Bride, Bought and Paid For

by Helen Bianchin

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS PROBABLY a wasted effort to attempt to reason with her assailant, but it was worth a try.

  ‘Do you really want to do this?’ Romy kept her voice quiet, measured…only to have whatever he held in the pocket of his hoodie jammed so forcibly against her, it was almost impossible to stifle the gasp of pain that rose in her throat.

  ‘Walk.’

  Don’t resist. A silent caution ensured she followed his terse instruction, and she saw the receptionist glance in their direction. One look was all it took, and her eyes widened as comprehension of the scene registered.

  You and me, both, Romy agreed. Just…don’t panic.

  Unspoken words, but hopefully understood as her captor brought her to a halt in front of the reception desk.

  ‘Money.’

  The harsh directive sent the girl into shock, and any misgivings assumed a stark reality as he removed a hand from his pocket and brandished a hand gun.

  ‘Money. Now.’

  Damn. The silent expletive remained locked in her throat.

  The girl seemed locked into immobility, and Romy uttered a silent plea…just do as he says.

  The next instant hard metal lashed Romy’s hand, and she groaned in pain.

  ‘You’re next,’ he threatened the receptionist. ‘Get the money.’

  That brought a result: the girl backed away, indicating a long credenza covering one wall. ‘The safe is in there.’

  ‘Open it and put all the cash in a bag.’

  Please, God, let someone pass by, see what was in progress, and report it to the police.

  Sure, and a police car would conveniently be in the next street. Please. By the time they received a call and arrived on the scene, the assailant would be long gone.

  Unless someone disarmed him.

  His attention was focused on the receptionist and the money she was removing from the safe.

  If Romy was going to make a move, it had to be now.

  With lightning quickness she swung her free hand down hard on his wrist in a karate chop her former instructor would have approved.

  He screamed in pain as the gun clattered onto the floor, and she kicked it away out of his reach as he released his hold on her elbow to nurse his injured hand.

  His rabid fury was fuelled by more than rage as he swung towards her and aimed a vicious kick…which she narrowly avoided by a hair’s breadth as she automatically used his body weight against him and pinned him to the floor with a knee pressed against his spine.

  People converged, together with the school’s security guard, then the school principal.

  It was then she had a good look at the assailant.

  Young, still a teenager, Romy judged, with long, narrow facial features, hard eyes, and sporting a soul patch.

  The gun was carefully bagged until the police arrived, and there was relief at the discovery it wasn’t loaded.

  Statements were taken, and an ambulance summoned despite Romy’s protest she was fine to drive.

  ‘Standard procedure for any injury in these circumstances,’ a policewoman indicated and called on a school representative to pack the wrist with ice.

  ‘A precaution, Romy,’ the principal insisted. ‘I’ll ensure a call is placed to your home.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Nevertheless, the call will be made,’ came the firm reply.

  It seemed a case of definite overkill to ride in an ambulance, and she said so…only to have the driver reiterate the policewoman’s words.

  Hospital Accident & Emergency organized X-rays of her wrist, which thankfully showed only hairline fractures of three metacarpal bones. Her wrist was bound, painkillers dispensed, and while she waited for a taxi, she called Kassi and postponed dinner.

  It was almost seven by the time she reached Brighton, and the instant the taxi drew to a halt adjacent to the front entrance, the door flew open, and Maria moved quickly to open the passenger door. ‘Are you OK?’

  The question held concern, and Romy offered her a reassuring smile as she paid off the driver. ‘I’m fine. Just a badly bruised wrist.’

  ‘Your Mini is in the garage,’ Maria revealed. ‘The school arranged it. Tea,’ the housekeeper insisted as they entered the foyer. ‘A strong cup of sweet tea, then you will eat.’

  ‘Bossy,’ Romy said with a smile, and the housekeeper shook her head.

  ‘Not nearly as bossy as your husband will be.’

  Xavier. Romy closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Please tell me you didn’t contact him.’

  ‘Not to do so would be more than my employment is worth.’

  Well, that meant relaying a guess what happened yesterday anecdote when he returned tomorrow evening wasn’t going to happen!

  Dammit, she’d kept her cellphone on mute during class, and given the afternoon’s events she hadn’t thought to check it for messages.

  Something she attended to immediately and discovered there were several. Three from Xavier, demanding she call him, two from Kassi wanting an update, and one from the principal, with his home number for her to call.

  Romy made the calls in reverse order and provided suitable reassurance…except Xavier’s phone carried an automated message, and she simply left a ‘returning your call’ on his message bank.

  There was nothing he could do. Two more painkillers when she went to bed, followed by a good night’s sleep and she’d feel almost normal in the morning.

  Romy drank the tea Maria prepared and ate a small portion of food, then she pleaded the need for a shower and change of clothes.

  ‘Do you need some help?’ the housekeeper queried with concern, and Romy shook her head.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be able to manage.’

  It was something of a relief to enter the master suite, and she toed off her shoes, removed her clothes, and decided on a bath. A leisurely soak held appeal, and she filled the large tub, added bath oil, placed her cellphone within reach, then she sank down into the scented depths with a pleasurable sigh.

  The afternoon’s events replayed through her mind, and she wondered how it would have played out if she hadn’t taken affirmative action. Unless she was mistaken, her assailant had been under the influence of an illegal substance and therefore his actions had been unpredictable at best.

  Don’t think about it. There was no point.

  The sudden peal of her cellphone had her reaching for it, and Xavier’s name showed on caller ID. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Right back at you.’

  The sound of his voice caused her toes to curl, together with a reaction in other intimate parts of her body.

  ‘I tried to ring you, but it went to message bank,’ Romy explained.

  Due to the fact he had been making calls to the hospital, the school, organizing a flight, Xavier refrained from revealing.

  Did she have any idea how Maria’s call had affected him? The volatile mix of anger and fear…with the accent on fear. Not so much what had happened, but just how bad it could have been?

  Dammit, he could have lost her.

  Little fool. Taking on a young idiot high on drugs in possession of a gun.

  Mierda. His blood ran cold at the mere thought.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  She possessed an inner strength that was admirable, but it hid a tender heart and a degree of vulnerability she managed to cover too well.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘You’re angry.’

  You have no idea. Except he bit back the words. ‘We need to talk.’ And they would, soon.

  ‘OK.’

  He sensed the tentative reserve in her voice and managed a faint smile.

  ‘So how was your day?’

  He almost laughed. Almost. ‘About to get better.’

  ‘I guess you’re dining with colleagues.’

  Xavier entered the bedroom, shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then he loosened his tie, toed off his shoes, removed his socks, set down his cellphone�
�and crossed to the en suite.

  Romy gasped as the door swung open, her eyes wide with a mix of shock, surprise…and something else she couldn’t begin to define.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ The words escaped before she could give them thought. If it were possible, her eyes widened further as she saw him pull free his tie and then begin releasing the buttons on his shirt.

  His eyes never left her own. ‘You imagined I’d remain in Sydney?’

  Well…yes. ‘There was no need for you to come back,’ she said quietly, and attempted to tamp down the spiralling emotion arcing through her body as he removed his shirt.

  ‘You think not?’

  His breadth of shoulder, the superb muscle definition caused the breath to hitch in her throat as he reached for the belt fastening his trousers, and her mouth parted as he slid free the zip.

  ‘What are you doing?’ The query sounded slightly strangled, even to her own ears.

  ‘Sharing your bath.’ He stepped out of his trousers, then he unfastened his watch and placed it on the marble vanity.

  ‘I’m fine.’ The words scarcely left her lips as he cradled her head between his hands and closed his mouth over her own in an evocative salutation that tore the breath from her throat.

  She was unaware of time or place as she gave herself up to the sensual caress of his tongue as he explored the sensitive tissues in a need to stamp his possession.

  When he lifted his head, she could only look at him wordlessly.

  ‘Really?’ Xavier posed with deliberate quiet. His eyes speared her own as he released her and skimmed his hands down his hips, taking his silk briefs with them, and he stepped into the scented water to settle facing her.

  His eyes were dark, slumbrous and intense with an expression she was hesitant to divine as he carefully brought her injured hand to his lips.

  ‘I’ve heard the official version,’ he offered calmly. ‘Now I want yours. From the beginning.’

  ‘While we’re in the bath?’

  ‘It’s where you are.’

  Why did simple logic sound so…expressive. Or was he just playing the caring husband?

  He looked…larger than life, wholly male, and his close proximity in such intimate surroundings affected the beat of her heart, quickening and thickening it so she almost felt its reverberating thud in every pulse throughout her body.

  His hands shaped her shoulders, slid to each elbow, then moved to her ribs, and his eyes narrowed as her breath caught as he explored the slight swelling there.

  His eyes seared hers. ‘Romy?’

  ‘I’m sure the official version covered everything.’

  ‘Not quite. There are gaps.’

  He didn’t intend to let up, she could tell. Which left little option but to relay a brief account, unaware her expressive features conveyed more than mere words ever could.

  ‘That’s it,’ she concluded with a careless shrug.

  Not quite, he reflected, but it was enough for now, and he watched her eyes dilate as he cupped her cheek and soothed a thumb over the soft skin.

  ‘What made you think you could disarm him?’ His tone was even, calm…when he’d died a thousand deaths over the past few hours imagining a different outcome.

  ‘The opportunity was there, and I took it,’ she managed with forced insouciance and saw a muscle clench at the edge of his jaw.

  ‘Dammit, Romy.’ He bit back a vicious oath. ‘What were you thinking? He had a gun.’

  She resorted to defence. ‘It wasn’t loaded.’

  His eyes became almost black. ‘You couldn’t have known that.’

  Should she mention this episode wasn’t the first? That combat skills had formed an integral part of extra-curricular training for those who taught at her previous school…where she’d suffered a fractured clavicle, concussion, and other minor injuries during her three-year stint there?

  Although perhaps now wasn’t the time. At this particular moment she was sufficiently intrigued by his concern. And the reason why.

  Could it mean he cared? Perhaps have become emotionally attached to her? Something more…deeper than just the enjoyment of very good sex?

  Hope unfurled deep inside, and she contained it out of fear she might be wrong.

  Instead, she reached out her unbound hand and traced a finger over a visible scar that crossed a jagged path across his ribs.

  ‘You have a few battle scars of your own.’ Each of which she’d brushed with her lips, and she inwardly ached as she wondered at whatever situation had caused them.

  His eyes darkened further, almost as if he read her thought pattern. ‘There’s a vast difference.’

  Romy held his gaze. ‘Is there?’

  A thousand-fold, he admitted silently. His fight had been for survival in a place he had no wish to revisit. Where a switchblade could do irreparable harm, knuckledusters maim and disfigure, and the vicious use of nunchucks and chains could kill…and did.

  It had shaped who he was at that time, created the drive and perspicacity to hone his wits in order to escape.

  And he had, clawing his way by means that didn’t bear close scrutiny as he took every edge and turned it to his advantage…building his future with a ruthlessness he knew to be legend. Yet it had gained him reluctant respect among his peers and aided the amassing of a fortune.

  Much of his past remained a closed book, with only the barest of details discovered by the media over time.

  Yet the mystique remained, and there were those who added conjecture to purported fact…labelling him as a man to regard with caution. A fact he’d learnt to accept with a degree of silent amusement.

  ‘Yes.’

  Succinct, and bare of details Romy doubted he’d choose to share.

  She had a need to put some space between them, to remove herself from an evocative situation where the current direction could tip her into unchartered territory. And she’d had enough confrontation for the day.

  ‘I’m done.’ She made to rise to her feet, only to have Xavier curl a hand over her shoulder.

  ‘Except I’m far from done.’

  Romy shot him a slightly desperate look.

  ‘Stay,’ he bade her quietly, and she was held mesmerized by his expression for a few heart-stopping seconds, then she gasped out loud as he lifted her legs over his thighs and brought her close.

  So close she couldn’t help but be aware of his arousal, and she looked at him quesioningly, only to have him give a slight shake of his head as he lowered his head to savour the sweet curve at the edge of her neck.

  Sensation, violently sweet, shivered through her body at his touch, and, unbidden, she arched her head to allow him access.

  His hands cupped her breasts as he explored their shape and texture, and a faint groan escaped her lips when he teased each tender peak into a hardened nub.

  Not content, he trailed a hand down to her waist and traced her navel before moving low as he sought and found the sensitive folds.

  Oh, my God.

  This…this was almost more than she could bear, and the breath caught in her throat as he inserted one finger in an exploratory foray that locked her gaze with his.

  Eyes, dark with sin, flared as he sent her high, and she cried out as she felt the telltale spiral soar with primal need to a peak where he held her for timeless seconds before she tipped over the edge in glorious free fall.

  Then his mouth possessed her own, with a gentleness that almost brought her to tears, and she whimpered, wanting, needing more…so much more.

  All of him…body, mind and soul. His.

  He knew…dear lord, how could he not?

  She was beyond thought, so distanced from everything except the man and the electric sensuality that fused them together as one.

  Did she plead with him? She only knew she wanted to, and she gasped out loud as he rose to his feet, scooped her carefully into his arms and stepped out from the bath.

  He took a towel and gently dried the moisture from her body,
then he tended to his own, and she stood locked into immobility as he held her gaze until he was done.

  In one fluid movement he placed an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the bedroom, and, reaching the large bed, he tugged the covers down, then carefully lowered her onto the sheets before joining her there.

  With unhurried grace he propped his elbow to support his head in one hand, and trailed gentle fingers over the swell of her breasts. The breath hissed through his teeth as he caught sight of the burgeoning bruise on her ribcage, and he traced it carefully before lowering his head to place his lips there.

  Seduction…he was so good at it, Romy acknowledged tremulously as he caressed each pleasure pulse with languorous warmth.

  It became a slow and delicious torture until she reached a sensual conflagration, and there was only one word she could utter…now.

  He obliged, moving over her body as he eased his impressive length in a slow slide to the hilt, held it there as her muscles clenched around him…then he began to move, gently at first, his dark eyes capturing her own as pulsing need consumed her.

  Yet it was he who governed the pace, resisting her plea to go faster, harder, as he finessed the loving, and he took possession of her mouth, capturing her cries as he led her high with such care she was moved to tears.

  He felt the liquid warmth as they seeped down her cheeks, and he shifted his mouth to gently absorb them.

  An act which only caused them to flow more freely.

  ‘Dios,’ Xavier cursed softly, and he lifted his head; his eyes were dark as they met her own. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  She shook her head. He’d been so careful not to.

  Sex, even very good sex, didn’t necessarily mean he cared. So get a grip and pass on the emotional evaluation.

  She was his wife. This afternoon she’d become involved in something newsworthy. How would it have looked if he hadn’t rushed to her side?

  ‘Amante,’ he began silkily. ‘You imagine I don’t care if anything happens to you?’ He moved, rolling carefully onto his back, taking her with him as he positioned her back against his bent knees. ‘Why do you think I walked out of a meeting and took the first flight home?’

  ‘You couldn’t wait to check the damage to your physical asset?’