If being married is supposed to make you fight harder for your relationship, well, that didn’t work either. Or maybe it did. Maybe if we hadn’t been married, we would have split much earlier. Again, though, that would probably have been better in the long run.
Mom reaches out a hand and covers mine, and I realize I’d sighed, and she’s probably guessed what’s on my mind. She understands the trials and tribulations of relationships, having suffered with my birth father before she met Brock. She wasn’t married to Jack, and when she told him she was pregnant with me, he just up and left, and she’s not heard from him since. How can a man do that to a woman he’s lived with? How can he not care that he got her pregnant, or feel no responsibility toward the child he made? She had to cope with having me without the support of a partner, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that I had bad asthma as a child, and was hospitalized several times.
Why all these thoughts are bubbling up now, I’m not sure. I suppose it’s because I’m watching two people I care for promising to spend their lives together, and I’m old and jaded. I’m not saying I don’t believe relationships can work. My mother and Brock have been together for thirty years, and although of course they’ve had their ups and downs, on the whole they’ve been happy. So have Charlie and Ophelia, and Matt and Georgia. Clearly, it is possible for a relationship to last, if you find the right person. But it’s such a lottery.
My gaze slides back to Clio, who’s standing quietly, her head tipped to the side a little, watching Nix as she promises to love and care for Leon. There’s a look of what I can only describe as awe on Clio’s face, as if she can’t picture herself in Nix’s place, committing to a man like this. It saddens me that she hasn’t experienced that kind of love, but then she’s young, and she has all the time in the world to meet the right guy. I hope whoever he is, he treats her like a princess, and never makes her regret her decision.
Leon and Nix are exchanging rings, and I watch a couple of fantail birds flutter down onto the branches of the nikau palm behind them. The birds jump from branch to branch, showing their distinctive tails. They have five white feathers on one side, five on the other, and two black ones in the middle. They look as if they’ve come to witness the ceremony.
Leon pushes the ring onto Nix’s finger and, as she turns her hand a little, the gold band flashes in the sunlight. Leon smiles—the slightly smug, possessive smile of a guy who’s looking forward to taking his new wife back to their room later and seeing her wearing only the ring. It’s obvious they have a great sex life; you can tell from the way they look at each other.
What would it be like to be in a relationship with someone who returned your affection one hundred percent? Who desired you all the time, who craved your body and your presence as much as you craved theirs? Samantha never returned the desire I felt for her, not even in the early days. I put her reticence down to shyness in the beginning, but now I know it wasn’t that. She just didn’t feel that way about sex. She didn’t need it the same way I did. The way I still do.
I look back at Clio again, and my heart gives a strange little bump when I discover her watching me. She doesn’t smile this time, but there’s a touch of heat in her eyes. She’s thinking about having sex with me. I can tell. Maybe she’s thinking about our exchange in the car. I’m very rebellious… You might have to tie me down, she said. And when I told her, I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about you this afternoon, she replied, Me either.
What would it be like, to be married to Clio? To think about her during the day, to picture making love to her, and know she was thinking the same? To get home in the evening, and be so desperate for each other that you’re removing the other’s clothes before you even get in the door?
Is it possible, or is it just a fantasy? How many relationships that start off as sexual continue that way after the first few months or years? I understand that the excitement of a new relationship is going to wane a little. And I don’t expect any relationship never to have issues. But in all the years we were married, I never stopped desiring Samantha, or wanting to have sex. Is it possible that another woman might feel the same way about me?
Clio’s lips are curving up a little, her eyes turning sultry, and I know she’s thinking about undressing me, and me undressing her, kissing every inch of her pale, warm skin as it’s revealed. Would Clio be like Samantha and eventually turn away from me? Or would her desire continue through our marriage, and our relationship develop rather than decay and deteriorate?
The ceremony is coming to an end, and I look back at Leon and Nix, who are both beaming at each other, and who exchange a passionate kiss as the celebrant finally declares them man and wife. Then everyone’s clapping and cheering, and we get to our feet as the happy couple walk back down the aisle between the lines of chairs to where the photographer is waiting to start organizing the photos.
“Lovely ceremony,” my mother says.
I nod. “It was.”
“You okay?” she asks, her eyes astute.
“Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Ryan,” she scolds. “I know you better than that.” She puts a hand on my arm and squeezes it. “I’m sorry about Samantha, but you mustn’t let the way she treated you sour your view of relationships.”
I’m surprised at her astuteness, and at her choice of words, the way she treated you. Neither she nor Dad has ever criticized Samantha, to the extent that I’ve sometimes wondered whether they blame me for the breakdown of my marriage. The realization that they don’t, and that they must have seen some of what happened, comes as a welcome relief.
“I should have spoken to you more about it at the time,” I say. I was so full of anger and frustration that I withdrew into myself and refused to talk about it, despite both their attempts to draw it out of me.
“That’s okay.” She rubs my arm. “We know you well enough to understand that you needed time to deal with it. As long as you know we’re always there to talk if you need us.”
I pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Mom.”
“Aw, Ryan. I love you too.” She hugs me back, and we stand there like that for a moment, in the rays of the afternoon sun, until Dad comes up.
“Can I join in?” he asks, and puts his arms around both of us.
I laugh and move back. “So… Leon the playboy is finally married, can you believe it?”
“I can,” Mom says, looking across at him. I’ve never seen him look this happy. He frowns more than he smiles, but today his face is lit with love and laughter.
“He should be careful; if the wind changes, his face will stay like that,” Charlie says, coming up behind us. “The world wouldn’t be the same without his scowl.”
“Aw,” Ophelia scolds, “he’s a pussy cat beneath all that growling. Just like you.”
I snort—my uncle hasn’t growled in his life. Apparently Matt once compared him to Pooh Bear, and I can totally see that comparison, apart from the paunch, as Charlie’s still as slim and fit as he always was.
“Clio looks nice,” my mother says innocently—too innocently. I throw her a wry look, then glance at my father, who tries to hide a smile, and fails.
“All right,” I say good-naturedly. “Who spilled the beans?”
“Jules might have said something to Matt,” Dad admits.
I roll my eyes and mumble, “There are no secrets in this family.”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asks. “Are you and Clio having a thing?”
“Jesus.” I run my hand through my hair as the others laugh at Charlie’s cluelessness. “They’re starting the photographs.” I walk off, leaving their laughter behind me.
They mean well, but I wish that what’s happened between Clio and I had remained a secret. Did she tell Jules, or did Jules guess? Probably the latter, I think, because Jules is astute, and I don’t think Clio would have blurted it out. She doesn’t want her brother discovering what happened any more than I do. Oh well, the deed is don
e, and you can’t put toothpaste back in the tube.
I walk toward where all the bridesmaids are gathered under the towering pohutukawa tree, and then stop. Clio’s talking to a guy. He’s huge, six-four at least, with wide shoulders and a thick thatch of hair. He’s good-looking in an I-play-rugby-so-don’t-mess-with-me kind of way. I’ve not seen him before. She’s looking up at him and laughing, and although they’re not touching, I can tell he likes her.
Well, why wouldn’t he? She’s gorgeous. And she doesn’t belong to me, so there’s nothing I can do about it.
Ignoring the flare of jealousy in my belly, I turn away and walk over to Leon to give him my congratulations.
Chapter Seventeen
Clio
As always happens at weddings, the photographs seem to go on forever—the bride and groom alone, then with the bridesmaids, then the parents, then close family, as many different permutations as the photographer can think of. But it’s a beautiful day, and nobody seems to mind. A couple of waiters mingle amongst the guests with trays of glasses filled with champagne, and everyone’s enjoying catching up with people they haven’t seen for a long time.
Ryan’s nearby, but I don’t get a chance to talk to him for the next half an hour or so. When I finally have a break from the photos, he’s talking to Hal and Albie and some old friend of their fathers’ that I don’t know, and then while I’m chatting to Jules we get hijacked by old school friends of Leon’s who’ve obviously decided to tick getting off with a bridesmaid off their bucket list.
Eventually, though, the photographer calls for all the members of the King family for one big photo, and as we crowd together, I find myself next to Ryan. He doesn’t attempt to put his arm around me, but as the photographer motions us closer together, I can feel the heat radiating from Ryan’s body.
“Hello stranger,” I whisper to him, as the photographer moves along the crowd, organizing everyone. “Are you trying to avoid me?”
He’s standing a little behind me, his left shoulder touching the back of my right, and I can feel his hot gaze on my neck, as if he’s thinking about bending and placing his lips there.
“You seemed otherwise occupied,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want to cramp your style.”
I glance over my shoulder at him. He raises an eyebrow. “Ryan King,” I say, amused, “are you jealous?”
“No,” he says. His eyes, though, say otherwise.
I wonder whether to push it and pretend I’m interested in another guy, but I’m not a prick-tease. I like Ryan, and I don’t want him thinking I could sleep with him one night and then be chatting up another guy the next.
“No need,” I tell him. “Bear’s fun, but he’s not my type.”
“Bear?” he says, amused. “The name fits.”
“It does. He has as much hair on the back of his hands as he does on his head.”
Ryan snorts, then nudges me. “Don’t make me laugh,” he whispers as the photographer takes her place behind her camera.
We pose and smile, pose and smile, then the group eventually breaks, and we take a few steps to one side together.
“Is Bear his real name?” Ryan asks.
“I don’t think so. I was tempted to ask him if his surname was Bum.”
“Bare bum?” Ryan snorts.
I sigh. “I mustn’t be mean; he’s a nice guy. He and his mate just want to get laid, that’s all. I can understand that.”
Ryan looks across at Bear’s friend, Pete, who’s cornered Jules again. “You think she’s interested?”
I shrug. “I’d say no, because of Stefan, but she’s convinced he’s not interested in her. Did you manage to have a word with him?”
“Not about her, not yet. I will, though.” He nudges me and gestures with his head. I follow his gaze and see Stefan standing to one side, sipping from a glass of champagne. He’s watching Pete and Jules talking beneath a tree. Pete says something and Jules looks up at him and laughs, placing a hand on his chest. Stefan turns away and strides across the lawn, his face like thunder, and disappears around the corner.
“Don’t know what’s going on there,” I say, bemused. “If he likes her, why doesn’t he ask her out? I don’t understand men sometimes. It’s not rocket science.”
I glance back up at Ryan, and he’s looking down at me. I don’t think he heard a word I said. His gaze is resting on my mouth, and I can tell he’s thinking about kissing me.
“Still want me?” I ask playfully.
His lips curve up a little, but he doesn’t reply. His eyes are sultry, full of heat.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I whisper.
He blinks slowly. “About fucking you in that dress.”
A thrill goes through me. “Jeez,” I protest, “straight to the point as ever.” But we both know I’m not insulted or shocked. Okay, maybe I’m a little shocked. He seems like such a nice boy, but I’m beginning to discover he’s not nice at all. In fact, he’s decidedly wicked. That delights me. I love wicked.
“I’ll let you,” I tell him, “but only if you keep the suit on.”
That makes him smile. “Deal,” he murmurs.
“Wow.” It’s Jules, who’s finally escaped Pete’s clutches. “We’ll have to put up a sign warning of forest fires if you two don’t get a room.”
“We’re not even touching,” I say, gesturing at the several inches between us.
“Girl, they could feel the heat between you from Mars.”
Ryan raises his eyebrows at his sister. “How’s Pete?” he asks, diverting her attention from the two of us.
She blows a raspberry and stops a waiter as he passes. He hands us all a glass. “Desperate,” she says when he walks on.
“He’s nice though,” I protest. “Fairly good-looking, and funny. You should totally bang him tonight.”
Ryan coughs into his champagne, and Jules rolls her eyes.
“What?” I protest. “It might make Stefan jealous.”
“Like he even notices I exist.” She pouts. “I could dance around the Alice Garden with tassels on my tits and he’d be busy studying the fountain.”
“Christ,” Ryan says, and he walks off, over to where Hal and Leon are talking to Jackie, the organizer.
“What’s eating his bacon?” Jules asks, sipping her champagne.
“I fried his brain by talking about sex in this dress,” I tell her. “And on that subject, Stefan was totally watching you while you talked to Pete.”
She glances around the garden, frowning. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Where is he?”
“He strode off. He was clearly annoyed. I don’t know why he hasn’t asked you out, but he definitely likes you.”
Her smile fades, and her eyes grow cool as she looks into the distance. “Maybe he does. How would I know? I really have done everything but put tassels on my nipples, Clio. He’s not interested in dating me. And I’m kinda sick of waiting, you know? I broke up from Connor a year ago. It’s been eleven months, twenty-two hours and six minutes since I last had sex. I’m going rusty down there.”
“You definitely need lubricating.”
“I do, I really do.” Her gaze comes back to me then, and she smiles. “I’m so happy for you. I mean, I’m not that comfortable talking about my brother’s sex life, but the way Ryan looked at you—his eyes could have burned through lead.”
“I’ve got Kryptonite pussy,” I tell her, and we both start giggling.
“Sounds like someone better slow down on the champagne.” It’s Leon, looking even more smug and superior than usual just because he’s put a ring on his girl’s finger.
“You know that just because you’re married it doesn’t give you the right to demand sex whenever you want it?” I tell him.
“Totally does,” he says, “and Nix knows it.”
“You look wonderful, Leon.” Jules raises onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “So happy.”
“Yeah, well.” He gives a casual shrug that
doesn’t come anywhere near hiding his relief that Nix is finally his. “I hear they’ve got a fifty-year-old Macallan whisky in their cellars. That’s enough to keep any man happy.”
“Careful,” I warn, “you don’t want to get brewer’s droop on your wedding night.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Glad you could make it, little sis.”
I scowl at him. “There’s no way I was going to miss the chance to point out that you now have a ball and chain, old man.”
“Don’t care,” he says cheerfully. “Happy to wear it.” He moves closer to me then and surprises me with a big hug and a kiss on my forehead. “Glad you’re here; it wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
“Mind the makeup,” I mumble, blinking away sudden tears.
“I’m relieved Ryan missed the plane too,” Leon adds. “Sounds like he took good care of you.”
I meet Jules’s gaze over his shoulder. She mimes going down on a guy, and I stifle a short laugh. “Yeah, he’s one of the good guys.”
Leon moves back and meets my gaze. He hesitates, and for a brief moment I wonder whether someone’s told him, and he’s about to berate me. But he just tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and says, “You look beautiful today. You know, for a teenager.”
I push his hand away and replace the curled strand by my cheek where it belongs. “Bugger off.”
He grins and walks away, back to his bride.
“Phew,” Jules murmurs. “Thought he was going to give you an earful then.”
“Yeah, me too. Is Ryan like that with you? All protective and shit?”
“Not really, but he came to see me in August and told me he’d heard about Connor, and asked if I wanted him to go and talk to Connor about it. He was really sweet.”
Connor’s her ex. Just over a year ago, on Christmas Eve, Jules turned up on the doorstep of my apartment in tears with a black eye and, over a bottle of wine, admitted he’d hit her during an argument. Connor had been the jealous type, constantly demanding to know where she’d been and who she’d seen. About a month before they broke up, he’d proposed to her, but she’d told me he’d only done it because he thought it would be like fixing her with a chastity belt. She’d turned him down, and things had deteriorated quickly after that. One night she’d come home late after a busy day at work to find him drunk. Their argument had escalated, and he’d given her a backhander across the face. She’d picked up her purse and walked out, and hasn’t spoken to him since.
My Wicked Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 6) Page 12
