Bride, Bought and Paid For

by Helen Bianchin

  Home…not that she regarded it as such, unsure whether she ever could.

  There were issues she was unable to foresee being resolved—the worst of which had been Xavier blackmailing her into marriage…an action she’d never forgive.

  ‘We have a marriage,’ Xavier reminded her as they entered the house, and she sent him a direct look.

  ‘Your insistence, not mine.’

  ‘You’d be wise to accept the situation.’ His voice held a silky element she chose to ignore.

  ‘Or else?’

  They began to ascend the stairs. ‘You want to fight?’ Xavier posed coolly, and she shook her head.

  ‘Not particularly.’

  They reached the upper level and turned towards the master suite.

  ‘Then give it up, Romy. It serves no purpose.’

  It irked her that he was right, and she slid off her stilettos as they entered the bedroom, removed her jewellery, then she reached for the zip fastening at the back of her dress.

  Aware, as she did so, that Xavier had shrugged off his jacket, removed his bow tie and shirt, and was in the process of shedding his trousers.

  Without a word she went into the en suite and removed her make-up, took out the comb and few pins holding her hair in place, then she reached for her sleep tank top.

  ‘You won’t need it.’

  She looked up in startled surprise and caught sight of Xavier in the mirror as he moved to stand behind her.

  Her eyes darkened and became stormy as she met the slumbrous passion evident in his gaze, and her lips parted in remonstrance as his hands closed over her shoulders. Playing pretend in public was OK, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t carry the pretence into their private life. ‘We’re alone,’ she managed coolly. ‘There’s no one around to impress.’

  He lowered his head, and his mouth sought the sensitive hollow at the edge of her neck. ‘Except you.’

  Sensation leapt deep inside and began flooding her body, bringing alive every sensory nerve end, and it was all she could do not to groan out loud as his hands slid down her upper arms and curved beneath the soft fullness of her breasts.

  Who are you trying to kid? He only has to touch you and you become lost. Pretend? Forget it…this is real.

  So real, her whole being became incandescent as myriad sensations invaded every cell, and she was incapable of moving so much as a muscle as he slid a hand down over her stomach.

  He held her against him, skin on skin, and she became achingly aware of his arousal, the way he cupped her breast and teased the tender peak into a hard, sensitized nub.

  ‘Xavier—’ His name emerged from her lips as a helpless groan, and she cried out as he employed skilful fingers to bring her close to climax.

  ‘Want me to stop?’

  She began to convulse as he held her, and she simply shook her head, unable to utter so much as a word.

  It was almost more than she could bear, and with one easy movement he lifted and turned her in his arms, sliding his hands down to cup her bottom as he held her high against him.

  In automatic reaction she wound her arms round his neck and held on as he touched his lips to her breast, savoured the peak, then took it into his mouth and suckled until she cried out…It was then he slid one hand up to cup her nape as he covered her mouth with his own in a kiss that possessed, plundered, and unleashed a primal hunger so intense there could be only one ending.

  Oh, my god…please.

  And he did, positioning her carefully to accept his length as he slid her down, his eyes spearing her own as he watched those beautiful blue pools darken and coalesce…then it was he who trapped a husky groan deep in his throat as he felt her contract around him, sensed her instinctive need for more…so much more.

  With care he began to move, guiding her body into a rhythm that met and matched his own, as together they scaled the sensual heights with an unleashed passion that was libidinous, electrifying…pagan.

  Romy was aware only of the man, the incredible sensation as she clung to him, her breathing almost out of control…holding on because it was beyond her capability to do anything else.

  It seemed an age before he carefully disengaged and slid her down to her feet, one arm curving down her back as he held her against him.

  With gentleness he cupped her face, tilting it so she had to look at him.

  Eyes, large deep-blue shimmering pools, met his, naked of any pretence…and he bit back an imprecation in his own language.

  Por Dios, a man could drown in those eyes.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips to her own, caressing with a feather-light touch until her mouth parted in response to a kiss so incredibly gentle she wanted to cry.

  Tears welled, then spilled to run in twin rivulets down her cheeks. A husky groan escaped his throat as he traced each one with his lips, and she gasped as he slid one arm beneath her knees and carried her into the bedroom.

  Romy felt the cool sheets beneath her back as he slid into bed with her cradled in his arms, and she murmured indistinctly as he drew up the covers and settled her close against him.

  On the edge of sleep a silent voice whispered inside her head…so much for remaining immune.

  Togetherness was fine, she decided over breakfast, but she felt the need for some space, and what was more, she needed to expand her wardrobe…evening wear, in particular.

  Xavier, when told of her plans, raised no objection.

  ‘I need to check through data in preparation for a brief trip to New York.’

  Her eyes widened a little. ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘Early tomorrow morning.’ A slight smiled curved his generous mouth. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  She set off around eleven and didn’t return until five, elated she’d managed to score two gowns at sale price.

  It was late when she retired to bed, and it was she who took control when he drew her close. She who insisted on setting the pace…who caressed the jagged scar scoring three of his ribs. A keloid scar from unskilled surgery close to his hip. And he bit back a husky groan as she hovered close to his erection and deliberately brushed its silken length with her lips, at the same time she cupped him and squeezed a little.

  Then it was she who gasped as he rolled and pinned her beneath him, and he covered her mouth with his own as he entered her in one powerful thrust…his eyes dark as he watched her shatter.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ROMY stirred at the fleeting touch to her cheek, murmured something indistinct, then rolled onto her stomach and buried her head beneath the pillow.

  It was still dark, too early, and she needed to sleep.

  There was a vague awareness of Xavier’s presence, the soft click of the bedroom door as he left, before she slid back into blissful oblivion.

  When she woke, the sun was filtering through the bedroom shutters, and all it took was one glance at the time and she hit the en suite running.

  Monday. Dammit, it was a school day.

  Breakfast didn’t happen, and she took a tub of yoghurt, a banana and coffee-to-go, offered Maria a hurried and somewhat wry ‘hello’…quickly followed by ‘goodbye’ as she almost ran to the garage.

  It was amazing how much peak-hour traffic build-up there was by leaving fifteen minutes later than her normal schedule. If there could be a plus side, it provided the opportunity to snack on her breakfast-to-go at the numerous enforced stops at various traffic-controlled intersections en route to the northern suburbs.

  Her arrival in the school grounds coincided with the buzzer announcing commencement of the first morning class. A morning which thankfully progressed in a reasonably uneventful manner.

  There was little time to reflect on the previous night or the mesmerizing intensity of Xavier’s lovemaking. Sex, she amended. Just…very good sex. Dammit, she was almost willing to swear she could still feel the imprint of his possession. As to her response…it was better she didn’t go there. Wild and wanton, the si
lky purr of her voice…had that been her?

  Hello, a silent voice taunted. Focus on the prosaic, the here and now of a classroom filled with teenage students who’d take advantage of any opportunity she inadvertently provided.

  With determination she directed their attention to the technicalities of pleonasm and the meaning of epigrammatic within written text…and withheld a faint smile at the collective groan of reluctance.

  It was during an afternoon break between classes that Romy came across another note among homework assignments handed in during an early morning class.

  Once again, she examined every word for any hidden meaning and found none. The only factor that gave concern was the lack of a name…just a grateful student. Which meant it could be anyone she taught in English classes.

  On impulse she put a call through to Andre and arranged to visit on her way home. It would be good to chat in person, instead of via the phone, and she suggested they share dinner. Even better, she’d stop off at a supermarket, purchase the necessary ingredients and surprise him by preparing their meal.

  She also rang Maria and told her not to make dinner.

  It was almost five when she used a spare key to enter her apartment.

  ‘Hi. I’m—’ she almost said home, only to change it at the last moment to ‘—here.’ She went through to the kitchen and deposited two grocery bags onto the counter, then began unpacking them as Andre entered the room.

  ‘Romy…sweetheart, how are you?’

  She turned towards her father with a smile and leant forward to accept the brief kiss he placed on her cheek.

  He looked different, more at ease, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were no longer evident. Also gone was the haunted look of previous weeks.

  ‘This is nice,’ Andre complimented as she deftly removed a fresh crusty baguette and a bottle of wine.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry.’ She slid a gourmet cheesecake from the deli in the refrigerator to chill. Next she put the salad ingredients aside to rinse and added a marinade to the steak.

  ‘Efficient, generous,’ her father added. ‘You didn’t need to go to any trouble.’

  She cast him an amused look. ‘Steak and salad isn’t a big deal.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea? I’ll make it, shall I?’

  ‘Later,’ she suggested. ‘It’ll be six by the time I fix dinner, then we can relax. OK with you?’

  ‘Fine. I had an early lunch.’

  Romy stored the extra groceries she’d bought in the pantry and heard his protest. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  ‘You’d deny my help, when you funded me through university and a gap year abroad?’

  ‘My obligation as a caring parent.’ His features assumed a stricken expression. ‘Something you’ve repaid a thousand-fold.’

  She met it head-on. ‘By marrying Xavier to save you from a jail sentence?’ she managed lightly and even managed a musing smile. ‘He’s wealthy, I get to live in a beautiful mansion and mix with the social elite.’

  Andre made a dismissive gesture. ‘None of which bears any importance to you at all.’

  True, she admitted silently. Possessions, status meant little. It had always been the degree of compassion, empathy and generosity of spirit that had attracted her to people…regardless of their position in life.

  ‘Does he treat you well?’

  A loaded question, if ever there was one, and she didn’t evade it. ‘Yes,’ she said truthfully. The resultant emotional upheaval was entirely of her own making.

  ‘You give me your word on that?’

  She met his narrowed gaze with equanimity. ‘Yes.’ Xavier might be a ruthless power broker in business, but demeaning or ill-treating women didn’t form part of his psyche.

  A change of subject was essential, and she gestured towards the adjoining dining room. ‘Why don’t you set the table, then open the wine to let it breathe a little?’

  For a moment she thought he might persist with the personal queries, yet his hesitation proved momentary before he acceded to her suggestion.

  Romy felt comfortable in the apartment, and it was pleasant to have free rein in the kitchen. She slid the baguette into the oven to warm, completed the salad preparation, then heated the skillet for the steak.

  ‘Perhaps a glass of wine as we wait?’

  Andre retrieved two goblets, part-filled them with red-bodied wine, then handed her one.

  In time-honoured fashion she touched the rim of her goblet to his in a silent salute before savouring a sip and uttered an appreciative murmur as it slid smoothly down her throat.

  ‘Mmm, nice.’ Romy put the goblet to one side as she tended to the steak.

  Nice became the operative word as they savoured the food, sipped the excellent wine, and shared companionable conversation.

  Good to discover Andre seemed intent on putting his time to good use, with an early morning walk along the beach, surfing the Net, and maintaining contact with the few friends who’d elected to stand by him.

  His colour had improved, and, unless she was mistaken, he’d added some weight to his lean frame.

  Although she was conscious of a gap with the absence of her late mother. A woman who’d seemed more like an older sibling than a maternal figure, so close had been their bond.

  Since Romy’s return to Melbourne, each conversation with Andre had focused on his impending dilemma, what could possibly be done to alleviate it…and the ensuing ultimatum imposed by Xavier.

  The opportunity to share time free from anxiety had been minimal, and now there was the mutual pleasure of indulging in a few remember when reminiscences.

  The time her parents had gifted her a much-wanted puppy; the stray kitten she’d rescued and begged to keep…and the shared laughter when pup and kitten had bonded and become inseparable.

  The good times: holidays, scholastic achievements. Her very first boyfriend.

  ‘A nerd,’ Romy remembered with an impish grin. ‘He wore thick black-rimmed glasses and was impossibly earnest. But he was a whizz with computers and could recite facts at the drop of a hat.’

  ‘You liked him,’ Andre recalled.

  ‘He was kind, a loyal friend.’ Their first stolen kiss had been less than momentous and exceedingly awkward. Not at all what she’d hoped for, and failed even with practice to become the perfect kiss some of the girls in her class had raved about.

  The gap year in France had provided a different perspective on the kissing game and had proved beyond doubt that it was a finessed sensual art not all men acquired. Given a choice, she’d preferred a gentle touch and had pushed away any male who’d attempted a deep devouring.

  Until Xavier. Who’d captivated, enchanted…and held the power to melt her bones. A complete meshing of the mind and emotions, ensuring it became so much more than she’d believed possible.

  He still did, she owned with silent reluctance…despite her every reason to hate him. All it took was a look, the lightest touch…and she was gone. His…like a moth drawn to flame.

  Not, Romy decided, a comfortable reflection, given that his image worked against her and provided too vivid a reminder for her peace of mind.

  There was a need for distraction, and she stood to her feet and began stacking plates and flatware, then carried them to the servery. ‘Coffee? I’ll set it up while I do the dishes. Go sit in the lounge, and I’ll bring it in when I’m done.’

  The wine had a mellowing effect which coffee failed to diminish, and the thought of sleeping alone in Xavier’s large home held little appeal.

  ‘Would you mind if I invited myself to stay over?’ It was late, almost eleven, and the thought of curling up on the sofa held definite appeal.

  ‘You need to ask? I’ll get you sheets and a blanket,’ Andre declared and suited words to action.

  ‘I’ll text Maria.’ It was late, but at least the housekeeper would discover the message early in the morning.

  All bases covered, Romy thought as she said ‘goodnight’ to
her father, then settled comfortably in readiness to sleep.

  Only to have the insistent burr of her cellphone pull her into wakefulness. Who would call her at this hour of night? Not Maria, she deduced as she dived into her bag and retrieved the phone, checked the displayed ID, and felt her stomach execute a somersault.

  Xavier.

  For one wild moment her brain went into crazy mode as a few scenarios flashed through her mind…each of them increasingly more dire as she pressed the connection.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Where are you?’ His voice was a dangerous silken drawl that sent shivers scudding down her spine.

  ‘Hello to you, too.’

  ‘Romy.’

  How was it possible for a single word to hold such deadly warning? She experienced a terrible need to best him. ‘Out,’ she managed calmly. ‘Clubbing the night away with friends.’

  There followed a few seconds of telling silence. ‘Be grateful I’m several thousand kilometres away,’ he offered with chilling softness, and she deliberately lowered her voice.

  ‘Just as well. The temptation to hit you would be impossible to resist.’

  ‘Careful, querida.’

  ‘Ah.’ She lowered her voice to a sultry purr. ‘You miss me.’

  ‘So brave from a distance,’ he gently mocked. ‘A few more days and I’ll be home.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘You’ll keep.’

  ‘For your information,’ she relayed quietly. ‘I cooked dinner for my father at the apartment, we shared a bottle of wine, I decided not to drive. I sent Maria a text.’

  ‘In future, keep me in the loop.’

  The silk was still evident, so too the drawl.

  ‘Likewise,’ she copied sweetly. ‘Provide me with a detailed account of your whereabouts and with whom. Twenty-four seven,’ she added with deliberate emphasis. ‘Goodnight.’

  As she cut the connection, she was willing to swear she heard his soft laughter.

  Damn him. Who did he think he was?

  It was a silent vent requiring no answer. And she hit her pillow, then thumped it hard. It wasn’t a substitute for a vulnerable part of his anatomy…but it helped.