Inconveniently Wed

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Valentin looked across at Imogene, who shrugged again much as she’d done in the elevator before. “Do what you want,” she said. “I’m going to check on what Susan’s preparing for us.”

  The tour of the seven-bedroom apartment took longer than he expected, or maybe it was just because Caroline was very clearly stalling to mask the absence of her husband. By the time they returned to the sitting room, Imogene was seated in one of the expensively upholstered easy chairs with an almost empty glass of wine in her hand.

  “I was beginning to think I’d have to send out a search party,” she said, rising to her feet. “Shall I get you each a drink?”

  “Thank you, darling,” her mother said, allowing Imogene to assume hostess duties.

  Once their aperitifs were finished a uniformed maid called them to the dining room. Still no sign of Mr. O’Connor, Valentin noted with sympathy for his new mother-in-law, who’d done her best to fill the void left by her husband by steering the conversation seamlessly before dinner. They’d just begun their appetizers when the sound of the front door banging shut echoed through the apartment.

  In moments the energy of the room changed with both women sitting just a little straighter. There was an expression of hopeful relief on Caroline’s face and one of annoyance on her daughter’s.

  “Be nice,” Caroline had time to hiss across the table to Imogene before Howard O’Connor entered the room.

  “Sorry I’m late, people. Couldn’t be avoided. I’m sorry. You must be my new son-in-law,” he said smoothly, as if meeting the man his only daughter had married was a frequent occurrence. Valentin stood and offered his hand. “Or should I say recycled son-in-law,” Howard added with a hearty laugh at his own attempt at humor.

  Valentin tried not to bristle. For someone who ought to be adept at diplomacy, the man was trying far too hard. “It’s good to meet you at last, sir.”

  “And you, Horvath. And you.”

  Howard turned his attention to Imogene, who sat quietly at the table, but not before Valentin noticed a lingering hint of a woman’s fragrance around his host. His nostrils flared as he analyzed it and came to a rapid conclusion. He’d smelled the subtle scent Caroline O’Connor wore as she’d shown him around the apartment. This was entirely different. The man had obviously not been tied up at work—unless work entailed being in very close, possibly intimate, contact with another woman. At the table, Caroline laughed brittlely at something her husband said, her eyes not leaving him for a second. Her daughter, on the other hand, stared at her plate.

  Was that what lay behind Imogene’s insecurity around him? Was Howard O’Connor an unfaithful husband and all-too-absent father? Suddenly Imogene’s obsession with fidelity and her issues with trust were coming into very clear focus indeed.

  Twelve

  They’d just had their main dishes brought to the table when Howard’s cell phone began to chime insistently. Excusing himself, he rose from his chair and left the room. Valentin heard his voice recede down the hallway, then grow more muffled as he closed a door behind him.

  “Sorry about that,” Caroline said. “We’ve had to learn to share him with his work. Well, it’s more of a vocation, really. A calling. You must feel the same with your medical background, Valentin.”

  Valentin looked across at Imogene, who stared evenly back at him. He could usually read his wife, who was becoming accustomed to the nuances in her expression. But right now she was a blank canvas.

  “I don’t know why you keep apologizing for him, Mom,” she said, not taking her eyes from Valentin’s. “You know we play second fiddle to Dad’s other...interests.”

  The words were crushing but Valentin could hear the pain behind them. And the warning. She’d grown up with this. She was not going to tolerate it in her own marriage. Dessert became an exercise in diplomacy as Valentin attempted to temper his wife’s darkening mood with her mother’s overeager attempts to cover the glaring absence of her husband. It was a relief when it was all over.

  By the time they returned home, Valentin knew they had to talk this out before it grew into a black hole between them.

  “Have you got time for a nightcap?” he asked as he helped her out of her coat. “I’d like to talk.”

  “I thought you might,” she said. “Make mine a brandy. I think I’m going to need it.”

  There was an attitude about her now, as if nothing and no one could break her. But he knew only too well how fragile she was and how shaky the barriers she’d erected around her.

  “Brandy it is,” he agreed.

  By silent mutual consent they went into the library and Valentin poured them each a measure of brandy before joining her on the sofa.

  “That was a tough night for you,” he said without preamble.

  “You think that was tough? Sadly, that was normal. At least, that’s what my mother thinks. I don’t know why she puts up with it.” She shook her head before taking a sip of her drink. “No, that’s not true. I know exactly why she puts up with it. I don’t think she loves my father any more than he loves her. They both, however, love the illusion of a stable marriage and the lifestyle my father’s income allows them to enjoy.”

  She sounded so bitter. So damaged. It made his chest ache to hear her speak that way. He decided to get straight to the point. “Has your father always been unfaithful?”

  She looked at him and raised her brows. “You noticed that already, did you?”

  “Well, kind of hard not to when he came home smelling of some other woman’s perfume.”

  “He used to shower before coming home. Now he doesn’t care enough to hide it. Mom just turns the other cheek. She’s fought long and hard for her position in society and her home. She’s not about to rock that boat for the sake of his mistress of the hour.”

  What kind of upbringing had Imogene had for this kind of behavior to be so accepted, so normal? He felt sorry for her having had to grow up with that. His own father had been a workaholic but he’d loved his wife fiercely and protected what family time he could carve out.

  “I’m sorry, Imogene. You deserve better.”

  “Yes, I do,” she agreed emphatically. “Look, it might be a situation that my mother is happy to tolerate, but I’ve seen what it’s done to her over the years. She might have loved my father in the beginning, but bit by bit that’s slowly died. When something isn’t nurtured, shared and encouraged, what else can it do? They have nothing in common anymore aside from their desire to present the perfect facade to the world. Mom acts as hostess when he entertains foreign visitors and he acts the devoted husband when anybody else is watching.”

  “He was hardly the devoted husband this evening,” Valentin felt obliged to point out.

  “That’s because he stands to gain nothing from his association with you. You’re merely my husband, and in my father’s eyes his family comes a very solid last in any bid for his attention. I learned that from the cradle, Valentin. I will not subject my children to the same thing.”

  The warning in her voice was loud and clear.

  “I will be here for our children, Imogene. And for you.”

  “You’re making the assumption that our marriage will last.”

  He bristled slightly. “There’s no reason why it won’t.”

  “There is one,” she answered sharply. “One you either won’t see, or refuse to admit to.”

  “Look, let me make it absolutely clear to you. I am not your father. I’m nothing like him. I am and have always been faithful to you. I know you believe you saw evidence to the contrary and I know you were left hurt and bewildered. I acted selfishly when we were in Africa. I put my work ahead of you because I didn’t realize how tenuous our relationship was. That was my fault. Giving Carla the keys to our place so she could sleep was my fault. I had no idea she’d use the opportunity for some tryst and I’m sorry you were led to believe I was in
volved in that tryst. I don’t know how much more often I have to tell you that before you believe me.”

  Imogene stared into his eyes, her face softening. “I want to believe you, Valentin. If I didn’t think I could believe you I wouldn’t have married you. But she’s still in your life. Still making trouble between us. As long as she’s there, there will always be trouble. Can’t you see that? Look, my father has had several mistresses during his marriage to my mom. Because he doesn’t love them, he doesn’t see that as being unfaithful. In fact, he’s convinced himself that he’s not. But fidelity is everything to me. Everything.”

  “You have my promise, Imogene. There is no one else but you for me. I really want you to believe that. I love you and I want a life with you, children with you.”

  “Like I said, I want to believe you, Valentin—” she began.

  “Then believe me. That’s all it takes,” he urged.

  “I wish it were as simple as that.”

  “We can make it that simple.”

  He reached across and took her glass from her and put it on the coffee table beside his own. Then, cupping her face gently, he kissed her. There was no heat in the kiss, nothing like the passion that had overwhelmed them the other night. Nothing but a steadfast reassurance that he was here for her. Her man. No one else’s. Her lips trembled beneath his, parting as his tongue traced the fullness of them. As he ended the kiss and pulled back, he looked into her eyes and made a silent promise. Come what may, he would convince her of his love for her. They would succeed on this rocky journey of theirs and they’d come out stronger at the end as a result of it.

  He got to his feet, holding out a hand to her. “Sleep with me tonight.”

  “I don’t know, Valentin.”

  “Just sleep. Nothing more. I want you in my arms, in my bed. With me and beside me.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  She took his hand and together they walked down the hallway to the master suite. While she used the bathroom, he turned down the bed, and on her return he helped her undress.

  “Hop into bed, I’ll only be a minute,” he said, heading for the bathroom himself.

  He heard the rustle of the sheets as she did as he suggested. When he returned to the bedroom she was lying back on a pillow, sheets tucked up to her chin and her body rigid with tension. He shucked off his clothes and slid into the bed beside her, reaching for her and pulling her against him. He pressed a kiss against her nape, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin.

  “Good night, Imogene. We’ll work this out.”

  She didn’t respond and for a while he began to wonder if she would, but then he heard a softly uttered “G’night.”

  He smiled in the darkness. He understood now why she was so adamant about the situation with Carla. After what had happened in Africa and with her own father’s less-than-stellar example, Imogene felt vulnerable. Afraid to trust. Well, he had to earn that back from her—somehow, someway. He felt her begin to relax incrementally in his arms and listened as her breathing slowed until she was finally asleep.

  Valentin lay there for ages, wondering if she’d ever feel secure with him. She said she wanted to believe him but in light of the conditioning she’d had growing up, could she ever really trust anyone? He hoped so, because he wasn’t fooling himself about fidelity like Howard O’Connor was. But given how Imogene felt, could she be rational about the subject? Their first attempt at marriage had been anything but rational, and now, thinking about it, he was reminded of the conversation he’d had with Carla earlier today and of what she’d said about Imogene. Tonight had hardly been the time to bring that up with his wife, but how on earth was he going to get to the root of the issue without discussing it with her?

  If he could be certain Carla was the one who lied, then he would obviously not be able to trust her again. It would be much easier to insist on her exit from Horvath Pharmaceuticals. But if she’d been telling the truth...what then?

  * * *

  Imogene woke the next morning to find herself alone in bed. In Valentin’s bed, she realized sleepily. She hadn’t slept that deeply in a long time. She stretched out, then started in surprise as Valentin strode naked from the bathroom. Her eyes hungrily roamed his body. For someone who put in long hours in what was essentially a sedentary job, he still managed to find time to work out. His body was beautiful, from the breadth of his powerful shoulders all the way past his hips and lower. She felt her mouth go dry and swallowed, hard.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile that told her he hadn’t missed her detailed perusal of his body and that he also didn’t mind one little bit. “Sleep well?”

  “Really well, thank you.”

  She struggled to sit up against the pillows and tugged the bedsheets up with her.

  “Don’t bother on my account,” he teased as he walked to an antique tallboy and pulled out a drawer.

  A flush of color heated her cheeks at his words. They were hardly strangers to each other and yet she felt uncomfortable being naked in front of him this morning, as if it left her feeling too exposed. In light of their conversation last night, it was no wonder. She’d shared truths with him she’d never shared with anyone else. Growing up, all her friends had envied her the fact her parents had the perfect marriage. It was an ironic analogy, she thought, that here she was, hiding beneath the sheets, much as she hid so much of herself, while her husband strode confident and naked about the bedroom. Could she take that to mean that he was being as open and honest about everything, his feelings for her included, as he was with his body?

  “Which one?” Valentin said abruptly, turning to face her and holding a silk tie in each hand.

  For a second her mind wandered, thinking of a suggestion she could make to him for using both ties, but she quickly pushed it away. “Depends on your suit, I guess. And your shirt.”

  “Navy and plain white.”

  “Then the red and navy broad stripes.”

  “Thanks.”

  With that he pushed the other tie back in the drawer and went through to the bathroom. She heard the dressing room door on the other side of the bathroom close. Imogene lay back in the bed and realized her heart was racing. What had just happened? Their exchange had been so normal and yet here she was as nervous as a mouse in a room full of cats. She got up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around her before picking up her clothes and heading down the hall to her bedroom. After a quick shower and getting dressed in a tailored pantsuit for work, she went through to the kitchen. Valentin was already there, sipping his coffee at the breakfast bar.

  “I’ll be late home tonight. My new CEO is shadowing me for the day and we’re visiting our New York centers before spending the rest of the afternoon in the office.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” Valentin replied before getting up and taking his cup to the sink. “I’ll wait up for you.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” she said. “I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll see you tonight.”

  He kissed her on the lips, hard and swift, and then he was gone. Imogene stared in his wake, wondering what the heck had just happened. She was interrupted by Dion coming through from the butler’s pantry.

  “An omelet this morning, Mrs. Horvath?”

  “No, thank you, Dion. Just coffee this morning.”

  He tsk-tsked under his breath as he poured her coffee with cream, just the way she liked it. She downed the coffee, only barely tasting it, then collected her computer case and headed out the door.

  She was early to the office but even so her new CEO had beaten her in. She smiled as she walked toward him, knowing that the board of directors had made an excellent choice in Eric Grafton. A Columbia graduate, he’d gained a strong reputation across a range of businesses—every last one of them becoming more successful than they’d been before he took charge. She couldn
’t complain about that. And he was a genuinely nice guy. Married to his high school sweetheart, with two daughters of his own, he seemed to have found the perfect balance between life and career. She envied him that, she realized.

  “Eric, good to see you,” she said, walking toward him with her hand outstretched.

  His clasp was warm and strong, much like the image he portrayed.

  As they discussed their plans for the weeks ahead her mind kept drifting back to Valentin and last night. It had been comforting to sleep in his arms and had given her hope they were on the right track together. They had better be, she thought as she glanced at the man who was taking over her role here in the company she’d created. In this, at least, she was confident she was leaving her business in good hands. If only she could be as confident about her private life.

  The next few weeks became a blur of center visits across the country, traveling with Eric and introducing him to the franchise holders nationwide. She hated being away from Valentin, but it couldn’t be avoided. They hadn’t slept together again since that night after dinner at her parents’, and she found herself missing him at unexpected moments. Still, it wouldn’t be for much longer, she told herself. Once she was back in the classroom her hours would be more regular.

  And the three-month trial period of their marriage would be looming, she realized. The thought of walking away from Valentin made her feel physically ill, but as far as she was aware he was still working with Carla. Of course she understood that if he was to let the other woman go, there would have to be an exit strategy. As much as she disliked and distrusted Carla, she knew she couldn’t simply be turned out of her job and onto the streets. Due process needed to be followed. But was Valentin even doing anything about it, or was he simply allowing things to continue as they had before? She knew she needed to discuss it with him, but the opportunity hadn’t arisen and with her hours lately they’d become ships in the night. Much like they had in the early days of their marriage before she’d taken the bull by the horns and taken dinner to him in his office.