A Hint of Scandal

by Tara Pammi

  She laughed, her bitterness spilling over into that sound. “Obviously, you don’t know everything about me.”

  “I do. But you bring it on yourself with your reckless, indiscriminate behavior.”

  She flinched, each word a sharp twist in her side.

  A hint of softness entered his eyes, and he moved closer to her. As though he regretted his remark. Yet whatever she had imagined, it was gone in a fleeting second. A mirage.

  What was she doing? She was seeing things she wanted to see in him, letting her mind pull her down into an alternate reality. For some reason, she wanted to find a chink in him, something that would level the field between them. She was instantly at a disadvantage with anyone she met, her past a sword hanging over her head. And she didn’t care, or at least she had painstakingly trained herself to not care. But with Alexander, she realized with a sinking sensation, all bets were off.

  “Why do we have to go anywhere?” she said, hating the note of anxiety in her voice. She grabbed his wrists, ready to beg. She didn’t know which haunted her more. The prospect of going back to Paris, or the looming pretense that she was his wife. Only a few hours in his company and she already felt as if she was coming apart at the seams, her armor already cracking. At least, here in his vast mansion, she needn’t see the man unless absolutely necessary. “Why can’t we just stay here until she’s back and then you two can jet off to wherever you want?”

  It was the hint of pleading in Olivia’s words that hauled Alexander out of his own private hell. Until now, she had been all fire and lightning, like a Caribbean thunderstorm. Yet now, with her lush mouth pinched, she seemed anything but.

  Reluctant concern sliced through him. No one wanted to re-visit their scene of crime. He understood that better than anyone. But he didn’t have a choice, either. For more than ten years, he had kept himself out of the trash rags, taken care of his sister, and forged a different life. He didn’t intend to let anyone wreck his life or his sister’s, not the press, not his mother. “Because I have obligations, Olivia, people who can’t wait to see me in Paris with my loving wife in tow.

  “If word leaks out that you stood next to me instead of Kim at the ceremony, we’ll become exclusive features on every damn channel, on every social media site. Not only will they hound me, but they will make your sister’s life and yours, a living hell. So, if I have to endure your company until I can do damage control, I’ll do it. And seeing the countless number of times your sister has saved your delectable ass, I would think you can bear my company a few more days, for her.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NOTHING WAS WORKING.

  Olivia blew at the stubborn lock of hair that kept falling into her eyes, and pulled her hair into a high ponytail with a vicious tug. She drew another picture on her notepad, her pencil flying on the paper and began to think of words for the pitch. The launch of Lifestyle Inc.’s sportswear geared toward everyday life was going to be one of the biggest launches of next fall. If she could bag the advertising contract for their agency, her career would finally be on the right track.

  Her initial pitch to use social media for the ad campaign was what had resulted in their agency being shortlisted. Yet all the ideas that had been floating around her head seemed very insubstantial when she put them to paper. With a grunt, she tore off the pages she had so far and scrunched them up in her hands.

  She knew in her bones that it was this place, this city they were in. The minute they had stepped off Alexander’s private jet, it felt as though the iron lid she kept over her memories had been pried open by the warm summer breeze. She had just stood there, looking around her, transported back in time, the scents and sounds around her assaulting her. She had taken a breath of relief, when upon arriving at his penthouse, he had excused himself. She had grabbed her notepad and sketches and retreated to the spare bedroom. She had been hiding since they’d arrived last night and all morning, venturing only into the kitchen for sustenance.

  But there was no escape inside her own mind. Jacques’s face kept pushing itself into her thoughts as though she had kissed him, begged him to not leave her yesterday instead of six years ago. Sweat beaded on her brow, her stomach a twisting void.

  She had done everything in her power to keep him, to make Jacques love her, yet he had left her, trampled her heart into so many pieces. The same question she hadn’t been able to answer that night or ever since haunted her waking thoughts now. She slapped her hands on her cheeks and shook her head, groaning, as though she could hold the devastating thought at bay.

  But all her defenses crumbled like cardboard paper as it wound its way into her head.

  Whatever she did, however much she tried, there were some things she couldn’t change about herself. She couldn’t...

  No. She couldn’t do this to herself. She cursed and swiped the tears pooling in her eyes. She had cried enough tears to last her a lifetime.

  Scrolling through her BlackBerry, she read the text she had received from Kim early morning for the hundredth time. I’m okay. Can’t make it back yet. Am so sorry.

  The short message didn’t tell Liv anything. The fleeting hope that she could get out of here soon died with it. She threw her bedroom door open and walked into the living room, refusing to indulge in miserable speculations that she already knew the answer to.

  Alexander nodded at her from the couch, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He had been perversely silent all through the flight yesterday and even after they’d landed. Almost as if he knew how close to the surface her emotions were teetering. One wrong word from him and she would have clocked him. But of course, he hadn’t given her that satisfaction. Instead, he had been a perfect gentleman all day.

  She meant to ignore him but her gaze inevitably drifted down his body as he rose from the couch. Tight black jeans hugged his powerful thighs and dear God, the man had a taut behind she could ogle for hours. His gray V-necked tee stretched across the muscular contours of his chest, the short sleeves revealing strong forearms.

  Heat crept up her neck as he neared her in a quick movement, the awareness of her perusal shining in his eyes. Her skin felt too tight on her body. He tilted his head sideways and studied her. “Are you approachable now?”

  She shrugged and turned, glad that he hadn’t mentioned her checking him out. The shards of grief that had dulled her mind into numbness mere seconds ago dissolved away.

  Forbidden lust—1, gut wrenching grief—0.

  Turning away from the captivating sight of him, she walked around the hall. Cream marble floors gleamed under her feet enhanced by white walls. Simple, sleek, red furniture dotted around the living room punctured the austerity of the pristine white. Understated luxury yet tasteful at the same time with a hint of warmth that had been missing in the island mansion.

  The living room led into a vast balcony, offering breathtaking views of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower. A luxury private jet and a penthouse in the heart of Paris with such beautiful views, she couldn’t help be impressed despite her dark mood. She traced the concrete railing with her fingers, feeling uncharacteristically peeved.

  Alexander King might have turned his back on his A-list Hollywood star parents when he was only seventeen, but the fact that he was filthy rich in his own right incensed her further. Why couldn’t he have been an abject failure like her?

  And nothing she had seen so far indicated that he flaunted his wealth, unlike her father. No gold-edged trimmings in sight, no false imperiousness around his staff. On the contrary, his staff seemed too happy to follow his every command. He didn’t need constant validation of his success. For all she knew, the man had been born with the arrogant confidence he wore like a second skin.

  She turned back to the living room. A surprising sense of comfort settled in her stomach. Andy Warhol’s turquoise Marilyn Monroe graced one wall. She passed by the Hollywood Diva with a
grin on her face. The scandalous actress’s painting in Alexander’s penthouse looked as out of place as she had felt in the wedding gown.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  His voice behind her scrambled her senses. “I imagined it to be different.” Spying the leap of awareness in his gaze, she hastened to clarify. “This place has such a relaxed feel to it.”

  “Meaning I’m uptight?”

  She grinned again, unwilling to take the bait. “Meaning, is it yours?”

  He glanced around the living room, as though looking at it anew. Something akin to affection danced in his gaze. “Emily decorated this place. She fancies herself an interior designer, so I gave her free rein last summer.”

  The sister Alexander guarded so fiercely? He had sued his own parents for custody of his six-year-old sister the moment he had turned twenty and had launched his own small business. The courts had granted him custody. The ruthlessness of the story made Olivia shiver all over despite the sunlight streaming through the windows. “Your sister?”

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t see her at the wedding.”

  It was his turn to shrug. “She’s busy.”

  He was famous for the utmost security with which he guarded his younger sister. Nothing about her was known to the public, which of course, made them even more rabid for information on her. “Too busy to attend her brother’s wedding?”

  Alexander shot her a warning glance, as Olivia raised her brows, her wide mouth an O. Emily would have enjoyed his wedding but he couldn’t take any chances with her safety now. “Considering the farce that went down, it’s better she wasn’t there.”

  The censure in her words grated at him. And the fact that it did annoyed him even more.

  It didn’t help that he was already on edge. Nothing was going as he’d planned. Carlos, his head of security, had no updates for him regarding Kim, and his contact in Paris had confirmed his suspicions. Isabella had been living incognito in Paris for more than three months and it had nothing to do with her work. The fact that his mother was here where Emily went to school was not a coincidence. At least, Emily was away on a trip to the Swiss Alps with her school. And he had to depend on the one woman on the planet who was like a ticking bomb.

  Olivia spent every waking minute feeling every emotion that passed through her. Every small joy had to be celebrated, like the fifteen minutes she had spent gushing over his flight attendant’s wedding pictures. He’d expected her to rant and rage over him all through the flight for dragging her to Paris.

  Instead, she had been unusually silent, her grief a dark cloud hanging over her. Any woman would have wanted to avoid the place where she’d had an affair with a married man, a man twenty years older than her, the place where her disgrace had made her notorious. He understood that. Yet it wasn’t regret or even distaste for what had happened that she had felt. Not Olivia. Instead, he had felt her pain, her ache as though she had lost something precious in Paris.

  She had reminded him of what he’d been before he’d learned to ruthlessly stamp out any feeling. It had taken everything in him to let her be. Feeding his dangerous curiosity about Olivia was not a smart move.

  He frowned as she banged another kitchen cabinet door closed. He put the papers he had been signing on the coffee table and turned toward her. For a woman who was willowy and all bones, she was always looking for something to eat.

  She stood on her toes, stretching her hands above her head, trying to reach the cabinet overhead. His breath hitched in his throat as her cotton tee tugged upward, baring her toned midriff, silky smooth flesh glowing in the light. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight.

  With a muttered curse, he joined her in the kitchen and plucked the coffee filters from the cabinet. “Have you heard from Kim?” he said, more to distract himself from her scent.

  Her shoulders stiffened, her hand faltering as she scooped coffee into the coffeemaker. Would she lie? He waited as she turned it on and her shoulders rose and fell.

  She turned around and surprised him with a nod. “A text saying that she’s okay.”

  He pulled out a couple of mugs and leaned against the counter. She almost collided with him in her hurry to get away, until he steadied her. Her T-shirt defined the curve of her high breasts and slim waist, and her legs went on forever in denim shorts that barely covered her behind. Her wild hair was pulled into a ponytail. She was all bones and angles, and looked like a teenager instead of twenty-five. She was a far cry from the women he found attractive—successful, confident, exuding a sophistication that had always appealed to him.

  Olivia was the opposite, not his type at all, yet something inside him reacted to her every move. And anything that didn’t fall into a pattern, that defied rational explanation puzzled his analytical mind.

  “Well, it seems like we’re making progress,” he said, grinning as she retreated to the other side. “You didn’t lie to me just now and you didn’t try to run away once in the last,” he checked his watch, “fifteen hours.”

  One corner of her mouth tugged up in mockery of a smile. She poured the coffee into two mugs and handed him one. He followed her into the living room, eying her like a hungry wolf did a tasty morsel of meat. She took a sip of her coffee and plunked down into the leather couch. Her gaze swept around her, a smile curving her mouth. “I think Emily did a fabulous job. Too good to be a passing fancy.”

  “Unlike your new career?”

  Olivia smiled, refusing to explain herself. It was what everyone thought about her, including Kim. While her loyalty and love for her never wavered, Olivia knew her single-minded, successful twin struggled to understand Olivia’s impulsive choices. But all that was going to change soon. Excitement bubbled through her as she thought of her upcoming pitch. Finally, she had a real shot at succeeding, at forging a career. As soon as she worked on her pitch. “Not everyone finds success easily.”

  He settled into the couch opposite hers, his long legs stretching out to her side. “At least, you’re a woman of multiple talents. Spoilt heiress, temperamental model, reality TV star and now what, advertising guru?”

  The direct barb hit her hard, chipping away the veneer of politeness she tried to hang on to. Nothing he had quoted just now was untrue, yet the methodical listing of her failures shook her from within. But just because she had failed in the past didn’t mean she would fail in the future. Love and men, she had given up, but her career—no.

  “Exactly what is it that you find so objectionable about me? Because, from where I see it, I’m here, pretending to be your wife, when I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

  He laughed and set his cup down. The harsh sound of his laughter pressed against the bubble of tension closing in on them. “You did speak the words, Olivia.”

  She bolted from the couch. “They mean nothing to me.”

  “No, of course they don’t,” he said, leaving her no space to escape. “Tell me something. If I’m to believe you, you took Kim’s place in a matter of minutes, vowed to be my wife without blinking an eye. I can’t help but wonder how it’s affecting your colorful love life.”

  She raised her brows and faked a smile. “Now you’re concerned about me?”

  “Let’s say I want to be sure I don’t have to defend myself against jealous lovers.”

  If only he knew the sad truth. No one had ever been jealous or protective of her, as twisted as that sounded. “I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. Not—”

  “Since that two-bit actor broke up with you on that reality TV show?”

  No, not since then. Being dumped on national television had been the final nail on her relationship coffin. Of course, she had gone along, pretended to be okay with it because she had her pride. But after that, she had thought with her mind, not with her heart, looked up self-preservation in the dictionary. She
took a sip of the coffee and swallowed down that ache along with it. “I’m worried about Kim. This isn’t like her.”

  He shrugged, sending her good intentions flying. She stepped toward him, blocking him. “The woman you were supposed to marry is gone. And yet, as far as I can see, it’s a mere inconvenience to you. Do you love my sister?”

  A smile curved his mouth, cold and beautiful with no warmth to it. “Would you be happier if I was miserable, if I threw myself into endless parties and gave up all my responsibilities?” The knowledge of her past glinted in his gaze, underlined by something else. “Would you like me better if I behaved like you instead? Act on every impulse that runs through my head, run riot through everyone’s life all in the name of love? I want no part of an emotion that strips a man or woman of rational thinking, that drives them to their lowest. So, by your definition, no, I don’t love your sister. What I feel for her, what she feels for me, is much more rational.”

  Olivia stood rooted to the spot, her breath trapped somewhere in the base of her throat. The lowest. Yes, she had been there, and she had ended up there because she had fallen in love. But it was never going to be enough. She couldn’t make someone love her. Whether it was her past, her failures or the total package she presented, no man was ever going to love her, not the love-you-no-matter-what kind. And for the most part, she had accepted the hard truth.

  Except for times like now, when the truth smiled at her and gutted her, leaving her shaken to the core.

  Alex cursed as Olivia turned away, a distinct shakiness to her movements, her face devoid of any color. Damn it, she had flinched as though he had raised his hand. Where was his head?

  But no other woman aggravated him so much as her. She didn’t have a filter between her brain and her mouth. She constantly argued with him, sometimes he was sure just to prove that she could. Why else would he have spelled out how distasteful he found her irreverence in gritty detail?