Marrying the Enemy

by Nicola Marsh

  Some of his sternness faded. ‘I know that, but what’s got you so excited?’ He smirked. ‘Apart from me?’

  She bopped him on the head. ‘Seaborn’s should have an auction. Loads of hype. Exclusive pieces only. The biggest jewellery auction Melbourne has ever seen.’

  She paced, ideas peppering her with every step. ‘Using social media to build anticipation. Short lead-in time. Next week maybe? Great opportunity to pick up Seaborn signature pieces at a fair price. Need a stunning venue. Melbourne Town Hall maybe? Or—’

  ‘Whoa, slow down.’ He swung his legs over the side of the bed and she hoped to God that sheet wouldn’t slip. Last thing she needed now was the distraction. ‘Wouldn’t something like that take weeks to organise?’

  She waved away his rationality. ‘I’ve got contacts. It can be done.’

  She paced the suite, excitement making her skip every second step. ‘I can do this. Put Seaborn’s back on the jewellery map. Raise much-needed funds in the process.’

  She snapped her fingers. ‘Why didn’t I think of this before?’

  His mouth eased into a sexy grin that packed a wallop. ‘Because I was the one who inspired you.’

  She made a sound like a wet balloon and he chuckled. ‘You made some smart-ass remark about outback auctions, I was the genius who came up with it.’

  He patted the side of the bed. ‘Why doesn’t the resident genius get her cute butt back here and we can brainstorm some more?’

  Thankful he’d moved past his funk—the one that had him threatening to walk out on this marriage before it had even begun—she bounced back to the bed and flung herself into his arms.

  He tipped backwards with a grunt and she straddled him.

  ‘Want to see what other genius ideas I’m capable of coming up with?’

  He didn’t have to be asked twice as he growled in pleasure and tugged her down.

  ‘You love being on top, don’t you?’ His warm breath fanned her ear, his lips toying with the lobe, and she wiggled, enjoying his tortured groan.

  ‘Being in control is good,’ she said, bracing over him, eager to lower herself onto him.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  He reversed their positions so fast her head spun. ‘There, that’s better, back on top where I belong.’

  She swatted his chest. ‘Control freak.’

  ‘You love it when I’m commanding and forceful,’ he said, his hands starting at her shoulders and sweeping down, palming her breasts, circling her stomach, grinding her mound until she writhed, desperate for release.

  ‘Commanding. Forceful. Got it. Ooh...’ Heat streaked through her as he splayed her legs, dipped his head and tongued her until she almost passed out.

  Her head thrashed from side to side, her fingers fisting in the sheets as he drove her closer to the brink with every sweep of his tongue, with every plunge of his fingers inside her.

  She was mindless from the pleasure, the inner tension coiled until she couldn’t bear it. She reared up, bracing on her elbows to watch him drive her to the brink and beyond.

  His gaze locked on hers as the tip of his tongue circled her clitoris for a final time and she came apart, screaming his name.

  There was no smugness in his dark eyes, only satisfaction, and as he grabbed a pillow and slid it under her hips, she knew something important had just happened.

  She’d never had a guy look at her the way Jax had just looked at her.

  As if he could see right through to her very soul.

  She should be terrified. Instead, with delicious aftershocks pulsating through her, all she could think was how connected she felt to him at that moment.

  ‘You still calling me a control freak?’ He knelt between her thighs, bronze, broad shouldered, magnificent.

  Her pelvis arched in a purely reflex reaction. ‘Yeah, but the way you dish it out, you can control me any time.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ His eyes glittered with lust as he made quick work of protection and eased into her with a long, slow thrust.

  Her insides clenched around him, welcoming, needy, missing him the moment he withdrew, desperate for more.

  He obliged, gripping her hips and sliding into her again and again and again, each thrust accentuated by her elevated position with the pillow under her butt, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

  ‘Faster,’ she urged, wrapping her legs around his waist, her hands gripping the headboard for leverage.

  ‘I’m the one in charge,’ he said, his wicked grin exacerbating her anticipation as he continued to slide in and out with torturous finesse.

  ‘Jax, please,’ she gritted out, her pelvis lifting clean off the pillow to meet him thrust for thrust, her inner tension clamouring for another release.

  ‘Seeing as you asked so nicely...’ He picked up the tempo, their bodies rocking in an ageless, erotic rhythm, the air punctuated with soft pants and longing groans as they crested the edge together and fell into blissful oblivion on the other side.

  Jax collapsed on top of her and Ruby was only too happy to hold him close.

  Yeah, something had definitely changed between them but right now, with her body sated and her mind foggy, she didn’t dare determine what it was.

  * * *

  ‘That was some party.’

  Ruby placed the loupe on the black velvet mat in front of her, not in the mood to discuss her wedding reception with her cousin but knowing Opal wouldn’t leave until she did.

  She’d managed to hide away in her workshop all afternoon, part avoidance, part comfort. She needed a lot of comforting today.

  ‘Yeah, it went pretty well.’

  Opal leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms. ‘Jax is smitten.’

  She swallowed a snort. The only thing smiting Jax was his love of business.

  ‘Everyone was talking about how cosy you two looked on the dance floor.’ Opal paused, worrying her bottom lip. ‘Probably a good thing, because they spent the first half of the evening doubting the validity of your secret nuptials, but you had most of them swooning by the end of the night.’

  Ruby shrugged. ‘I don’t really care what the snobs think, never have.’

  A blatant lie. She cared. If the hobnobs didn’t accept her new husband and let him into their world to secure his business, he’d walk, and take her chance at saving Seaborn’s with him.

  He’d renege on their deal, she had no doubt, if he didn’t get what he wanted out of it. He was that kind of guy: ruthless, heartless.

  He’d been on the verge of it last night before she’d distracted him with her auction idea. And the phenomenal sex.

  For that was all they had really. A marriage based on mutual monetary gain and a physical attraction.

  She’d had a lapse in thinking she’d glimpsed more during their sex-capade, for Jax wouldn’t dare let his guard down and this morning he’d reverted back to cool and commanding.

  He had no intention or interest in getting to know her beyond the superficial and while she should’ve been happy about it, she’d moved past delusional.

  She should’ve known. She wasn’t the type to wake up next to a warm body after sharing her troubles with him, and remain immune.

  Her fatal mistake had been telling him the truth this morning.

  They’d been driving back from Crown Towers and he’d asked her how people had accepted their marriage.

  She could’ve lied but she didn’t.

  She’d been the brunt of a lie by omission—thanks to Sapphie keeping Mum’s confidence the last year—and it sucked.

  Besides, considering Denver had embezzled millions from his friends, she’d hazard a guess Jax would’ve had a gutful of lies growing up too.

  So she’d told him the truth.

  How people were suspicious of their marriage motivation, how they were reluctant to trust him because of his father’s sins.

  He’d taken it surprisingly well. Then again, it would’ve come as no shock, considering he’d been fobbed of
f repeatedly when he’d tried to set up vital business meetings.

  By the time he’d dropped her off here, his expression had been as black as his mood.

  Wait ’til he heard her news.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Ruby shook her head, wishing every emotion didn’t play out across her face like a feature movie.

  ‘Thanks, Opal, I appreciate the offer, but I’m too busy.’

  She turned back to her workbench, hoping her cousin would get the hint. She didn’t.

  Opal strolled across the small space to stand beside her. ‘What’re you working on?’

  ‘A canary diamond parure. I’ve finished the necklace, partially done the earrings, with the brooch and bracelet to go.’

  Opal hooked the necklace, her favourite dog-collar style, and held it up to the light, the brilliant-cut diamonds refracting the light. ‘Wow, Rubes, you just get better and better.’

  ‘Would be better if I had a pre-order for it,’ she muttered, making a mental note to return the twelve phone messages Opal had left on her desk earlier.

  It had been a long time since she’d received five phone calls a day, let alone twelve. She’d assumed it’d be the gossipmongers from last night wanting the low-down on her marriage, but what if they were orders?

  Certainly wouldn’t be the social planner she’d met with this afternoon to plan the auction, the same one who had turned up his nose at her proposal.

  ‘Damn, I almost forgot.’ Opal replaced the necklace on the velvet and snapped her fingers. ‘You’ve been commissioned for a pink diamond engagement ring. White gold, fantasy cut, three carat.’

  Ruby whistled. ‘Did you quote a price?’

  Opal nodded, her grin superior. ‘Yep, and they didn’t baulk or quibble. Placed the order on the spot.’

  ‘Wow.’

  Ironic, if she had to choose an engagement ring, she’d go for the same thing. She loved the fantasy cut, faceting stones using freeform angles where anything went. It freed her creativity in a way nothing else did, and to work on a pink diamond of that size with the option to do whatever she wanted... She could see the design in her mind’s eyes, combining a brilliant cut with something to maximise the stone’s natural fire.

  A stone of exception clarity, minimal inclusions. Maybe a claw setting, white gold prongs gripping the stone without metal underneath to highlight the stone itself. Or perhaps a Tiffany setting, high six-pronged?

  Opal laughed and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I can see you’re already imagining what this ring looks like, so I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘When do they need the ring by?’

  Opal’s smiled faded. ‘Uh...pretty short timeline. I agreed to it because I know we need the work.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Two weeks?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous—’

  ‘Will it help if I burn the midnight oil alongside you? I’ll bring you coffee and muffins and those white-choc brownies you love.’

  Ruby shouldn’t be complaining. The sale of this ring would take Seaborn’s one step further out of the red and heading towards the black.

  ‘Fine. Arrange a fitting.’

  Opal shook her head. ‘No can do. The guy said it had to be a surprise. Gave me the lucky girl’s sizing, said that’d have to do.’

  Ruby frowned. ‘You know I don’t like working on mega pieces like this without ensuring the sizing is right from the start.’

  ‘I told him, but the surprise was a deal-breaker...’

  Stupid romantics. As long as this guy didn’t come whining to her when his bride-to-be didn’t like the design or the thing didn’t fit.

  ‘No worries, I’ll just have to make this the best ring ever,’ she said, giving Opal a gentle shove in the direction of the door. ‘Now scoot, I’ve got work to do.’

  Opal saluted and left but though Ruby tried to concentrate on putting the final touches on the dog collar, ensuring the short, multi-strand choker sat flat, she couldn’t help but think about the pink diamond engagement ring and how she wished she had a guy who loved her enough to surprise her with something similar.

  * * *

  Jax stayed away from Ruby for two days.

  That wedding reception might have been a stepping stone to launch his business career in this city but it had been his downfall in every other way.

  Namely his susceptibility to his bewitching wife.

  He’d let her into his heart a little that night and he hadn’t recovered since.

  She’d seen too much—his innermost fears, his vulnerabilities—and he needed to erect some kind of barrier between them before he went the whole hog and blurted the entire sorry tale of his life story.

  He’d deliberately set a manic work schedule, involving minimal contact. Forty-eight hours of back-to-back meetings and outlining new proposals and drafting a new company mission statement when they went global.

  Definitely when. He wouldn’t consider if.

  Despite the fact the city’s powerbrokers were still stalling, now he’d calmed down after his initial fury over their continued shunning of his proposals—and the fact he’d dragged Ruby into his mess by association—he realised his acceptance wouldn’t happen overnight.

  His dad had fleeced these people, had ruined reputations and families. He couldn’t fault them for being wary. He’d be the same, especially when it came to investing money.

  He didn’t give a toss what they thought of him personally but the fact they continued to eschew his well-formulated, lucrative business strategies really rankled.

  So he did what he did best. Ramped up the pressure. Continued to set up meetings. Refused to back down.

  He’d been super busy trying to barge his way through the giant corporate door in Melbourne and that was why he hadn’t had time to follow up on Ruby’s auction idea.

  His excuse, he was sticking to it.

  So what was his excuse now, reluctantly using the key Ruby had given him to let himself into her showroom?

  If he were completely honest, he’d admit to missing her. Missing her exuberance, her bluntness, her optimism.

  Even when he’d been on the verge of chucking this whole shemozzle in at their wedding reception, she’d come up with something innovative and he’d allowed himself to be distracted.

  Simply, his wife intrigued him on so many levels he didn’t dare venture there.

  He’d been kidding himself, thinking he could remain immune to her. He should’ve known how much trouble he was in the moment she bowled up to him that first night, all sass and challenge.

  He admired so much about her. Her dedication to her work, to her company, to her family. Her ability to make the best of any situation, to see the best in anyone.

  Including a repressed emotion-phobe like him.

  He followed the sound of metal clinking coming from her workroom, smiling at the kooky Do Not Disturb sign with a cartoon skull and crossbones forbidding entry.

  After ignoring his need to see her the last two days, as if that would stop him.

  He slipped behind the curtain, content to watch her work. Her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, tendrils framing her face as her tongue poked out between her lips as she concentrated on twisting metal with a pair of fine pliers.

  On the third attempt, she flung the tool down and swore.

  Hmm...maybe not the best time for an impromptu visit.

  ‘Hey.’

  Her head snapped up and she frowned when she caught sight of him.

  Definitely not the welcome he’d anticipated.

  ‘You caught me at a bad time.’ She gestured at the workbench, before she pinned him with a steely, narrow-eyed glare. ‘And what happened to the rule about waiting to be invited to use that key?’

  Jeez, and he thought he’d been grouchy the last few days.

  ‘Want me to leave?’

  He expected her to nod. He didn’t expect her sensual mouth to droop as a glimmer of tears eradicated the battle gleam he’
d glimpsed a moment ago.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He crossed the small space in three strides and hauled her into his arms.

  She snuggled into him, the snuffle of soft sobs making him want to pummel whoever or whatever had made her cry.

  He’d seen her many things—defiant, quirky, challenging—defeated wasn’t one of them.

  When she quieted, he awkwardly eased her back, unsure how to handle this.

  ‘The auction’s a bust,’ she muttered, her lower lip quivering. ‘Apparently the PR people won’t take a risk on promoting something so valuable without a reasonable investment of cash to back it.’

  She shook her head, a strand of hair getting trapped in her mouth and she angrily swiped it away. ‘Cash I don’t have.’

  She shoved him away and he let her go, aware she needed to vent. He understood her frustration; boy, did he understand. The excitement of devising a new deal only to have it flounder because the right people wouldn’t come to the party.

  Her arms flung wide. ‘Take a look at this place. You’d think it’d be enough, right? Seaborn’s. All it stands for.’ She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Just like that, all the fight drained out of her and she sagged onto the stool in front of her workbench.

  ‘No, I’m just offloading.’ She kicked the rung of the stool with her heel. ‘It just makes me so mad. People have this preconceived notion I’m the ditzy, inadequate Seaborn.’

  Regret mingled with sadness tightened her mouth and he reached out but she held him off.

  ‘They don’t take me seriously. I want to make a go of saving this place but how can I when they won’t give me a chance and nothing I do seems to work...’

  She trailed off, darting a concerned glance his way.

  ‘Hey, this marriage is working.’ He reached out and smoothed her hair back. ‘It may be unconventional but we’re doing the best we can.’

  ‘I guess,’ she muttered, her sceptical tone less than convinced.

  Sadly, it looked as if it would take them both a while to get what they wanted.

  Unless... His gaze fell on the exquisite pieces she’d made, laid out in black velvet boxes on steel shelving next to her workbench.