ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she said in dulcet tones. Two could play at this game. ‘It just goes to show how much he loves and trusts me.’
‘Will you show us your rings?’ a female journalist said.
‘No rings as yet,’ Remy said. ‘We’re still waiting for them to be finished. I’m afraid I didn’t give the designer enough notice.’
Angelique looked up at him with feigned affection. ‘It was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment proposal, wasn’t it, mon cher? You just couldn’t hold it in any longer, could you?’
His dark-brown eyes warned her she would be paying for this later but right now Angelique didn’t care. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t wait to make her my wife. Now, if you’ll excuse us...’
‘One last question, Miss Marchand,’ the female journalist said. ‘Does your marriage to Remy Caffarelli mean there is now an end to the bitter feud between your father and Remy’s grandfather, or are you star-crossed lovers?’
‘Um...’
‘I’m sure Henri Marchand will be thrilled to know his daughter has married a man who worships the ground she walks on,’ Remy said smoothly.
‘So you didn’t ask his permission, then?’ the female journalist asked with a cheeky smile.
Remy gave the journalist a level look. ‘I did not believe that was necessary. Angelique is an adult and does not need her father’s permission to do anything, much less marry the man she has loved since she was a teenager.’
‘Is that true, Miss Marchand?’ The journalist swung the recording device back to Angelique. ‘Have you been in love with Remy since you were a girl?’
Angelique felt her teeth grind together behind her smile. ‘Absolutely. Head over heels. Besotted. Totally, utterly smitten.’
Remy held up a hand to field off further questions. ‘That’s all, folks. No further comment.’
He practically dragged her into the building with him. ‘Hey, not so fast,’ Angelique said, almost stumbling over the pavement. ‘I’m wearing heels.’
He slowed his pace but his grip on her hand didn’t loosen. ‘Behave yourself, Angelique, or you might find your time with me unnecessarily unpleasant.’
She threw him a caustic look. ‘More than it is already?’
His expression was deceptively cool and composed but she knew she had riled him to the edge of his control. She felt it in the tense grip of his fingers. ‘If you want to get your way at the end of this then you’ll have to play the part of the happy bride, especially in public. Do you understand?’
‘So, you agree to give me Tarrantloch?’
A steely glint came into his eyes. ‘We’ll see.’
Angelique narrowed her gaze in anger. ‘If you don’t give me a straight yes or no then I’m going to walk back out there and tell those journalists this is nothing but a sham.’
His hold on her wrist tightened like a vice. ‘You’re not going anywhere, young lady. For once in your life, you’re going to do as you’re told. That will make a refreshing change for you, n’est-ce pas?’
‘Welcome back, Mr Caffarelli,’ the hotel manager said as he came over to shake Remy’s hand. ‘A little bird tells me congratulations are in order. On behalf of all of us here, may I wish you both a very happy future together.’
‘Merci,’ Remy said with a polished smile.
Angelique had to bite her tongue not to blurt out the truth but she knew in the end she would be the one to look foolish. Remy had a knack for turning things to his advantage. Didn’t the last twenty-four hours prove it? He was going to make the most of being married to her.
Damn him!
‘How long are you staying with us?’ the manager asked.
‘Just tonight,’ Remy said. ‘We’ll be moving on first thing in the morning. If you could keep the press away from us, I would greatly appreciate it, Thomas.’
‘Will do, sir.’ Thomas beamed. ‘We took the liberty of preparing the bridal suite for you.’
Not another one!
‘That was indeed very kind of you,’ Remy said with a glinting smile. ‘I’ll make sure we do it justice.’
Angelique had to wait until they were in the lift and alone before she could give him a piece of her mind. ‘I can’t believe you said that. Now they’ll be sniggering down there imagining us up here doing...it.’
He hooked a dark brow upwards. ‘It?’
She folded her arms and glowered at him. ‘I bet it’s a pretty regular occurrence, you bringing scores of women upstairs to have sex with them.’
‘Never in the bridal suite, however, and only one at a time.’
She flickered her eyelids in disgust. ‘You’re unbelievable.’
The lift doors pinged open and he waved for her to go ahead of him. ‘Jealous, ma belle?’
Angelique made a rude vomiting noise as she breezed past him. ‘You have got to be joking.’
He opened the suite door but blocked the entrance with his body. ‘This is the fun part.’
‘Pardon?’
He held out his arms. ‘I get to carry you over the threshold.’
Angelique backed away. ‘Oh, no you don’t. You’re not putting your hands anywhere on me—
‘Hey! What are you doing? Put me down this instant!’
Remy’s arms were like steel cables around her as they carried her into the suite. Angelique kicked her legs and pummelled his chest with her fists but it was like a goldfish trying to fight off a tiger shark. ‘Is that the best you can do?’ he taunted as he kicked the door shut with his foot.
Angelique grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. Hard. ‘I’m just starting, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
He slid her down the entire length of his rock-hard body, leaving her in no doubt of his red-hot desire for her. ‘So am I,’ he drawled and covered her mouth with the blistering heat of his.
It was a hard kiss, an almost crushing one, but it stirred an ember inside Angelique into a suddenly combustible flame. It didn’t matter that she was supposed to be fighting him off for the sake of her pride. All that was important now was keeping his mouth locked on hers as her senses spun, twirled and reeled in delight.
His hands were rough as they gripped her by the hips, his erection heavy and urgent against her feminine mound. She felt the tug and drag of desire deep and low in her belly, that restles
s urge to be closer to him, to be possessed by his thick, hot length, was almost unbearable.
Every lustful thought or dream she’d had about him was making her giddy with the anticipation of finally experiencing his possession. Was that why she had continued to niggle and goad him—to push his buttons? To make him lose control and do what they had always wanted to do to each other even though, if asked, both would have flatly denied it?
She kissed him back with primal heat, using her teeth and her tongue, her hands still tightly fisted in his hair, her breasts jammed up against his chest, making her nipples ache and tingle as they were abraded by the fabric of his shirt.
His tongue duelled with hers until she was making needy, hungry little whimpering noises in the back of her throat. One of his hands went to the zip at the back of her dress and lowered it in one swift but smooth slide, his warm hand cupping her bottom through the cobweb lace of her knickers as he pulled her even closer to his turgid length.
An inferno seemed to be raging inside her body. It was lighting spot fires all over her flesh, burning her, searing her with the need to feel him skin on skin.
‘Damn you,’ he growled against her lips, making them vibrate with lust.
She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, tasting blood but not sure if it was hers or his. ‘Damn you right back.’
He sucked in a breath and crushed his mouth to hers again, harder this time, going deeper with his tongue until no corner of her mouth was undiscovered. He was consuming her like a hungry man does a feast and she was doing exactly the same. He was a sensual banquet she couldn’t resist. Would she ever have enough of his mouth, of his electrifying touch?
His hands shoved her dress away from her shoulders, letting it puddle at her feet. He unhooked her bra and cupped her right breast in his hand as his other kept her locked against his pulsing heat. His thumb moved over her tight nipple in a mesmerising back-and-forth motion that made her spine loosen like oil poured into a rusty lock.
Never Gamble With a Caffarelli Page 7
