by Fiona Brand
“Don’t worry, the media will be taken care of. It’s all arranged.”
Something about his manner brought her head up, sharpened all her senses. “What do you mean, ‘arranged’? If the media doesn’t see me for a few days, the story will die a death.”
“No, it won’t,” Lucas said flatly. “Not this time.”
The door to the limousine popped open. Lucas exited first. Reluctantly Carla followed, stepping into the dusty, steamy heat of midtown Sydney.
The media surged forward. To Carla’s relief they were instantly held at bay by a wall of burly men in dark suits.
Lucas’s hand landed in the small of her back, the heat of his palm burning through her dress, then they were moving. Carla kept her spine stiff, informing Lucas that she wasn’t happy with either the situation or his touch, which seemed entirely too intimate.
The glass doors of the hotel threw a reflection back at her. Lucas stood tall and muscled by her side, his gaze with that grim, icy quality that always sent shivers down her spine. With the other men flanking them in a protective curve, she couldn’t help thinking they looked like a trailer for a gangster flick.
The doors slid open, and the air-conditioned coolness of the hotel foyer flowed around her as they walked briskly to a bank of elevators. A security guard was holding an empty elevator car. Relief eased some of her tension as they stepped inside.
Before the doors could slide closed a well-dressed female reporter, microphone in hand, cameraman in tow, sidestepped security and grabbed the door, preventing it from closing.
“Mr. Atraeus, Ms. Ambrosi, can you confirm the rumor that Sienna Atraeus is pregnant?”
There was a moment of confusion as security reacted, forcing the woman and her cameraman to step back.
Lucas issued a sharp order. The doors snapped closed and she found herself alone with Lucas as the elevator lurched into motion.
Carla’s stomach clenched at the sudden acceleration.
Sienna pregnant.
“Constantine phoned me earlier to let me know that Sienna was pregnant and that it was possible the story had been leaked.”
A hurt she had stubbornly avoided dealing with hit her like a kick in the chest.
She didn’t begrudge Sienna one moment of her happiness, but it was a fact that she possessed all the things that Carla realized she wanted. Not necessarily right now, but sometime in the future, in their natural order, and with Lucas.
But Lucas was showing no real signs of commitment.
Blankly, she watched floor numbers flash by. If she were pregnant she had to assume there would be no marriage, no happy ending, no husband to love and cherish her and the child.
She became aware the elevator had stopped. She sucked in a deep breath, but the oxygen didn’t seem to be getting through. Her head felt heavy and pressurized, her knees wobbly. Not illness, just good old-fashioned panic.
Lucas took her arm, holding her steady. The top of her head bumped his chin, the scrape of his stubbled jaw on the sensitive skin of her forehead sending a reflexive shiver through her. She inhaled, gasping air like a swimmer surfacing, and his warm male scent, laced with the subtle edge of cologne, filled her nostrils.
Lucas said something curt in Medinian. “Damn, you are pregnant.”
A split second later the elevator doors slid open.
Fingers automatically tightening around the strap of her handbag, which was in danger of sliding off her shoulder, she stepped out into a broad, carpeted corridor. Lucas’s security, who must have taken another elevator, were waiting.
Lucas’s hand closed around her arm. “Slow down. I’ve got you.”
“That’s part of the problem.”
“Then deal with it. I’m not going away.”
She shot him an icy glare. “I thought leaving was the whole point?”
He traded a cool glance but didn’t reply because they had reached the designated suite. A murmur rippled through the room as they were recognized, but this time, courtesy of the heavy presence of security, there was no undisciplined rush.
Tomas, Constantine’s PA, and Lucas’s mother, Maria Therese, were already seated. Carla took a seat next to Lucas. Seconds later, Zane escorted Lilah into the room.
Her stomach contracted as the questions began. The presence of a mediator limited the topics to the Atraeus takeover of Ambrosi, Ambrosi’s new collection and the re-creation of the historic Ambrosi pearl facility on the Medinian island of Ambrus. However, when Lucas rose to his feet, indicating that the press conference was over, a barrage of personal questions ensued.
Lucas’s fingers laced with hers, the contact intimate and unsettling as he pulled her to her feet. When she discreetly tried to pull free, wary of creating even more unpleasant speculation, he sent her a warning glance, his hold firming.
As they stepped off the podium the media, no longer quietly seated, swirled around them. The clear, husky voice of a well-known television reporter cut through the shouted questions. A microphone was thrust at Lucas’s face.
The reporter flashed him a cool smile. “Can you confirm or deny the reports that you’ve resumed your affair with Carla?”
Lucas pulled her in close against his side as they continued to move at a steady pace. His gaze intersected with hers, filled with cool warning. “No official statement has been issued yet, however I can confirm that Carla Ambrosi and I have been secretly engaged for the past two years.”
The room erupted. Lucas bit out a grim order. The security team, already working to push the press back, closed in, forcing a bubble of privacy and shoving Carla up hard against Lucas. His arm tightened and she found herself lifted off her feet as he literally propelled her from the room.
Shock and a wave of edgy heat zapped through her as she clung to his narrow waist and scrambled to keep her balance. Seconds later they were sealed into the claustrophobic confines of what looked like a service elevator, still surrounded by burly security.
Carla twisted, trying to peel loose from his hold. Lucas easily resisted the attempt, tightening his arms around her. In the process she ended up plastered against his chest. The top button of her dress came unfastened and his hand, which was spread across her rib cage, shifted up so that his thumb and index finger sank into the swell of one breast.
As if a switch had been thrown, she was swamped by memories, some hot and sensuous enough that her breasts tightened and her belly contracted, some hurtful enough that her temper roared to life.
Lucas’s gaze burned over the lush display of cleavage where the bodice of her dress gaped. “Keep still,” he growled.
But she noticed he didn’t move his hand.
She was not enjoying it. After the humiliation of the previous evening the last thing she needed was to be clamped against all that hot, hard muscle, making her feel small and wimpy and tragically easy. Unfortunately, her body wasn’t in sync with her mind. She couldn’t control the heat flushing her skin or the automatic tightening of her nipples, and Lucas knew it.
The doors slid open. Before she could protest, they were moving again, this time through the lower bowels of the hotel. A door off a loading bay was shoved wide and they spilled out onto a walled parking area where several vehicles, including a limousine, were parked.
Her fury increased. Here was the back entrance she had needed an hour ago.
Hot, clammy air flowed around her as she clambered into the limousine, clutching her purse. Lucas slid in beside her, his muscled thigh brushing hers. She flinched as if scalded and scooted over another few inches.
His gaze flashed to hers as they accelerated away from the curb. “All right?”
His calm control pushed her over the edge. She reached for her seat belt and jammed the fastenings together. “Secretly engaged?”
A week ago an engagement was what she had longed for, what she would have loved. “Correct me if I’m wrong, maybe I blacked out at some stage, but I don’t ever remember a proposal of marriage.”
She caugh
t Tiberio’s surprised glance in the rearview mirror.
Lucas’s expression was grim. A faint hum filled the air as a privacy screen slid smoothly into place, locking them into a bubble of silence.
She stared at Lucas, incensed. Thanks to the mad dash through the hotel, her hair had unwound and was now cascading untidily down her back, and she was perspiring. In contrast, Lucas looked cool and completely in control, his suit GQ perfect. “An engagement is the logical solution.”
“It’s damage control, and it’s completely unnecessary.” She remembered her gaping bodice and hurriedly refastened the button. “I may not be pregnant.”
Her voice sounded husky and tight, even to herself, and she wondered, a little wildly, if he could tell how much she suddenly wanted to be pregnant.
“Whether you’re pregnant or not is a consideration, but it isn’t an issue, yet.”
Something seized in her chest, her heart. For a crazy moment she considered that he was about to admit that he was in love with her, that he didn’t care if she was pregnant or not, he couldn’t live without her. Then reality dissolved that fantasy. “But what the newspapers are printing is. Do you know how humiliating it is to be offered a forced marriage?”
Irritation tinged with outrage registered in his expression. “No one’s forcing you to do anything. Marriage as an option can’t be such a shock. Not after what happened on Medinos. And last night.”
“Well, I guess that puts things in perspective. It’s a practical option.”
Her mood was definitely spiraling down. Practicality spelled death for all romance. Cancel the white wedding with champagne and rose petals. Bring on the registry office and matching gray suits.
“I wouldn’t propose marriage if I didn’t want to marry you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Is that the proposal?”
His expression was back to remote. “It isn’t what I had planned, but, yes.”
“Uh-huh.” She drew a deep breath and counted to ten. “The biggest mistake I made was in agreeing to sleep with you.”
Suddenly he was close, one arm draped behind her, his warm male scent laced with the enticing cologne stopping the breath in her throat. “On which occasion?”
She stared rigidly ahead, trying to ignore the heated gleam in his eyes, the subtle cajoling that shouldn’t succeed in getting her on side, but which was slowly undermining her will to resist.
That was the other thing about Lucas, besides the power and influence he wielded in the business world. When he wanted he could be stunningly seducingly attentive. But this time she refused to be swayed by his killer charm. “All of them.”
He wound a strand of her hair around one finger and lightly tugged. She felt his breath fanning her nape. “That’s a lot of mistakes.”
And she had enjoyed every one of them.
She resisted the urge to turn her head, putting her mouth bare inches from his and letting the conversation take them to the destination he was so blatantly angling for—a bone-melting kiss. “I should never have slept with you, period.”
He dropped the strand of hair and sat back, slightly, signaling that he had changed tack. “Meaning that if you had played your cards right,” he said softly, “you could have had marriage in the beginning?”
Ten
Like quicksilver the irresistible pull of attraction was gone, replaced by wrenching hurt. “Just because I didn’t talk about marriage, that didn’t mean I thought it would never be on the agenda for us. And what is so wrong with that?”
Silence vibrated through the limousine. She saw Tiberio glance nervously in the rearview mirror. She turned her head to watch city traffic zip by and registered that her stomach felt distinctly hollow.
Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. She’d only had coffee for breakfast and it was after one. She would be eating lunch soon, which would fix the acid in her stomach, but she couldn’t wait that long. Fumbling in her purse, she took out the small plastic bag that contained a few antacid tablets and a couple of individually packaged biscuits. After unwrapping a slightly battered biscuit, she took a bite.
“Marriage is on the agenda now,” Lucas reminded her. “I need an answer.”
She hastily finished the biscuit and stuffed the plastic bag back in her purse.
Lucas watched her movements with an annoyed fascination. “Do you usually eat when marriage is being proposed?”
“I was hungry. I needed to eat.”
“I’ll have to remember that should I ever have occasion to propose again.”
She closed the flap on her purse. Maybe it was childish not to tell him that she had ended up with an ulcer, but it was no big deal and she was still hurt that he hadn’t ever bothered to check up on her after he had deposited her on the plane home from Thailand. The memory of his treatment of her, which had been uncharacteristically callous, stiffened her spine. “I don’t know why you want marriage now when clearly you broke up with me because you didn’t view me as ‘wife’ material.”
His gaze was unwavering, making her feel suddenly uncomfortable about giving him such a hard time.
“As it happens, you’ve always fulfilled the most important requirement.”
She was suddenly, intensely conscious of the warmth of his arm behind her. “Which is?”
Her breath seized in her throat as Lucas cupped her chin with his free hand. She had a split second to either pull back or turn her head so his mouth would miss hers. Instead, hope turned crazy cartwheels in her stomach, and she allowed the kiss.
Long, breathless minutes later he lifted his head. “You wanted to know why marriage is acceptable to me. This is why.”
His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone, sending tingling heat shivering across the delicate skin and igniting a familiar, heated tension. His mouth brushed hers again, the kiss lingering. The stirring tension wound tighter. Reflexively, she leaned closer, angling her jaw to deepen the kiss. Her hand slid around to grip his nape and pull him closer still.
When he finally lifted his head, his gaze was bleak. “Two months without you was two months too long. What happened on Medinos and in my apartment is a case in point. I want you back.”
Carla released her hold on his nape and drew back. Her mouth, her whole body, was tingling.
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but the hope fizzing inside refused to die a complete death.
Lucas had tried to end their relationship; it hadn’t happened. She hadn’t chased him. If he had truly wanted an end, she was in no doubt that he would have icily and clinically cut her out of his life.
He hadn’t been able to because he couldn’t resist her.
He might label what held them together as sex; she preferred to call it chemistry. There was a reason they were attracted to each other that went way beyond the physical into the area of personality and emotional needs. Despite their difficulties and clashes, at a deep, bedrock level she knew they were perfect for each other.
That they had continued their relationship for two years was further proof that whatever he either claimed or denied, for Lucas she was different in some way. She knew, because she had made it her business to check. Lucas was only ever recorded by the tabloids as having one serious relationship before her, a model called Sophie, and that had been something like five years ago. The fact that he wanted the marriage now, when a pregnancy was by no means certain, underlined just how powerfully he did want her.
It wasn’t love, but everything in her shouted that it had to be possible for the potent chemistry that had bound Lucas to her for the past two years to turn to love.
She was clutching at straws. Her heart was pounding and her stomach kept lurching. There was a possibility that Lucas might never truly love her, never fully commit himself to the relationship. There was a chance she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
But, risky or not, if she was honest, her mind had been made up the second she’d heard his announcement to the press.
She loved Lucas.
<
br /> If there was a chance that he could love her, then she was taking it.
* * *
Lucas activated the privacy screen. When it opened, he leaned forward and spoke in rapid Medinian to Tiberio. He caught the skeptical flash of his chief bodyguard’s gaze in the rearview mirror as he confirmed that they would be making the scheduled stop at the jewelers.
However, the wry amusement that would normally have kicked up the corners of his mouth in answer to Tiberio’s pessimism was absent. When it came to Carla, he was beginning to share Tiberio’s doubts. She hadn’t said yes, and he was by no means certain that she would.
Carla, who was once again rummaging in her handbag, stiffened as the limousine pulled into the cramped loading bay of a downtown building. “This isn’t the restaurant.”
Lucas climbed out as Tiberio opened the door then leaned in and took Carla’s hand. “We have one stop to make before lunch.”
As Carla climbed out he noted the moment she spotted the elegant sign that indicated this was the rear entrance to the premises of Moore’s, a famous jeweler. A business that just happened to be owned by The Atraeus Group.
Her expression was accusing. “You had this all planned.”
“Last night you knew as well as I that the story would go to press.”
Her light blue gaze flashed. Before she could formulate an argument and decide to answer his proposal with a no, Lucas propelled her toward the back entrance.
Frustration welled that he hadn’t been able to extract an answer from her and that he couldn’t gauge her mood, but he kept a firm clamp on his temper. An edgy, hair-trigger temper that, until these past two weeks, he hadn’t known existed.
He offered her his arm and forced himself to patience when she didn’t immediately take it.
Clear, glacial-blue eyes clashed with his. “What makes you think I’m actually going to go through with this?”
Lucas noted that she stopped short of using the word charade. “I apologize for trying to bulldoze you,” he said grimly. “I realize I’ve mishandled the situation.”
