by Nadia Lee
“You thought it was a good idea? And it didn’t occur to you to talk to me first?” she asked, controlling her breathing and voice despite rising anger. For once she was grateful for Shirley’s endless criticism and harping; both had improved Ceinlys’s self-restraint.
“I thought that’s what you wanted. Your husb—ex-husband said your family’s grove was no good. That’s the place you were going to have the wedding, right?” Wes cleared his throat. “Since Iain was going to pay for the reception anyway, I thought it might not matter…you know, have the ceremony and reception at the same place, and then he can just pay for it in one lump sum.”
“What did Iain say?”
“Said he liked the idea.”
And of course her son hadn’t thought to call her first. “I see. Thank you for letting me know.” Last.
“No problem. And thank you for helping Jane. Heard it isn’t easy to plan a wedding for someone like Iain.”
She unclenched her jaw. “We all do what we can. After all, this is about family, not money.”
He went on about some other things, to which she made ambiguously vague noises. As soon as they ended the call, she glared at the cup of macchiato, then shook her head. The poor coffee hadn’t done anything to earn her ire.
She didn’t care what Salazar was plotting behind her back. She was going ahead with the plan to restore the grove anyway. If Iain wanted a different venue, he was welcome to find one on his own.
Her phone rang again, and she checked the screen. Paul GC—for General Contractor. “Hello, Paul.” Not a hint of annoyance came through in her tone. The new developments weren’t his fault.
“I’m afraid we have a problem.” He exhaled roughly. “The staff at the grove won’t let the crew in. Apparently your husband said no.”
“Ex-husband,” she corrected him, although the prefix felt foreign on her tongue. Even during the worst years of their marriage, she’d never thought she’d call Salazar ex-anything.
“Sure. Sorry. Anyway, is there a problem? My men worked here just fine until yesterday.”
“If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll check and see what’s going on.”
“Appreciate it. These guys are on the clock.”
Ceinlys hung up and dialed Kimberly.
“Salazar Pryce’s line, this is Kimberly Sanford speaking.”
“Good morning, Kimberly.” She kept her voice neutral but firm.
“Hello, Ms. Glazier.” Kimberly spoke calmly and professionally.
Always so precise. On the other hand, if the young woman hadn’t been good at her job, Salazar would never have kept her. He had a reputation for firing and then seducing assistants who didn’t measure up to his exacting standards. A lot of brainless girls had tried to snare him by applying to be his assistant, dreaming that they would be the one to capture his heart.
But Salazar hadn’t left his wife for anyone, not even for Georgia Love Davis, the only woman Ceinlys had truly felt threatened by.
“Why is Salazar preventing my crew from entering the grove and continuing with their work?”
“Excuse me?”
Ceinlys knew the girl had heard the first time. “Well?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word about it to me. Would you like me to call him and inquire about the matter?”
“That would be helpful. The crew is already out there, waiting.”
“Certainly. I’ll call you back as soon as I speak with him.”
While waiting, Ceinlys finished her macchiato. Just as she took the final sip, Kimberly’s name popped on the phone screen. That was fast. “Yes, Kimberly?”
“I spoke to him, and he said he would discuss the matter with you directly.”
Ceinlys felt her right eyebrow twitch. Why did he want to talk to her? Besides, if he wanted to talk, he could’ve just called directly instead of going through his assistant.
He was playing another of his power games—to show that he was superior and better than she. “I see. Is he available now?”
“He should be. As far as I know, he’s in his home office.”
“Excellent. I’ll call him then.”
She dialed his mobile, but he didn’t pick up. When she hit the voice mail, she hung up and tried again. The second attempt, too, went to the voice mail.
Irritation and frustration simmered in equal parts through her veins. He was doing this purely to play with her.
Why can’t he let me do this one thing? Jaw tight, she picked up her purse. If Salazar wouldn’t answer his phone, she would pay him a visit.
* * *
Salazar tossed the phone on the desk and stared out the window at the garden outside. He knew exactly why Ceinlys wanted to talk, but he wasn’t going to answer—just like she hadn’t earlier.
It was probably petty of him, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t want the grove restored in any particular hurry. Nor did he want to give Ceinlys and her crew free rein there, even though he knew they would do a great job.
She wanted a venue for the wedding, and she’d get what she needed when Iain got around to forking out some serious dough for it.
The sun was reflected off the garden’s pond, and he squinted. His eyes felt like they were full of sand. He put in a few eye drops, then blinked and rolled his eyes around to spread the liquid. He ought to sleep better. He knew it was important.
But knowing something was important and actually doing something about it were two very different propositions.
He turned to the stack of papers on his desk. Maybe he should retire, like Geraldine had suggested. The only reason he hadn’t—even though everyone had thought he was about to—was out of sheer stubbornness. He hated doing what people expected him to, especially his mother and sister.
Except…he’d done everything Shirley had predicted.
Had other women. Check.
Divorced Ceinlys. Check.
Generally fucked up his family life. Check.
He leaned back and put his feet on his desk. Maybe Ceinlys had the right idea. Maybe he should get out of the country for a while. Take a trip, clear his head, find some nubile young thing to go with him. He was divorced now. Free. Why should he let Ceinlys’s remark at the hospital get to him like this?
It was too late to get clarification at this point—there was no social sin like poor timing, and if he brought it up now it would only make him look pathetic and needy, two things he’d rather die than become.
He lost track of time, sitting there and floating in and out of inconsequential thoughts. Eventually Al knocked on the door.
“Sir, Ms. Glazier is here.”
Salazar blinked, disoriented. Who was Ms. Glazier? Not one of his arm candies. Al knew better than to bother Salazar with one of those. Then his brain finally kicked in.
Ceinlys.
A small jolt went through his chest at the realization. Of course she wasn’t a Pryce anymore. But she was here? Now?
Putting his feet on the floor, he said, “Send her in.”
He had not even half a minute to steel himself before she swept inside like a storm. She seemed even thinner now—still on a diet?—and the makeup on her face was perfect, highlighting those exquisite cheekbones and stunning eyes. When he’d pursued her in his youth, everyone had assumed it was her body he’d fallen in love with—after all, she’d had T and A good enough to make a man sell his mother. But it was her extraordinary eyes he’d noticed first. Wide and expressive, they’d always been full of bright mischief and secret amusement.
They no longer sparkled, and Salazar couldn’t remember the last time her eyes had held any sort of playfulness. Most of the time they held very little. Now, however, her gaze burned with barely suppressed anger.
For some perverse reason, that pleased him. At least it was something.
Al brought in a cup of macchiato for her and a glass of water for him, then vanished.
“Ceinlys! I didn’t know we had an appointment.”
�
��We don’t.” She took a plushy armchair, then crossed her legs. Her small feet were encased in a pair of black stilettos, which never failed to snag his attention.
“You know I don’t like to talk to people without an appointment.”
“Yes. And I know you will make an exception.” Her voice was as hard as granite. “What is the meaning of turning my crew away? And forcing Jane’s father to take Iain’s money for the wedding?”
“The lawyers aren’t finished haggling. I’ve been told it’s better if the grove is left as is until they’re done,” he lied. His lawyers had said he could do whatever he wanted. “As for Jane’s father, he should’ve known better. Don’t tell me you were really going to plan a wedding with only twenty thousand?”
Her jaw flexed. “I was, and I am.”
He waved his hand negligently. “Iain’s my son, too. I want him to have a great wedding. He can afford to pay for it, and Wes needs to get over it…or he should’ve made a better effort to put aside money for his ‘baby girl’.”
Ceinlys curled her hands until they were white-knuckled fists. “Have you ever considered that perhaps twenty thousand is his best? Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”
“There’s a difference between doing one’s best and being realistic. And if he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he shouldn’t object when one’s handed to him on a gold platter.”
“Are you finished?”
“No.” He studied her. Her eyes were shooting anger toward him, and not even the makeup could hide the flush rising to her cheeks. The sight invigorated him like no other because it was an honest reaction, which was what he’d wanted for so long. “Iain and Jane won’t be getting married at the grove since it won’t be ready in time.”
“It could be ready in time, if you’d put your mind to supervising the process or else let me deal with the matter.”
“Damn it, the last person I want to see at that place is you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he cursed himself. That wasn’t how he’d wanted to put it.
Too late.
She flinched as though he’d struck her. A small gasp left her lips, and for a moment it looked like she might cry.
Jesus. The sight cut him like a scalpel.
“I see.” Her mouth firmed, and her composure instantly returned.
Damn it. Her poise was a lie. He knew that much. “Ceinlys—”
“Are there any other places where you object to seeing me?” The cold finality in her voice said she wasn’t going to veer from the topic nor was she going to accept his apology.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Not that I can recall at the moment.”
“I see. Do send me a list when your memory improves.”
“I didn’t—”
“And I’ll make sure that Iain and Jane’s ceremony doesn’t spend a penny of his money.”
He suppressed a sigh. She wouldn’t listen to a word if he tried to apologize. “Why do you care?” he asked instead. “It’s not like it matters who’s paying for the damn thing.”
“It matters to Jane’s family. And why start the marriage by crushing the other side? It isn’t as though life won’t become difficult as is.”
“‘Crushing’? No one is crush—.”
“You’re going to crush Wes’s pride.”
Salazar snorted. “Don’t be absurd.”
“And I want to let you know I plan to continue with the work at the grove. Since you don’t want me there, I’ll send the crew alone. You can inspect to make sure their work is satisfactory.”
“No way am I doing that.”
“Then send Kimberly.”
Ceinlys was staring at a spot above his head, refusing to make eye contact. She sat absolutely still, like a porcelain figure whose slightest move would shatter itself. It was all he could do not to reach out, only because he knew she would find the gesture horrifying.
“I need to go,” she murmured. “I have things to do.”
“What the hell is it with the damn grove?” he asked. “Tell me why it’s important to you, then I’ll consider letting the work go on.”
She finally brought her gaze down to him, and there was pain in it. She held his eyes for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “You proposed to me there. You also told me you loved me.”
An enormous lump formed in his throat. He couldn’t have produced any words even if he’d known what to say.
“I realize you don’t now, and I don’t even know how long it lasted, but I think you meant it back then, at that moment.” Her eyes slid away, as though she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, and that hurt. “I already signed papers to relinquish all rights to the place if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“The grove is where we made love for the first time.” Ceinlys had been a virgin, and he had been so, so careful to make sure she enjoyed her first time, coaxing every drop of pleasure out of her.
And although she didn’t know it, the grove was also the place he’d realized he’d fallen in love with her.
Just as it was the place his mother had coolly told him to get rid of her, as a confirmed gold digger like Ceinlys didn’t belong by his side.
A bright flush colored Ceinlys’s face. Her reaction fascinated him. She didn’t act like a woman who didn’t care. And, perverse idiot that he was, he liked it.
“Yes,” she said. “It was.”
“We’re divorced, like you requested. Like you wanted. Let the place lie in ruins. Why does it matter?”
Her mouth thinned until it became two shades lighter. Disappointment bled through him. That was her stubborn look. She wasn’t going to answer him.
Then suddenly she shook her head and opened her mouth. “I want to believe that some parts of our marriage were real and happy, that you felt something genuine for me. Anything else is…too pathetic for all those years I stayed with you, isn’t it?” She blinked rapidly a few times, then smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Why are you moving away? And why so far? What the fuck’s in Provence?”
She frowned at his abrupt change of topic. “I’ve always wanted to live in France. Maybe brush up on my French.”
“You never told me.”
The first time he’d bought a vacation property, a year after they’d married, he’d asked her what country would be preferable.
He already knew she’d married for money, so why not give her a taste of it? He hated himself for wanting to give her fine things, but she was his wife and it was his duty to take care of her. Not to mention she was pregnant. It was fitting he let her choose.
“I’m fine with anything you decide,” she said with an unreadable expression on her face. “Maybe Mexico or…Spain?”
“Spain’s a little far if you want to visit before you have the baby.”
“You’re right. Maybe Mexico is better. It’s closer…and nice enough.”
Never once had she mentioned during their long marriage that she’d wanted to live in France, much less Provence. The times she’d gone to the country, she’d always stayed in Paris.
Was there an old lover in Provence? He searched her face, but it betrayed nothing. Jealousy burned Salazar like acid, and he wanted to kill whoever was waiting for her across the sea.
Good god. You’re being unreasonable. She’s your ex. There’s nothing between you anymore.
Except what she’d said at the hospital.
You should’ve gotten to the bottom of things before giving her the divorce.
Perhaps. But he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He hadn’t wanted to beg for an explanation. He had his pride.
Suddenly, Ceinlys’s shoulders drooped. She rubbed her right temple. “That’s not quite right. I… I simply want to go some place where I can start fresh. Thanks to you, I don’t have to worry about money, so I’m going to live the rest of my life the way I might’ve if I hadn’t married you. I spent so many years trying to be a wife worthy of you and failing
…just as your mother said I would.”
Chapter Eleven
Salazar stared at Ceinlys as she spoke. A wife worthy of him. What the hell was that? She’d been already more than worthy when he’d asked her to marry him. He’d been the one sweating at the idea that she might not have found him good enough and turned him down.
Still…
He didn’t think Ceinlys was lying. Her voice was too raw.
And Shirley had been involved in the mess.
He’d always known his mother had disapproved of Ceinlys. She’d been coolly satisfied when she’d learned that Ceinlys had confirmed her suspicions about marrying him for money. Shirley had insisted he toss Ceinlys out on the streets.
Humiliation and anger had surged through him at his mother’s smugness, and he’d told her he wouldn’t get rid of his wife. “It will be a cold day in hell before I divorce Ceinlys.”
He’d told himself he might’ve heard her conversation out of context. He hadn’t known what Olivia Fairchild had said. Besides, she’d always been a viper, seething with jealousy over Ceinlys’s good fortune.
If Ceinlys had truly married him only for money, she wouldn’t care about anything so long as nothing jeopardized her access to his funds. So he’d put her to the test.
And she’d failed. Spectacularly so. She hadn’t even tried. His jaw clenched until it ached.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m thinking.”
He tilted his head, running his gaze over her guarded expression. She’d never been so closed until after she’d agreed to marry him. He hadn’t given much thought to it, assuming that she was just nervous around his family. After all, his mother had openly opposed the marriage, and Geraldine—bratty ass kisser that she was—had supported Shirley’s position fully.
Had he assumed wrong? He’d been so happy during that time that he hadn’t cared about much. Maybe his lack of perception and caring had led them to…this.
“Tell me. What would’ve made you a worthy wife?”
She turned away. “Does it matter? I was never the wife you needed.”
