Romy woke early next morning, showered, dressed, replaced the blanket and pillow, and was in the midst of brewing fresh coffee when Andre entered the kitchen.
‘Hi,’ she greeted with a smile. ‘Coffee’s almost ready. Did you sleep well?’
He inclined his head and cast her a puzzled glance. ‘I thought I heard a phone ring last night.’
She placed bread in the toaster. ‘My cellphone.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’
‘Xavier,’ she enlightened him wryly and saw his frown.
‘You hadn’t told him you were here?’
‘He’s in New York,’ she reminded him as the toast popped, and she added a nutritious spread, then bit into it.
Andre looked at her carefully. ‘Whatever you’re planning…don’t.’
Her gaze was remarkably level. ‘I don’t see the need to relay my every move.’
‘Tread carefully,’ he warned gently. ‘Xavier can be a very dangerous man when crossed.’
‘Cereal and juice?’ she queried. It wasn’t an avoidance tactic, she assured herself silently, merely a diversion. ‘Or would you like bacon and eggs?’
‘Cereal. I’ll get it. What time do you need to leave?’
‘Soon.’ She took another bite of toast, then she poured coffee into two cups and handed him one. ‘I’ll call in, check with Maria, and change into fresh clothes.’
It was seven when she left the apartment, and three quarters of an hour later she was on the road again.
As days went, the following few were pretty run-of-the-mill, in that she taught school, marked homework, ate dinner on her own, researched on the Net, checked the next day’s lessons, then retired to bed.
Romy had thought she’d relish Xavier’s absence, and while the days didn’t bother her…the nights did.
She hated to admit it, but the bed seemed overly large without him in it. She missed his body warmth, the way his arms curved her close in the night. The brush of his lips, the sweep of his hands as they traced her body.
His possession.
Dear heaven. Just thinking about him made her hunger for his touch…for each day she became more emotionally restless with need.
It was crazy, but she resorted to exchanging bed-pillows so she rested her head on the one he used, almost as if the faint lingering smell of his soap might soothe her senses and aid an easy sleep.
His calls were infrequent, their exchanged text and e-mail messages brief, and Kassi’s invitation to join her at a gallery exhibition was received with enthusiasm.
Formal dress, Kassi advised, and Romy selected a classic black dress, applied light make-up with emphasis on her eyes, twisted her hair into a careless knot and fixed it with a large clip, added minimal jewellery, stepped into stilettos and caught up a black evening purse.
She turned…and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Xavier standing with one shoulder propped against the door frame as he regarded her with indolent ease.
For one heart-stopping second she felt like a startled rabbit caught frozen in the headlights of a car.
‘Going somewhere?’
To utter ‘you’re home’ seemed superfluous. ‘Kassi has tickets to a gallery exhibition.’
He moved away from the door frame and discarded his jacket. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind if I join you.’ The tie was pulled free and cast aside. ‘Call her.’
His tone was even, calm…but there was a predatory edge apparent that made her incredibly wary.
‘You’ve just come off a long international flight.’
One eyebrow arched in silent mockery. ‘During which I slept for a few hours.’ He tossed his shirt and toed off his shoes. ‘I’ll hit the shower, then dress.’ He freed the zip fastening and stepped out of his trousers. ‘Fifteen minutes.’
He was ready in less, looking incredible in a black tailored evening suit and crisp white linen, and she watched as he pocketed a billfold, then caught up his keys.
‘Let’s go. Where, precisely?’
She relayed the name and address of the gallery, and sat in silence as the Mercedes purred through the city streets.
Anything she thought of by way of conversation seemed banal, yet her nerves screamed with the need to cut the tension.
‘You could have told me you’d be home this evening.’
‘I didn’t consider it necessary.’
‘Of course not. You expected a dutiful wife quietly marking school papers while she pined for your return.’ The tone was sweet, but it held a sting, and she incurred his dark glance.
‘Dutiful and pine are not two descriptions I’d choose for you.’
‘Sassy, prickly?’
‘Apt.’
The gallery was situated in a trendy inner-city suburb, and Xavier slid the car into a parking space.
There were several guests present as she entered the tastefully furnished gallery. City scions and patrons of the arts mingling as they offered sage opinions of the work on display.
‘Romy. Xavier.’
Kassi’s bubbly voice acted like a breath of fresh air, and Romy turned to receive an enthusiastic greeting, then watched as Xavier brushed his lips to Kassi’s cheek.
‘You probably know most of the guests,’ Kassi continued warmly as a waiter appeared and proffered a drinks tray. ‘Champagne to lighten the mood, or,’ she paused and lowered her voice with an impish grin, ‘enhance the need to express due praise for even the most hideous item.’
‘Hush your mouth,’ Romy reproved, making a volte-face. ‘You did say a percentage of the ticket price aids a worthwhile charity.’
‘Plus fifteen percent of every item sold.’
‘Well, there you go.’ Romy managed a brilliant smile.
‘Worthy is good.’
‘Hideous could well prove to be a good conversation piece,’ Xavier drawled as he declined champagne in favour of orange juice.
Kassi laughed. ‘Surely you jest?’
‘Not entirely.’ He indicated the paintings displayed along one wall. ‘Shall we?’
A photographer snapped away at the beautiful people, who, with practiced smiles and the right pose, would feature in the media social pages.
Including, it appeared, Xavier DeVasquez and his wife.
Romy summoned a stunning smile and managed to hold it in place as Xavier curved an arm at her waist and drew her close.
The visual attestation of a happily married couple?
Perhaps, she conceded, although happy was a fallacy.
Would it ever be any different?
‘I’ve already scoped out some of the sculptures,’ Kassi began as an acquaintance engaged Xavier in conversation. ‘Come have a look. One is quite stunning.’
Stone, and beautifully curved, it was a work of art, although they each gave a rueful smile at the price.
‘Xavier arrived home unexpectedly,’ Kassi noted. ‘Exuding enough sexual energy to be flattering.’
Romy executed an effective eye roll. ‘You think?’
‘Sweetheart, don’t you see the way he looks at you?’
‘I imagine he can’t wait to get me home so he can wring my neck for not keeping him in the loop,’ she replied and wrinkled her nose at the faint gleam apparent in Kassi’s eyes.
‘And what loop would that be?’
‘Updating him on my social activities.’
‘Ah.’
‘Which is supposed to mean?’
‘He cares?’ Kassi deliberately waited a beat. ‘It’s not your neck he wants to wring?’
‘Sure. And pigs fly.’
‘They do, too,’ Kassi argued impishly. ‘In animated cartoons.’
‘Hah.’
Xavier joined them seconds later. ‘Interesting conversation?’
‘Four-legged flying animals,’ Kassi said with a perfectly straight face.
The corners of his mouth tilted with humour. ‘Perhaps coffee might be a wiser option than more champagne.’
‘Coffee would be go
od.’
It was after eleven when they took their leave and accompanied Kassi to her car, and the girls hugged and promised to be in touch soon. Romy merely smiled at Kassi’s ‘take care of you’ and kept the smile in place as Kassi ignited the engine.
‘Home,’ Xavier announced succinctly as they walked to where the Mercedes was parked.
‘Why don’t you get it over with?’ Romy confronted him as he eased the car onto the street.
‘What, in particular, are you referring to?’
‘You’ve been simmering all evening.’
‘You imagine I object to you attending tonight’s function with Kassi?’
‘Naturally you return to your hotel room alone.’
‘Are you accusing me of infidelity?’
‘Like I’d ever know?’
He bit back a vicious oath. ‘Marriage involves trust.’
‘But we don’t have a normal marriage.’
He speared her a dark glance. ‘Since when did you gain that impression?’
‘How is it normal?’ It was a cry from the heart, born of tension, and she stared out the windscreen in silence as he covered the distance to Brighton at the designated speed limit, used the remote to open the gates to his residence, and drew the car to a halt inside the garage. Romy entered the foyer in silence, only to gasp in outraged surprise as he simply lifted and positioned her over one shoulder, then ascended the staircase.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She punched a fist against his ribs. ‘Put me down!’
‘Soon.’
‘Xavier!’ Kicking her way to the bedroom wasn’t exactly on her agenda, nor were strong-arm tactics. ‘You macho fiend!’
He reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the main bedroom.
‘Are you done?’
‘With you?’ He slid her down to stand on her feet before him. ‘Amante, I haven’t even begun.’
His head descended and he took her mouth in a kiss that rocked her very being. Deep, so impossibly deep…possessive in a manner that stamped his ownership and plundered with a hungry urgency meant to conquer. And did.
Hungry, frankly sensual and infinitely primal.
When at last he lifted his head, she almost drowned in the smouldering intensity evident in his dark eyes, and she uttered a protesting gasp as he lowered his head and closed his mouth over her own in a soothing touch that caressed and teased with unhurried warmth.
His hands framed her face. ‘Better. But not nearly enough. Clothes, querida. Yours. Mine. Now.’
It was difficult to know who removed what, only that soon every last vestige of clothing lay scattered on the carpet.
‘All week,’ he said huskily, ‘each night…this is what has kept me sane. You. Beneath me, in command, taking the ride of your life. Anywhere, as long as it meant I was inside you.’
He drew her down onto the bed with him and indulged in a sensual tasting of all her most intimate pleasure pulses, bringing her to fever pitch again and again until she begged for his possession in guttural cries she failed to recognize as her own.
Only then did he enter her, easing in until she took all of him, and the first orgasm came swiftly, taking her high on an emotional tide that slowly ebbed before he built it again in long, strong strokes until she became mindless. His, as he took his own pleasure and enhanced her own with an electrifying passion that left them both incandescent and gasping for breath.
Even then he wasn’t content, and she almost sobbed as he trailed light kisses to each breast, savoured the sensitive peaks, then moved low to gift the most intimate kiss of all. Using his tongue, the edge of his teeth until she shattered.
Afterwards, he wrapped his arms about her slim form and held her as they subsided into the sleep of the exhausted.
CHAPTER TEN
A MID-WEEK invitation to dinner ensured Romy took care with her make-up, keeping it subtle with emphasis on her eyes, a touch of bronze at her cheeks and a light gloss on her lips.
Upswept hair and stilettos added essential height to her petite shape, and the ice-blue gown with its delicate spray of minute crystals looked suitably elegant to wear to a private dinner held in their hosts’ home.
A touch of delicate perfume, and she was ready to go.
‘Beautiful,’ Xavier complimented her, and she turned towards him with a faint smile.
‘Thank you.’
The black dinner suit bore an expensive cut and was undoubtedly tailor-made to fit as superbly as it did, enhancing his breadth of shoulder and the inherent strength of his powerful frame. Stark white linen provided a contrast to his olive skin and broad-boned facial features.
The expensive trappings of a sophisticated man, Romy mused…aware nothing could tame the magnetic quality apparent in those dark, gleaming eyes. Or dim the overwhelming sexuality he projected with no visible effort.
‘Shall we leave?’
Their hosts resided in Toorak, a well-established suburb with tree-lined streets and beautiful homes. Money, old money…the elite kind, considered a snobbish cut above those who numbered among the nouveau riche.
Romy was capable of holding her own in any social situation. Yet for some reason the nerves in her stomach were having a field day as Xavier drew the Mercedes to a smooth halt in the curved driveway of a magnificent double-storied sandstone mansion.
Elegance personified, she perceived as they were greeted by a uniformed butler and welcomed into the spacious marble-tiled foyer. A double, curving staircase, a chandelier, original works of old masters and imported French furniture.
‘The guests are gathered in the lounge,’ the butler informed them. ‘If you’ll follow me?’
It was a large room. Imposing, Romy added to herself, as he opened the French doors.
‘Ma’am, sir. Romy and Xavier DeVasquez.’
A beautifully attired woman glided forward, accompanied by an older man whose welcoming smile seemed genuine.
‘Xavier. So pleased you could join us. And this is Romy, your lovely wife.’ He extended his hand, which Romy accepted.
‘Gerard. Stephanie,’ Xavier acknowledged smoothly.
Gerard indicated the assembled guests. ‘You know everyone here. Do make yourselves comfortable.’
Was it her imagination, or did Xavier’s presence arouse interest from all of the women present? Not that she could blame them…he was something else, and his New York roots merely added a certain intrigue.
Seven for seven-thirty allowed time to mix and mingle whilst sipping vintage wine and indulging in conversation.
The last guest and her partner made something of a grand entrance…on the verge of being late, but nonetheless apologetic.
Model, actress…or both, Romy perceived, for the tall, svelte young woman displayed a gorgeous figure in a designer gown that shaped her curves and clung to an impressive cleavage that seemed a little too perfect.
Auburn hair tumbled in waves down her back, and her make-up appeared flawless.
The man at her side was picture-book handsome, a little too smooth, too practiced, and, unless she was mistaken, there merely as a foil.
‘I’m so sorry we’re late.’ Her voice was a sultry purr, her smile dazzling. ‘We were caught in traffic.’
No, Romy silently amended…you intended to make an entrance. And succeeded beyond measure…except there was no camera evident to record it.
Lose the cynicism, Romy chastised. It was not an admirable trait!
Chanel, for that was her name, became the focus of the evening, and she played her part to perfection. A part calculated to galvanize the attention of every man present.
Her target, for women of Chanel’s calibre usually had one, was Xavier. Or was it only Romy who noticed the subtle glances, the thinly disguised avaricious by-play employed to gain his attention?
The fact Chanel’s companion, Alex, appeared a little too fascinated with a need to observe Romy’s reaction suggested their combined act formed part of a deliberate game…and not a ve
ry pleasant one.
If entertainment was the subtle focus, then Romy would play…by her own rules.
Seating at the dining table placed Chanel and Alex directly opposite, Romy and Xavier, an arrangement Chanel engineered, dismissing name-card placements with an elegant gesture of her hand.
‘Darling, placement cards are so…incredibly formal, don’t you think?’
Stephanie, who doubtless had put much effort into the seating gave a graceful lift of one eyebrow. ‘I prefer to ensure the comfort of my guests.’
A subtle sting, but one nonetheless.
It was, however, Chanel’s show, something which became apparent as the dinner progressed. A very leisurely meal, given there were numerous courses…impeccably presented food prepared, presumably, by a master chef and served by uniformed waitstaff.
‘Tell us, sweetie,’ Chanel said to Romy with a cajoling purr, ‘how you managed to drag the gorgeous Xavier to the altar.’
Verbal swords at dusk? ‘Would you believe I was the reluctant one, and it was Xavier who did the dragging?’ Romy parried with deliberate sweetness.
The lift of an expressive eyebrow conveyed disbelief. ‘How—out of character.’
‘You think?’
‘What a shame I spent a month soaking up the sun in Barbados.’
Or you could have provided competition? ‘Ah, but Barbados is so tempting. And life is filled with lost opportunities, don’t you agree?’
Alex cast her a lazily appreciative smile, which Romy chose to ignore…instinctively aware that only a fool took an eye from the figurative ball when Chanel chose to play.
‘I seem to recall your—er—relationship with Xavier failed to bring commitment first time round.’ Chanel paused for effect, her smile overly bright. ‘Are you going to share your secret?’
Romy appeared to give the request consideration before declaring an overly polite—‘No.’
Chanel took a few seconds to examine her lacquered nails. ‘Interesting how your father’s…indiscretion, shall we say,’ she paused momentarily, ‘no longer has a court date. Whatever ploy you devised, darling. It obviously worked.’
‘Would you care to be specific?’ Romy queried sweetly.
Bride, Bought and Paid For Page 10
