by Miranda Lee
But did she really want that, anyway? Hadn’t she always believed she would never remarry? Would never give any man power over her life again?
She certainly had until Byron came along.
Now, she spent every night lying in bed, dreaming of him declaring his love and asking her to marry him. And she despised herself for it.
A foolish pipe dream, she accepted, as she looked across the table at Byron, dressed tonight in dark trousers and a blue sweater, the same colour as his eyes. How handsome he was. Handsome and confident and, oh, so unattainable. He liked her, yes. A lot. And he liked making love to her. A lot. But he wasn’t in love with her.
A man in love would surely tell her so. Often. His silence on the subject was very telling. And very sobering.
Smothering a sigh, Cleo put down her wine glass and picked up her knife and fork.
* * *
Byron wondered what that sigh meant. What had she been thinking about when her gaze had travelled over him, oh, so thoughtfully, and slightly sadly?
He didn’t know. She wasn’t like the women he was used to, regaling him with stories about her life when they were alone. Or asking him endless questions about previous girlfriends. He suspected she still didn’t consider herself a proper girlfriend. She was just his lover. No, he was just her lover. Their relationship wasn’t real to her. It was just a fling. A sexual fantasy maybe. To be kept separate from her real life.
For some reason, Byron didn’t like the role of fantasy lover. So he’d tried to change her attitude this past week, tried to make her confide in him like a friend, asking her questions whilst they lay in bed together, naked and intimate. But it wasn’t working. She remained at a distance from him. Emotionally, not physically. Physically, she was his. But what good was that in the long run? He wanted her body and soul. He wanted her love. The only way he would know for sure that he would be able to trust his feelings for her would be if she returned them in equal measure.
The time had come to show his hand more forcefully.
‘That was a fantastic meal, Doreen,’ he said after they’d polished off dessert, a mouth-watering caramel pie with whipped cream. ‘Would you consider me rude if I skipped coffee and took Cleo out for a drive? I have some important business I want to discuss with her.’
* * *
Cleo bristled at the way he talked as though she weren’t in the room, not to mention his typically male suggestion that she just leave Doreen to clean up everything. They had a rule in their house. The person who cooked didn’t do the clearing up.
‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving Doreen to do all the clearing away,’ she told him sharply. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it while we clear up together?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Doreen jumped in immediately. ‘Harvey and I can load the dishwasher. It’s no big deal. You two go. I insist.’
‘She insists,’ Harvey repeated when Cleo just sat there, a mutinous expression on her face.
‘Cleo?’ Byron prodded, and stood up.
Cleo rose to her feet with great reluctance, not wanting to make a scene.
‘Has it occurred to you that maybe Harvey and Doreen wanted to be alone too?’ Byron said quietly on their way to his car.
‘Not really,’ she bit out. ‘I doubt it occurred to you, either. Until just now. So what’s this important business you want to discuss with me?’ she went on, pretty sure she knew what it was. He didn’t want to invest in McAllister Mines any longer.
Or in her.
‘For pity’s sake, Cleo, just stop it,’ he snapped, and turned her to face him.
‘Stop what?’
He dragged her against him and kissed her; kissed her until her head was reeling and her body was on fire for him. He wrenched his mouth away, leaving her bereft, and confused. His heated glare was one of anger, rather than passion.
‘Just get in the car,’ he commanded, letting her go in order to reef open the passenger door.
She got in, dazed into blind obedience.
‘Put the damned seat belt on,’ he ordered once he was behind the wheel.
She put the seat belt on.
‘Now don’t say a single word until I get myself under control again. I’ll let you know when that happens. Can you manage to do that without arguing with me?’
She nodded.
‘Good.’
It took Cleo a while to get herself under control again as well, to calm her throbbing body, and her whirling mind. She stared blankly out at the inner-city lights as Byron drove the now familiar route to his building, the one that housed his office and his penthouse. By the time he zoomed down into the underground car park, she felt passably composed. But still totally confused, and on the cusp of anger. What did he want to discuss with her? She doubted it could be about business. That could have waited till the morning. It had to be personal. Were those kisses goodbye kisses? Was he bringing her here for goodbye sex before dumping her? If that was it, then he could just go jump off that terrace of his. In fact, she might push him off herself. He had been insufferably rude, and she was determined not to let him get away with it. Cleo Shelton was no pushover, not any more anyway.
‘Can I talk now?’ she said when he turned off the engine. It amazed her how controlled her voice was. Not a tremble in sight. All the trembling was deep inside.
‘If you must,’ he threw back at her.
‘Just be honest with me,’ she said firmly. ‘If you don’t want to see me any more, then just say so.’
His stare seemed shocked. ‘Not want to see you any more? Are you insane? The truth is just the opposite. I want to see you every day of my life. As my wife. I want to marry you, Cleo. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been telling myself to be patient, but when I spoke to Dad about my feelings for you today he said I was an idiot to wait. That I should speak up and tell you how I feel about you. I’ve fallen madly in love with you, Cleo. Can’t you see that?’
Cleo didn’t know what to say, her reaction to Byron’s declaration of love—plus his astonishing proposal—not even close to the reaction she had in her secret fantasies over such a thing happening. Rather than being over the moon, she was immediately beset with huge doubts and fears. His use of the words madly in love conjured up a love that wasn’t stable; that couldn’t last. He’d probably been madly in love with his two previous fiancées. And where had they ended up? On the scrapheap. Aside from that, Cleo knew deep down that she wasn’t the sort of woman he’d always planned to marry. Yes, she looked presentable enough now that she’d smartened herself up and bought some flattering clothes. But that was all just surface stuff. Cleo felt she didn’t have what it took to be Byron’s wife. Neither was she at all sure that she even wanted to be Byron’s wife. She didn’t want to give up her job and become some kind of society hostess. Neither did she want to sit at home with the children whilst he travelled around the world and negotiated business deals worth billions.
Byron was a powerful man who would expect his wife to be subservient to him and his wishes. She couldn’t do that. Not again. She would never do that. Which meant any marriage between them would be doomed from the start. Better to have her heart broken now than later.
When she slowly shook her head from side to side, he reached over to cup her face and turn it towards him, his eyes searching hers. ‘Don’t you love me, Cleo?’ he asked. ‘Is that it?’
Her face twisted, as did her heart. ‘Of course I love you,’ she choked, saddened beyond belief at her perverse response to his words.
* * *
The joy—the relief—that exploded through Byron’s chest was off the Richter scale.
‘What’s the problem, then?’ he asked as he let her face go and slumped back into the driver’s seat.
‘The problem is I don’t want to marry you, Byron.’
Panic was just a heartbeat away. If she didn’t marry him then he would never get married. Cleo was all he wanted now. No one else would do.
‘Why not?’ he asked, trying t
o keep his cool when he was anything but.
‘You’ll try to change me, Byron. I know you will.’
‘Why would I want to change you when it is you that I fell in love with?’
‘Marriage changes men,’ she stated, her eyes clouding with unhappy memories.
Byron knew then for sure that her first marriage had not been idyllic.
‘You’ll want me to give up my job for starters,’ she went on.
‘I promise I won’t,’ he bit out.
‘Promises are made to be broken. And so are vows. A man like you, Byron, will find it hard to stay faithful, especially once the gloss wears off and you grow bored with me.’
‘I will never grow bored with you.’
‘You will...’
‘So you’re saying no to my proposal?’
‘I have to.’
Byron’s hands lifted to scrape through his hair in total frustration. He felt like tearing it out by the roots, but he didn’t, his hands dropping back to clasp the wheel instead. He had no intention of giving up. Giving up was not in his nature.
‘Right,’ he said, adopting his best negotiating voice as he dropped his hands into his lap and turned to face her, his expression neutral. ‘I see now that I’ve made a mistake. I’ve rushed you.’ His father’s advice had been misguided. He should have waited before proposing. After all, they’d only known each other a little over a week.
Had it really only been that long? It had felt much longer. Falling madly in love like this made every second of every day seem like an eternity, filled with longing and need, plus the kind of wonderful dreams that demanded to be made real, and permanent. Love wasn’t patient, Byron realised. It made mistakes.
‘How about moving in with me for a while?’ he suggested instead. ‘What do you say to that?’
* * *
Cleo had to admire his persistence. As well as her own level-headedness at being able to turn it down. Maybe that was what came with having been married before, in knowing the pitfalls of just saying yes to a man all the time. She knew it was probably a case of once bitten twice shy, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t go through what she’d experienced with Martin ever again. If she was to eventually agree to marry Byron—and it was still a big if—then he had to know up front that she would not change for him. Not in the things that mattered to her.
‘I’m sorry, Byron,’ she said, moved by his immediately crestfallen face. But not moved enough to change her mind. ‘I would prefer that we just continue as we are until I know you better.’
His lips pouted with that boyish anger she’d glimpsed once or twice. ‘What more is there for you to know?’ he snapped. ‘You’ve already done a full security check on me. I’m an open book. I’m also a good catch, if you haven’t noticed. I can give you anything money can buy. I do realise that a penthouse is not the right kind of residence for a couple who want children, but...’ He broke off and gave a savage glance. ‘Is that it? You don’t want children?’
‘No, that’s not it, Byron. I would love to have a child. I already told you that. I just won’t have a baby outside of marriage. I know women have babies on their own all the time, but I’ve always believed children are happier with two happily married parents to bring them up.’
‘I fully agree with you on that score,’ he said. ‘I was devastated when my parents divorced, though I did have the good fortune to have them seemingly happy together for the first sixteen years of my life. Lara wasn’t so fortunate. And it shows. She’s somewhat of a rebel. She’s terribly spoiled, of course. Mum spoils her. Guilt, you see.’
‘Over the divorce?’
‘In a way.’ He shot Cleo a thoughtful look. ‘This is strictly in confidence. But you might as well know, as the future Mrs Byron Maddox. Best to start as I mean to go on. Without secrets.’
Cleo rolled her eyes but decided to let that pass.
‘Lara’s not Dad’s biological daughter,’ Byron went on. ‘Mum had an affair with her tennis coach. Very cliché, I know, but it’s the truth.’
‘Goodness!’ Cleo exclaimed. ‘Does Lara know?’
‘No. The real father doesn’t know, either. Dad said he’d accept her as his own in exchange for a no contest divorce.’
‘How come you know? Did your mum tell you?’
‘No. Dad came clean after I started playing up at university. I was angry with him, you see. Anyway, we sorted things out and we’re now closer than ever, despite our differences,’ he added laughingly. ‘I don’t like the way he does business sometimes, and he thinks I’m far too careful with my money. Which reminds me. I don’t want to invest in McAllister Mines, despite the rise in mineral prices. It’s just not me. I’m going into the movie business instead.’
‘And you call that being careful with your money,’ she said, smiling.
‘I know what you mean. But Blake Randall is looking for a silent partner in his production company and I told him today that I’m in. I’m sorry about that, but I suspect your boss will survive now that things have improved on the mining front. Now...what say we go upstairs and get to know each other better in the biblical sense?’
Cleo’s stomach tightened, as did her heart. Oh, how she wished that she could be as pragmatic with this proposal as she’d been with his earlier one. But it was impossible. This was one area where she simply couldn’t say no to the man she loved.
‘Coming?’ he said.
Always, she thought as her nipples hardened and her lower half went to mush.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CLEO FELT THE evidence when she went to the bathroom in the middle of the night. They’d made love on and off for hours, Byron seemingly insatiable. And highly imaginative, choosing positions that were satisfying but hardly romantic. Only once had they made love face to face. That had been the first time. After that, he’d turned her over and played with her for ages before pulling her up on all fours. Then later, when she’d been almost comatose with satisfaction and fatigue, he’d slipped into her in the spoon position. He’d fallen asleep soon after coming that time, but she hadn’t, kept awake by an urgent need to go to the toilet.
Even the act of walking into the bathroom had given rise to suspicion. She didn’t normally feel this icky after sex with Byron. He always used condoms, after all. She hoped it was only her natural lubrication sticking to her thighs, but she feared not. When she sat down, more liquid poured out of her.
Oh, God...
Her heart plummeted as the realisation hit that she and Byron had had unprotected sex. It must have been a mistake. But Byron wasn’t the sort of man to make that kind of mistake. Had he really meant to do it? Was that why he’d chosen those positions, so she wouldn’t notice his lack of protection? Had he really been trying to get her pregnant, to trap her into marriage with him?
Cleo felt sick. Not because she was afraid she might have fallen pregnant. Her period was due in a couple of days and she was never late so a pregnancy wasn’t on the cards. No, her distress came from the fact that he would do such a thing. That he thought he could control her. Or force her to change her mind. With a baby, no less!
Fury rose in her chest so that she wanted to scream out loud. She almost did, opening her mouth in a silent scream as she clenched her fists and screwed up her face in an expression of utter despair. Because for Byron to do such a thing showed total ruthlessness and selfishness. Which meant he would never be the man for her. Never! What’d he’d done was very wrong, evoking all her old tapes from her marriage to Martin. She could not go there a second time. Never ever, no matter how much she loved Byron. She would rather spend the rest of her life alone. Neither could she let him get away with such behaviour. It just wasn’t right.
But first, she had a shower, practically scrubbing herself red raw in self-righteous fury before donning one of the white towelling robes that Byron kept in the bathroom and marching out to do battle with her new enemy.
* * *
Byron woke to Cleo shaking his shoulder rathe
r roughly.
‘Wake up, you bastard,’ she threw at him, her angry words propelling him into instant wakefulness. And clarity.
Man, but she was mad at him. Spitting mad.
Byron groaned. He hadn’t meant to have unsafe sex with her. He’d been half asleep with his body spooned around hers when she’d wriggled back against him and he’d just reacted instinctively. He’d been inside her before he could think straight. When his brain had kicked into gear he’d convinced himself that it wouldn’t matter if she did fall pregnant; he loved her, wanted to marry her, and wanted to have a child with her. What was the problem?
‘Did you honestly think you were going to get away with it?’ she snapped. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice great gallops of sperm running down my legs?’
Byron flinched at her rather crude description.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all he could think of to say. ‘It was only that last time. I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I was half asleep...’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she snapped. ‘You did mean it. I know you, Byron. You don’t like taking no for an answer. I turned down your proposal so you tried for a shotgun wedding instead.’
‘That wasn’t my intention,’ Byron declared heatedly. ‘But if you have fallen pregnant, then is that so bad? I love you, Cleo, and I want to marry you. And have babies with you. Look, once I realised what I was doing, it was too late to pull out. And I thought...well, I thought...’
‘If you’d thought,’ she ground out, her cheeks dotted with angry red spots, ‘if you knew me at all, you’d know that what you did tonight would make me run so fast in the opposite direction, even your father’s fancy jet couldn’t catch up. But, of course, you don’t know me, do you? Not really. You might have, if you’d been patient, but no, you couldn’t wait for that to happen. Not Byron Maddox, who has to have what he wants when he wants it. So you tried to force me to marry you, using a poor, innocent little baby to do that. Never mind how I might have felt about falling pregnant.’
